Xiao Xingchen doesn't have a good heart. How can he claim that he does when it's so weak, torn so neatly in half. His heart isn't worth either of them, and he knows it now that he's standing in front of the both of them.

"The both of you...speak so easily of dying." Xingchen lowers his head, his words barely whispers. "I've never feared death, not even once. But I listen to you now and I tremble at the thought of it. Zichen, do you know what would happen to me if you stopped breathing? I would find a way to give you my lungs. I would carve them out of my own chest for you."

His jaw is clenched, but he manages to get the words out, raw with emotion.

"And Xue Yang, for all that I've spoken about justice, I pray every night that I'll still find you here the next morning. Every morning, I wake up in fear that you'll be gone. I think of you dying for your crimes, and it breaks my heart! It's like a blade against my own throat!"

Xingchen kneels down, right there in the street. Almost as if he's the one awaiting execution.

"I don't want either of you to die. And I don't want either of you to leave. You are each precious to me."