[He takes a shaky breath, cringing at the familiar cold creeping over him and letting his eyes fall closed for a moment.]

Strength? No. [He shakes his head, biting back a soft whimper as his joints stiffen. He isn't afraid of death, not really, but he's not particularly fond of the dying part, and the sensation stealing over him is a perfect imitation even if he tells himself he isn't really dying. He's almost sure he's right about that.]

This isn't strength. [It's just acceptance. What else is there to reach for now? Wei Wuxian has never been a man easily susceptible to denial and for all that he thought he couldn't exist with all of the mistakes he'd made, he's here, isn't he? Existing. living. Heart thumping and blood running through his veins. And he loves. (Oh, how he loves. For what other reason would his heart continue to beat?)

He struggles forward, fighting through the death wrapping itself around his limbs to keep moving, though where he's going, he doesn't know. And all at once he finds himself irritated.]

You repeat facts and think yourself frightening. Maybe I'm not strong, maybe you're just really bad at whatever it is you're trying to do.