( A small, sighing sound, and his fingers a ring like the halo cast over a head when light shines strong from behind, illuminating. )

Almost eighteen years ago. ( ... Yes, he's being pedantic with a ghost of a smile; they've been here for two years. ) Almost twenty years since the boy I'd been had died.

( He has been reborn more times than he ever wished for, even if he'd always been stubborn about living, until he'd splintered too far, in emotional distress. Yet it's that dissonance that haunts, and to what end, to what cry? He doesn't understand.

But he'd learned from his shijie that loving does not mean understanding. It is accepting, and having patience, and faith.

And more trust than he easily knows how to give in the ways he once did. His thumb shifts, stroking over Lan Zhan's skin, heat to burn against how many years of frozen homes? )

I didn't marry that boy. I married you. Twice, three times, more. ( No mention of four. ) You know I'm not who I was once. Why do you think I know that any less? Why do you think I'd handle the threat of loss with anything like grace?

( Who is allowed to threaten their ending, and who is not? Why are either of them? )