( He is dead, if not threadbare, not reduced, not belittled. Dead, but not gone, and there should be comfort in this, the knowing that he remains a person and possessed of merits and virtues despite his passing. That his achievements were not all bound to flesh, but the memories of those he assisted.

Those who tasted and knew of his tragedy, whole.

He nods, faintly, thinking first to catch Xiao Xingchen's hand when it heads for the sleeping place of his wound, only to murmur instead: ) No need.

( Let it be a thing distant, of the past. )

Wei Ying will be pleased to see daozhang.