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〈 that wei wuxian is likely to lose his head were it not attached to his shoulders? yes, she is familiar. as she is equally familiar with how often it is the little things, those that seem the least important—those are the ones that stick with a person.

reaching across the table, gwen lays a hand over huaisang’s. squeezes his fingers. 〉

You’ve got a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Tell him that, 〈 she encourages. 〉 If you haven’t already.

[ there's a faint smile that he directs at her, something in the set of his shoulders easing for a moment, before he takes a breath.

stalls.

takes another; twists his fingers so his thumb rests on top of hers, now. as if to ground her. ]

Gwen. The thing is... it's not. [ a pause. ] A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, that is.

[ he looks at her, his gaze holding hers; there is a depth to it, almost like a warning; or perhaps like a sheet falling that reveals a painting, an unveiling of something that's been obscured. ] I could tell him that at home, too, if I were to go back.

〈 even coming from the universe where death often proves a revolving door, it takes a moment for her to parse his meaning. her heart rate hikes. 〉

He’s alive? 〈 that could be either wonderful news or a horrifying one, and her ambivalence is briefly caught in her wide-eyed expression, in the mingled joy and fear in her voice. 〉 How?

〈 on its heels, not spoken yet, and quickly gathering strength: why hasn’t anyone told him? 〉

[ with an unreadable expression, huaisang nods. ]

A young man found some of his old notes about a soul-sacrificing array, to give up your body to bring in a spirit of someone deceased.

[ and that, in and of itself, answers not only the question gwen speaks out loud but also the one she doesn't; would wei wuxian be glad to know he's been brought back, at the cost of someone else's life? that his own notes have made yet another person lose their life, just to bring back the yiling patriarch?

no, of course he wouldn't. there are other reasons for why neither huaisang nor xichen has told him... but this is the first, and perhaps most obvious one. ]

〈 understanding comes quickly this time. her lips, previously parted in surprise, press into a thin line. her pale blonde hair tickles the sides of her neck when she gives a little shake of her head. 〉

Nothing's ever easy, is it.

〈 not a question. nor does she expect an answer. 〉

[ instead of an answer, huaisang takes a sip of tea.

then, ]

I think he's happy. As happy as he can be, anyway. He got to meet his son. And his nephew. His reputation is mostly cleared. [ in huaisang's hand, his fan is flipped open, moving lazily. ]

One day I hope he'll be ready to hear that, here.

〈 she cannot say she is glad. not when someone sacrificed his life—his soul—for wei wuxian to live. her family was never really religious. she was taught about the concept of souls as she was taught about the concept of christianity: as something that people believed in, that was vaguely part of her family, but that did not comprise significance in her day-to-day. she can count on one hand the many times she stepped inside a church.

she learned of the living role religion could have from the parkers; judaism had breath and weight in their house. from wei wuxian, she learned about qi, cultivation, the reincarnation cycle, listening to him from the swing chair in their room as he animatedly explained each concept. it is how she can vaguely understand the extremeness of the act. to do that believing what wei wuxian does, what nie huaisang does…it is more than desperation. it cries despair.

there is much more gwen wants to ask, but none feels right. she stands on the outside looking in—too much she does not know, does not understand.

she can understand nie huaisang's silence. once, she stood before another gwen; they climbed the bridge, that awful bridge, together. when she tried to speak—to warn her, to tell her to stay away—the other gwen was the one to put a stop. knowledge of the future is a terrible burden…even when that knowledge might be happy.

ducking her head, she wipes at her eyes before the tears fall. exhaling a shaky breath, she looks again at nie huaisang. 〉

Thank you for trusting me. 〈 he must know this about her or he would not have shared, but she feels better stating it— 〉 I won't repeat it. Any of it.

[ he breathes out — not in relief, as he was certain she wouldn't speak once she knew the full truth of it, but in quiet confirmation, in the way having spoken it all out loud makes the weight on his shoulders just a touch lighter.

so long, so long, he's kept every secret, refused to trust anyone. he's glad to see he's not so old to not be able to change in his habits. ]

... I just don't want to give him one more thing to feel guilty for. [ he carries enough, already. ]

〈 hands in her lap, gwen gives a little nod. 〉 Yeah. Worse when you consider you could probably stub your toe and he'd find a way to feel bad about it.

〈 gwen catches huaisang's eye—and immediately has to turn away, the tension breaking with a bout of snickering. she covers her face with her hands. 〉

God. 〈 bringing her hands down, she sighs. 〉 What a mess.

〈 the situation? the two of them? wei wuxian? option d: all of the above. 〉

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