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[eschewings]

// qinghe

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[construing]

〈 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. 〉

[eschewings]

[ 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.

[construing]

〈 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.

[eschewings]

[ 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. ]

[construing]

〈 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. 〉