Indeed, for the first several of Lan Wangji's nights here, he thought of the mansion the way he might think of any of the countless inns he has patronized, with the slim advantage that there were no eager proprietors ready to weigh his purse before determining the cost of a bed. Now he sits in a familiar room, with a familiar face, and finds himself close to smiling again at that word, lasting. When he draws in one of his customary slow breaths, he registers that he feels lighter than he did when Claudius appeared in the doorway, his lingering shame and anger waning. Time will take care of the rest, as it nearly always does. There will be no rushing it.

Lan Wangji is not ready to be finished with Claudius' company, but he is ready to be finished with dredging up words. He has handed over more of his secrets than he ever thought he might -- voluntarily, this time, and still without regret, but he is tired. He weighs that feeling, then tips his head a little, looking at Claudius, and says, "If you have the time, will you demonstrate your progress at weiqi to me now?"