Lan Wangji glances back up, then. He thinks he sees understanding in Galahad's still face. He expected no less. He remembers the first night with Wei Ying in the jingshi, carrying on about his captivity at Hanguang-jun's cruel behest, the heat of his hands as he tried to steal the jade token and the flash of his wide-eyed expression in the dark as Lan Wangji blew out the candles and the incense. It all came back to him then, cleaving him through with love and desire that had been growing slowly tame with grief for over a decade.

He's quiet, hands light at the rabbits' backs, waiting in the event that Galahad has further questions.