Meditation as a practice that opposes avoidance. It makes clear enough sense, when Lan Wangji thinks of it. He has never known how to avoid himself, even when it might have been a soothing option, even when shame threatened to drag him irrevocably into its grip. He has only ever been able to clearly see the things he would rather not, his fears and desires and pains, and let them pass through him, as deep as they run. He imagines he would not have survived his seclusion otherwise.

"You may do any of those things with me," he says, as plain as he can be. "It may be difficult. Releasing your thoughts requires facing them first. But it will not be impossible, and I will be with you."