"Dost thou know ..." Claudius can't help but laugh, a fond, fluttering laugh he can feel under his fingers when he mirrors Lan Wangji with a hand to his abdomen. When he places a hand on his chest, he feels the same laugh rising through his abdomen, before the sound spills out. "Sometimes, when thou say'st dantian, I hear it as an untranslated title. And sometimes I hear it as an alchemical term." The translator always leans towards artistic license, with him. It's why he thinks he can still understand so many puns. But before he can go on about it, he breathes -- there are times he's started on a subject and forgotten to breathe -- and makes himself breathe in slowly.

It feels too long, at first. He's too used to shallow breaths, like a rabbit made to run, who hasn't yet lost sight of a predator. So he listens for Lan Wangi's breath, and lets that soft sound guide him.