"Good," Lan Wangji says, eyes still on Claudius' face. He knows it well enough now to see, when it comes, the minute release of tension between his brows. He knows Claudius' qi, too. He has scoured his meridians and poured his own spiritual energy into them. Here, with none of that urgency, in a safe room with the sky lightening through the window, he catches the flickering rhythm of its circulation as Claudius breathes and begins painstakingly to settle.

With some, he might remain silent from here. Claudius worried about doing this, though, in the flippant way he has that means he cares very much. His thoughts will want to creep back in and fill his lungs and mind. So Lan Wangji continues speaking, low and measured, carving a gentle path for Claudius to follow. "You share this breath with every other thing in this universe. You share it with me, with Danding and Xiaoxue, and with the trees outside as they wait for spring. Like the fruit, like those scraps of clothing, it all springs from the same source, differing only in name. Breathe and feel that sameness."