It is quiet, and there is only the evenness of their twin breath. Conversation is a gift others give him, more and more often these days. This is something he can offer in return: a peaceful silence, the gentle rise and fall of each inhale and exhale, the kind of hush in which the voice of a qin would resonate without obstacle.

Lan Wangji can sit this way for days. He did so at intervals when he was younger, when the silence was all that he wanted. Causing noise is prohibited. Do not use words frivolously. He has more worldly attachments now and finds himself unable to regret them. He would not want this all the time, not anymore -- and he will not ask so much of Claudius, not during his first morning meditation.

He waits until the stick of incense burns low and then goes out. He opens his eyes. "Claudius."