[mike may not notice his tears, but jin guangyao does. there is too much to unpack in the momentary flash of shared, aching anguish that contorts his own features. that child's laughter wasn't his son's; a-song is still so young, too small even to play with the toy drum that jin ling had favoured, and jin guangyao will never see him again. and what sort of father is he to feel such wretched relief at that? (no, he knows exactly what kind of monster he is.)
he looks blankly from mike's face to the bottle as it is upturned over the draugr's body, bloody ichor still darkening the soil from the stump of its neck. jin guangyao takes a careful step around the blood so as not to soil his boots with it, fetches a cloth out of his qiankun bag, and wipes the rest of it off hensheng's blade. his jaw works for a moment as he finds his voice again.]
yes. [he says, then--and only then, once the flames have begun to consume the corpse, he looks to mike again.] when the body has burned, you must consume a portion of the ashes. otherwise, your memories will be lost forever.
[it's such a wretched thing to ask. maybe that's why he feels the need to apologize.] i am sorry.
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he looks blankly from mike's face to the bottle as it is upturned over the draugr's body, bloody ichor still darkening the soil from the stump of its neck. jin guangyao takes a careful step around the blood so as not to soil his boots with it, fetches a cloth out of his qiankun bag, and wipes the rest of it off hensheng's blade. his jaw works for a moment as he finds his voice again.]
yes. [he says, then--and only then, once the flames have begun to consume the corpse, he looks to mike again.] when the body has burned, you must consume a portion of the ashes. otherwise, your memories will be lost forever.
[it's such a wretched thing to ask. maybe that's why he feels the need to apologize.] i am sorry.