Huaisang does know; Huaisang remembers, and isn't it remarkable, one's capacity to remember in startling clarity the most mundane of things? He remembers the smaller courtyard at Qinghe, the one where he would arrange Jin Guangyao's gifts every time he brought more and lavish praise upon the craftsmanship, the delicate precision of the artworks, all while Jin Guangayo would gently insist they all suited him very well, just as suspected. Somewhere, one of Huaisang's many birds would whistle something light and airy as if to match the day, the crisp air, the delight in hosting company.
Huaisang remembers falling over himself into Lanling, collapsing into a seat for tea among everything golden and the perfectly-framed sunlight, and regaling Jin Guangyao with his many woes of this or that and being patiently received. Given sympathy and kind words and advice instead of scolding, and the inevitable turn to whiling away a handful of hours in almost-quiet, except for when he has another sudden idea to chatter about. It's the peace and comfort Huaisang remembers now, the fondness on Jin Guangyao's face seemingly projecting back through every memory and gleaming unabashed in Qinghe where he was always so very reserved, and in Lanling where he had to be so proper.
It truly is remarkable to remember so much in an instant, to think oh, so that is what lived under all those public faces. Huaisang tells himself he had assumed; now he supposes he does, in fact, know.
He knows a lot of things ironically. Remarkable as well is the stain of knowing.
But here is the present, and Jin Guangyao relenting about xiao meimei's time for treats, and Huaisang brightens with a dash of little-brotherly mischief in the look he gives him before pulling off a piece of croissant for the omen (bigger than caomeimei's, naturally, this meimei is not a bird). "It's flaky and quite delicious," he says, which hm, he supposes he got from his own omen just now, go figure, "And not as messy as a rabbit, so this one will avoid san-ge's stern frown about cleaning up."
Ha. In the meantime he steals a glance at the rescue work being done to his woodblock. "Er-ge showed me a..." A, hm. A thing. A picture moving. what are videos "It was on the omni, about cutting the wood. Was I wrong?"
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Huaisang does know; Huaisang remembers, and isn't it remarkable, one's capacity to remember in startling clarity the most mundane of things? He remembers the smaller courtyard at Qinghe, the one where he would arrange Jin Guangyao's gifts every time he brought more and lavish praise upon the craftsmanship, the delicate precision of the artworks, all while Jin Guangayo would gently insist they all suited him very well, just as suspected. Somewhere, one of Huaisang's many birds would whistle something light and airy as if to match the day, the crisp air, the delight in hosting company.
Huaisang remembers falling over himself into Lanling, collapsing into a seat for tea among everything golden and the perfectly-framed sunlight, and regaling Jin Guangyao with his many woes of this or that and being patiently received. Given sympathy and kind words and advice instead of scolding, and the inevitable turn to whiling away a handful of hours in almost-quiet, except for when he has another sudden idea to chatter about. It's the peace and comfort Huaisang remembers now, the fondness on Jin Guangyao's face seemingly projecting back through every memory and gleaming unabashed in Qinghe where he was always so very reserved, and in Lanling where he had to be so proper.
It truly is remarkable to remember so much in an instant, to think oh, so that is what lived under all those public faces. Huaisang tells himself he had assumed; now he supposes he does, in fact, know.
He knows a lot of things
ironically. Remarkable as well is the stain of knowing.But here is the present, and Jin Guangyao relenting about xiao meimei's time for treats, and Huaisang brightens with a dash of little-brotherly mischief in the look he gives him before pulling off a piece of croissant for the omen (bigger than caomeimei's, naturally, this meimei is not a bird). "It's flaky and quite delicious," he says, which hm, he supposes he got from his own omen just now, go figure, "And not as messy as a rabbit, so this one will avoid san-ge's stern frown about cleaning up."
Ha. In the meantime he steals a glance at the rescue work being done to his woodblock. "Er-ge showed me a..." A, hm. A thing. A picture moving.
what are videos"It was on the omni, about cutting the wood. Was I wrong?"