A shelter for homeless kids, naturally. Children like the child Wei Ying once was, fighting dogs in the streets for rancid scraps of leftover food. Lan Wangji experiences that familiar ache in his chest, another tripping step forward into loving someone new. He cannot pretend at surprise. He said it himself to Claudius, not long ago: this mansion will be a turning point for everyone who walks through its doors.

As is his way, he thinks on the question before he answers it, watching as, three trees away from them, a squirrel darts its way up into the thick autumn leaves. The mansion has its own beauty. "I miss the Cloud Recesses," he says. "I worry for my brother and my uncle. My disciples will get by without me, but I miss them, too."