There is another careful silence, this time the silence of Lan Wangji gathering himself to tell this particular story. In some ways, it is more difficult to tell than the one he told Claudius at the end of winter. It is more recent; it is fresh, and none of its hurts have been redressed. Luo Binghe shares a house with them. There is no escaping him.

"I have told you that Claudius came to me when he was in pain. He could hardly bear it." He thinks he will never forget the painstaking care with which Claudius tried to hold himself upright or with which he tried to ask casually for a moment of Lan Wangji's time as if his request was for a passing whim. He knows he will never forget the guttural growl of pain that took him over despite his efforts. "At that time, Shen Yuan still went by the name Shen Qingqiu. He presented himself as an immortal cultivator. Because Claudius' ailment was unfamiliar to me and because I could not stop the pain, I took Claudius to Shen Yuan to ask for his help."

That is something else that rankles now: the way he bowed to Shen Yuan, low and respectful, afraid for his new friend and hopeful that they would find their answers. They did find them, but they found none of the wisdom and kindness they were seeking. "He spoke to Claudius as if his life meant nothing. He deflected. He told Claudius to swallow his pride and beg for mercy."