[He looks so lost, standing there by the unmade bed, hands loosely fisted at his sides.

Zhao Yunlan lets his breath out on a sigh, feeling his anger drain away no matter how hard he tries to clutch for it, how hard he tries to insist. Do you want to know about me, indeed. Shen Wei is so bad at this.

He pushes himself away from the desk, takes the few steps that close the distance between them, and reaches out to put his arms around Shen Wei's waist and pull him into a hug.]

Yes, I want to know about you. Not your power. I couldn't care less about your power.

[There are so many things he can't know about himself, on penalty of death. So many little things that make up an identity, that build a place in the world, that have been wiped away to force him to fit this place, these Heavens, this country that isn't his own. He knows Shen Wei must be able to feel the nervous tension in his body, even as he tries to relax; must be able to sense the underlying misery and desperation.

It's not fair that he can't be as sure of Shen Wei's feelings in return.

There are so many things he could ask Shen Wei that, he suspects, will force Shen Wei to lie. He wants something true. Slowly, halting, he continues.]

Tell me... about where you grew up. What was it like?