( He has not laughed in so long, his mouth neglects the forms. Breaks, twists, realigns itself. A scoff exits him like a breeze, and Lethe imitates him, more to set him her righteous example.

He leans back, chasing comfort in the dregs of the dragon's staunchly lent strength, in how her tail absently starts and turns and captures his waist to give him balance. This, he knows, is the bond Wei Ying and she share, the kernel of care his husband's affection has won him from the beast.

Like a child, he chooses to depend on it. Sensing the shift in tension, Lethe snorts again. )

Si shi, and you may as well claim the day. ( Wastefully, like spoiled things and cats and children. Oh, but Wei Ying meets all these marks and more. ) The day of my birth is comes close to three moons' swells after Wei Ying's own.

( ...or precedes it, by nine such tides. But better to make the game one that can be won. Children, Lan Wangji has learned, are easily frustrated by odds they cannot defeat. )

A sennight from now. We will call Wei Ying's name day. Peace allowing, he may rest.

( Peace, in fact, does not allow. )