Wang Chen looked at the face of the woman he had known as naive.
Found, in the looking, that the naivety was gone — replaced by the particular, absolute quality of someone who had paid for every inch of what she had become with the specific, sustained currency of eras.
And had paid it willingly.
Because the words he had given her had been worth carrying.
He did not think about it.
Not the particular, deliberate quality of someone who has considered an action and has chosen it — the specific, immediate quality of someone who has looked at a situation and has responded to it before the deliberating layer had a chance to weigh in. Wang Chen moved forward and pulled her into the embrace with the particular, simple directness of someone who has encountered a person in pain and has done the only thing that was obviously, immediately true.
Rin Luan's shoulders released.
