[ He pauses, loquat half way to his mouth, and then thinks better of it and just kind of glares at the fruit instead, turning it over between his fingers as an excuse to look at it instead of Lan Wangji.

He's disappointed. He doesn't really understand why he's disappointed, but he is. Not just because he can't get the answers he wanted - he already knew he couldn't - but something else. Something deeper.

Something lonely. ]

So. You do know, then.

[ There was a longer pause, his face twisting a little as he tried to bite back the bile that threatened to rose. ]

Uncle made me promise not to tell him. [ He's bitter. ] I'm not going to. If he's from before all that anyway, maybe - maybe things can be different here, I don't know.

[ He lowered the half eaten fruit and shot Hanguang-jun a suspicious look. ]

I shouldn't tell you, either, should I? Is that it? I'm just supposed to hold on to all the things I know that none of the rest of you do and choke on them? You were supposed to be able to give me answers, and you can't. None of you can.