Wu Yun knows he's dreaming as soon as he sees the weeping willow. The Heavens' starry night sky is painted with all the stars of the milky way. A vibrant green nebula is streaked against the velvety black like spilled ink.
Ling Yan is walking barefoot towards the weeping willow, Wu Yun can feel the cold grass under the soles of his feet.
The weeping willow's branches dance in the wind, and through the teardrop shaped leaves he can see a wooden swing suspend by red silk threads to the tree's thickest branch.
Ling Yan reaches the swing and inspects it with a small smile, making it swing with the tip of a finger.
He sits down on the bench and kicks the ground setting the swing in motion.
He swings gently back and forth until a pair of large, warm, hands settle on his shoulders and push him gently forward.
"I take it you like it?"
Ling Yan leans his neck back, and looks up into Shu Luan's golden eyes. "You made this?"
