Xie Huan looks just like Yao Shen imagined.
He's tall and imposing, with a haughty slash of a smirk. The dark spill of his hair falls over his shoulders like a waterfall. He shoulders forward, hiding Yan Shuyi's more slender form behind him.
Yan Shuyi pushes him to the side with the back of his hand.
"Xie Huan! Stop being disrespectful."
"This disciple apologises," Xie Huan says, not at all apologetic.
Yao Shen watches the scene play out in wonder, but when he looks to his side, he finds Xin Hulei's handsome features twisted in a pained grimace.
It must hurt him immensely, to see these ghosts of his past, talking and breathing as if it's their deaths, and not this figment of life, that is the illusion.
Unable to say anything that can soothe the pain he must be feeling, Yao Shen simply laces their fingers together. Squeezing softly.
