Yao Qing didn't know what to say to truly comfort him.
Even the closest of human connections ultimately can't fully share the burdens of grief and joy.
Yu Yanshen's grip on her hand suddenly tightened, and Yao Qing raised her eyes to glance at him.
Then, in silence, she turned her hand to grip his just as tightly.
"Maybe she just descended to overcome a minor tribulation, she's watching us from a place we can't see, and she must be doing very well," she said.
"I know," Yu Yanshen replied, "she must be doing very well, in a place without me."
He still couldn't forgive himself.
Yu Yanshen had never told Yao Qing, and even Fu Moyi was unaware, that on a certain anniversary, he took a knife into Yu Gusi's study.
He still remembers the burning heat of his blood, which fully ignited the cold and bloodthirstiness in his bones.
But Yu Gusi didn't die, instead he played him a recording.
What that recording was he had completely forgotten, he couldn't remember it at all.
