Sizhui's position in the Gusu Lan clan has always been something of a balancing act for him, pitting his affection for his guardians against his sense of propriety and fairness. Despite his love and gratitude for Hanguang-jun, it would have been inappropriate in many cases for either of them to acknowledge a relationship deeper than that of disciple and mentor, and Sizhui always did his best not to expect any favoritism to come into play during their interactions.
But in moments like these, when that social awareness can be set aside for the sake of something more private, those are the moments that Sizhui treasures. The hand on his shoulder. The supportive squeeze. His gaze breaks downward for a moment, briefly embarrassed by the obvious expression of affection from Hanguang-jun when he wasn't expecting it--before he looks up again with a softer kind of joy in his expression. A love for someone as close as family to him.
Sizhui's expression, for all of its unspoken significance, doesn't last long. It shifts quickly to surprise and then furrowed confusion, when Hanguang-jun mentions having been here for a month. That couldn't be right.
"Only four days," he responds, adding afterwards: "I was sure that I saw you just before then. It wasn't nearly as long as a month..." Unless the man by the cliffs was telling the truth about time being stopped in their world. It sounds impossible to imagine that a whole world's time could be stopped, and that time could pass here while they were unaware of it elsewhere... But what lends credibility to that man's story is that Hanguang-jun would not lie. If he says it's been a month since he arrived here, then Sizhui has to believe him about that much.
He's so busy trying to work out this conundrum that he doesn't fully notice Hanguang-jun taking account of him in the process. There's no cookie crumbs or bits of grass left on him, thanks in part to his companion's fussing; but the green and brown stains on his right sleeve are unmistakably grass and dirt, as are the ones on the back and leg of his usually pristine uniform. His hair is likewise out of place, a number of strands not as neatly tucked up into his hair piece as the others.
"Is time really frozen in our world, then?" he continues his train of thought after a small pause. That has such troubling implications--ones that are already weighing on Sizhui's mind. Could time have been frozen even longer before Hanguang-jun had arrived? Would any of them have noticed otherwise? "What could have the power to do that?... And how long has it been that way?"
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But in moments like these, when that social awareness can be set aside for the sake of something more private, those are the moments that Sizhui treasures. The hand on his shoulder. The supportive squeeze. His gaze breaks downward for a moment, briefly embarrassed by the obvious expression of affection from Hanguang-jun when he wasn't expecting it--before he looks up again with a softer kind of joy in his expression. A love for someone as close as family to him.
Sizhui's expression, for all of its unspoken significance, doesn't last long. It shifts quickly to surprise and then furrowed confusion, when Hanguang-jun mentions having been here for a month. That couldn't be right.
"Only four days," he responds, adding afterwards: "I was sure that I saw you just before then. It wasn't nearly as long as a month..." Unless the man by the cliffs was telling the truth about time being stopped in their world. It sounds impossible to imagine that a whole world's time could be stopped, and that time could pass here while they were unaware of it elsewhere... But what lends credibility to that man's story is that Hanguang-jun would not lie. If he says it's been a month since he arrived here, then Sizhui has to believe him about that much.
He's so busy trying to work out this conundrum that he doesn't fully notice Hanguang-jun taking account of him in the process. There's no cookie crumbs or bits of grass left on him, thanks in part to his companion's fussing; but the green and brown stains on his right sleeve are unmistakably grass and dirt, as are the ones on the back and leg of his usually pristine uniform. His hair is likewise out of place, a number of strands not as neatly tucked up into his hair piece as the others.
"Is time really frozen in our world, then?" he continues his train of thought after a small pause. That has such troubling implications--ones that are already weighing on Sizhui's mind. Could time have been frozen even longer before Hanguang-jun had arrived? Would any of them have noticed otherwise? "What could have the power to do that?... And how long has it been that way?"