Luo Binghe wants to reassure him, but he's not sure if anything he says could get through to Shen Yuan right now. This is more about his feelings than Luo Binghe's, anyway—Shen Yuan didn't ruin anything for Luo Binghe, but he is upset, and searching for reasons he's allowed to be. There's no need for Shen Yuan to apologize to him, but Luo Binghe understands him well enough now to know his nature—that it's easier for him to comfort others than accept comfort himself. Especially with something like this, which he is unpracticed in facing.

Shen Yuan's dream appearance wavers between bodies, his face like himself one moment, longer and sharper like Shen Qingqiu's the next—a touch of Qing Jing Peak green on his shirt, fading into a drawing of that animal he likes—his dream presence confused and unstable.

Luo Binghe makes a decision. "Wait for me a moment," he says. "Just a moment—I'm sorry—I promise I'm not leaving you alone." He forces himself awake.

He slips out of his bed immediately, ignoring the groggy disorientation that comes after a deep sleep. He pads through the halls barefoot, wearing only his black silk shirt and trousers, following the call of his blood to a room he's not even been to yet. He lets himself in and crawls into bed next to Shen Yuan's sleeping form, reaching out to gently squeeze his shoulder. "Shen Yuan?"