All Luo Binghe can do is hold him and stroke his back, aching and aching. "I," he says hesitantly. "I don't—I don't know how it feels. I didn't have a family I was close to, so I can't imagine losing that." He remembers how secure the child Shen Yuan was, when Luo Binghe skimmed through his mind, so many of his memories centered around his parents and siblings. So many people who loved him.

"But... You know that I lost my mother. I—I know that it's hard. There isn't anything to make it easier." He exhales a shuddery breath. "You just have to keep going—you have to be determined to keep going, like it's unthinkable that any amount of pain could stop you. And over time—it doesn't get any easier. But you realize that it cannot be unbearable, no matter how much it feels like it is, because you've already been bearing it so long. It must be something you can live with, because you still draw breath." He bites his lip. "And—I know it is a paltry consolation. But I'm here, and I can be as much family to you as I know how."