[ Bad meets worse with Jin Zixuan's statement, his sole outward reaction to the mess of it all. Of course the father would want to go after the son, the stark divide of what Jin Zixuan is and everything Jiang Wanyin should be growing wider, into a yawning chasm he knows not how to bridge nor cross. Jin Zixuan wants to give chase and Jiang Cheng wants only to remember how to breathe, wants to lay here in (the night, the tall grass, staring up at a sky under which his parents no longer exist) his bed until the world makes sense again.

But of them, Jin Ling only knows one, recognized Suihua but not its wielder. Another bitter truth burns at Jiang Cheng's throat like poison, and all he can do is spit it out. He catches Jin Zixuan by the wrist, gripping it with near bruising force as he continues to cradle his eyes against the light. ]

We can't. [ He pauses, takes in a slow, tight breath, tries not to choke on it. ] ...you can't. He won't recognize you. ...or A-Jie.

[ Letting the words hang in the air, he gives a quiet, empty laugh. ]

You didn't raise him. I did. He got your pride and my anger. And my sister's defiance, I suspect.

If we go after him, we'll just make it worse.