"Er-ge," Jin Guangyao smiles, and makes to bow.

Lan Xichen stops him, as he always did, gently touching the bird-like wrists of his sworn brother - a scene many times repeated, yet something strikes Lan Xichen as strange - cutting through the hazy familiarity of the dream. The shape of Jin Guangyao's smile, maybe, or the unnatural angle of his neck, or the blood streaking down his brow.