Zhuiying wasn't made of stone. How could he possibly be unmoved by those words coming from the lips of someone he had mourned for so many years? His heart skipped a beat, the pulse lighting up the thread of red around his wrist, brightening by the barest degree.

He let out a low 'tsk' sound, casting his eyes down though he didn't pull his face from the Wolf's grip.

"I don't even know what to call you," he muttered in complaint, not having the heart to argue the rest. To tell the man what a fool he was. This wasn't duty - it was a death wish. Even he knew that. But he wanted to believe that faith in him so badly... "Hong Gaowen. I know they don't call you that here. If I'd heard even a whisper of it, before today..."