[ it is only because it's lin that there even is a wobble - he's gotten so good at controlling himself that it doesn't even matter, most days. he can't show anything to the people around him. can't for a minute let anyone see anything but the prime minister, the composed and confident lu bixing, the man who finished a revolution when the battle was won. especially not here, when so many pairs of eyes on him are young, looking to him for inspiration, for comfort, for reason.

but lin is different. with lin, it's messy and difficult to hold onto his composure, and he feels a little - almost scolded, when he holds onto it. like he shouldn't. like he needs to let go.

he looks down at their hands when lin takes his, and swallows. ]

...I finished her book. When we got back. [ lin probably would've seen it. when he fussed him off to rest, lu bixing came to sit with him and read by his bedside, desperate for the distraction from his thoughts. ] I...

[ his voice gets a little smaller. ] ... I was really looking forward to talking with her about it, today.