"Yes."
"But he doesn't remember you."
Leng Yan was silent for a moment.
Then she burst out laughing.
This time the smile was very light, not sharp, not teasing. It was much softer, even giving this dead and deadly place a hint of strange color.
"He was only seven at the time."
Otrix looked at her.
Leng Yan said: "A seven-year-old child not remembering someone who appeared very briefly in his life is normal."
"So you don't mind?"
"No."
"You've waited for him for so long."
"Yes."
"Without needing him to remember you?"
Leng Yan looked into the fog.
"No need."
The answer was very short.
But heavy enough to make Otrix fall contemplative.
Leng Yan lightly stroked the lantern beside her.
"It's enough that I remember."
The fog outside the ring of light slightly stirred.
In that moment, Leng Yan's gaze became very distant.
