"We fought a war, but even with that. So few survivors," Mingjue says, letting his fingers curl around Xichen's wrist.

He looks between the two of them, contemplative, at their older bearings. He's the youngest and even knowing all of this, knowing what is, essentially, his future, his only conclusion is: "Well, can't do anything about it from here."

And with that, he shrugs. "So what does that mean for us?" He gestures between the three of them. "I don't think any of what both of you know is something we need to act on, is it?"