"I don't feel much at all most of the time," he murmurs, gaze distant. "Beyond the fleeting pleasure of the moment, of the physical. If I don't control myself, things will just get messy. I'll get nervous or scared and can't act. Inaction isn't an option."

The story of his life, really.

Huaisang doesn't know how they got onto this subject or why he's confiding things he hasn't spoken of to anyone of to Jin Guangyao of all people. Maybe it's the late hour. Maybe it's that for once, he's actually with someone who knows him. The man's dying words at the temple have haunted him since that night. Instead of rage, he'd responded to his betrayal with understanding of his ordeal. And hearing him speak now, it's apparent that the villain Huaisang had constructed in his mind all these years as a way to cope with his heartbreak may have never existed at all.

"Before coming here, I'd only ever been with a courtesan. Lovely woman. Insightful, kind. Well-educated in the arts. She held me and listened to me. Stroked my hair and played games with me. I enjoyed her companionship outside of bed. I intended to buy her freedom soon but I wound up here instead."

For all his flaws, he's generous at heart and rewards those who treat him well. And he's always had his own thoughts on matters.

"I never met your mother but I'm certain she was more than that. As were the other women where you grew up."