On the willows there, we hung up our lyres

Galahad is still slight and small, his tense body wrapped in Lan Wangji's arms and his sleeves, but Lan Wangji can feel the growing strength he has been developing. He is viciously proud of him, of all his diligence and determination in spite of everything. He holds him as tightly as he dares, as tightly as he can without causing him pain. Lan Wangji understands. Galahad doesn't have to speak.