On the willows there, we hung up our lyres

When Lan Wangji meets Galahad's gaze, after another beat, it's a little rueful, though he imagines that he is already, to at least some extent, understood in his distraction. He was better at ignoring it once, because it had been so many years since he had seen Wei Ying alive and because he had never, despite everything that he wanted, seen any of those desires come to fruition. He hesitates, then, and says, with some effort at delicacy, "Is there something you need to ask about it?"