Love is a choice you make – like this, and this, and this. Xiao Xingchen’s shoulders pearl-bare in the light of a rising dawn, the sweep of his robes through the night as he moves like a minnow in dark water, forehead to chest with his laugh a breath against bone. Song Lan chooses, and chooses, and chooses, walks into it with his eyes wide open, walks until he crawls until he reaches until he –
This is breathtaking and painful. Did I mention breathtaking?