"I'm glad you understand," Lan Zhan says, eye closing in wearied relief. Yes. Let him be his bastard, let him be anything they want to say. "I was seen in Yiling with him, and all swore I was his father. He clung to my leg and cried for me to comfort him."

There is an exhale, a breathless laugh. "They scolded me for being a poor father."