That's a lot of information, a lot of complicated family relations to untangle, and Wen Qing listens attentively without interrupting, carefully slotting away all these people into the family tree that is building in her head.

She nods, warmth in her eyes to show that she appreciates the confidence shared with her even though the smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Your uncle must have loved you and your mother very much," she says, "not many men would claim another's son as their own, not even as their bastard son."

She hesitantly reaches out for him, a quick squeeze of his arm before she withdraws again, discomfited by her own clumsy attempt at comfort. She has never been good at showing physical affection with anyone but her little brother. "Your father, your birth father, you said you know him only from stories about war. Was he an enemy?"