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If Heipaoshi would not outright ask for a seat at the table, then by god, Zhao Yunlan was going to pull the fucking chair out himself. There was only the matter of paws and not apposable thumbs standing in his way. But then, he’d never of made Chief of the SID if he wasn’t adaptable.

“How do we stop it?”

“Abilities like this aren’t permanent. Either it will wear off in time, or…”

Kunlun looks at him, eyes sharp. “Or?”

Shen Wei forces himself not to look away. Not to drop his gaze like a boy, like a coward. “Or when it has run its course,” he says.

Had absolutely all the sacrifices really been necessary?
As Lin Jing walked the path ahead, perhaps the answers he didn't expect were exactly the ones he needed to find. Fake monk or not, he believed what he believed, and redemption was not a negotiable commodity. Sometimes all it took was a hand to reach out and change the course of everything.
That sense of unfairness had seeped into him.
...
Gui Mian sat up, resting his head in his hands and he tried to settle his breathing. Months of nights that were often filled with nightmares were taking its toll. Something needed to change. There was only one thing that he could think of that would calm him. He needed to see Lin Jing again.

Five first meetings.

Or: Shen Wei had to resist temptations for far too long. Zhao Yunlan makes it up to him.