As Lancelot has surmised, Lan Wangji is wholly content to walk in silence. Or at least to walk in quiet; it is not silent, because they are surrounded by the small sounds of the outdoors and the burgeoning spring. As they near the lake, the waves shush against the shore. In the woods and scattered amongst the trees, birds call to one another. Amidst all the loss and pain, the willow tree by the lake, where he sat and meditated with Galahad, still stirs in the wind.