lanselos_du_lac

Lan Wangji's longing for Gusu has come and gone, something cyclical like the phases of the moon. He is glad, often, to be here; just as often, he yearns for the Cloud Recesses. He cannot imagine a total absence of that melancholy, but he doesn't begrudge Lancelot his contentment. "The architecture is from the West," he says. "Perhaps the landscape is, too."