Luo Binghe needed far less of an invitation than this. He wraps his arms firmly around Shen Yuan and buries his face in his hair to breathe in his scent. There is something in him that only relaxes when he can do so. Despite everything that's happened since, it was still recently that Shen Yuan confronted the memory of his true form, and the tender ache of the memory makes Luo Binghe cling a little tighter.