Luoli was ten now, and had recently decided he was "basically an adult," a claim he made with total confidence roughly once a week.
It was a Sunday. Beichuan had been over since morning not unusual anymore, hadn't been for a long time. He was in the kitchen when Qinran found him.
"I think it's time," she said quietly. "To tell him properly."
Beichuan set down the knife he'd been using to cut vegetables.
"You're sure?"
"He's ten. He deserves the truth, not just — whatever he's pieced together on his own."
"Alright."
They found him in the living room, sprawled upside down on the couch in the specific way only children and the extremely tired can manage, one leg hooked over the backrest.
"Luoli. Can we talk to you for a second."
He flipped upright immediately, sensing something.
"Am I in trouble?"
"No."
"Okay good, because it wasn't my fault, the thing with the vase...."
"This isn't about the vase."
"...What vase."
Qinran decided not to pursue that.
She sat down across from him. Beichuan sat beside her.
"Luoli," she said. "Beichuan is your father."
She'd rehearsed it more carefully than that, actually — a longer, gentler version. It came out plain instead.
Luoli looked at them both for a moment.
Then he shrugged.
"Yeah, I know."
Silence.
"...You know," Qinran repeated.
"Mom. I have his exact face." He gestured vaguely at his own features, then at Beichuan, like presenting evidence. "Same eyebrows. Same nose. Zhuo Fei's older brother said I looked like his uncle from the office building once and I said no, I look like my dad, and everyone just kind of stared at me so I figured it out from there."
Beichuan, very carefully, did not laugh.
Qinran stared at her son.
"How long have you known?"
"A few months, maybe? I forgot to ask."
"Is that all you have to say?"
Luoli thought about it seriously.
"Can I call him Dad instead of Uncle Chuan now? Uncle Chuan felt weird once I knew. Like I was doing a bit."
Beichuan's expression did something complicated.
"You can call me whatever you want," he said.
"Cool." Luoli flopped back down on the couch, apparently considering the conversation closed. "Is lunch ready? I'm hungry."
Qinran looked at Beichuan.
Beichuan looked back at her, something unreadable and fond in his face.
"Well," he said. "That went easier than expected."
"Ten years old and he handled that better than either of us."
From the couch, without looking up—
"I heard that."