[ a scale model, hong lu thinks. how marvelous. he wouldn't have been able to come up with a thought about that on his own. hong lu recalls the little models of mountains and sceneries that lined the hallways and the meditation rooms at the estate. he was never allowed to touch them. he wonders if he'll be allowed to touch the model of the bus - that might be fun.

still, it's a good question. as if for the first time, hong lu looks about and considers the strewn glass around them. it'd be nice if they could stay on the floor. they look like shattered stars, which are much more interesting than the stars that were so faraway in the night sky. the ones that you couldn't touch. these ones, you could. they could cut you open. they could leave a scar. you could be reminded that they existed, once. framed, glass, then... ]

Why would it be odd? [ asks hong lu, ] It's more interesting to look at than a framed Abnormality. [ finally, hong lu gives yi sang's hand a squeeze. he looks to him. ] I'll help you clear the glass. Do you just want them collected in the palm of your hand?