Jin Ling... really isn't sure how to deal with someone else being in a more emotionally volatile state than he is. It isn't a situation that comes up often.

He remembers a lot more than just the date. He remembers how birthdays matter to Meng Yao. He remembers what he had said that night in Guanyin temple. One son given a birthday feast, one kicked down the stairs of Jinlintai.

Of all the things that his uncle said that night, the way he had said it had cut deeper than the string on his throat, than the betrayal of using him as a hostage. Though Jin Ling had done a lot of yelling about his uncle almost killing him, that had never been the part which had broken Jin Ling. He still isn't sure whether his uncle had said what he did in the way that he did it out of desperation for Jin Ling to understand his pain or because he'd wanted to cut a hole in Jin Ling that will never heal.

That's the real gulf that he's reaching across here. The one where his uncle had made his father's death a footnote to his own pain, and the day that marks it.

He doesn't feel his uncle's really entitled to the sobbing.

"Come on," he says, acting a little bit gruff because he doesn't know how to deal with his uncle's emotions and also he doesn't want to. But he does want to be here and to give him this.

Dislodging him gently, Jin Ling keeps an arm around his uncle as he guides him over to the couch, sitting them both down and cuddling against his side, head on his uncle's shoulder.