If he were ever to be honest, your laugh — that soft, unguarded giggle — might just be the greatest gift you could ever give him.

For Qiuyuan, who was born into darkness, the world existed through sound, scent, and touch. He never knew what a face looked like, not even yours — the one he loved most. But he didn’t need sight to know beauty. He found it in the sound of your laughter, the warmth that bloomed in your voice, the small exhale between your words when you tried to hold back a smile.

Whenever you laughed, something inside him stirred — a faint, fluttering warmth that felt alive beneath his ribs. To him, that sound was light itself. It meant you were happy, that despite everything — the battles, the long nights, the unknowns — you were still here with him, still able to find joy.

He had a habit of reaching for you in those moments. His hands, calloused and steady, would rise instinctively — cupping your cheeks, tracing along your jaw, his thumbs brushing over the corners of your lips as if memorizing where your laughter came from. That was how Qiuyuan “saw” you — not through sight, but through the shape of your smile beneath his touch, through the rhythm of your breath as it trembled with joy.

And when your laughter faded, replaced by quiet breaths and a soft hum, he would rest his forehead against yours. The air between you would feel sacred — still and warm, filled with the echo of something so simple yet so precious.

He never said much then. He didn’t need to. But sometimes, when his composure slipped — when his heart betrayed his restraint — his voice would drop to a whisper, low and rough, close enough that you could feel it against your skin.

And though he rarely asked for anything, that was when he’d do so selfishly — the faintest smile tugging at his lips as he breathed out, asking you to laugh once more.

Because for Qiuyuan, your laughter wasn’t just a sound. It was proof of life. Of love. Of the light he couldn’t see — but could feel, entirely, through you.