That laugh lashes out where fists don't. Sinks in and chills him to the bone, making it impossible to speak, impossible to do anything but tighten his grip on the fabric at his soulmate's leg. Zishu had fallen for the same trick everyone else had. He'd been so sure it wouldn't fool someone who knew him.

Wrong. He'd been wrong. And had hurt the person who is so important to him. The one person...he should never hurt.

Kexing forces himself to move, pain swirling with confusion as he scrambles to find a way to fix this. He shakes himself and forces himself to breathe, then reaches for those fists to rub at them - those tears terrify him for a reason he can't name.

"It...wasn't intended to hurt you." Which is the closest he's ever come to an actual apology.