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The first time Time breaks a rule, he reaches out—apprehensive and careful—to take the heartbroken man's hand, just this once.
His touch is even more familiar than his face, and Time's chest tightens with memories and images that dissolve before he can grasp them.
The man shudders, his weary frown turning into shock, and Time snaps his fingers in a frenzied panic.
He's alone again, hands shaking. None of his subjects are ever supposed to wake up. The rules are there for a reason.
He should hope that the man won't remember him. He hopes that he will.
The second time he's not sure if he's the one who broke the rule.
The heartbroken man appears in Time's studio when he's not supposed to. Time knows that he didn't intentionally cause it, but how would it be possible for a human to have this much power over his domain?
The man calls him Shen Wei, and Time sends him back home mid-sentence, but not before the man grabs his hand like he's drowning.
Time isn't sure of much anymore, but he is sure is of one thing. Someone has given him this name, a very long time ago.
The third time there are no rules.
After they broke the rules of life and death, the rules of time are really not a big deal. Or at least that's what the man says—not heartbroken anymore, eyes crinkling in the most beautiful smile Time has ever seen—before he cups Time's face in his hands, soft and gentle and absolutely certain.
Shen Wei's face.
Zhao Yunlan is standing in front of Shen Wei, alive, bright as the sun despite the tears glistening on his cheeks.
His arms wrap around Shen Wei, face buried in his shirt.
"Let's go home."