He can feel the way Wei Ying is staring at his mouth, his throat going dry as he listens, gaze drifting to the folder as he moves, steps up beside him to look, one hand coming to rest against the small of his back almost automatically. As if he can't keep from touching Wei Ying in some way to make sure he's still real.

And his attention focuses on the picture as he swallows before he nods briefly. "It's not far." And built after his death, as he'd surmised.

"Come on." But that hand is staying right where it is as they walk.