[no, Mike is definitely not descending into madness again--at least not about this, given the very slight intake of breath that Jin Guangyao manages when the harp collapses in on itself like water let loose from a glass jar. in spite of the distance he's put between himself and the mystery fluid from which the harp is composed, his expression looks far from frightened; on the contrary, there's an avid, fascinated gleam to his dark eyes--

--but, another corner of his mind reminds him, examining the harp was only a pretext for his visit. the harp will keep... for certain definitions of 'keep,' anyway. he looks back to Mike at his words and is quick to smile agreeably.]

Xiansheng, there is no need to apologize. [a courteous pause before he shifts the subject towards the purpose of Mike's call.] You said that you are remembering things from before, which you couldn't recall yesterday. About your wife? What else did you remember? [a gesture at the puddle of proto-harp goo.] Besides the harp.

[carefully, carefully.]