Chapter Text
Sometimes, Xie Lian dreams.
Xie Lian rarely remembers what he dreams of - as the veil of his subconscious dissolves into waking, Xie Lian struggles with grasping at gossamer threads to retain something, anything from the dreams. He gets a feeling they are of utmost importance, but still, they remain out of reach. Yet Xie Lian remembers the fear. He remembers the deep-seated, all-encompassing terror that grips his very being and shakes him to the core - that never fades even upon waking. Xie Lian is left huddling underneath thin covers, desperate to feel a modicum of relief. It rarely comes.
Sometimes, he remembers a half-crying and half-smiling white mask, but he doesn’t understand why it sends him into a panic, he doesn’t understand why it makes him fear for his life. Xie Lian always remembers running, the thud-thumping of his heart within his ribs while his lungs scream for air, and most of all, he remembers the sharp, all consuming pain. He never remembers the entirety of his dreams, but he remembers enough detail - believing that this would be his last breath, that this was the end, that he was sure to die.
Sometimes he remembers such small details with such hyper clarity that he wonders if these were events he’s lived before.
He sleeps with a nightlight on, a grown man at thirty-five, but he has never felt the shame in it. Better to be laughed at for being afraid of the dark, than to suffer the nightmares that plague him. He understands that this isn’t normal, and he knows better than to expect empathy from others. He gets it, really. He too wishes he could tell himself that he’s too old to be afraid of a bogeyman from his dreams.
Sometimes, paranoia takes over Xie Lian’s waking moments too, and he finds himself triple-checking that his doors are locked and bolted, his curtains drawn shut, with his baseball bat by his bedside within his reach before he feels comfortable enough to retire. Still, the unease sits stone heavy on his gut.
Better safe than sorry, Xie Lian figures. It doesn’t matter, really, that he may look unhinged to the casual observer. Even he doesn’t understand this fear. As long as it helps him breathe a little easier, he doesn’t mind. He’s long past feeling shame, anyway.
Despite all his measures, sometimes, Xie Lian wakes up screaming.
--
The room is dark when he comes to.
Xie Lian can barely make out the shape of his fingers in front of his face. He cannot see. He cannot speak. His mouth is stuffed with cotton rags, his hands bound in front of him, his ankle shackled to an immovable object - the chair he’s sitting on, perhaps? He knows he has been caught, he knows there is nowhere to run, but still, survival instinct keeps his remaining senses sharp as he strains for any sign of a possible escape. A footfall in the dark. A whisper. A breath. Anything, anything all at but the ringing silence.
He knows he is in a cell. That much, he remembers. He’s not sure how long he’s been here, or why he was even here in the first place. His only companion is his own ragged breath, his own thundering heartbeat. He tries not to panic, knowing full well his last panic attack resulted in the blackout he just awoke from. Hyperventilating will not do his situation any favours.
He tries to raise his hands to attempt to loosen the rags from his lips, but he finds he cannot reach them. The ropes that bind his wrists are also bound to something else, but it doesn’t stop him from trying. He bends down to make up for the distance, but his neck snaps firmly in place from the stiff, metal collar that wraps around his throat. He whimpers from the pain.
Think, Xie Lian, Think! he chants in his head.
He begins cataloguing the sensations he still has access to. He smells his own spit from the rag, dried and stale and crusted over from use. He must have been here awhile. He smells something sour and rancid in the air, and a tinge of iron. Blood, perhaps. Maybe even his. He takes stock of his body and notices pain. Chafing, where his skin has rubbed raw and bloody on his bindings. Beyond that, there’s pain everywhere, and he can’t pinpoint exactly how hurt he is. There is a slight char in the air, too. Was something burnt?
He wiggles his fingers and his toes and is glad to find function in them, stiff though they were with pain. He has a bone-deep tiredness that permeates his body, and feels sore in muscles he never even knew he had. A gnawing hunger and parched throat tells him he hasn’t had any sustenance in a while. Even if he escaped now, could he still run? Could he make it?
Suddenly, he hears a switch flick and light instantly blinds him. It sears into his retinas, burning all shapes from his eyes and exploding his skull with pain. He scrunches his eyes shut but it’s too late; the damage has been done. He cows his head as much as his collar allows, and prays for the blinding headache to pass.
Eventually, his eyes adjust, and he squints them in an attempt to make sense of his surroundings. It’s a spotlight that illuminates him from above, the harsh beam highlighting him as the protagonist of this twisted play. He looks down and sees old vomit and dried blood trailing down the front of his ruined hospital gown, onto his thighs and pooling at his bare feet on raw concrete. Beyond this column of light, he sees nothing else.
Then from the corner of his swollen eye, a dark shape shifts. Xie Lian squints harder, twisting his head in response, but still — nothing. Whatever that is there remains out of sight.
His breath speeds up. He can feel it now, whatever that lingers there, a predatory gaze that prickles the hair at the back of his neck and triggers his fight or flight response. He is not alone.
Then just as abruptly, the lights go out.
Xie Lian twists and struggles against his bindings, his eyes darting around the sudden darkness, searching desperately for the thing he swore he almost saw. His muffled cries ring out, and panic rises in his voice.
He feels it first, the air shifting beside him, then hears a low, long sniff next to his left ear. He freezes. Gooseflesh prickles from his neck and emanates down his spine, his fear pooling deep in his gut, a reeking beacon for the one that hunts him.
He’s run out of time. He’s been found.
A low chuckle, barely a breath at first, betrays the other’s location. It moves away from him, just a few steps, still too close for comfort. The light comes on again, but Xie Lian still cannot make out anything beyond the small diameter of stark illumination around him.
Silence reigns again. Xie Lian knows he’s only bidding his time.
His eyes adjust gradually, and a white hooded figure comes into view, his back towards Xie Lian, clad head-to-toe in funeral garb.
The figure lifts its bowed head, then looks over its shoulder, seeking Xie Lian. It turns around slowly - the half-smiling, half-crying white mask in its full glory.
He feels the gaze from beneath the mask settle on him, and only one word rings out from underneath that horrific visage.
Xie Lian is a fool. There’s no escape. There never has been.
“Boo,” the mask says.
Xie Lian screams.
==========================
Hua Cheng stirred awake, the sound of desperate whining and nails scratching on the door disrupting his rest.
“E’ming…” he grumbled, one hand outstretched, blindly patting at the bed to quell the source of the noise, “Stop that.”
E’ming only whined louder and scratched more forcefully. Hua Cheng groaned, ready to scold his dog, when his sleep-addled brain supplied that E’ming rarely disobeyed him directly. Something was not quite right.
Then the screaming started, and Hua Cheng’s eye flew open.
In an instant he was on his feet, his heart pounding wildly in his chest as he rushed into the adjacent room and threw the door wide open, his gaze landing on the lone person in bed, with Ruoye desperately pawing at his side. Without any regard for propriety, he tugged off the blankets that Xie Lian managed to twist around himself and shook the screaming man by the shoulders.
“Gege, wake up, wake up!”
Xie Lian’s eyes were frantic when he woke, disorientated and wild. He grabbed onto Hua Cheng’s sleep shirt in his panic; an inconsolable, shaking and babbling mess.
“It’s him, the mask, it’s the mask, he’s after me, that cursed mask, help me! Help me, San Lang, help me please, please, it hurts! He’s hurting me!” Xie Lian half sobbed.
Hua Cheng faltered, his heart aching with every sob and shudder from his beloved. Instinctively, he gathered Xie Lian into his arms and held him tight, rocking him back and forth gently.
“Shh, Gege it was a dream, it was a terrible nightmare, but it’s not real okay? It’s not real. I’m real. You feel me? I’m holding you now, I’m right here, Gege. I’m here and I’m warm and I’m real.” Hua Cheng repeated it like a mantra, hoping his voice would soothe Xie Lian’s nerves.
“But the mask… That mask… It’s after me, San Lang, he’s going to kill me, I know it! Why..? What does it want?! Please, please San Lang, help me, save me!!” Xie Lian begged, his fingers digging almost painfully into Hua Cheng’s back.
It gutted Hua Cheng to see him like this; broken and afraid, just like how he had been when he last saw him a decade ago.
“Gege,” he said gently, petting his hair as he rocked the trembling man, “it’s just a mask, no matter how scary it may look, it can’t hurt you now. You’re safe here.”
Xie Lian buried himself in Hua Cheng’s arms and cried harder, and Hua Cheng could do nothing but hold him and soothe him. How he wished he could reach into Xie Lian’s nightmares and pull them out by the root to rid him of his haunted past, to rid him of anything that dared intrude upon his peace of mind. Ten years on, despite all his power and his might, Hua Cheng still could not shield Xie Lian from his demons.
He was still a helpless, useless thing.
Hua Cheng shook his head and tried to banish those thoughts from his mind. He’d have time for his self-loathing when he was alone, but right now Xie Lian needed him. Powerless as he was, he was always good at offering Xie Lian a warm embrace. He tightened his grip, cooing soothing nonsense to his beloved, repeating again and again that he was safe.
Xie Lian’s sobs eventually petered out into shaky breaths, and when he no longer shook like a leaf, Hua Cheng disentangled himself briefly to reach for the box of tissues at his bedside. Xie Lian took it gratefully. Hua Cheng half-expected him to pull away, but he only settled back into Hua Cheng’s arms after cleaning himself up, holding on just as tight as before. Though he seemed exhausted, he fought to keep awake.
“Does Gege want to get some rest?” Hua Cheng asked.
“I don’t want to sleep, San Lang,” Xie Lian whispered, “I know it sounds pathetic and weak but… I’m afraid I’ll fall asleep and dream the same dream again. I’m… scared.”
Hua Cheng idly rubbed soothing circles on Xie Lian’s back. “That’s not being weak at all, Gege. We are all scared of something.”
“Even you?” Xie Lian asked. “You seem so fearless.”
Hua Cheng tightened his grip around Xie Lian. “Especially me,” Hua Cheng assured, “I have dreams that haunt me too. Sometimes I’m so afraid of losing the things I care about that I think I’m going crazy.”
“Oh,” Xie Lian said, hesitation creeping into his voice. “Like what?”
“Like the people I care about, for instance,” Hua Cheng answered easily.
Xie Lian traced tiny, careful circles into Hua Cheng’s skin. “Like what happened with… your beloved?”
“Mn,” Hua Cheng said, bundling Xie Lian closer into his chest and nuzzling his hair.
He wanted to say more. Truly, this was a perfect opening for him to tell Xie Lian that he was that beloved that Hua Cheng had been searching for all these years - yet, fear stayed his tongue.
“Do you still think about them?” Xie Lian asked, when the silence stretched for too long.
“...” Hua Cheng hesitated.
“That’s okay,” Xie Lian interrupted suddenly, “You don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry I pried.”
“One day,” Hua Cheng promised, “One day I’ll tell you all about him. Not tonight though, it’s been a long and trying day, and you really should get some rest.”
“I still don’t dare to close my eyes though,” Xie Lian admitted in a small voice.
“How about I stay right here with Gege, and if you start twitching and flailing in your sleep I’ll wake you up, hmm? I’ll make sure to wake you before any dreams get really bad. How does that sound?” Hua Cheng assured.
Xie Lian huffed a watery laugh before giving him a small smile.
“I’d like that very much, San Lang. Just — can we keep a light on? Please?”
“Of course, Gege,” Hua Cheng responded.
Peeling himself away again so he could turn on a bedside lamp, he rearranged the pillows to fit more comfortably, settled into bed and held out his arms.
“Let me hold you, Gege?” Hua Cheng asked.
Xie Lian flushed, but he didn’t hesitate to burrow himself in Hua Cheng’s chest, as though it was the only safe spot he could think of; it reminded him so much of times long past where he was the one to seek comfort in Xie Lian’s embrace instead - a pathetic, crying child wailing at the unfairness of the world. Blinking back the nostalgia, Hua Cheng pulled the covers up around themselves.
“There. Now we’re all safe and settled. There won’t be any more nightmares of half-crying, half-smiling masks anymore now that I’m here,” Hua Cheng murmured, arms tightening around the other’s frame.
He heard Xie Lian’s breath catch, and felt him freeze.
Hua Cheng frowned, wondering what could have caused that reaction, and then it hit him.
“...I have never told anyone what that mask looked like,” Xie Lian whispered, his voice shaky, “Not once.”
Fuck.
Xie Lian pulled away from him in an instant, eyeing him intensely.
“How do you know what the mask looks like?” Xie Lian demanded.
“Gege,” Hua Cheng began, but the words died on his tongue.
Hua Cheng’s mind raced. He would never lie to Xie Lian, but was he really going to tell Xie Lian the whole truth? What if Xie Lian’s condition worsened? What if he decided that the truth was too terrible, and he didn’t want anything to do with Hua Cheng anymore? He was in such a good place now, and who was Hua Cheng to remind him of all his past trauma? Despite knowing that Xie Lian had guessed the truth, Hua Cheng was afraid.
He chanced a glance at his beloved. Xie Lian was looking expectantly at him, his eyes burning with determination and... hope?
“Gege must already know,” Hua Cheng said instead.
“I guessed as much. But these things should be spelled out clearly, shouldn’t they?” Xie Lian insisted. “I have a question to ask San Lang, and I pray you’ll answer me truthfully. Please.”
Hua Cheng nodded, resigned. The truth, then. Whatever Xie Lian decided after this, he would respect his decision.
“Ask me anything, Gege.”
Xie Lian reached out a hand to grasp his own trembling fingers. "Does San Lang know me? I mean, from before? Before I remember?"
Something raw and vulnerable must have flickered across Hua Cheng’s face, but he quickly shuttered his expression, and a strained smile made its way to his face instead.
"Why does Gege ask this?" Hua Cheng deflected.
"You... you seem very familiar. I feel like I’ve known you for a long time, and I’m instantly comfortable around you. And sometimes it feels like you already know me so well, even better than I know myself. I can't help wondering if it's because you actually do. You know things about me that a newly met stranger shouldn’t. You even know what the mask that haunts my dreams looks like. Please, tell me if it’s all just in my head?” Xie Lian said, his grip tightening against Hua Cheng’s.
Hua Cheng held his gaze for a long while, before breaking it to stare into the distance, pensive in his contemplation. He grazed a soft caress across Xie Lian’s knuckle to let him know that he was considering an answer.
"Please San Lang? I want to know. Even if it hurts, even if it's horrible, I want to know if I have a past. If this is all just in my head."
After what seemed like an eternity, he turned around to hold both of Xie Lian's hands in his and held his gaze.
"Gege," he began, "I never wanted to lie to you. So yes, I do know you. From before. But if you ask me how, and anything else about it... this is one question I'm not ready to answer yet. I don’t know if telling you would do you more harm than good. The doctors said that your condition is… fragile, and I don’t want to trigger anything… "
"So you do," Xie Lian breathed, "You know me. You know me."
"I... Gege, I..."
Xie Lian flung himself at Hua Cheng and pulled him into a crushing hug, and suddenly he was crying again.
"I'm not a blank slate, San Lang," Xie Lian marvelled, "You know me! I'm so glad, so glad... I... I'm not all alone in this world after all. I'm not empty. I'm not... nothing. I have a past. I have somewhere I belong. I'm known."
“Gege,” Hua Cheng said, his arms wrapping around Xie Lian like they’ve always belonged there, like they were moulded just to fit his shape. He cradled Xie Lian gently against his chest, muttering little words of comfort, kissing the top of his head, “My Gege. I know you. I’ve always known you. I know you. My beloved.”
Xie Lian suddenly hiccuped mid-sob.
“B-beloved?” he pulled back from the hug to stare at Hua Cheng, “I really am your beloved?”
“There could never be anyone else but you,” Hua Cheng said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Xie Lian’s ear, as Xie Lian leaned into his touch, “My beloved Gege.”
“I’m not crazy,” Xie Lian whispered, his grip tightening on the front of Hua Cheng’s shirt, “They were real. They were memories. They really happened! San Lang, I’m not crazy!”
Hua Cheng was confused for a moment before hope dawned in his eyes. “Gege, you remember...?”
Xie Lian’s eyes shone and he was practically bouncing with excitement. “I remember small snippets, like snatches of memories more than actual memories. But I remember you, San Lang. I remember you embracing me at a rooftop, telling me you were going to find a way to fix things. I remember that! I remember our first date, when you brought me pink peonies, and oh! I remember, you used to have the most beautiful red eye…”
Hua Cheng bit back a sob, the unbridled bittersweet joy bursting out of his chest to overwhelm him. How long had he dreamt of this day? This very moment where he could have Xie Lian back, his Xie Lian, the one with whom he had grown up with, had idolised and had made promises to all those years ago? Even if he didn’t quite have all his memories back, he was still his Gege, his beloved. He buried his face against Xie Lian’s neck, inhaling his scent, knowing that composure was a lost cause.
“San Lang?” Xie Lian asked, gently petting his hair.
“I never thought I'd get to have this again,” he choked out, “My Gege. I have missed you for so long. You don’t know how long I searched for you! I’m sorry you suffered alone for so long, I’m so sorry...”
“San Lang,” Xie Lian admonished lightly, “Please don’t say that. You’re here with me now. You’ve found me! It may have taken a while, but we’ve found each other now. We’re both here.”
Hua Cheng nodded desperately, clinging on tighter. “I’m sorry Gege, I was supposed to comfort you and yet… Here I am, still useless, still needing comfort from you.”
“Silly San Lang,” Xie Lian said softly, “It goes both ways. I’ll always be here to hold my San Lang, like how you’ll always be there to hold me too.”
Hua Cheng huffed a laugh despite himself, “You used to say that a lot.”
“I did?” Xie Lian was delighted, “I’m glad that past me was just as wise then. San Lang deserves all the cuddles.”
Hua Cheng nodded in approval. Despite how much of a mess they both were, Hua Cheng knew his gaze was infinitely soft. He cupped Xie Lian’s face in his hands, gently wiping at the tear tracks with his thumbs. The shift in the mood would give a lesser man whiplash — Xie Lian looked so incandescently happy, and Hua Cheng was over the moon that he was the cause of it.
Hua Cheng knew his own smile rivalled his beloved’s as he inched closer to him, “You know what else you used to say too?”
“What?” Xie Lian replied breathily.
“You used to beg so prettily for your San Lang to kiss you,” Hua Cheng said, leaning in, his lips barely an inch from Xie Lian’s.
Xie Lian visibly flushed and swallowed.
“Did I?” he whispered, tilting imperceptibly closer.
“Mmhmm. All the time,” Hua Cheng said, hovering maddeningly above Xie Lian’s lips.
“Oh,” Xie Lian said, breath ghosting Hua Cheng’s lips.
“Do you want me to?” Hua Cheng asked.
Xie Lian’s gaze flickered to his lips and back to his eye.
“Kiss me, San Lang,” Xie Lian whispered, and that was all the encouragement needed for Hua Cheng to nuzzle Xie Lian’s nose with his own, a smile wide on his lips.
Reaching out to cup Xie Lian’s cheek, he closed the gap between them.
Xie Lian still tasted just like he remembered.
--
Hua Cheng was vaguely aware that his left arm was thoroughly numb when he slowly started to wake up. It was a familiar scent that surrounded him - something that reminded him of home, of belonging, and of simpler times. He cracked open an eye and his breath stuttered in his chest.
Xie Lian, his beloved, was still peacefully asleep in his arms. His soft breath rising and falling, his cheek against Hua Cheng’s chest, his chestnut hair framing his face. Hua Cheng’s heart ached.
Nevermind blood flow, Hua Cheng would gladly lose an arm for this man.
Last night slowly came back to him, and Hua Cheng had to swallow hard to stop himself from combusting from the memory of it. Xie Lian remembered him, and that alone lit a fire within Hua Cheng, bringing memories he thought long dead back to life.
He remembered the first time he ever met Xie Lian as a dirty, dingy kid, crying in a corner of the orphanage that Xie Lian volunteered at. Children could be so cruel; he remembered them throwing rocks at him, calling him a cursed child, repeating what they heard the adults whisper when they thought they were out of earshot. How he was the devil incarnate, how his cursed eye must have driven his father to madness, driven him to murder his wife and his children in a crazed stupor, how the authorities arrived just in time to see the only surviving child swinging a knife at his father, screaming like a mad demon as they took him away. They mocked him, cursed him, bundled him up and beat him mercilessly, and that was how Xie Lian had found him - fighting tooth and nail against his bullies.
Xie Lian had hauled the bullies away, reported them to orphanage caretakers, then fearlessly berated the caretakers themselves for gossiping when they shouldn’t have. At fourteen, Xie Lian had the righteous fury of a man twice his age, and Hua Cheng could do nothing but stare in awe.
He remembered Xie Lian taking him to the infirmary to clean his wounds, patting his head to tell him he was so strong and so brave to stand up to his bullies, and not to listen to the cruel rubbish that the ignorant tend to spew.
He remembered Xie Lian’s kind smile and warm touch, and he remembered how he mustered up courage to ask what was the point of living when everyone thought he was cursed, and that everything was his fault because he brought bad luck wherever he went.
He remembered Xie Lian’s lips trembling, his arms wrapping around Hua Cheng’s tiny frame as he held him gently and told him it wasn’t his fault, to ignore what the bullies say because they didn’t know any better. He remembered Xie Lian telling him to live because Xie Lian-gege would be very sad if little Hong’er was no longer around.
He remembered crying for the first time since the incident as Xie Lian held him tight.
Xie Lian may never remember any of this again, but Hua Cheng was okay with it. He had Xie Lian in his arms again, and that was all that mattered.
There will come a time when Xie Lian would demand answers from him - about them, about the past, about everything that happened in between now that the truth was out. Hua Cheng would give everything to him, but he would be cautious about it this time; mentally he made a note to seek out Xie Lian’s old doctor again to chart out the process of memory recovery.
He knew that Xie Lian wasn’t made of glass, but he still couldn’t help but want to take things slow. After everything that happened, he just wanted to be able to protect him from all the hurt he’d unfairly had to bear.
He had to be careful, though. The last thing he wanted was for Xie Lian’s tracks to be leaked after all this time. While the general public would have probably forgotten about the decade-old scandals by now, he couldn’t be sure that White No-Face wasn’t still looking for Xie Lian. He’d die a thousand times before he’d let that monster lay a finger on him again.
As if on cue, Xie Lian stretched and snuggled in closer, before blinking himself awake and shaking Hua Cheng from his thoughts. Confusion painted his features first, before he met Hua Cheng’s soft gaze and quickly broke into a blinding smile.
“Good morning, San Lang.”
Then Xie Lian kissed him. Just a small, gentle peck on the cheek, but he kissed him.
Hua Cheng was but a weak, weak man.
“Gege,” Hua Cheng whined, burying his face in Xie Lian’s hair and hugging him closer, “You can’t just do that. You’re going to kill me.”
Xie Lian simply laughed, nuzzling into his chest, “I think San Lang will live.”
“Nope,” Hua Cheng insisted, “I am deceased. Dead. Gege’s beauty has killed me. No one can revive me anymore.”
“San Lang!” Xie Lian swatted at his chest, chuckling despite himself. “You sure you want to stay dead?”
Hua Cheng nodded petulantly, “Positive.”
“Okay but you know dead people don’t get to wake up cuddling their boyfriends every morning,” Xie Lian responded, and Hua Cheng saw the exact moment when he realised he had said that out loud; his eyes widened comically and he buried his quickly flushing face in his hands in embarrassment.
“Oh?? So bold Gege, propositioning this San Lang so early in the morning,” Hua Cheng teased, attempting to pry Xie Lian’s hands off his face.
“Oh my god I can’t believe I said that out loud,” Xie Lian garbled out, struggling feebly against Hua Cheng’s fingers as he made noises equivalent to a dying whale.
Hua Cheng peeked between his fingers and smirked triumphantly, peeling them away to kiss Xie Lian’s nose. “Why thank you for asking, I’ll gladly be Gege’s boyfriend.”
“Really?” Xie Lian said, sounding surprised.
“Absolutely,” Hua Cheng softened, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear, “You’ve always been my beloved, and I’d be honoured to be Gege’s.”
Xie Lian made a happy noise and surged forward to kiss him. Hua Cheng kissed back with fervour.
When they finally broke apart, Hua Cheng was still smirking.
“What?” Xie Lian asked, “I know that look. What mischief are you up to now?”
“Such slander, Gege,” Hua Cheng said, sounding as affronted as he could, “I’m just happy, okay? I’m so glad Gege asked me to be his boyfriend.”
Xie Lian narrowed his eyes at him. Hua Cheng’s grin turned wolfish.
“Aren’t you going to ask me why, Gege?”
“Why?” Xie Lian humoured him, though he sounded suspicious.
“You may not realise,” Hua Cheng said, pulling the sheets up to cover his chest, batting his eyelashes coyly as his smug grin widened, “But you did take me to bed right after the first date yesterday. Such a bold move! In my own home, and right in front of my entire clan too. Everyone’s going to think we had suuccch a fun time last night after I emerge from your bedroom way past my normal waking time looking completely dishevelled.”
As the implication dawned on Xie Lian, his face flushed so red it was just a shade shy of purple. Hua Cheng simply threw his head back and laughed at the sight.
“Think of my reputation, Gege! You gotta take responsibility!”
“...SAN LANG!!”