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Quiet Night Thought: Chapter 5 [SVSSS]
Title: Quiet Night Thought
Fandom: Scum Villain's Self-Saving System
Pairing/Characters: Shen Jiu & Shen Yuan, Shen Jiu & everyone, Shen Yuan & Shang Qinghua, Shen Jiu & Yue Qingyuan
Rating: NR (probably T?)
Warnings:
Word Count: 2, 206, Ch. 5 / 5; See All Chapters
Summary: Shen Yuan unwittingly gives character-growth advice to the Qing Jing head disciple Shen Jiu in a weak plot device of a shared dream. Of course, advice that's good from a plot perspective isn't always advice that's good for the individual, especially when that individual is a real person with real emotions and real trauma.
Shen Qingqiu had returned to Shen Yuan’s spirit home almost every night, and that continued after Shen Yuan had given him access to Proud Immortal Demon Way. But since then, Shen Yuan had been absent from their shared space. Shen Qingqiu picked up the tablet and read it alone, and when it became too much, he wandered away and opened the lid to the piano, and he played.
And when he woke up, he wrote everything down.
“Wait,” said Shang Qinghua, “you want to… what?”
“Keep up!” snapped Qi Qingqi. “This is a very basic plotline. We’ve just added a few flourishes for a more personal touch.”
“I guess I’m not really the person to criticise here, but it sounds more like you’ve added in about twenty basic plotlines. You have the standard fake relationship, and I guess that fits in pretty seamlessly with friends-to-lovers—”
Liu Qingge nodded seriously in agreement. Those two were obviously a classic combination.
“—But this whole idea you have about setting Yue Qingyuan up to rescue Shen Qingqiu from the Spider-Headed Tigers—which, are those a thing? I don’t remember those being a thing.”
“They’re a thing,” Liu Qingge confirmed, crossing his arms over his chest.
Shang Qinghua made a face at him. “Ew. Well, there you have this damsel-in-distress thing happening, and then it sounds as though you’re also trying to work in an enemy-to-lovers thing happening with your plans to fuel arguments, which doesn’t really work well with the friends-to-lovers trope—”
“No,” said Liu Qingge, vindicated. “It doesn’t.”
Qi Qingqi glared at him.
Yue Qingyuan volunteered, “I don’t really like that one, either…”
“And that’s not even addressing the role-reversal trope, the no-powers trope, the nursing-him-back-to-health trope, the royalty trope, and the raising-a-kid-together trope,” added Shang Qinghua, paging through their notes. “Like… It’s all a little bit much. It’s not that you couldn’t work in all of those things in a long romance series, but the get-together portion that we’re planning here should definitely only include one or two of those tropes, not all of them.”
“We didn’t bring you here for feedback,” said Qi Qingqi imperiously. “What did you tell Shen Qingqiu about Yue Qingyuan?”
“What? Nothing!” said Shang Qinghua, sounding honestly offended. “I didn’t say anything! Wei-shixiong said it wouldn’t be ethical when I asked him!”
“Oh, did he?” said Qi Qingqi viciously, stretching her arm out long and curling her index finger back. “Wei Qingwei, explain yourself!”
Outside the pavilion, birds chirped harmoniously into the silence.
Mu Qingfang said hesitantly, “Shijie, I don’t think Wei-shixiong is here?”
Qi Qingqi drooped from her dramatic pose. “Did we forget to invite him this whole time?”
Qing Jing Peak was joyful with the late spring bounty blooming in every direction, and Shen Qingqiu had been having the best sleep of his life. His foundation, though still unsettled, was inching its way closer to balance, and his wretched, scarred spirit veins were slowly but surely untangling themselves.
It made such a difference to have a friend, even when that friend was absent.
And now, with Yue Qingyuan returned to him, and Shang Qinghua brightening at the sight of him rather than huddling away, he had three friends to boast of.
And… he didn’t feel as frightened anymore. The fear was still within him, but he could acknowledge it and set it aside. It no longer boiled up within him like rising bile.
Wen Lin said the fear didn’t make him bad or wrong. She said he wasn’t bad or wrong. Hearing that felt like a thousand boulders crumbling away from his shoulders.
“Little Shen,” cheered his eternally junior, older shidi without bothering to hide his malice. “I’m surprised to see you here! Didn’t you know that all the other succeeding disciples are meeting on Qiong Ding Peak right now? Have you not been invited?” He covered his mouth in mock shock, but his hand was hiding a smirk, not a gasp.
Shen Qingqiu examined his own feelings with care. First, assume the report was true. There were certainly benign reasons that the other succeeding disciples might hold a meeting without him, though in this moment, he struggled to think of them. Nevertheless, he must hold onto that possibility or lose himself to the resentment he had only recently fought his way out of. Second, consider the validity of the source. His shidi despised him, and was perfectly motivated to misrepresent or outright invite events that might upset him. Perhaps some succeeding disciples, not all, were holding a meeting for some specialised purpose that he was superfluous to. That seemed perfectly likely.
He smiled at his shidi, who seemed irritated by the lack of an explosive or implosive response. “Thanking shidi for this information,” he said, and he turned toward Qiong Ding Peak, breathing his way through a meditative practice to keep his fear from welling up again.
Whatever he expected to find when he arrived, it wasn’t the scene he interrupted.
“I’m sorry, Qi-shimei, but no. You can’t just combine those tropes together without some substantial world-building,” Shang Qinghua was saying with confidence.
“And they don’t make sense given the protagonists that we’re working with regardless,” said Liu Qingge firmly. “Characterisation and continuity are important.”
Shang Qinghua shot Liu Qingge a hunted look. “...Yeah. Totally.”
“Can’t we skip the hurt and just have comfort?” asked Yue Qingyuan wistfully.
“No!” said everyone else, sounding beleaguered.
“Are you… writing a novel?” asked Shen Qingqiu. He looked around the little pavilion, which was guarded by simple, easily transversed silencing wards, and was crammed full of succeeding disciples, snacks, and paper.
“Yes,” said Qi Qingqi and Liu Qingge firmly.
“Yes,” said Shang Qinghua distractedly.
“Yes?” said Yue Qingyuan with shifty eyes.
“We are? I thought we were trying to match-make Shen-shixiong and Yue-shixiong,” said Wei Qingwei, looking up from where he was doodling little sword designs on the edge of one of the pages of notes.
“...Oh yeah,” said Qi Qingqi. “We were doing that.” She looked down at her pile of notes.
Shen Qingqiu stepped delicately toward the table and picked up one of the loose pages. He read aloud, “And after the battle against ??? demonic beast??? Yue Qingyuan gathers Shen Qingqiu’s body up into his arms, ignoring the blood, and cries into his long, flowing hair. ‘I knew you would come for me,’ gasps Shen Qingqiu, and dies.”
“I didn’t like that one,” said Yue Qingyuan quickly.
“We had a whole resurrection arc planned, calm down,” said Qi Qingqi, rolling her eyes.
“What a relief,” said Shen Qingqiu blandly. He looked around at the mess of papers on the table. “And why were you match-making in the first place?”
Liu Qingge and Qi Qingqi explained their theories on weak links and strengthening social bonds, and Yue Qingyuan shrank into himself, blushing.
“I believe I understand the idea,” said Shen Qingqiu dryly. “Very well. We’ll use all of them, then.”
The other succeeding disciples stared at him blankly.
“...Even the contradictory ones?” asked Shang Qinghua, feeling uneasy as the word continuity rang through his mind threateningly.
“Especially the contradictory ones,” said Shen Qingqiu with satisfaction. “We’ll spread all of these around the sect and beyond—my friends at the Red Warm Pavilion can help with that—and the less sense the different rumours make, the less anyone will believe them. That way, if they hear any rumours bearing grains of truth, they’ll find those just as unbelievable and dismiss them.”
“And that will deal with your blackmailing problem,” said Liu Qingge with satisfaction.
Shen Qingqiu hesitated. He didn’t want to share this part of himself with anyone, but… He looked back at the table. Even if they’d gotten a little carried past their initial goal, they had gathered like this, they had come up with these plans, with the idea of helping him. Helping him, even when they hadn’t liked him. And they almost seemed to like him more, now that they’d imagined all of these wild stories featuring him.
“There was no blackmailing problem,” he said quietly. “I have held some heart demons for some time, and the… the fear they produced in me, it made it difficult to be close to other people, or even to sleep.”
The other succeeding disciples—his peers—stared at him silently, urging him on.
“When I used the Dream Seeking Wisdom flower, I made a connection,” he continued, and Mu Qingfang jerked in surprise. “The spirit in the dream told me that it doesn’t matter if I suffer, it doesn’t matter if I’m miserable, I should act in ways that are aligned with my goals. And so I tried to, but it made the fear stronger, and I was growing increasingly unwell in the process.”
Mu Qingfang tried to speak, but Wei Qingwei helpfully covered his mouth.
“But I continued to connect with the spirit, and I feel much better now,” said Shen Qingqiu with brisk finality.
Mu Qingfang wrestled Wei Qingwei away. “You’ve continued to take the Dream Seeking Wisdom infusion?” he said, frowning. The frown was concern, Shen Qingqiu realised with a jolt, not judgement.
“No,” said Shen Qingqiu. “I only took it once.”
“And yet you continued making contact with the spirit?” The frown was deepening.
Shen Qingqiu nodded sharply.
A number of responses cycled across Mu Qingfang’s face before he settled on, “You should tell your healer,” meaningfully, and left it at that.
“If there’s no blackmailer, why are we spreading all these rumours?” asked Liu Qingge, returning the conversation to their previous topic.
Shang Qinghua answered before Shen Qingqiu had a chance to. “Insurance!” he said. “Just because there’s no blackmailer right now, that doesn’t mean there never will be. We should choose the least believable and, uh, least scandalous ones from this pile to distribute.”
“Maybe Shen Qingqiu should just avoid doing things that are blackmail-worthy,” said Liu Qingge, crossing his arms.
“Blackmailers don’t need truth,” said Qi Qingqi quietly. “A believable lie can be just as motivating.”
“I’m talking about the brothel,” said Liu Qingge.
Shen Qingqiu felt his old, familiar vitriol rolling back in. “I’m not going to stop visiting my friends simply because their occupation makes you uncomfortable,” he snapped.
“It’s not their occupation, it’s—” Liu Qingge began, but then Yue Qingyuan interrupted him.
“It seems we have a great deal more to discuss,” he said mildly. “We all have so much of ourselves to share. We should make it a point to return here and share our truths with one another without fearing judgement.”
Liu Qingge settled down grouchily, and Yue Qingyuan smiled at him.
“Anyway,” said Liu Qingge. “I’m glad you’re fine now, or whatever.”
Shen Qingqiu gave him a smile, tiny but real.
Things had been challenging, but they were getting better, slowly but surely.
Shen Yuan floated into something just short of consciousness and was welcomed by a chorus of mechanical beeps.
“Thank you so much for coming,” he heard his sister’s voice say. She sounded shaky and upset.
“Of course,” said a vaguely familiar voice. A neighbour? “We couldn’t believe it when we heard he was in hospital. I could have sworn that I heard him playing his piano just this morning.”
His sister audibly choked back a sob. Footsteps, and then his oldest brother was saying, “We hope you’ll come to the wake.”
“He’s still alive,” snapped his second brother. His voice was louder, closer, like he was right by Shen Yuan’s side. “Don’t talk like he’s already dead.”
“The doctors told us that he’s brain dead,” his oldest brother continued evenly, but Shen Yuan could hear the strain in his words. “Even if he… goes on as he has, they recommend—”
And then his oldest brother’s voice was fading away, but Shen Yuan had heard enough to understand perfectly. Brain dead. Brain dead! Of course he was brain dead. How could he be anything else, after suffering through that last, awful chapter. Dumbfuck author, dumbfuck novel!
But if he was brain dead, what was he thinking with? If he was brain dead—
When Shen Yuan opened his eyes, there was no mist, but to his left, there was a small, simple building with an aesthetic that was more handwavy-oldtimey elegant than anything that had ever actually existed in any period of China's long history. The building was surrounded by a grove of bamboo, and downhill, he could see a clear pool that seemed to be glowing in the light of the full moon overhead.
And he wasn’t alone.
“Shen Yuan,” said Shen Jiu frowning at him thoughtfully. “Am I dreaming?”
Shen Yuan looked around. He looked down at himself, dressed in a hospital gown. “I… I don’t know.”
“Hm,” said Shen Jiu. “Well, come along, then. We’ll have to find you something less embarrassing to wear, and then you can tell me where you’ve been all this time.”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Shen Yuan. “Did you finish reading the novel?”
“I’ve never read anything so poorly constructed in my life,” confirmed Shen Jiu.
Shen Yuan laughed. “Right? I can’t wait to complain about it with you!”
Shen Jiu smiled back at him.
It was nice, not being alone.
FIN
Fandom: Scum Villain's Self-Saving System
Pairing/Characters: Shen Jiu & Shen Yuan, Shen Jiu & everyone, Shen Yuan & Shang Qinghua, Shen Jiu & Yue Qingyuan
Rating: NR (probably T?)
Warnings:
Word Count: 2, 206, Ch. 5 / 5; See All Chapters
Summary: Shen Yuan unwittingly gives character-growth advice to the Qing Jing head disciple Shen Jiu in a weak plot device of a shared dream. Of course, advice that's good from a plot perspective isn't always advice that's good for the individual, especially when that individual is a real person with real emotions and real trauma.
Shen Qingqiu had returned to Shen Yuan’s spirit home almost every night, and that continued after Shen Yuan had given him access to Proud Immortal Demon Way. But since then, Shen Yuan had been absent from their shared space. Shen Qingqiu picked up the tablet and read it alone, and when it became too much, he wandered away and opened the lid to the piano, and he played.
And when he woke up, he wrote everything down.
“Wait,” said Shang Qinghua, “you want to… what?”
“Keep up!” snapped Qi Qingqi. “This is a very basic plotline. We’ve just added a few flourishes for a more personal touch.”
“I guess I’m not really the person to criticise here, but it sounds more like you’ve added in about twenty basic plotlines. You have the standard fake relationship, and I guess that fits in pretty seamlessly with friends-to-lovers—”
Liu Qingge nodded seriously in agreement. Those two were obviously a classic combination.
“—But this whole idea you have about setting Yue Qingyuan up to rescue Shen Qingqiu from the Spider-Headed Tigers—which, are those a thing? I don’t remember those being a thing.”
“They’re a thing,” Liu Qingge confirmed, crossing his arms over his chest.
Shang Qinghua made a face at him. “Ew. Well, there you have this damsel-in-distress thing happening, and then it sounds as though you’re also trying to work in an enemy-to-lovers thing happening with your plans to fuel arguments, which doesn’t really work well with the friends-to-lovers trope—”
“No,” said Liu Qingge, vindicated. “It doesn’t.”
Qi Qingqi glared at him.
Yue Qingyuan volunteered, “I don’t really like that one, either…”
“And that’s not even addressing the role-reversal trope, the no-powers trope, the nursing-him-back-to-health trope, the royalty trope, and the raising-a-kid-together trope,” added Shang Qinghua, paging through their notes. “Like… It’s all a little bit much. It’s not that you couldn’t work in all of those things in a long romance series, but the get-together portion that we’re planning here should definitely only include one or two of those tropes, not all of them.”
“We didn’t bring you here for feedback,” said Qi Qingqi imperiously. “What did you tell Shen Qingqiu about Yue Qingyuan?”
“What? Nothing!” said Shang Qinghua, sounding honestly offended. “I didn’t say anything! Wei-shixiong said it wouldn’t be ethical when I asked him!”
“Oh, did he?” said Qi Qingqi viciously, stretching her arm out long and curling her index finger back. “Wei Qingwei, explain yourself!”
Outside the pavilion, birds chirped harmoniously into the silence.
Mu Qingfang said hesitantly, “Shijie, I don’t think Wei-shixiong is here?”
Qi Qingqi drooped from her dramatic pose. “Did we forget to invite him this whole time?”
Qing Jing Peak was joyful with the late spring bounty blooming in every direction, and Shen Qingqiu had been having the best sleep of his life. His foundation, though still unsettled, was inching its way closer to balance, and his wretched, scarred spirit veins were slowly but surely untangling themselves.
It made such a difference to have a friend, even when that friend was absent.
And now, with Yue Qingyuan returned to him, and Shang Qinghua brightening at the sight of him rather than huddling away, he had three friends to boast of.
And… he didn’t feel as frightened anymore. The fear was still within him, but he could acknowledge it and set it aside. It no longer boiled up within him like rising bile.
Wen Lin said the fear didn’t make him bad or wrong. She said he wasn’t bad or wrong. Hearing that felt like a thousand boulders crumbling away from his shoulders.
“Little Shen,” cheered his eternally junior, older shidi without bothering to hide his malice. “I’m surprised to see you here! Didn’t you know that all the other succeeding disciples are meeting on Qiong Ding Peak right now? Have you not been invited?” He covered his mouth in mock shock, but his hand was hiding a smirk, not a gasp.
Shen Qingqiu examined his own feelings with care. First, assume the report was true. There were certainly benign reasons that the other succeeding disciples might hold a meeting without him, though in this moment, he struggled to think of them. Nevertheless, he must hold onto that possibility or lose himself to the resentment he had only recently fought his way out of. Second, consider the validity of the source. His shidi despised him, and was perfectly motivated to misrepresent or outright invite events that might upset him. Perhaps some succeeding disciples, not all, were holding a meeting for some specialised purpose that he was superfluous to. That seemed perfectly likely.
He smiled at his shidi, who seemed irritated by the lack of an explosive or implosive response. “Thanking shidi for this information,” he said, and he turned toward Qiong Ding Peak, breathing his way through a meditative practice to keep his fear from welling up again.
Whatever he expected to find when he arrived, it wasn’t the scene he interrupted.
“I’m sorry, Qi-shimei, but no. You can’t just combine those tropes together without some substantial world-building,” Shang Qinghua was saying with confidence.
“And they don’t make sense given the protagonists that we’re working with regardless,” said Liu Qingge firmly. “Characterisation and continuity are important.”
Shang Qinghua shot Liu Qingge a hunted look. “...Yeah. Totally.”
“Can’t we skip the hurt and just have comfort?” asked Yue Qingyuan wistfully.
“No!” said everyone else, sounding beleaguered.
“Are you… writing a novel?” asked Shen Qingqiu. He looked around the little pavilion, which was guarded by simple, easily transversed silencing wards, and was crammed full of succeeding disciples, snacks, and paper.
“Yes,” said Qi Qingqi and Liu Qingge firmly.
“Yes,” said Shang Qinghua distractedly.
“Yes?” said Yue Qingyuan with shifty eyes.
“We are? I thought we were trying to match-make Shen-shixiong and Yue-shixiong,” said Wei Qingwei, looking up from where he was doodling little sword designs on the edge of one of the pages of notes.
“...Oh yeah,” said Qi Qingqi. “We were doing that.” She looked down at her pile of notes.
Shen Qingqiu stepped delicately toward the table and picked up one of the loose pages. He read aloud, “And after the battle against ??? demonic beast??? Yue Qingyuan gathers Shen Qingqiu’s body up into his arms, ignoring the blood, and cries into his long, flowing hair. ‘I knew you would come for me,’ gasps Shen Qingqiu, and dies.”
“I didn’t like that one,” said Yue Qingyuan quickly.
“We had a whole resurrection arc planned, calm down,” said Qi Qingqi, rolling her eyes.
“What a relief,” said Shen Qingqiu blandly. He looked around at the mess of papers on the table. “And why were you match-making in the first place?”
Liu Qingge and Qi Qingqi explained their theories on weak links and strengthening social bonds, and Yue Qingyuan shrank into himself, blushing.
“I believe I understand the idea,” said Shen Qingqiu dryly. “Very well. We’ll use all of them, then.”
The other succeeding disciples stared at him blankly.
“...Even the contradictory ones?” asked Shang Qinghua, feeling uneasy as the word continuity rang through his mind threateningly.
“Especially the contradictory ones,” said Shen Qingqiu with satisfaction. “We’ll spread all of these around the sect and beyond—my friends at the Red Warm Pavilion can help with that—and the less sense the different rumours make, the less anyone will believe them. That way, if they hear any rumours bearing grains of truth, they’ll find those just as unbelievable and dismiss them.”
“And that will deal with your blackmailing problem,” said Liu Qingge with satisfaction.
Shen Qingqiu hesitated. He didn’t want to share this part of himself with anyone, but… He looked back at the table. Even if they’d gotten a little carried past their initial goal, they had gathered like this, they had come up with these plans, with the idea of helping him. Helping him, even when they hadn’t liked him. And they almost seemed to like him more, now that they’d imagined all of these wild stories featuring him.
“There was no blackmailing problem,” he said quietly. “I have held some heart demons for some time, and the… the fear they produced in me, it made it difficult to be close to other people, or even to sleep.”
The other succeeding disciples—his peers—stared at him silently, urging him on.
“When I used the Dream Seeking Wisdom flower, I made a connection,” he continued, and Mu Qingfang jerked in surprise. “The spirit in the dream told me that it doesn’t matter if I suffer, it doesn’t matter if I’m miserable, I should act in ways that are aligned with my goals. And so I tried to, but it made the fear stronger, and I was growing increasingly unwell in the process.”
Mu Qingfang tried to speak, but Wei Qingwei helpfully covered his mouth.
“But I continued to connect with the spirit, and I feel much better now,” said Shen Qingqiu with brisk finality.
Mu Qingfang wrestled Wei Qingwei away. “You’ve continued to take the Dream Seeking Wisdom infusion?” he said, frowning. The frown was concern, Shen Qingqiu realised with a jolt, not judgement.
“No,” said Shen Qingqiu. “I only took it once.”
“And yet you continued making contact with the spirit?” The frown was deepening.
Shen Qingqiu nodded sharply.
A number of responses cycled across Mu Qingfang’s face before he settled on, “You should tell your healer,” meaningfully, and left it at that.
“If there’s no blackmailer, why are we spreading all these rumours?” asked Liu Qingge, returning the conversation to their previous topic.
Shang Qinghua answered before Shen Qingqiu had a chance to. “Insurance!” he said. “Just because there’s no blackmailer right now, that doesn’t mean there never will be. We should choose the least believable and, uh, least scandalous ones from this pile to distribute.”
“Maybe Shen Qingqiu should just avoid doing things that are blackmail-worthy,” said Liu Qingge, crossing his arms.
“Blackmailers don’t need truth,” said Qi Qingqi quietly. “A believable lie can be just as motivating.”
“I’m talking about the brothel,” said Liu Qingge.
Shen Qingqiu felt his old, familiar vitriol rolling back in. “I’m not going to stop visiting my friends simply because their occupation makes you uncomfortable,” he snapped.
“It’s not their occupation, it’s—” Liu Qingge began, but then Yue Qingyuan interrupted him.
“It seems we have a great deal more to discuss,” he said mildly. “We all have so much of ourselves to share. We should make it a point to return here and share our truths with one another without fearing judgement.”
Liu Qingge settled down grouchily, and Yue Qingyuan smiled at him.
“Anyway,” said Liu Qingge. “I’m glad you’re fine now, or whatever.”
Shen Qingqiu gave him a smile, tiny but real.
Things had been challenging, but they were getting better, slowly but surely.
Shen Yuan floated into something just short of consciousness and was welcomed by a chorus of mechanical beeps.
“Thank you so much for coming,” he heard his sister’s voice say. She sounded shaky and upset.
“Of course,” said a vaguely familiar voice. A neighbour? “We couldn’t believe it when we heard he was in hospital. I could have sworn that I heard him playing his piano just this morning.”
His sister audibly choked back a sob. Footsteps, and then his oldest brother was saying, “We hope you’ll come to the wake.”
“He’s still alive,” snapped his second brother. His voice was louder, closer, like he was right by Shen Yuan’s side. “Don’t talk like he’s already dead.”
“The doctors told us that he’s brain dead,” his oldest brother continued evenly, but Shen Yuan could hear the strain in his words. “Even if he… goes on as he has, they recommend—”
And then his oldest brother’s voice was fading away, but Shen Yuan had heard enough to understand perfectly. Brain dead. Brain dead! Of course he was brain dead. How could he be anything else, after suffering through that last, awful chapter. Dumbfuck author, dumbfuck novel!
But if he was brain dead, what was he thinking with? If he was brain dead—
When Shen Yuan opened his eyes, there was no mist, but to his left, there was a small, simple building with an aesthetic that was more handwavy-oldtimey elegant than anything that had ever actually existed in any period of China's long history. The building was surrounded by a grove of bamboo, and downhill, he could see a clear pool that seemed to be glowing in the light of the full moon overhead.
And he wasn’t alone.
“Shen Yuan,” said Shen Jiu frowning at him thoughtfully. “Am I dreaming?”
Shen Yuan looked around. He looked down at himself, dressed in a hospital gown. “I… I don’t know.”
“Hm,” said Shen Jiu. “Well, come along, then. We’ll have to find you something less embarrassing to wear, and then you can tell me where you’ve been all this time.”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Shen Yuan. “Did you finish reading the novel?”
“I’ve never read anything so poorly constructed in my life,” confirmed Shen Jiu.
Shen Yuan laughed. “Right? I can’t wait to complain about it with you!”
Shen Jiu smiled back at him.
It was nice, not being alone.
FIN