Dark eyes catch his from across the room and Nie Huaisang pauses as Jiang Cheng spreads an arm across the back of the couch he occupies alone, idly swirling his drink in his other hand. The lush fabric of the sofa looks almost magenta in this light and plays beautifully off the deep purple and sharp lines of Jiang Cheng’s suit, making him a splash of vibrancy in a room otherwise dominated by boring blacks and muted tones. The sofa is also the sole piece of furniture in the room, besides the bar and the high tables. The message is unmistakable: this is Jiang territory, and everyone else is a visitor. Receptions are good for seeing and being seen, and Nie Huaisang likes what he sees at this one.

Having a crush on your roommate is really embarrassing, except that's apparently the opposite of a problem. Jiang Cheng can't deny that's pretty convenient. Wei Ying holds it up, a series of straps and buckles and velcro and wow, really a lot of leather. It has absolutely no conceivable form beyond tangled. Nie Huaisang opens the door at exactly the moment that Wei Ying holds the thing up to Jiang Cheng’s chest, as if he’s trying to imagine how exactly it would fit onto a person, and it falls into a tangled pile between them while they stare at Huaisang in mild mortification.