“Qing-jie,” Wen Chao called, laughing; Wang Lingjiao at his side was positively cackling, tears in her eyes. “We found you a husband to match you, Qing-jie – look at him, a perfect fit for you: beautiful and useless! Say ‘thank you, Wen-gongzi’.” Jiang Cheng might be beautiful, underneath the tears and the blood that covered him, the ruin of his chest and back, the bruises that stained his flesh, but his eyes were empty and dull – as dead as the golden core inside of him that was no more. That wasn’t something her medicine could fix, even if Wen Chao would be inclined to let her try. “Thank you, Wen-gongzi,” Wen Qing said politely. “Do you want me to take him out of your sight?”

Wen Qing: okay so like Wen Qing: were either of you going to warn me Wen Qing: that Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian were Like That? Jin Zixuan: oh no Lan Wangji: I take it you had your first Family Dinner. Lan Wangji: I apologize for the lapse.

Jiang Cheng is sort of having a complicated night. She tilts her chin up, moving to the beat of the track, and her eyes slide over him, top to bottom. The beat goes dirty and buzzing and she has to raise her voice to say, “I don’t do straight guys.” Someone grinds against him and he looks down at the prettiest girl he’s ever seen and says, stupid with something to prove, “Good thing I’m not straight, then.” He sounds like he’s sure of it, even though he’s not, but his best decisions have always been forced out of him by people bolder than he is.

Wen Qing and Jiang Cheng have a...decent sex life. It's okay! And she loves him so much they could have no sex life at all and it would, of course, be fine. But what if what they do have could be better? It's worth finding out anyway, and Jiang Cheng seems to have somethng in mind that he won't pluck up the courage to tell her. // “I thought you might fuck me, when you started kissing me like that,” Jiang Cheng says in a rush, letting go of Wen Qing's hips to clap his hands over his eyes as his next exhale rattles on its way out. “I thought - but you said before that you don’t - so I never asked you to and I won’t ask you to because your reasons are so valid and it’s not important as long as I can keep you in my life but I’m not good enough this way -“ “What part of it do you need the most?” she asks, petting his hair slowly. “Do you need me inside of you or do you need me to take care of you, or is it both? What’s the most important part?” He stops to genuinely think on it. But then..“I’m fine with what we have,” he replies finally, an echo of her own words weeks ago when this all started.