Chapter Text
"This is the worst. I'm the worst," Hua Cheng groans, holding his (already ruined) sleeve bunched up against his nose to staunch the flow of blood.
"San Lang!" Xie Lian exclaims. "It's no big deal! Yesterday I spilled my whole drink on us and then knocked over the table."
"Yes, but that was endearing," Hua Cheng mumbles.
"It was not, but it's sweet that you think so. This isn't even your fault!"
No, it's just yet another symptom of his wretched body trying to turn itself inside out in the autumn: stressed nasal tissues from constant allergies meeting the changing weather.
