it's hard to be charming and smart and disarming | november catch-all

[poorlittlesange]

Who: Jin Guangyao + select closed prompts + additional starters to come
What: After a near-miss with qi deviation, Jin Guangyao makes an effort to just, you know. Take it easy. This is easier said than done, because this is Trench, not a spa resort. (Also his blood is glowing through his skin occasionally, which is not ideal, and he is learning all about zealots.)
When: Throughout the first half of November.
Where: His home in the Willful Machine + The Sanctuary in Crenshaw + other locations as specified.
Notes: If you're keen on threading something, hit me up on plurk @ ragweed and we can figure something out.

Content Warnings: None currently but will update as needed.



I. Convalescence at Home (Open to existing CR)
[ooc: set during the week and a half of November.]

Jin Guangyao does not manage idleness well. Which is a shame, because idleness is what he has in abundance for the first two weeks of November.

He spends his time on mandatory bedrest for the first few days as his golden core gradually repairs the damage he inflicted upon it during his and Nie Huaisang's brush with death, able to do little more than occasionally sit up in bed and eat whatever food his friends are able to prepare after scrounging around in his cupboards. (More often than not, they simply order something for delivery, which saves everyone a lot of trouble.) But once he survives the most precarious stage of his recovery, it is good for him to get out of bed, to stretch his legs and move about his home. 'Light physical activity,' is what a doctor might prescribe, and so that is what he does, predominately in the form of some light housework, guqin practice in the courtyard, and meditative tai chi.

By the time this two-week period of homebound convalescence is up, he is chomping at the metaphorical bit to leave the house and do something useful. But he can't, and he's pretty cheesed about it.

II. The Sanctuary (Closed to Palamedes)
[ooc: set towards the end of the second week of November, after he is no longer homebound and a bit pissy about it.]

His first destination upon finally being granted a bit more freedom of movement is the Sanctuary in Crenshaw.

It is impossible not to be drawn towards the tall sakura tree at the centre of the courtyard, and so Jin Guangyao does not even try. The energy that suffuses the place is indisputably positive and balanced, and he can already feel the effects of it soothing the ragged edges of his meridians, which still feel like recovering burn wounds, if burn wounds happened to your qi. (Just little cultivation problems.)

He is hardly the only person hoping to derive some spiritual relief from the tree today, but there is space near one of the roots for him to comfortably fold himself into a lotus position, and to meditate. So that is precisely what he does.

Comments

At Home

[baiyueguang]

He hasn't quite been mother-henning over Jin Guangyao, despite the impulse to make sure he is prioritizing his health. But he is still familiar enough with the other man's restlessness, how often he pushes himself to his limits and beyond, that he cannot help a bit of fretting.

He occupies himself with helping with the household chores and has learned a great number of new things. For one, modern appliances are very convenient. For another, they are very loud. And so while the dishwasher and washing machine wash, he's opted to step out and enjoy a peaceful, late autumn day.

It's the sound of the guqin that draws him magnetically towards the courtyard more than anything. In most regards he would have listened at a safe distance, but these days, music puts him in almost a near trance. If a rather dazed looking First Jade of Lan happens to sit down to listen, eyes closed and a pleased, tranquil smile on his face, then one can blame the effects of his blood.

It certainly has nothing to do with how much he's missed hearing Jin Guangyao play.

[poorlittlesange]

It is the same meandering melody that he was playing the day that they reunited, the one they wrote together in the Cloud Recesses, and one that he often reaches for when he wishes to hone his skills without having to expend spiritual energy in the process. Anything that involves utilizing qi is right out until he receives a clean bill of (spiritual) health from the other cultivators around him. In his current situation, he works with what he has.

He doesn't so much look up from his playing when Lan Xichen arrives as shift his gaze, and then smile, just a little. "This one thought Zewu-jun would have grown tired of hearing this song by now," he remarks, though his fingers keep moving across the strings without interruption--but then he frowns as a note skews just a touch flat, and so pauses to carefully twist one of the tuning pegs. Then he settles his fingers back on the strings and tests it again; yes, much better.

[baiyueguang]

"Have I ever tired of Lianfang-zun's playing?" he asks, letting the melody drift over him. Even the flat note only incites a small, playful smile.

Lan Xichen looks in absolute bliss (it's the blood, really it's the blood!)

"He has always a fine aptitude for the guqin."

All other things being equal, he is sure Jin Guangyao would have outshone even him and his younger brother on the strings. It has always been such a tragedy that he did not get to start training as young as they did.

[poorlittlesange]

It takes him mere moments to pick up the threads of the dropped melody, and with a small, satisfied smile at the corners of his lips, he lets the notes fill the silence that follows, rather than keeping up a patina of small-talk. They have never needed to fill silences to be comfortable in each other's presence.

(He does lift his eyes from the strings every so often to study Lan Xichen's expression, though he is always quick to look aside, should he be caught staring.)

Eventually, the melody winds down to a close, and he stills his fingers on the strings. There is no real reason for him to consider the thoughts in his head at this moment as being something he ought to confess to, except for the clear fact that he did omit it in its entirety when explaining to Lan Xichen his experiences with the draugr last month. And he had promised he would try, hadn't he? To be honest.

He takes a breath and admits softly, "I played a piece from the Purification Tones last month. To help someone. Mike-xiansheng." He looks to Lan Xichen's face and waits for his reaction; he holds himself very still.

[baiyueguang]

Lan Xichen's eyes flutter open at the admission. His brow furrows as the first thought darts through his mind, unbidden, unwanted, and thoroughly dismissed. Everything he has heard about Mike from Jin Guangyao has been nothing short of fond.

The brief surge of tension drains from his body, his expression settling into something more neutral.

"Was it able to help him? I have not yet had an opportunity to practice musical cultivation to see if it remains effective here."

He looks to Jin Guangyao now, curious, and the other man is a mirror of his own posture moments ago; tense and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"...A-Yao."

Gentle. Gentle. But do not run from this. Do not bury it. Do not let it fester. Lance the wound and attend it step by step. There will be a scar, but he can live with those.

"Is it Mike-xiansheng you want to talk about, or is it something else?"

I Convalescence

[xiaoxiuya]

Per their network conversation, Shen Yuan shows up one afternoon soon after Jin Guangyao's entered the 'light exercise' stage of his convalescence, with a paper box of pastries in hand.

It's certainly not the first time he's come over since Jin Guangyao was hurt; those first few days he almost lived here, taking turns with Lan Xichen to order food and keep the kitchen while Nie Huaisang fluttered around like an adorable nuisance. But it quickly became clear even before Jin Guangyao was entirely off bedrest that he really needed his space back, and so Shen Yuan returned to his own corner of the barracks in the outpost before his welcome could wear out. And now he has it back, which is really nice. (<3)

He knocks politely and waits to be let in, a gesture of respect for his friend's strong drive for independence.

[poorlittlesange]

It's xiao meimei who--somehow--opens the gate for Shen Yuan, then trots several paces to the side to wait for him to cross the threshold, before she noses it closed again behind him.

On the other side of the small courtyard, the door to the parlour has been left wide open to allow in fresh air. There's the sound of muffled activity from just beyond the doorframe, and then Jin Guangyao steps into view. He's frowning down at a book in his hands, though when he looks up and sees Shen Yuan, his expression warms noticeably.

"Shidi," he begins, sets the book aside, and he bows, of course. "Please, come in."

(Just in case Shen Yuan is curious, that book is a collection of advanced sudoku puzzles, and it's as dense as the Gutenberg Bible.)

[xiaoxiuya]

"Thank you, meimei," Shen Yuan says politely, bowing in the omen's general direction (wild animals don't like direct eye contact, right? He thinks he read that on the internet somewhere) before leaving her be to seek Jin Guangyao.

As it happens he doesn't have to go far at all, and he returns his friend's bow with a smile that he catches sight of the title on the book Jin Guangyao was just holding.

"I see Jin-ge's been keeping busy," he says while offering the box of snacks for their tea. "But has he also been enjoying himself?"

[poorlittlesange]

In response, Jin Guangyao gives Shen Yuan a quizzical blink, as though not quite understanding the question. "Does shidi not enjoy sudoku puzzles?" Huh, weird.

He graciously accepts the box as it is extended and smiles again, motioning Shen Yuan inside to where the tea has already been laid out for his arrival. It has been arranged perfectly, because of course it is, and the fragrant aroma of the lapsang souchong, all empryean and smoky pine, rests pleasantly on the cool fall air. "Please sit," Jin Guangyao invites him and, after setting the box down on the corner of the table, neatly folds himself into one of the low chairs. He reaches for the pot and pours the tea, beginning with Shen Yuan's cup first.

[xiaoxiuya]

"Ehh," says Shen Yuan, with a small shrug. It doesn't matter so much what he thinks of them, so long as they've been helping Jin Guangyao sit quietly without getting stressed out. Which it seems they have, mostly; his color looks better, and he moves more easily through the house. (Shen Yuan's still glad they'll be doing something that requires sitting down, though.)

"Thank you," he says cheerfully, sitting across from Jin Guangyao and accepting his teacup with another, easier smile. "I was such a boring person, in my first life," he says, leap-frogging off the topic of whether or not he likes sudoku into a related topic in that quirky way he does. "I barely had any hobbies, other than reading bad fiction. I'm glad Jin-ge didn't meet me until after I'd become a cultivator, he'd probably have wanted nothing to do with me."

Mmm, the tea smells lovely. Shen Yuan inhales its aroma before taking a sip with transparent enjoyment. As usual he sees nothing odd or off-putting about the deprecating things he says about himself.

i guess this is heckling

[fanfavors]

When Huaisang stops by, it's to see Xichen, no offense meant to san-ge. He has this stupid woodcut, see, and it's been ruining his life and also his delicate hands, and he's promised to give Xichen something nice to put in his room, and so: here he is, woodcut art in hand.

But he doesn't like it, so the moment he actually arrives at the house he changes his mind, and decides Guangyao needs to see this first, to... judge it worthy or unworthy. Or something. He hasn't thought that far, but he isn't going all the way back to the Red now that he's here, and- and alright, he wants to know if san-ge is feeling better. He doesn't feel like unpacking it; as things are right now, Guangyao and Xichen are still the most important people to him in this bizarre town, so - that's where he'll stand, for the time being.

It's simpler this way.

Which isn't to say that he's been around for much of this convalescing, after the very start- he's had some other bizarre times, solo- but here he is now, loitering at the gate a moment before he sends dear caomeimei to flit over said gate and seek out Guangyao and interrupt his housework. She lands on his shoulder and chirps, and chirps, and flutters her little wings, and chirps some more.

And also, as he raps on the gate with his fan, "San-ge! It's Huaisang! Did my caomeimei find you?!" Please come let him in, san-ge, or he will keep shouting.

[poorlittlesange]

His housework, at the moment, consists of sweeping the flagstones of the small courtyard that the three traditional bays of his home surround, ridding it of the leaves that have fallen from the maple tree that had been providing shade, before the weather turned. Jin Guangyao still habitually finds himself reaching up to adjust his hat, and then stopping himself, because it's--it's somewhere, surely, and he should not feel this lost without it, but it had been a symbol of something he'd bled to obtain, and now it is gone. He packs that away and stuffs it out of sight in his heart.

And then, suddenly, there's a little strawberry finch alighting upon his shoulder, chirping and fluttering and chirping away at him some more, and his startled look at her is interrupted by that shouting and knocking and then some additional shouting. god. god, just. give him a minute, a-sang.

"I'm coming..! Huaisang, stop shouting!" He sighs and props the broom up against the wooden panel leading to the main part of the house, then pauses just long enough to straighten his robes and tuck his hair back into place, because he might still look pale as death, but he'll be damned before he uses that as an excuse not to appear presentable.

With little xiao meimei trotting at his heels, he walks over to the gate and pulls it open, and greets Huaisang with a perfectly pleasant smile that does not at all radiate the true extent of his exhaustion. "Huaisang, what a surprise." He hates surprises (still loves you tho). "I wasn't expecting you." (Did you not call ahead, did you call Er-ge, and did Er-ge not let him know, how could this have happened, etc.)

He steps aside to usher him in. "Please, come in, I will make tea." When in doubt, tea.

[fanfavors]

Who calls ahead, this is the modern era. San-ge is lucky Huaisang doesn't find a way to simply let himself in (that would require work). In any case, he sweeps in through the gate with an aggrieved sigh, as if he's having a very rough day full of world-shattering problems that only tea at san-ge's place can solve.

So, the usual. Little caomeimei flits away from Guangyao back to her preferred perch of Huaisang's shoulder and proceeds to nip at a stray lock of his hair fluttering in the wake of his dramatic entrance. He permits this, because caomeimei is the cutest and can do whatever she wants.

(Huaisang doesn't want to notice how pale Guangyao is, is the thing, or how off he looks without that stupid hat of his- er, wherever it went, ahem- or how awful he must still be feeling even this long after his qi deviation. Huaisang wants to look at Guangyao and not still see the blood from his mouth and shockingly reddened eyes, which, well! He's huffing and making a scene about Huaisang Problems right now for precisely that reason!)

He has some prints and a woodblock tucked under his arm, too, so let him start there while he follows Guangyao back towards the kitchen.

"San-ge, I'm a shambles!! I promised er-ge a memento, and it's terrible! It can't go to er-ge like this!" Woe! Woe is Huaisang, who keeps an eye on Jin Guangyao's gait as long as his back is turned, so that no one might catch him trying to eke out any hints of lingering qi deviation impacts. No, he's just a little guy whining about his art, they absolutely do not have to have a mature conversation about the qi deviation episode.

"Help me, san-ge? Won't you take a look?"

[poorlittlesange]

That's them, just two little guys trying to solve an art quandary while trying really hard not to acknowledge the qi deviating elephant in the room, they're doing a very good job of it.

Jin Guangyao is already sighing the deepest of sighs as Huaisang flutters over the threshold and brandishes his fan and woodblocks and prints about, and tries to find the best moment to place a placating hand upon his arm that won't result in any of these mementos-to-be for their dear er-ge to end up scattered across the courtyard ground. "Of course, Huaisang, of course I will take a look," he assures him, and his smile is no less full of genuine affection for its clear, strained exasperation too. Jin Guangyao will do anything for Huaisang, even if he's being driven absolutely fucking insane by him in the process, even if he really just wants to finish his housework and then lie down for five minutes instead. "Come into the parlour, Huaisang can make himself comfortable. Would Huaisang mind lapsang souchong tea or is the season not yet cold enough for it?" (Not that Shen Yuan had minded, but Shen Yuan is--not Huaisang.)

He leads the way back to the parlour with all his usual deceptively effortless grace and poise, except for how he does pause, just for a moment, when they pass the stone table and chairs, or the maple tree, so that he can gently touch it with his fingertips. To anyone else it might look like he's just touching stuff in the courtyard for no reason--who knows, maybe he's a guy who just likes textures--but Jin Guangyao is clearly exhausted even after a day spent just doing some light housework, and these touches are in fact him pausing, just for a moment, to lean his weight against something steady, to give his body a break. But the moments are very brief, and he is perfectly capable of walking, he's not in danger of dropping dead. But he sure did fuck himself up, all attempts to conceal it notwithstanding.

Inside, he does not direct Huaisang to the low table and chairs, presuming he can find them on his own, and instead goes into the kitchenette to get the tea started. Seated on a little pillow beside one of the windows, xiao meimei the steppe fox omen regards Huaisang with open curiosity, but doesn't come over to investigate him.

[fanfavors]

Mercifully, Huaisang does not spill all his artwork over Jin Guangyao's courtyard. It's not that kind of crisis, and no matter what mood he's in or what kind of complicated feelings he might let fester in his heart, Huaisang won't throw his stuff everywhere knowing full well Guangyao will hobble around in his barely upright state to pick it up for him.

Not that kind of crisis. Just the normal kind, where he needs to be dramatic for a bit and he'll feel better. Caomeimei chirps up a storm from his shoulder, leaving Huaisang to tut at her and murmur about her noise-making (only one of them needs to do it, you see), which is probably what he's doing instead of noticing the way dear san-ge can't cross the courtyard without taking those micro-breaks of his. Probably. He's not fretting, at the very least, so there: that much dignity can be maintained.

Now then, with a noise of certain anguish, "My heart is cold enough when I look at these awful prints!!" He holds up his fan and closes his eyes, like— such is the horrible truth of his existence. The prints are bad, though. "San-ge can make whatever he wants!"

That is to say, the lapsang souchong will have to do, but like, it's a concession. Huaisang mercifully leaves him in peace to prepare the tea, fluttering away to sit and arrange his pitiful art on the table in a very careful and deliberate way to show it off, even if it's just clumsy first attempts. Only then does he turn to look at the fox.

"This one would have brought you a rabbit, but san-ge said no." So mean of him.

and not heckling

[megatheorem]

The tree in the courtyard is more or less in the direct line of sight of Palamedes' Sanctuary office (which is to say, the room he put a bunch of his things in, and no one has bothered to question him, so it's his by rights after this many months), which means he can sit at his desk and fiddle with his notes and glance up to see who's out and about every so often, on quiet days like this. And it is quiet, because it's the Sanctuary, and of all buildings in Trench, this one is not going to... bend. Or twist.

(Sure, there's at least one secret passage in this place that leads to a pocket dimension, but that's different. It's always there.)

When he sees Jin Guangyao during one such idle glance up, he doesn't immediately rush out to say hello. He has manners and he doesn't heckle, but he also counts six minutes silently before he does, inevitably, get up to go say hello.

Or, as he approaches, "You've looked better. Which-" he holds up a hand, like, hold on, "I mean with respect and polite concern. Are you alright? We have a clinic here, if you need medical assistance. Or snacks."

And then, with a little lopsided grin, happy to see a new acquaintance here at his personal favorite of the places he put on that list, "Hi. You came."

[poorlittlesange]

He is distantly aware of someone approaching him, thoughts wrapped up in one of the common mantras that he reaches for when seeking to centre himself for the work of meditative cultivation, but it is no hardship at all for Jin Guangyao to resurface from below those still waters to greet Palamedes with a smile that manages to be both warm and politely courteous. After all, he would not have found this place on his own nearly as easily, and it had been fortuitous indeed for him to have crossed paths with Palamedes before his qi deviation scare.

"Palamedes-xiansheng." He unfolds himself from the lotus position and rises to greet Palamedes with a courteous bow, and if he's smile grows a bit self-conscious at having his condition acknowledged so openly--he's getting used to that, such forward and blunt observations from others who, well, don't know any better--he simply allows it to be. "It is kind of xiansheng to ask after this humble one's well-being, but I will be fine. It is--" A brief pause as he tries to come up with a way to describe his illness that neither reveals too much of his vulnerability, nor too long-winded. Hmm. "--a matter of needing to recover my strength, after a trying ordeal. Nothing to worry about."

A bold-faced lie, but he says it very nicely, so you have to believe him.

And he quickly changes the subject! "This yinghua is beautiful," he tells him and gestures to the cherry blossom tree whose roots he had been sitting amongst moments ago. "They are common where this one is from, but seeing one here is--" a beat, "--unexpected. Does xiansheng know how it came to thrive in a place such as Trench?"

[megatheorem]

Boy, one of these days he's going to have to figure out what xiansheng means, but that day isn't today. As long as it doesn't mean something rude he doesn't mind whatever Jin Guangyao wants to call him - and he doesn't expect something rude from someone who gets up to bow while clearly not in the best state of health. There's a half-formed mumbled protest about that on the tip of his tongue, but ah, alright... hey, bud.

He does accept the obvious excuse easily enough, both because that's how he would explain being Necromancer Tired (tm) to someone, probably - and because he won't kick a man when he's in his health excuses. He knows that one, too! It's fine, it's fine; he nods, evidently accepting this at face value. Alright, sure— the tree.

"Oh, sure," he says, looking up at it with a half-smile. "We had our own local goddess, if you're into that sort of thing, come out of the ocean a few months back; she planted this one. Most people here in the Sanctuary were fond of her, or had heard of her from their homes; she was Amaterasu, which I'm loath to admit means nothing to me, personally." Thanks, ten thousand years of Twitch streamer brand imperialism nuking all culture from orbit.

"She did have dinner at my house, once. Viktor cooked too much; she was very gracious about it." For a dog-wolf-goddess, which he just isn't saying, but it's totally not relevant. She was very nice. For a dog-wolf-goddess who smelled him a lot. "She's been gone a while, but luckily we've still got the tree."

[poorlittlesange]

The name might not mean anything to Palamedes, but it clearly registers some familiarity with Jin Guangyao. His eyes widen noticeably.

"Palamedes-xiansheng," he begins very carefully, "had Amaterasu Omikami as a guest at his home for dinner?" A pause. "Amaterasu Omikami, who is one of the Three Precious Children of Izanagi-no-Mikoto, one of the primordial creator deities of Nihon?"

He looks up at the cherry blossom tree again, then back at Palamedes. what.

[megatheorem]

"I didn't ask her about her parentage, but that sounds about right, sure." Is it kind of funny in retrospect that he had dinner with someone so seemingly important that she gets to be called a Precious Child? Maybe so; he's still deciding. (Being a creator deity is just, like, a job, comparatively.)

"Why, is that strange? Here, of all places? One of these local Pthumerians haunted my bedroom for a week once because we ate some blueberries; I enjoyed the dinner party a lot more, all things considered." Shout out to Remina and how much he resented that little episode at the time and still now, on principle. He shrugs.

"If she comes back, I can put in a good word."

F*** the System (closed thread w/ JGY)

[xiaoxiuya]

All Shen Yuan had wanted was a few minutes to himself to trim his hair like a goddamn adult. Between the stress and literally everything else about living in Trench, he's starting to get split ends, and pretty soon he's going to have to make a choice between hacking it all off or having a private discussion with Jin Guangyao about where the hell he's getting his hair oil -- but for now he can deal with it himself. In theory. But what actually happens is this:

He spends five or ten minutes arranging the mirror, a bronze one that he borrowed from Jin Guangyao's dresser, just so. He spends thirty seconds or so wondering where Jin Gaungyao found a bronze mirror in Trench, and if the glass ones really looked so strange that he passed over them. He looks away to grab the scissors. He looks back.

He's greeted by another interation of the fucking System.

Shen Yuan yells loud enough to wake the dead and, in a move he near-immediately regrets, literally crushes the mirror in his hands. The metal shrieks even louder than he did, and his circulation system floods with adrenaline even as it's suddenly emptied of qi. He sees spots and topples over like a felled tree.

Huh, he thinks staring up at the ceiling. Thank god it wasn't glass after all.

[poorlittlesange]

Thank god for something, anyway.

Seconds after Shen Yuan's scream, Jin Guangyao bursts through the door to the parlour in a shocking state of disarray--for Jin Guangyao, at any rate, which essentially just means that he is still in his sleeping robes and has not yet taken the time to twist his hair up into the top knot that keeps his long fringe out of his eyes. (He overslept! It happens!) But here he is! Thrumming with spiritual energy, Hensheng in hand and his eyes wide and alert for--whatever it is that made Shen Yuan shriek like that, though as soon as he sees his friend sprawled on the floor, he switches gears abruptly.

"Shidi! Shen-di, what happened?" He goes to his knees next to Shen Yuan and reaches immediately for his face, carefully checking him over for signs of a head injury.

[xiaoxiuya]

Why hello immediate consequences of his own bad decisions! He is not even remotely prepared to deal with you right now.

Shen Yuan groans and closes his eyes, so at least he won't have to see the distressing look of distress on his friend's face. He feels remarkably clear-headed for someone who nearly fainted just now, in a way that he absolutely does not trust to last if he tries to stand up again, but at least it lets him explain, "I broke your mirror. I'm sorry ge, I didn't mean to."

Yes, he didn't mean to grab a chunk of metal in both hands and twist it like a wet dishcloth, it just kind of happened. For fuck's sake.

"The System showed up while my back was turned and it startled me." There, at least that's an actual reason for flipping out like a madman.

[poorlittlesange]

The System? Oh--shit. He shelves those questions for now and focuses on addressing his immediate concerns, for the moment.

"Mirrors can be replaced," Jin Guangyao assures him while checking his hair for any signs of bleeding, and the anxiety writ plain across his face only recedes once he has determined that there is none. He sighs and sits back on his knees, then reaches for one of Shen Yuan's wrists to check his pulse and qi point. He gives his friend a reproachful look and deploys The Eyes for maximum effect. "You must be more careful with your spiritual power until you have fully recovered," he chides him gently. "What if Er-ge and I had both been out when you fell?"

He keeps hold of Shen Yuan's wrist with one hand and extends the other to his shoulder. "Let me help you back to the sofa," he offers. "The floor can't be comfortable."

[xiaoxiuya]

Oh no, not The Eyes. Anything but the eyes. Shen Yuan cringes and meekly says, "Yes, ge," in the hopes it will make them stop.

Getting back on his feet is a production. As Shen Yuan predicted, standing up makes his vision swim with a new crop -- or should that be school? -- of spots, and despite his best efforts he has to put some of his weight on Jin Guangyao just to make it as far as the couch. He sits down heavily with a frustrated groan, and looks up into another dose of The Eyes.

God. "I'm okay," he insists. "I just drained myself, I'll be fine."