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[firebranding]

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Jin Guangyao ⬤ The Untamed
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[firebranding]

[You know, it had been a pretty good day. Actually the past couple of days had been going well, honestly? He’d been disowned, sure, but he’d gotten to sit in the lap of luxury for a few hours (literally, right in Xichen’s lap), had not been thrown out of his brother-from-another-universe’s-father’s wedding immediately, and was feeling fairly chipper.

He’d even been at the store, quietly contemplating a certain sidekick that was here and feeling oddly charitable. After all, Xue Yang had been the one to last the longest. Would’ve lasted longer if Su She hadn’t mucked things up, but finding and keeping good help was so hard these days.

The Temple Showdown would’ve gone much differently if Xue Yang had been there. Meng Yao isn’t sure he would’ve won, but his loss would’ve at least been easier to swallow, in a way.

So he contemplates the various snacks and wonders if it’s good enough, considers something lasting, but can’t think of what would go good enough to not get him laughed at or some kinky remark. He figures there’s nothing he can give that wouldn’t elicit one or the other, so at best he can only hope to diminish it.

Then his device goes off. He ignores it at first, but the rest of the messages come in rapid, quick succession and for a moment he worries that it’s Jin Ling before seeing—

Ah.

He takes it all back. Xue Yang must die.]

Don’t get blood on my sheets.

[menaces]

[ does that mean he's getting pizza or not? eh, whatever. at least if jin guangyao is worried abot his sheets, that means he's definitely headed back. xue yang keeps on eating his chips, making a vague effort to keep his arm around his stab wound so nothing does get on the sheets as asked. also, he's. well, he's a monster but he's not the kind of monster that just goes around bleeding on furniture of people he likes. he put a towel down. ]

so the floor's fair game? 😊

[firebranding]

You could try not bleeding ANYWHERE. Shouldn’t you know how to bandage your own wounds by now?

[He’s too old for this, he’s decided, trying to think of the good old days that, in retrospect, still weren’t all that good. Oh well.

He buys a bag of grapes.]

Don’t bleed out before I’m home. [That’d be hell to try and explain to the landlord.

When he does arrive, bag of grapes cradled in one arm, he makes a beeline for his bedroom, expression already set in a disapproving look before he even knows the situation. He doesn’t need to know what happened, really. He knows Xue Yang, and that’s good enough.

Meng Yao tosses the bag of grapes at him and tilts his head, one eyebrow raised in a silent demand for an answer anyhow]