[un: Chengmei] video

[thesuspense]

Did any good come from your parents?

[Perhaps that seems like a personal question. He does not care.]

What's the point of family?

[Now, this may seem cynical, and it possibly is, but he doesn't really sound it. He doesn't seem bitter, he smiled a little, then looks to a point off-screen.]

See, daozhang? I'm trying.

[A pause, then he corrects himself with a wave of one hand.]

Hear.

Comments

[binghua]

[Such a simple touch, something so easily taken for granted. Xingchen allows himself to drown in it for now, to just touch a warm face and feel soft hair and remember a friendship severed but that never really was. He's found a precious bead of goodness in this wretch. He feels so, so lonely for it. Just for a while he wants to forget.

He can't save Xue Yang. This is a knowledge that blends with the marrow of his bones. He knows. He knows. But what would it be like to try? Xiao Xingchen is already a ruined man. He can't even save himself.

His hands frame that familiar face again, fingertips tracing defined brows and cheekbones, following the line of a nose, resting softly on pursed lips. And then, they fall away, back into his lap, resting against the water pouch left nearly forgotten.

He can't save Xue Yang, but he still gives into him, taking that water in his hands and sparing himself only a sip.]

Mn. Please.