Disclaimer: Credit to Mo Xiang Tong Xiu for creating such wonderfully frustrating characters... particularly the one who desperately needs a filter...
"Gege, what are you doing here?"
"Don't call me that!"
"Oh— sorry."
"I'm not going."
"Huh? But you can't! You— you're the future patriarch, so you need to go to class!"
"I'm not going! Nobody— everyone laughs at me anyway..."
"No, that's not true!"
"Why are you skipping class?"
"I— I came to find you. The truth is, I watch you in class because you're so strong! You're amazing! It's weird without you there."
"... "
"... "
"Who are you?"
"Xie Lian! Let's be friends. I won't laugh at you, so be my friend, okay?"
A white light blinds Feng Xin's vision. He shuts his eyes, and when he opens them again they aren't hiding in the bushes anymore. He is in his bed, faced with the torrid rays of sunlight from the window.
His head pounds from the events of last night— or at least, up 'til nine. His mouth is also dry, his jaw sore.
Last night, around 8:30, he drove to Aces for a drink. God knows he needed it. After the family council made their decision, Feng Xin gave up all hope for Xie Lian. If he wants to screw himself over, that's his business.
He rises, aching for water, though when he sees his reflection in the mirror, his blood runs cold.
More bruises? His memory is fuzzy, though one name immediately comes to mind.
"MU QING!"
In the field where they practice, Xie Lian and Mu Qing seem to be arguing. When Feng Xin approaches, they stop to look at him. Seeing his face, Xie Lian puffs a laugh.
He glares at him, then whirls to Mu Qing. "EXPLAIN YOURSELF!"
"You have awful bedhead."
Though his glare intensifies, his hands involuntarily run through his hair. "What did you do to my face?!"
"If you want to look less stupid, read a book every once in a while."
"THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEAN!"
"Now now," Xie Lian cuts in. "Both of you, calm down. Feng Xin, what do you remember from last night?"
He peers at Mu Qing, trying to remember anything beyond his third drink. However, all he can recall is silver hair, coarse to the touch but shining in the light. He scowls, and Mu Qing raises a brow.
"You hit me, didn't you?"
"You followed me, stalker."
"I'm not a stalker! What were you doing there anyway?"
"I worked there."
This, Feng Xin, recalls. He also remembers thinking that it'd be a good opportunity to see what he's like outside of practice. And besides, he needed that drink.
He reddens. "Fine, I shouldn't have followed you. But did you have to hit me?"
"Did you have to eavesdrop on private conversations?"
He scowls. "What are you talking about? I watch you during practice but never have I stooped so low as to—"
Oh, wait.
Yes, he has. Just the one time.
His face is tinged purple, angry, and horrifically embarrassed. "That— that was because—"
"Feng Xin, perhaps you should leave?" He looks at Xie Lian, jaw slack. Xie Lian raises placating hands. "I don't think the juniors should see their guì in this state. It wouldn't leave the greatest impression upon their young minds."
He nods, swallowing the words rising to his lips— irrelevant words, he realizes. "Yes, you're right."
"So how about you go with Mu Qing to his apartment? Mu Qing, we'll end it here."
They both stare at him in disbelief.
"You can't be serious!"
"No way I'm letting this creep into my home?"
"I'm a creep? Have you looked in the mirror lately?"
"Who has the bruises again?"
"Who has the ghastly silver hair?!"
"Enough!" Xie Lian shouts. "Both of you, fight at home. Air out the dirty laundry, then come back once your injuries heal."
"That's too long! What about practice?"
"Consider it punishment," he says, giving a chastising look. "This is the second time you both returned with bruises."
Reluctantly, they murmur their acquiescence.
"Mu Qing, I haven't mentioned your injuries because I didn't want to pry, but you can't show up here injured like that! It leaves a bad impression."
"Humph."
"Now go, and try not to be seen."
The drive is long and stifling. Mu Qing is at the wheel, Feng Xin in the passenger seat staring out the window. He glances at Mu Qing. His face is stony, his jaw tight.
Part of him wants to apologize, though that would disturb the "peace" they have right now. And no matter what happened, it couldn't have warranted a beating. Fucking brute.
Then he remembers the council meeting.
"Are you insane? He hasn't made a single shot yet!"
"He will."
"He won't!"
"He will. His form is strong, his draw length just right. He even perfected the hassetsu. The only problem is his anxiety."
"And if he fails?"
"I will accept the consequences."
Why is his only friend an idiot?
"I'm sorry," he bit out, scowling. "I shouldn't... have followed you... or eavesdropped."
Mu Qing stares straight ahead, unresponsive. Feng Xin scowls, turning away.
Though, a moment later, "Why'd you do it?"
Reddening, staring hard through the window, he says, "You... you were suspicious."
"Because I'm poor."
"No! That's not—"
"Rest assured, I am only in it for the money. And you'll be rid of me soon enough."
Silence ensues.
"Is money all you care about? It's no wonder you haven't made a single shot yet if that's your only motivation."
"What the fuck do you know?"
A sharp turn flings Feng Xin against the window. He grits his teeth, trying hard to suppress his teeming anger. It takes a minute.
"You need to win at Lunar New Year. It doesn't matter why anymore, you just need to get it together."
"Not like I got a choice, thanks a lot."
Feng Xin looks at him, brow furrowed. Whatever those words mean, Mu Qing's expression gives nothing away.
Grunting, he turns back to the window, watching the trees pass them by.