I'm doing a bunch of rewriting of my difanghua fic (which I'll hopefully start posting at the end of July, just in time for the 3 year anniversary of the airing of the first episode of MLC), so I figured now would be a good time to post an excerpt!
Have some pre-difang vibes, with a very out of it and in pain DFS and an unfortunately horny FDB.
***
"A-Fei?" Duobing called a few minutes later. "May I come in?"
Di Feisheng swallowed back a curse and made one more attempt to get his almost completely numb fingers to grab onto the hairpin of his xiao guan. Finally, finally, they closed around the decorative dragon head with enough grip that he'd be able to pull it free. "Yes," he managed, wincing at how strained his voice sounded.
He let go of Xiangyi's hand just long enough to stabilize the xiao guan and pulled on the hairpin. It came out, and his hair tumbled free. The instant relief of not having that extra weight and pressure on his screaming acupoint and skull, of not having to ask for help getting it off, or to not have to force himself not to flinch away or choke someone in response to encroaching hands, made him have to close his eyes to breathe through their traitorous attempts to burn.
"Um," Duobing said, his voice too high and choked.
Di Feisheng's eyes flew open, and he blinked repeatedly to force them to focus and show only one Duobing instead of two, standing just inside the privacy blinds. "What?" he asked, once the world stopped warping.
"N-nothing," Duobing said, a little too quickly. "Glad to see you're getting ready for bed. Shall I take that hairpin before you take someone's eye out with it?"
Di Feisheng glanced down at the hairpin in his hands, which was nowhere near anyone's eyes, then shrugged. The brat probably thought teasing would take the sting out of being helped. "Alright," he said, then frowned, remembering what had happened with the misplaced incense. Better to reassemble it if he wished to see both parts again. Carefully, forcing his hands to obey him once more, Di Feisheng lined up the hairpin and slid it into the xiao guan, unable to stop the faint, relieved smirk tugging at his lips. Finally, something he'd defeated. "Here," he said, holding them out by the dragon's head on the hairpin to avoid changing his grip and dropping them, just barely keeping his arm from shaking from exertion.
It took far too long to notice that Duobing hadn't made a move to take them. Instead, Duobing was just staring at him, his cheeks slightly pink. "You're doing this deliberately," the brat hissed at last, crossing his arms over his chest and looking almost hurt.
Di Feisheng glared, the effort involved in keeping his arm steady making his head throb too angrily to puzzle out what was offending the brat now. "Doing what? Handing it to you? Don't offer if you don't want to help," he snapped, unable to keep the frustrated growl from his voice.
The brat's hurt look vanished, replaced by too many different emotions for Di Feisheng to track while his head felt like it was being impaled, before landing on one that looked vaguely sheepish. "No, I just meant"—Duobing gave the too-bright smile that meant he was about to lie his ass off, badly—"I thought you were holding the xiao guan by the hairpin like that to irritate me! The craftsmanship is unequaled. It deserves better than to just be dangled about! Here," he said, holding out a hand for it, "I'll take them, alright?"
Di Feisheng raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. The truth didn't matter. At least Duobing had figured out on his own this time that he hadn't been deliberately insulted. Might as well pretend he believed his ridiculous explanation. "It's sturdy," he said, putting it in Duobing's waiting hands. "It can handle it. I wouldn't wear it otherwise."
Duobing looked down at the xiao guan in his hands with a faint, almost sad smile. "Something can be sturdy and still deserve care, a-Fei," he said, his voice oddly soft and weirdly gentle. "They're not mutually exclusive." Then he looked up at Di Feisheng, brows raised, an expectant, hopeful look in his eyes.
What the fuck was the brat on about now? Was he really going to lecture him on proper care of accessories?
Oh. No, Duobing meant . . . that he, Di Feisheng, was . . .
Di Feisheng scoffed (or tried to; the sound was too soft, and almost fond, even to his own ears) and looked away, his gaze falling on the wrist guards he'd stacked to his right.
Well, he thought, forcing his hands to pick them up and to keep the parcel tucked between them hidden from view, this was a good a time as any.
i'm not normally one to make jokes about dialect or accent. but the way that British people pronounce "lieutenant" feels like an in-joke i'm not privy to
the beautiful thing about turning 30 is when you see a stupid post online you dont have to immediately post about it. you can just say 'wait im 30 i dont have to care about this' and go do something else instead. you just cant do that in your 20s
got my first ever official customer complaint because when i was going over the terms of their life insurance they were like "well i don't plan to die" and i was like "well you're going to"
finding a new doctor. applying for jobs. searching for apartments. messaging used car dealers. getting your health insurance to do their job. getting a pharmacy to do their job. getting the dmv to accept the documents they told you to bring. just listing things they probably make you do in hell
It has occurred to me that some people on this planet have not yet been blessed by the epic of Long Long Man, and so, to any that haven't yet seen it, I present to you this:
Grab a snack, strap in, and prepare for the greatest love story of all time, in just under six and a half minutes.
