@tiercell @allofthebeanz @kallisto-k tadaaaa here you go. continuing directly off this.
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“I’m dead,” Mu Qingfang thought to himself.
To anyone who knew about this properties of this flower, the color of it was far too intense to indicate a casual relationship between shidi and shixiong, even if that shixiong happened to be shidi’s favorite shixiong.
As it was, Shang Qinghua was essentially wearing a blatant declaration of Mu Qingfang’s feelings.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. It wasn’t as if everyone was skilled in herbalism enough to 1) recognize the flower 2) remember all the stories about it. Even Mu Qingfang hadn’t initially remembered the feelings thing, and anyway, the feelings thing had never been fully tested out. It wasn’t necessarily true, and even if it was true, people wouldn't automatically assume that it was Mu Qingfang who had given the flower to Shang Qinghua.
Except all it took was one person to remember about the flower’s properties to spread it to everyone else. Except Mu Qingfang was the only person on the peak who was raising this flower.
Everyone on Qian Cao would know.
Maybe if he took the flower back? He could take the flower back. Say something about how he was worried about if it really worked, what about possible side effects, on second thought, he didn’t actually want Shang Qinghua to test it out.
Mu Qingfang looked at Shang Qinghua. Shang Qinghua looked -- pleased. He had gently brought one hand up to the flowers in his hair, one corner of his mouth turned up. “Nobody’s ever given me flowers before, haha,” he said. “Does it look good?”
What was Mu Qingfang supposed to say? Was he seriously supposed to snatch it back right now? Did he have the heart for that kind of thing?
“It looks good,” Mu Qingfang choked out. He cleared his throat. “Now, if we could test the efficacy of it--”
If Mu Qingfang could say he fucked up, then he could replace it with another steel-stemmed snapdragon. If he avoided skin contact, the color change should be much more minimal and well within the bounds of friendship.
“I’m sure Mu-shidi did a good job,” Shang Qinghua said.
Mu Qingfang would be warmed by Shang Qinghua’s confidence in him any other time but now.
“I really do have to check,” Mu Qingfang tried desperately.
Shang Qinghua shrugged. “Well, if Mu-shidi insists,” he said, and before Mu Qingfang could feel relieved about it, Shang Qinghua pulled a knife out from his boot, rolled up a sleeve, and tested the blade on his skin.
Nothing happened. Shang Qinghua remained entirely uninjured, because Mu Qingfang actually did do a good job at confusing the steel-stemmed snapdragon, which meant Mu Qingfang had absolutely no reason to remove that bright red love confession from Shang Qinghua’s head.
“See?” Shang Qinghua said. “Mu-shidi really did do a good job.”
“I suppose so,” Mu Qingfang said, feeling like he was dying.
