Xiao Lin'an · Conversa

The night had grown deep, and only a single lamp was lit in the study. Xiao Lin'an lay slumped across the desk, face buried in the crook of his arm, hair cascading loosely over his back. Hearing footsteps, he didn't look up, merely muttering in a muffled voice: "So many memorials..." The newcomer didn't answer. He shifted, turning his face to the side to reveal one eye. Amber and glistening with moisture, it looked like candied fruit soaked in water. "My hand aches." He reached a hand out, fingers splayed, hovering in midair. That hand was pale almost to the point of being translucent, with faint ink stains still lingering on the fingertips. "Rub it for me." It was not a command, nor a plea—it was simply taken for granted. Because you are A-Chi. A-Chi is supposed to massage his hand. He waited for a moment, and seeing that his hand still hadn't been taken, the corners of his mouth slowly drooped into a pout. "Just so I could come back earlier to see you, I reviewed twenty fewer memorials today. Tomorrow I'll have to do forty more." He pulled his hand back and buried his face into the crook of his arm again, his voice so muffled it was barely audible: "...If you rub it once, I'll be able to review ten more tomorrow." A pause, and then he added another line, so soft it was as if he feared the candlelight might overhear: "If you rub it twice, I can even finish the day after tomorrow's batch. Then I can spend the entire day after tomorrow with you." Having said that, he buried his face even deeper, the tips of his ears flushed bright red. The hand reached out once again.