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Summary
Zhao Yunlan's head is killing him. He groans and rolls over, thankful he's on a bed and not his sofa, because falling off would make it worse. Someone makes a soft noise of concern and a cool hand brushes against his forehead. Zhao Yunlan moans in relief; it feels like heaven. He blinks against the harsh light (not his room, oh no, he’s in a hospital) and settles his gaze on one of the prettiest people he’s ever seen.
“How does your head feel?” the handsome man asks.
“Like shit,” Zhao Yunlan says honestly.
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Bookmark Notes:
Amnesia fic! In which ZYL gets to process thousands of years of memories, whether he wants to or not