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Summary
There were only seven slips with Minghao’s name on them in the bowl with thousands of others. He only had seven slips. It shouldn’t have been him.
Right before they pull out of the tunnel that leads into the Capitol, Junhui drops Minghao’s hand and goes to stand behind him, leaning against the railings. Minghao can feel his eyes on him like they’re burning, but he forces himself to not look back and to throw on his most charming smile—not too big, not too sly, something that he hopes radiates “you’re dragging me here to die, but have you considered that I’m not ready to do that?”
Series
- Part 1 of now that we have our dead
