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    Summary

    When Lin Qiushi stumbles out from the door into the kitchen, he braces himself on the wall; breathes, heavy, harsh. A moment later, Ruan Nanzhu comes through. He’s smiling still. “Linlin—” he starts, as if he’s about to say something funny, and Lin Qiushi snaps.

    “Don’t fucking ‘Linlin’ me, Ruan Nanzhu!” he cries. His voice is half hoarse. “You—” He stumbles; the words won’t pass through the tight clench of his throat; his eyes are stinging. He refuses to cry, not right now; not when he’s so, so angry. Because that’s what this is: anger, sharp and helpless. Desperation, given a target.

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    Ruan Nanzhu lets Lin Qiushi think he's dead in a door. Lin Qiushi is...less than pleased.

    Language:
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