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Tianlang-jun turns back to regard his nephew. “Aren’t you coming?”
Zhuzhi-lang kneels in the dirt, cheeks damp. He can still feel the phantom touch of Tianlang-jun lifting his chin to get a look at his face. A dark robe has been draped over his shoulders. He does his best to clutch it shut with clumsy fingers, unnatural in their newness. He knows that an answer is expected of him but his tongue doesn’t move like it’s supposed to.
If only he could figure out how to make the sounds that Tianlang-jun does…
He attempts to stand. His limbs shake and he barely manages to slide one foot forward before his leg gives out. He crashes to the ground below, belatedly realizing that he could have used his hands to catch his fall.
“Don’t tell me you still plan to slither after me,” Tianlang-jun says mildly.
Zhuzhi-lang pushes up onto his elbows, embarrassment heating his face. He opens his mouth to try forcing something other than a hissing sound past his lips, then immediately closes it again when he notices Tianlang-jun walking back towards him.
“Come on.” Tianlang-jun slides steady hands beneath Zhuzhi-lang’s arms, lifting him to his feet with ease. “We can’t have you wasting those nice legs, now can we?”