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Summary
“So you’re not God,” Hua Cheng clarified once more. He bit into the soft of his own cheek to keep his smirk from crawling away from him.
“Not God,” Fangxin agreed.
Hua Cheng pretended to mull on it for a moment, looking up and away with a speculative hum. “Are you royalty?”
At that, Fangxin's small grin bloomed into a proper smile, and he laughed once in a way that suggested Hua Cheng had struck a personal humor. “Depends on who you ask,” he submitted with a slight shrug, unable to hide the charmed lilt in his response.
That bitten cheek sprung itself free, and Hua Cheng was smiling wide before he could think to stop himself. “Oh?” he prodded, brow quirked in intrigue.
“Shirtless Shawn calls me the Crown Prince,” Fangxin supplied, shaking his head like it couldn't be helped. “I think he does that because I give him coins for the jukebox.”
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Hua Cheng stumbles into a 24/7 pub, where an odd – yet remarkably gentle – stranger tends to his wounds.