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Zhuzhi-lang can't open his eyes.
His eyelids are awfully heavy, so is the rest of his body. It's cold, but he feels faint warmth under his head. He can't lift his arm to feel around, his nose can't pick up any smells as it feels like everything around is just smeared with blood. But he senses familiar qi - he knows it's Junshang near him.
Had he known he's lying on Junshang's lap, he'd probably die from shame. Though now that was unnecessary, he was dying anyway. While his body was already failing him, his mind reached the state of unusual clarity.
"Junshang," he manages to mutter through cracked lips. They feel dry...or do they? Zhuzhi-lang can't tell if he's really feeling anything or not. Could the pain be so bad it circled back to numbness?
"That appears to be me," Tianlang-jun hummed. "Awake already? Good. It's about time someone patched up my arms."
Zhuzhi-lang attempts to smile. He really wants to, but he's not sure if he manages.
He doesn't think he can help Junshang anymore. He knows Junshang understands it too.
But he doesn't like Tianlang-jun's tone. Hasn't Junshang suffered enough? Why must he be upset again?
"Junshang, can you...sing for me?"
There were other things Zhuzhi-lang wanted to say, but he doesn't have the forces to. His time was limited, so he had to choose words carefully.
"Oh? Anytime. What would you like to listen to?"
He knows Tianlang-jun loves the sound of his own voice and that song Zhuzhi-lang has heard so many times that he's grown to hate it.
And Tianlang-jun kind of hates that Zhuzhi-lang still sticks to formalities, calling him only "Junshang" even now. But he's not going to waste time arguing.
"Regret of Chunshan."
Tianlang-jun knows his nephew hates the song. That's what made it more fun to recite it back in the day. Why is he choosing it now? Who is he trying to comfort with that, himself or-
Tianlang-jun doesn't argue.
He sings until his voice gives out, even though Zhuzhi-lang stopped listening long ago.