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Summary
The nighttime requisitions at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor require meticulous attention, but the air inside the office becomes suffocatingly warm the moment a certain wind spirit decides to ignore personal space. Annoyed by the distraction but entirely consumed by the presence of the bard draped over his chair, Zhongli decides to stop reviewing ledgers and give the Anemo Archon exactly what he’s been begging for. What follows is a heavy, crowding collision of centuries of built-up friction against the edge of a mahogany desk.