The first thing that comes to mind with the opening of your eyes is the memory from Meng Mo: that vivid sight of a young Luo Binghe from before your transmigration, upon the floor, teary; sure he was a problem again—

"Awake? You kept calling Luo Binghe's name; while crying."

You also remembered the System's punishment to you for failing a mission, although better than returning to your original world and subsequently death, that didn't mean you had wanted to have such a dream about Luo Binghe, tearing you up like you were on a tray in a carvery.

The man who spoke was Yue Qingyuan. His presence now was incredibly comforting: a man who showed pity upon you, after that. Shamefully comforting, even.

"You slept for five days. Do you wish to continue sleeping?"

That explained the fatigue and ache in your waist and back. All there had been was the head pain and dizziness when the System said it was loading your 'punishment'; you'd fallen asleep for that long it seems... Then the System took a turn making noise.

[Plot hole-filling completion rate for target "Shen Jiu": 70 percent.]

Waking up always meant a stack of words from the System and the people that always managed to surround you in your sleep left you no time to bicker with it.

Soon, Yue Qingyuan leaves, ordering in a voice soft, and yet authoritive as a doting parent to rest; that this was out of your hands. And unfortunately, your body was urging you to do just that. Upon being alone, your first thought other than rolling your eyes at the clumsiness of the Great Airplane once again, was to actually get your outer robe on. But of course not. Because what Xianxia would this be if the valiant hero wasn't pestered every two fucking seconds even after waking from practically a coma?!

But the presence was more playful than Yue Qingyuan. A hand covered your eyes, the cool, rough palm feeling almost tender. With each blink, your eyelashes brushed against this mystery man's skin. Although it was rather obvious who the man was, so less of a 'mystery' and more of a 'ninety-percent-chance-but-better-safe-than-sorry' man

Luo Binghe. In the needy, tearful flesh. Again.

His arms then curl around your, still aching, waist and bringing you down onto the bamboo couch like he were a dog who had just layed eyes on its owner. You could already picture that metaphorical tail pounding against the bamboo like some peppy drum beat to a kid's anime, before veering off into something closer to the heartbeat of someone on a pound of crack.

"Don't blink. Shizun's eyelashes are so long. They tickled me too much and now both my hand and my heart are itchy."

He leaned in again, always refusing to leave you alone when he got his hands on you. He pressed kisses onto your eyelids, like a woodpecker, one hand clasping your mouth to stop excess noise.

Luo Binghe kept on kissing. It was like he was getting paid each kiss he gave you, down your eyes...

"I said that I would come for you. It's been so many days since our last meeting. Did Shizun miss me?"

You wanted to knee him in the belly and chide the poor disciple, maybe before saying quickly that you very much didn't miss him.

But somehow, when you thought back to that recent memory of Luo Binghe kneeling alone in the Bamboo House, silently picking up the teacup on the floor, your leg just wouldn't listen. And instead... You nod.

Binghe had very much braced for the opposite, and seemed even more shocked than you. He went stiff, frozen, before pouncing on you even more—

He squeezed you closer, uncharacteristically quiet.

"You really missed me? You really did?"

With your mouth covered you could only not or shake your head. And with Luo Binghe looking like he was moments from bawling into your chest or just popping on the spot like a distressed hamster, you couldn't play with his glass heart. He was so desperate, after so long of needing, to be needed himself. And he needed it like air.

"I also missed you... Really, really missed you. There wasn't a single moment when I didn't miss you..."