Xu Zhenlan had never considered silence one of Han Chenghai's virtues until Wei Lingyun spent ten straight minutes complaining from the back seat.
"She should have come," Lingyun muttered, for what had to be the eighth time since they left Shen Rouxi's house.
He was slouched against the seat with his arms crossed in front of him, staring out the window as if the entire outside world had personally offended him by not being Rouxi. His shoes were gone because Rouxi had refused to let Jiang Meilan's blood touch her floors, and his socks were also gone because he had apparently decided that if he was already burning the shoes, he might as well be thorough.
Zhenlan could already feel the headache stabbing at him from behind his eyes. "Here," he grunted. He leaded forward into the foot well in front of him and opened his Go Bag.
