( The bubble of hysterical anxiety that sits in his throat threatens to burst, Wen Kexing has to swallow it down once, twice, his gaze not leaving Zhou Zishu. The other man's robes have come a little loose in his sleep, disordered, his hair unruly, Wen Kexing lifts a hand to smooth his fingers through it, gentle so as to avoid snagging. )

You'll do what I tell you, fine or not. You'll eat, and you'll avoid wine, and you'll rest, do you hear me?

( Nagging, but there's a very real level of fear beneath it, his hand moving to cup Zhou Zishu by the cheek, the hollow of it. )

This is a gift we're not squandering, you're going to behave.