Xue Yang was silent, because he wasn't about to admit that he had overreacted. He waited for his breathing to even out, his eyes still trained on the bandage. As if something had happened to expose him, as if something had turned him back into that dumb child that was so easily taken advantage of. Like that kid in the rain, clutching a bleeding hand and crying for someone who cared when no such person existed.

Finally, he looked at Meng Yao, muttering. "Mind how you talk to me."

It wasn't an apology. He couldn't do that. Instead he reached over to the nightstand, grabbing a hold of his hairbrush and whatever ties were nearby. He threw it all down in front of Meng Yao, then turned his back to him. "Braid my hair."

They had never done that before. He had never had anyone do that.