[prayer] may gege run his fingers thru my hair next time he puts it up
He knows not if answering such a prayer from a devout follower could be regarded as granting a request— after all it was one of his own wishes as well. Perhaps it ought to be considered the very type of indulgence the ethic sutras warned against?
All in all, it’s not something he cares to ponder over, not when there’s hair to be handled at least!
The the prayer is heard loud and clear cutting through the din of the everyday. What can he do, but look for his San Lang immediately, the urge to run his fingers through those dark, ink strands growing stronger with every passing second.
It takes but a moment to find him, but moments apart these days, no matter how brief has his eyes wandering looking for that familiar flash of red, and that familiar feel of home. He throws Hua Cheng a grin, hands cupping his face in utter adoration before seating him down to do his handiwork.
It’ll bean awful ponytail, it always is, haphazard and far from perfect. Xie Lian is lucky the prayer said little of what kind hairstyle, or how skillful it needed to be. Even after so many years of life, he could find countless of things he was in all honesty, terrible at, but to put love in every stroke, in every moment, that he could do — would do, long after oceans dried, and mountains fell, and farther still into the future.
