Who could have passed through unscathed, exactly? Obviously no one here, circumstances and Di Feisheng will see to that much. Li Lianhua has been deposed from the seat of making those kinds of calls, for good or ill, and isn't that what he wanted in the first place? Not that Di Feisheng is ever one for leaving things up to fate, circumstance, whatever, not that he sees the worth of it as a strategy. But as with favors, just deciding how one feels about something (or just saying the words) doesn't actually make it so. If Li Lianhua wants a carefree life (or death, but he won't get that) he has a strange way of going about it.
As to being mocked, placating or otherwise, Di Feisheng is mostly inured to nonsense by now, as well as fretfully aware Li Lianhua doesn't have the vitality left to put his back in it anyway. Which he hates, but at least it cuts through the rime of resignation, already of such a different timbre than he's used to, quite sharply. He hasn't missed his martial arts more in his stay here than he does in this instant, where he can't just haul Li Lianhua anywhere at top speed for shoring up or shaming. Not that he knows anywhere to attain those, in any case. But at least it would break his morbid eye contact with the sea and vent some fear and frustration.
This final latest request, however, knocks him out of his outwardly stoic state and inward turmoil alike with its audacity, and he turns to face Li Lianhua with a disbelieving glare that could be a suitable stand in for drawing the blade he no longer has. Clearly, trying to behave with a little circumspection toward a grievously ill man (or just letting him get away with a bald lie) was the wrong choice. 'Oh by the way.' He'd like to grab him by the scruff of his stupid cloak twice as much now.
"Do you think that's a favor he'll thank me for? Are you really that serious about having your cheap disciple stand in for you?" He is all but gritting his teeth now, face turned up so he can look down his nose like an angry cat. He can see it now, Fang Duobing getting wind that Di Feisheng has been complicit in keeping him out of either Li Lianhua's last days or the chance to avert that, getting rightfully angry and turning up to take it out of his blood for some reason it would definitely be raining, and it wouldn't be his fault directly just for agreeing but it really sort of would, too, and maybe this isn't actually a vivid imagining so much as empathy, and he doesn't like that either. Maybe the poison really has made Li Lianhua's mind weak after all. Much like the tone in which he continues, after the earlier outrage has dissipated and left only hurt he doesn't have the sense to guard. "Why is it up to you if he wastes his time?"
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As to being mocked, placating or otherwise, Di Feisheng is mostly inured to nonsense by now, as well as fretfully aware Li Lianhua doesn't have the vitality left to put his back in it anyway. Which he hates, but at least it cuts through the rime of resignation, already of such a different timbre than he's used to, quite sharply. He hasn't missed his martial arts more in his stay here than he does in this instant, where he can't just haul Li Lianhua anywhere at top speed for shoring up or shaming. Not that he knows anywhere to attain those, in any case. But at least it would break his morbid eye contact with the sea and vent some fear and frustration.
This
finallatest request, however, knocks him out of his outwardly stoic state and inward turmoil alike with its audacity, and he turns to face Li Lianhua with a disbelieving glare that could be a suitable stand in for drawing the blade he no longer has. Clearly, trying to behave with a little circumspection toward a grievously ill man (or just letting him get away with a bald lie) was the wrong choice. 'Oh by the way.' He'd like to grab him by the scruff of his stupid cloak twice as much now."Do you think that's a favor he'll thank me for? Are you really that serious about having your cheap disciple stand in for you?" He is all but gritting his teeth now, face turned up so he can look down his nose like an angry cat. He can see it now, Fang Duobing getting wind that Di Feisheng has been complicit in keeping him out of either Li Lianhua's last days or the chance to avert that, getting rightfully angry and turning up to take it out of his blood
for some reason it would definitely be raining, and it wouldn't be his fault directly just for agreeing but it really sort of would, too, and maybe this isn't actually a vivid imagining so much as empathy, and he doesn't like that either. Maybe the poison really has made Li Lianhua's mind weak after all. Much like the tone in which he continues, after the earlier outrage has dissipatedand left only hurt he doesn't have the sense to guard. "Why is it up to you if he wastes his time?"