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keith_ltd2022-01-14 10:24 pm
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Live at the Mile High Club! Chapter 5
Fandom: BanG Dream!, Scum Villain
Title: Live at the Mile High Club!
Summary: The night of the Afterglow show is finally here, but will Shen Yuan show as promised? Will Moon Dew blow Shang Qinghua's cover? And what's with Luo Binghe suddenly changing the genre?!
Notes: it's important to note that shang qinghua 100% owns a pair of sweat shorts with RESPECT THE HUSTLE printed on the ass
End notes
AO3 mirror
The day of the show was upon Shang Qinghua so quickly it gave her whiplash. Friday seemed to fold in on itself the second they secured Moon Dew, and she slept so hard she forgot what year it was when she woke up. She had a small panic over being late as she tried to remember how numbers worked, staring at the time on her phone, until she realized she had three hours before she had to be anywhere.
The atmosphere at the Mile High Club felt upbeat for the first time since the disaster show. Even Yuka seemed to be in a relatively good mood, her sour expression toned down to something bland instead.
“Wow, someone’s here early today.”
The clock over the front counter signaled the time as ten-thirty in the morning. Yuka’s eyebrows registered her surprise.
“Aah, Yuka, you never give me any credit! Besides, aren’t you the one here early?”
“I’m here at this time every day.”
“And I am so fortunate to have such diligent employees! Especially you, Yuka, you lead everyone else by example! One that everyone should follow!”
“You’re the only one who doesn’t. You are the one who sucks the most at this job.” Yuka peered at her. “What’s in the bags?”
Shang Qinghua lifted two paper bags with a shameless smile. The neck of a bottle poked conspicuously from each of them. “Just did some shopping on my way in.”
“At a liquor store? Wait.” Yuka’s eyes narrowed, and she reached for one of the bags. “I recognize that label.”
“Ah, wait, don’t drop it—”
Yuka swiftly extracted the bottle and examined it before turning that comfortably familiar murderous look back on Shang Qinghua. “Did you seriously buy shochu? Couldn’t you at least have gotten the cheap stuff?”
“It’s an investment, okay! We need to keep our number one customer happy tonight!”
“How is she a customer when she doesn’t even pay!”
“Investment! Investments bring returns! It’s all going to pay off!”
Yuka chased her out of the room with a glower. Shang Qinghua grabbed the bottle from her and sprinted for the drink bar.
But even with the attractive lineup and Shen Yuan’s promise that she’d show, anxiety gnawed at her stomach as the bands started to show up with their equipment in tow. She’d been looking forward to today, but now that it was actually here, her brain was buzzing with three spreadsheets’ worth of logistical gymnastics too much for her to enjoy it. She tried to watch the setup while she prepped the drink bar and closed the fridge over her hand for her trouble. Afterglow had been right on time, and Proud Immortal Demon Way just behind them. Moon Dew’s vocalist had texted Shang Qinghua to let them know their train was running late, but they still had plenty of time. Shang Qinghua wasn’t worried about it. What did have her slightly worried was the gleam in Luo Binghe’s eye as she watched Afterglow run through the setlist with the sound booth. Shang Qinghua didn’t know if it was because they were the headliners or if Luo Binghe really did find their lead some kind of fierce fashion competition, but whatever it was, she hoped desperately that Luo Binghe didn’t get the itch to throw another guitar.
Yuka interrupted her nervous train of thought with a tap on the shoulder. Notably not a smack or a slap. When Shang Qinghua turned and saw the look of slight concern on Yuka’s face, she felt her stomach drop.
“Shit, who died?”
“No one,” Yuka said, narrowing her eyes. “Put that coffee down, you’re going to vibrate right off the visible light spectrum.”
“Or,” Shang Qinghua suggested, “I don’t put the coffee down, and I don’t embarrass you by passing out behind the bar. What’s with the face, what’s wrong?”
“You already embarrass me enough for the both of us. Stage manager for tonight got some kind of food poisoning and had to bail. I…” Yuka sighed deeply and thrust a headset at her. “I need your help running the show.”
“But I’m on drink bar duty,” Shang Qinghua whined, swiftly having identified the scent of too much responsibility. This whole job was too much responsibility! Why did she need to take any more on! But she quailed at Yuka’s look. “I’m just saying, I can’t be in two places at the same time! I definitely can’t be running the stage and serving drinks to—all of our customers!”
‘All of our customers’ included Shen Yuan. It wasn’t so much that Shang Qinghua didn’t think anyone else could serve drinks; her staff were all competent at far more complex tasks. But could any of her staff kiss ass on the same level as her? Not even close! When it came to sucking up, Shang Qinghua was a first-class brown noser, and the one thing she didn’t trust her staff to handle was ensuring Shen Yuan didn’t leave before the end of the show.
“That’s why I’m taking over stage management. I need you to run the floor for me.”
“But I don’t—”
“You can do it for one night,” Yuka said heartlessly, talking over Shang Qinghua’s babbling excuses. “Take some tickets, stamp some hands, make sure no one’s doing anything obviously illegal during the show. You can get back behind the bar once the doors are closed for the night and send one of the stagehands to watch the doors.”
Shang Qinghua frowned. “Is that really all you do?” At Yuka’s answering glare, she writhed away. “Okay, okay! I’ll do it!”
Shang Qinghua was fairly comfortable delegating tasks to her staff. Most of them had been here longer than her anyway; they didn’t need a whole lot of oversight, and it was one less thing Shang Qinghua had to worry about. Having tasks delegated to her? It wasn’t the indignity of being bossed around by her own employees, it was just…she really did just want to stand back and enjoy the show after all her hard work and let her staff do the rest!
Ah, but whining at Yuka wasn’t going to cure anyone’s food poisoning, and she sure as hell wasn’t about to just let the show flop now. Shang Qinghua made a pathetic little noise in the back of her throat that no one else could hear and jammed the headset on.
But at least one thing went according to plan: to Shang Qinghua’s sickening relief, Shen Yuan actually showed up ahead of the crowds. She was dressed sharply tonight, in an exaggerated A-line dress and an oversized cardigan that somehow seemed to billow around her rather than hang limply off her frame. Still the same hipster glasses and fan, though. She didn’t wave to Shang Qinghua as she approached. She…might have smiled behind the fan? Shang Qinghua decided to imagine that she smiled.
“Hey! You made it.” Shang Qinghua’s enthusiasm was genuine. As much as she found Shen Yuan’s teen heartthrob appeal completely incomprehensible—and as charged as their online relationship was—she’d found herself actually looking forward to seeing Shen Yuan. Shen Yuan did smile then, her fan moving aside. It was a small thing, that smile, putting on some air of elegance, carefully aloof. Shang Qinghua began to ponder whether Shen Yuan was trying to put out a himedere vibe. If so, she needed a few pointers. You had to be a little bit more vocally demanding if you wanted people to treat you like a princess. After a moment’s silence, Shang Qinghua added, “Oh, yeah—2,000 yen for the door charge.”
Shen Yuan’s fan fluttered lightly back and forth. “I thought I was a VIP.”
For drinks only, okay! Stop trying to take advantage! Acting like a spoiled brat alone definitely doesn’t qualify as himedere behavior!
But what Shang Qinghua said instead was, “Ah, haha, yeah, of course,” and ushered her in. At least Yuka was too busy stage managing to slap her.
There weren’t any other customers just yet, so Shang Qinghua trailed Shen Yuan to the bar, sidling behind the counter. Shen Yuan sat at the counter, peered at Shang Qinghua over her fan, and said with an air of resignation, “Sapporo.”
Shang Qinghua failed (did not bother) to suppress a thoroughly obnoxious grin. “Oh? You sure you wouldn’t rather have…an ochawari?”
Dramatically, Shang Qinghua pulled the bottle of shochu out and set it on the countertop. Shen Yuan lowered her fan, one eyebrow arched.
“I thought you didn’t have shochu here.”
“We do now,” Shang Qinghua said, enormously pleased with herself, and even more so when she saw the corner of Shen Yuan’s mouth quirk up in a smile. Could it be that…she actually kind of liked being here? Maybe?
Or she just liked that the owner had gone to the trouble of purchasing her preferred spirit like the desperate loser that Shang Qinghua was. Either way, it didn’t seem like Shen Yuan was going to leave anytime soon.
Shang Qinghua had never actually mixed an ochawari before—she didn’t do a lot of mixing, generally speaking, mostly just handed out cans of beer and soda—but that was what the internet was for. Surreptitiously peering at a recipe on her phone, Shang Qinghua grabbed some ice and a bottle of green tea and eyeballed the proportions. Might as well make it a little on the strong side just to be safe.
Unlike the beer, which Shen Yuan had seemed to merely tolerate, she looked pleased when she picked up the glass, examined it cursorily, and took a sip.
She did not spit it out. But her eyes did bulge slightly, and she let out a gasping cough, waving her fan back over her face. Shang Qinghua raised an eyebrow.
“Everything okay?”
“‘S fine,” Shen Yuan rasped hurriedly. She smothered another cough in her sleeve and flashed Shang Qinghua a smile considerably more strained. Hmmm. Too strong for Peerless Cucumber, huh? Shang Qinghua grinned with no trace of apology.
“Well, there’s more where that—”
“Shang Qinghua!” Yuka’s voice crackled in her ear. “Stop flirting and get back to the door, there are customers coming in!”
Shang Qinghua excused herself with a wave and hurried for the lobby. “Going, going! You know, you should really be calling me boss!”
“Absolutely not. We’re starting sound check now, so get those people inside and take their money.”
“Love the enthusiasm,” Shang Qinghua said sincerely, and Yuka was back to ignoring her. Ah, they could be so prickly sometimes, but Shang Qinghua really did have some wonderful staff!
However much she might have whined about it, Shang Qinghua managed ticket duty just fine. Either it wasn’t really that hard or she was just running on some good momentum—it was hard to tell between the garbled conversations in her ear and the tired humming in her brain. But things were….going well, actually? Shang Qinghua admitted a steady stream of customers with shining eyes and light sticks in tow. Some of them looked like they’d never been to a concert before, and the energy was palpable. Ah, bless those ones the most. They didn’t have any standards and would probably find the Mile High Club’s aging furniture and sticky floors quirky and exciting.
They didn’t sell out the whole house, but there were still people trickling in even as Moon Dew wound down their sound check and their peppy little leader announced them to the audience. Shang Qinghua heard the light, delicate tinkling on the keyboard descend into a wail of guitars as she stamped the last hand, swapped places with a staffer who’d been helping with setup, and booked it back to the performance space.
The Mile High staff really had done a bang-up job with the last-minute lighting design for Moon Dew. They’d never actually played a show on a real stage before, and as a last-minute booking, the live house hadn’t received their setlist until the night before. But Shang Qinghua’s engineers (she’d totally earned the right to call them hers by now!) had quickly assembled a simple but lively lighting design that nicely complemented their perky sound. The band was even wearing matching homemade stage outfits with swaying skirts that made them look like a little bouquet of white lilies on the stage. High school bands who made their own stage outfits were, without a doubt, the cutest!
Moon Dew was, Shang Qinghua realized as their drummer worked them up into their third and final song, the kind of band whose sound just resonated better live. It didn’t help that it sounded like they recorded everything in someone’s garage, but still—they had an energy that recordings didn’t quite capture. Shang Qinghua found herself delivering drinks to the surprisingly catchy beat, searching the crowd for a glimpse of Shen Yuan. Just, you know, to make sure she was still there. And there she was, leaning against the wall and tapping her fan into her palm, watching with interest that probably wasn’t as detached as she was trying to make it seem.
Moon Dew’s final song ended with a four-measure crash of a drum fill to favorable applause. The warmup act didn’t usually get as much attention, the crowd still milling around casually and fetching drinks, but it was a pretty good response for your first show. Shang Qinghua gave herself a little pat on the back as she slipped out from the drink bar to help set up for the next band. Moon Dew was the biggest gamble here, and it had clearly paid off. The crowd was nice and primed for Proud Immortal Demon Way.
“Thank you so much for listening, everyone!” The vocalist clasped her hands together and smiled beatifically at the crowd. “We’re so lucky to have had an audience like you! And thank you to everyone at the Mile High Club for giving us our very first chance to perform!”
That got a few more cheers from the audience. Aw, that was pretty cute.
“And a very special thank you to our inspiration and idol Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky! We wouldn’t be on this stage without you! Thank you so much, Airplane-sama!”
Shang Qinghua froze halfway to the stage.
No! Fuck! Not cool! She told you not to mention Airplane, didn’t she?!
Moon Dew’s vocalist didn’t explicitly say that Airplane was the one who recommended this gig, but she might as well have!
Shang Qinghua’s eyes immediately sought out Shen Yuan. She looked genuinely surprised—maybe baffled was the better word. Then she narrowed her eyes and snapped open her fan. That might have been suspicion, disgust, irritation—wasn’t all three a possibility, too? Fuck!
But Moon Dew was already hopping off stage, and Shang Qinghua didn’t have time to dawdle. She hustled through the crowd to rendezvous with Yuka, who yelled at her and told her to go somewhere else. Shang Qinghua moved without really hearing the chatter in her headset, her mind dominated by the sensation of her increasingly sweaty palms. Most of these people had probably never heard of Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, it wasn’t like she was a celebrity! It was probably barely a blip on anyone’s radar! It would probably be fine! Maybe!
Shang Qinghua kept glancing back over her shoulder to make sure Shen Yuan was still there. Afterglow would probably play if she wandered off, that wasn’t why they were here, but Shang Qinghua could really, really not let Luo Binghe storm offstage in a tearful fury a second time in a row. But Shen Yuan hadn’t moved from her spot, her expression distant and veiled. Well, probably. It was kind of dark in here right now.
Luo Binghe shouldered her guitar and stepped onstage to a small wave of applause, but she didn’t seem to register the audience at all. Her wide eyes were searching the crowd with an almost feral desperation, drawing her initial silence out into something awkward. Finally, her gaze settled on the object of her fascination.
Sha Hualing leaned over to Luo Binghe’s mic and shouted, “Who’s ready for some real music? We’re Proud Immortal Demon Way! Six Balls, hit it!”
Six Balls counted them in with a flurry of cymbals and an enthusiastic stomp on her bass drum, and Luo Binghe seemed to move automatically, her fingers sliding down her guitar. When she sang, she seemed to finally come alive, her voice rich with raw talent. Her usual intensity seemed multiplied by a hundredfold this time, and she sounded…more focused, somehow. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that from start to finish, Luo Binghe’s gaze never shifted away from Shen Yuan.
As the last chord died down, Luo Binghe stood center stage, panting slightly. A roar of applause erupted from the audience, but her eyes remained fixed on Shen Yuan. Shang Qinghua couldn’t make out Shen Yuan’s expression in the writhing crowd, just that she was clapping along with the rest of the audience, if a little less animatedly. A girlish, exhilarated smile stole over Luo Binghe’s face, and she permitted herself to be ushered offstage by her bandmates at the behest of Yuka, who was already preparing for Afterglow’s set.
The rest of the show rushed past Shang Qinghua in a heady blur. Afterglow had been a real catch—Moon Dew and Proud Immortal Demon Way had warmed the crowd up pretty well, and Ran clearly knew how to keep the vibe going. For a high school band, their performance was surprisingly polished, although it never lost that garage band edge that meshed so well (moderately well) with the Mile High Club’s atmosphere. If anything, their performance elevated it. The crowd was screaming right up to the last, winding guitar note, light sticks moving in a frantic wave of light across the room. The band breathlessly thanked the audience before collecting their instruments and exiting the stage, and the house lights came up.
Much like the Hello, Happy World! concert, Shen Yuan was almost immediately beset by wailing fans once she entered the lobby. Afterglow had their own little crowd of devotees too, but they were largely other students, seeming more like supportive peers than fans, and the band didn’t hang around too long. They stayed long enough for Himari to seek out Shang Qinghua and thank her again, sincerely, for the opportunity to perform, and even expressed a bit of hope that they might be able to play here again. Shang Qinghua tried to act cool about it, completely failed, and sent the band off with a small stack of the Mile High Club’s business cards.
Ah, why couldn’t more bands be like Afterglow! Himari was a model example of teen musician behavior, couldn’t Proud Immortal Demon Way take a few pages from her book!
Shang Qinghua thought about calling out to Shen Yuan, but she was clearly occupied, and a buzzing in her ear told her there was still work to be done. Shen Yuan would probably take off once her adoring fans dissipated, and she’d done her part, anyway. Shang Qinghua was so relieved and so tired she felt a little sick. But it was a pretty pleased kind of sick.
The live house staff all seemed to be in high spirits after the show. The crackling energy of the performance still hung in the air, as though echoes of the sound had caught in the air like water droplets, suspended in a sonic haze. Shang Qinghua had never seen her employees haul equipment with such gusto before, and their backtalk seemed almost halfhearted. Shang Qinghua was overseeing the final equipment strike when she sensed someone’s presence behind her, and she immediately wiggled to the side to avoid a slap.
But Yuka, who had only gone to touch her shoulder for attention, just rolled her eyes. “Hey, if you’re done standing around watching us work, do me a favor and grab that bottle of shochu.”
“I’m helping, I’m—what?”
“Get some beers, too. We are having an afterparty,” she enunciated at Shang Qinghua’s continued blank stare. “Because tonight’s show actually went well, and everyone’s hype, and you reward your staff’s hard work with free booze—what is that look for?”
“Sorry, I’ve just never seen you smile before, and it’s…kind of terrifying? Okay, I’m getting beer, I’m getting beer!”
Shang Qinghua fled Yuka’s hurricane of slaps, but she was grinning to herself. Yes! Success! This was an undeniable success! No one could look at the Mile High Club and claim they were nothing more than a dank little hole in the ground after tonight!
She piled the still mostly-full bottle of shochu along with an assortment of beers and teas on the counter of the drink bar, and she was searching the freezer for a bottle of vodka she could’ve sworn she saw shoved in there last week when a sharp rapping on the wall caught her attention. Shang Qinghua looked up to see Shen Yuan in the doorway. She blinked in surprise. She…really wasn’t expecting Shen Yuan to come back?
“Oh, uh, hey.”
Extremely smooth. In her defense, the exhaustion she’d been staving off all day was starting to catch up to her. But Shen Yuan only smiled slightly and puffed out a soft laugh, coming away from the doors. It seemed that the lively atmosphere had reached even her; Shang Qinghua could see the pink flush on her cheeks, the loose strands of hair that framed her face sticking to her skin with sweat in places. It had a peculiar effect on her, like a piece of porcelain come to life, no longer so pale and distant. Shang Qinghua found herself thinking that it suited Shen Yuan better.
“Hey,” Shen Yuan parroted back, eyebrows raised. “You know, I had my doubts, but I have to admit—you actually pulled this off.”
Shang Qinghua, who was plagued by doubt about her ability to keep the lights on in the live house on a day to day basis, just grinned. “Wild, right? Would you believe I didn’t secure the opener until yesterday afternoon?”
“I have absolutely no trouble believing that.” Shen Yuan crossed her arms, looking amused. Man, she really was a lot easier (more tolerable) to talk to when she wasn’t hiding behind that fan. Shen Yuan could emote like a real person sometimes, who knew. “They were rough around the edges—but a very good find. Their taste is highly questionable, but you can’t deny their sound has promise. You ought to keep tabs on them. Invite them back to play. Bands that make it big remember where they started out. It could pay off in the long run.”
Shit, this might have been the most words Shen Yuan had said to her at once. In person, anyway. Shang Qinghua rubbed her palms on her trousers with a wilting laugh. Haha, right, the long run. With any luck, by the time Moon Dew became a hit band, the Mile High Club would already be well out of debt and thus Shang Qinghua’s hands.
“Aha, yeah, well—never hurts to have a few bands on speed dial, you’re right. They seemed to really enjoy playing, too.”
“Just where did you find them, anyway?”
“Oh, they reached out to us. We were looking pretty loudly.” A dubious question hovered on her tongue. Shang Qinghua was not the sort of person with boundless self control. “So, just curious, why do you think they have bad—”
Shang Qinghua suddenly heard—no, felt someone standing very close. Luo Binghe somehow never made a sound in those combat boots. Shang Qinghua hated it. No one that tall should be allowed to be that sneaky!
Proud Immortal Demon Way’s vocalist was standing in the doorway, staring at Shen Yuan with a scarlet-eyed intensity that made Shang Qinghua instinctively want to fold in on herself. But it wasn’t the cold stare she usually directed at Shang Qinghua; her eyes were wide, round, entreating. This was…somehow scarier?
“Shen Yuan-sama,” Luo Binghe said, her voice oddly breathless, almost hushed. Shen Yuan turned to her with an inquisitive look. Shang Qinghua looked furtively for the other members of the band, but they were nowhere to be seen. Where was Mobei Jun or Meiyin when she needed them? The last thing she needed right now was for Luo Binghe to scare Shen Yuan off right when they were finally having a real conversation!
Luo Binghe took that as an invitation to step forward, but it was a tiny baby step. She had her hands clasped tightly together in front of her, and for the first time in Shang Qinghua’s acquaintance, she looked…shy.
“I just wanted to thank you for coming to our show,” Luo Binghe said, and then flushed, her cheeks pink. Shang Qinghua was staring open-mouthed. Since when was Luo Binghe an innocent shoujo protagonist? Who authorized this genre change?! “It really meant a lot to us. To…to me.”
Shen Yuan favored her with an approving smile, the kind Shang Qinghua had seen her use on her fans. “You played well,” she said. “And you seem to have improved since last month. Keep doing what you’re doing; clearly, it’s working.”
Luo Binghe’s eyes positively shone, her mouth half-opening in a soundless breath, and she seemed to swell with an ecstatic gratitude. She seemed to flounder for a moment, lost for a response, and then hesitantly extended a hand, slowly opening her closed fingers to reveal a worn guitar pick in her palm. Her eyes darted away as though she were nervous, but immediately, irresistibly flicked back to Shen Yuan.
“I…wanted to give you this. As a thank you.”
Shang Qinghua’s mind was nothing but one long scream. Was she so tired she was hallucinating this? Why did she feel like she was peeping in on some sweet young maiden’s confession of love? Abort, Shen Yuan! Abort!!
Shen Yuan looked at the offering with an air of dignified confusion, flicking her fan back open. “Oh? What’s this?”
Luo Binghe’s face fell. In the blink of an eye, the shy smile dropped away from her face. She suddenly looked on the verge of tears. “You…don’t remember?”
When Shen Yuan didn’t immediately offer an answer, she haltingly continued.
“Shen Yuan-sama…you gave this to me the first time we met. It was at CiRCLE. I was sitting outside nearby after a show, messing around with my guitar. I mean, I wasn’t very good at the time.” The flush in her cheeks deepened to red. “You saw me playing without a pick, and my fingers were all torn up, so you gave this to me and told me to keep practicing. I’ve played with it ever since.”
What! The! Hell! Did Shen Yuan just carry guitar picks with her and hand them out to aspiring musicians who looked like they could use a boost? No way! There was just no way! It totally clashed with her whole image!
“Ah,” Shen Yuan said, as if in illumination. “Of course. You’ll have to forgive me—it’s been a long day, and you’ve certainly grown since then.”
It couldn’t have been that long ago! Luo Binghe had towered over Shang Qinghua for as long as she’d known her! How much could Luo Binghe have grown!!
“But…” Shen Yuan paused. “Are you sure you want to give it to me? It sounds like you treasure it quite a lot.”
“Ah, well…” Luo Binghe looked flustered. “I just wanted to give Shen Yuan-sama something to remember our performance by, is all…”
“Your performance was very memorable,” Shen Yuan said, in what passed for an encouraging tone. “You should keep it. It’s accompanied you on your journey so far, hasn’t it? See how far it takes you.”
Luo Binghe mouthed that last sentence back to herself, then withdrew her hand with an ecstatic smile. “I will. Thank you so much, Shen Yuan-sama. I—”
Fearless Yuka, who had marched over to see what the holdup was with the drinks, took one look at Luo Binghe, pointed firmly to the lobby, and said, “Show’s over. Go home. This is a no-minors zone now.”
Luo Binghe’s expression closed at once. With an icy look at Yuka and Shang Qinghua, she turned and left, casting just one last eager glance at her idol. Shang Qinghua thought she heard Shen Yuan let out a very quiet sigh of relief.
But when she turned to leave, too, Shang Qinghua caught her hurriedly by the shoulder. Shen Yuan gave her a look as though Shang Qinghua had just slapped a muddy palmprint on her oh-so-chic cardigan. Shang Qinghua was undeterred.
“Hey, you want to stick around for the afterparty? I mean, it’s not much of a party, it’s just us, but, you know. Good show and all.” She held up both hands. “Drinks are still free.”
In all honesty, the invitation was about seventy percent motivated by the haunting fear that Luo Binghe would jump in her on her way out or something. Shen Yuan seemed to consider it, fan fluttering.
“Alright,” she conceded. “I’ll stay for one drink.”
End notes: if you're curious about what moon dew sound like, imagine the peggies but with more keyboard
Title: Live at the Mile High Club!
Summary: The night of the Afterglow show is finally here, but will Shen Yuan show as promised? Will Moon Dew blow Shang Qinghua's cover? And what's with Luo Binghe suddenly changing the genre?!
Notes: it's important to note that shang qinghua 100% owns a pair of sweat shorts with RESPECT THE HUSTLE printed on the ass
End notes
AO3 mirror
The day of the show was upon Shang Qinghua so quickly it gave her whiplash. Friday seemed to fold in on itself the second they secured Moon Dew, and she slept so hard she forgot what year it was when she woke up. She had a small panic over being late as she tried to remember how numbers worked, staring at the time on her phone, until she realized she had three hours before she had to be anywhere.
The atmosphere at the Mile High Club felt upbeat for the first time since the disaster show. Even Yuka seemed to be in a relatively good mood, her sour expression toned down to something bland instead.
“Wow, someone’s here early today.”
The clock over the front counter signaled the time as ten-thirty in the morning. Yuka’s eyebrows registered her surprise.
“Aah, Yuka, you never give me any credit! Besides, aren’t you the one here early?”
“I’m here at this time every day.”
“And I am so fortunate to have such diligent employees! Especially you, Yuka, you lead everyone else by example! One that everyone should follow!”
“You’re the only one who doesn’t. You are the one who sucks the most at this job.” Yuka peered at her. “What’s in the bags?”
Shang Qinghua lifted two paper bags with a shameless smile. The neck of a bottle poked conspicuously from each of them. “Just did some shopping on my way in.”
“At a liquor store? Wait.” Yuka’s eyes narrowed, and she reached for one of the bags. “I recognize that label.”
“Ah, wait, don’t drop it—”
Yuka swiftly extracted the bottle and examined it before turning that comfortably familiar murderous look back on Shang Qinghua. “Did you seriously buy shochu? Couldn’t you at least have gotten the cheap stuff?”
“It’s an investment, okay! We need to keep our number one customer happy tonight!”
“How is she a customer when she doesn’t even pay!”
“Investment! Investments bring returns! It’s all going to pay off!”
Yuka chased her out of the room with a glower. Shang Qinghua grabbed the bottle from her and sprinted for the drink bar.
But even with the attractive lineup and Shen Yuan’s promise that she’d show, anxiety gnawed at her stomach as the bands started to show up with their equipment in tow. She’d been looking forward to today, but now that it was actually here, her brain was buzzing with three spreadsheets’ worth of logistical gymnastics too much for her to enjoy it. She tried to watch the setup while she prepped the drink bar and closed the fridge over her hand for her trouble. Afterglow had been right on time, and Proud Immortal Demon Way just behind them. Moon Dew’s vocalist had texted Shang Qinghua to let them know their train was running late, but they still had plenty of time. Shang Qinghua wasn’t worried about it. What did have her slightly worried was the gleam in Luo Binghe’s eye as she watched Afterglow run through the setlist with the sound booth. Shang Qinghua didn’t know if it was because they were the headliners or if Luo Binghe really did find their lead some kind of fierce fashion competition, but whatever it was, she hoped desperately that Luo Binghe didn’t get the itch to throw another guitar.
Yuka interrupted her nervous train of thought with a tap on the shoulder. Notably not a smack or a slap. When Shang Qinghua turned and saw the look of slight concern on Yuka’s face, she felt her stomach drop.
“Shit, who died?”
“No one,” Yuka said, narrowing her eyes. “Put that coffee down, you’re going to vibrate right off the visible light spectrum.”
“Or,” Shang Qinghua suggested, “I don’t put the coffee down, and I don’t embarrass you by passing out behind the bar. What’s with the face, what’s wrong?”
“You already embarrass me enough for the both of us. Stage manager for tonight got some kind of food poisoning and had to bail. I…” Yuka sighed deeply and thrust a headset at her. “I need your help running the show.”
“But I’m on drink bar duty,” Shang Qinghua whined, swiftly having identified the scent of too much responsibility. This whole job was too much responsibility! Why did she need to take any more on! But she quailed at Yuka’s look. “I’m just saying, I can’t be in two places at the same time! I definitely can’t be running the stage and serving drinks to—all of our customers!”
‘All of our customers’ included Shen Yuan. It wasn’t so much that Shang Qinghua didn’t think anyone else could serve drinks; her staff were all competent at far more complex tasks. But could any of her staff kiss ass on the same level as her? Not even close! When it came to sucking up, Shang Qinghua was a first-class brown noser, and the one thing she didn’t trust her staff to handle was ensuring Shen Yuan didn’t leave before the end of the show.
“That’s why I’m taking over stage management. I need you to run the floor for me.”
“But I don’t—”
“You can do it for one night,” Yuka said heartlessly, talking over Shang Qinghua’s babbling excuses. “Take some tickets, stamp some hands, make sure no one’s doing anything obviously illegal during the show. You can get back behind the bar once the doors are closed for the night and send one of the stagehands to watch the doors.”
Shang Qinghua frowned. “Is that really all you do?” At Yuka’s answering glare, she writhed away. “Okay, okay! I’ll do it!”
Shang Qinghua was fairly comfortable delegating tasks to her staff. Most of them had been here longer than her anyway; they didn’t need a whole lot of oversight, and it was one less thing Shang Qinghua had to worry about. Having tasks delegated to her? It wasn’t the indignity of being bossed around by her own employees, it was just…she really did just want to stand back and enjoy the show after all her hard work and let her staff do the rest!
Ah, but whining at Yuka wasn’t going to cure anyone’s food poisoning, and she sure as hell wasn’t about to just let the show flop now. Shang Qinghua made a pathetic little noise in the back of her throat that no one else could hear and jammed the headset on.
But at least one thing went according to plan: to Shang Qinghua’s sickening relief, Shen Yuan actually showed up ahead of the crowds. She was dressed sharply tonight, in an exaggerated A-line dress and an oversized cardigan that somehow seemed to billow around her rather than hang limply off her frame. Still the same hipster glasses and fan, though. She didn’t wave to Shang Qinghua as she approached. She…might have smiled behind the fan? Shang Qinghua decided to imagine that she smiled.
“Hey! You made it.” Shang Qinghua’s enthusiasm was genuine. As much as she found Shen Yuan’s teen heartthrob appeal completely incomprehensible—and as charged as their online relationship was—she’d found herself actually looking forward to seeing Shen Yuan. Shen Yuan did smile then, her fan moving aside. It was a small thing, that smile, putting on some air of elegance, carefully aloof. Shang Qinghua began to ponder whether Shen Yuan was trying to put out a himedere vibe. If so, she needed a few pointers. You had to be a little bit more vocally demanding if you wanted people to treat you like a princess. After a moment’s silence, Shang Qinghua added, “Oh, yeah—2,000 yen for the door charge.”
Shen Yuan’s fan fluttered lightly back and forth. “I thought I was a VIP.”
For drinks only, okay! Stop trying to take advantage! Acting like a spoiled brat alone definitely doesn’t qualify as himedere behavior!
But what Shang Qinghua said instead was, “Ah, haha, yeah, of course,” and ushered her in. At least Yuka was too busy stage managing to slap her.
There weren’t any other customers just yet, so Shang Qinghua trailed Shen Yuan to the bar, sidling behind the counter. Shen Yuan sat at the counter, peered at Shang Qinghua over her fan, and said with an air of resignation, “Sapporo.”
Shang Qinghua failed (did not bother) to suppress a thoroughly obnoxious grin. “Oh? You sure you wouldn’t rather have…an ochawari?”
Dramatically, Shang Qinghua pulled the bottle of shochu out and set it on the countertop. Shen Yuan lowered her fan, one eyebrow arched.
“I thought you didn’t have shochu here.”
“We do now,” Shang Qinghua said, enormously pleased with herself, and even more so when she saw the corner of Shen Yuan’s mouth quirk up in a smile. Could it be that…she actually kind of liked being here? Maybe?
Or she just liked that the owner had gone to the trouble of purchasing her preferred spirit like the desperate loser that Shang Qinghua was. Either way, it didn’t seem like Shen Yuan was going to leave anytime soon.
Shang Qinghua had never actually mixed an ochawari before—she didn’t do a lot of mixing, generally speaking, mostly just handed out cans of beer and soda—but that was what the internet was for. Surreptitiously peering at a recipe on her phone, Shang Qinghua grabbed some ice and a bottle of green tea and eyeballed the proportions. Might as well make it a little on the strong side just to be safe.
Unlike the beer, which Shen Yuan had seemed to merely tolerate, she looked pleased when she picked up the glass, examined it cursorily, and took a sip.
She did not spit it out. But her eyes did bulge slightly, and she let out a gasping cough, waving her fan back over her face. Shang Qinghua raised an eyebrow.
“Everything okay?”
“‘S fine,” Shen Yuan rasped hurriedly. She smothered another cough in her sleeve and flashed Shang Qinghua a smile considerably more strained. Hmmm. Too strong for Peerless Cucumber, huh? Shang Qinghua grinned with no trace of apology.
“Well, there’s more where that—”
“Shang Qinghua!” Yuka’s voice crackled in her ear. “Stop flirting and get back to the door, there are customers coming in!”
Shang Qinghua excused herself with a wave and hurried for the lobby. “Going, going! You know, you should really be calling me boss!”
“Absolutely not. We’re starting sound check now, so get those people inside and take their money.”
“Love the enthusiasm,” Shang Qinghua said sincerely, and Yuka was back to ignoring her. Ah, they could be so prickly sometimes, but Shang Qinghua really did have some wonderful staff!
However much she might have whined about it, Shang Qinghua managed ticket duty just fine. Either it wasn’t really that hard or she was just running on some good momentum—it was hard to tell between the garbled conversations in her ear and the tired humming in her brain. But things were….going well, actually? Shang Qinghua admitted a steady stream of customers with shining eyes and light sticks in tow. Some of them looked like they’d never been to a concert before, and the energy was palpable. Ah, bless those ones the most. They didn’t have any standards and would probably find the Mile High Club’s aging furniture and sticky floors quirky and exciting.
They didn’t sell out the whole house, but there were still people trickling in even as Moon Dew wound down their sound check and their peppy little leader announced them to the audience. Shang Qinghua heard the light, delicate tinkling on the keyboard descend into a wail of guitars as she stamped the last hand, swapped places with a staffer who’d been helping with setup, and booked it back to the performance space.
The Mile High staff really had done a bang-up job with the last-minute lighting design for Moon Dew. They’d never actually played a show on a real stage before, and as a last-minute booking, the live house hadn’t received their setlist until the night before. But Shang Qinghua’s engineers (she’d totally earned the right to call them hers by now!) had quickly assembled a simple but lively lighting design that nicely complemented their perky sound. The band was even wearing matching homemade stage outfits with swaying skirts that made them look like a little bouquet of white lilies on the stage. High school bands who made their own stage outfits were, without a doubt, the cutest!
Moon Dew was, Shang Qinghua realized as their drummer worked them up into their third and final song, the kind of band whose sound just resonated better live. It didn’t help that it sounded like they recorded everything in someone’s garage, but still—they had an energy that recordings didn’t quite capture. Shang Qinghua found herself delivering drinks to the surprisingly catchy beat, searching the crowd for a glimpse of Shen Yuan. Just, you know, to make sure she was still there. And there she was, leaning against the wall and tapping her fan into her palm, watching with interest that probably wasn’t as detached as she was trying to make it seem.
Moon Dew’s final song ended with a four-measure crash of a drum fill to favorable applause. The warmup act didn’t usually get as much attention, the crowd still milling around casually and fetching drinks, but it was a pretty good response for your first show. Shang Qinghua gave herself a little pat on the back as she slipped out from the drink bar to help set up for the next band. Moon Dew was the biggest gamble here, and it had clearly paid off. The crowd was nice and primed for Proud Immortal Demon Way.
“Thank you so much for listening, everyone!” The vocalist clasped her hands together and smiled beatifically at the crowd. “We’re so lucky to have had an audience like you! And thank you to everyone at the Mile High Club for giving us our very first chance to perform!”
That got a few more cheers from the audience. Aw, that was pretty cute.
“And a very special thank you to our inspiration and idol Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky! We wouldn’t be on this stage without you! Thank you so much, Airplane-sama!”
Shang Qinghua froze halfway to the stage.
No! Fuck! Not cool! She told you not to mention Airplane, didn’t she?!
Moon Dew’s vocalist didn’t explicitly say that Airplane was the one who recommended this gig, but she might as well have!
Shang Qinghua’s eyes immediately sought out Shen Yuan. She looked genuinely surprised—maybe baffled was the better word. Then she narrowed her eyes and snapped open her fan. That might have been suspicion, disgust, irritation—wasn’t all three a possibility, too? Fuck!
But Moon Dew was already hopping off stage, and Shang Qinghua didn’t have time to dawdle. She hustled through the crowd to rendezvous with Yuka, who yelled at her and told her to go somewhere else. Shang Qinghua moved without really hearing the chatter in her headset, her mind dominated by the sensation of her increasingly sweaty palms. Most of these people had probably never heard of Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, it wasn’t like she was a celebrity! It was probably barely a blip on anyone’s radar! It would probably be fine! Maybe!
Shang Qinghua kept glancing back over her shoulder to make sure Shen Yuan was still there. Afterglow would probably play if she wandered off, that wasn’t why they were here, but Shang Qinghua could really, really not let Luo Binghe storm offstage in a tearful fury a second time in a row. But Shen Yuan hadn’t moved from her spot, her expression distant and veiled. Well, probably. It was kind of dark in here right now.
Luo Binghe shouldered her guitar and stepped onstage to a small wave of applause, but she didn’t seem to register the audience at all. Her wide eyes were searching the crowd with an almost feral desperation, drawing her initial silence out into something awkward. Finally, her gaze settled on the object of her fascination.
Sha Hualing leaned over to Luo Binghe’s mic and shouted, “Who’s ready for some real music? We’re Proud Immortal Demon Way! Six Balls, hit it!”
Six Balls counted them in with a flurry of cymbals and an enthusiastic stomp on her bass drum, and Luo Binghe seemed to move automatically, her fingers sliding down her guitar. When she sang, she seemed to finally come alive, her voice rich with raw talent. Her usual intensity seemed multiplied by a hundredfold this time, and she sounded…more focused, somehow. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that from start to finish, Luo Binghe’s gaze never shifted away from Shen Yuan.
As the last chord died down, Luo Binghe stood center stage, panting slightly. A roar of applause erupted from the audience, but her eyes remained fixed on Shen Yuan. Shang Qinghua couldn’t make out Shen Yuan’s expression in the writhing crowd, just that she was clapping along with the rest of the audience, if a little less animatedly. A girlish, exhilarated smile stole over Luo Binghe’s face, and she permitted herself to be ushered offstage by her bandmates at the behest of Yuka, who was already preparing for Afterglow’s set.
The rest of the show rushed past Shang Qinghua in a heady blur. Afterglow had been a real catch—Moon Dew and Proud Immortal Demon Way had warmed the crowd up pretty well, and Ran clearly knew how to keep the vibe going. For a high school band, their performance was surprisingly polished, although it never lost that garage band edge that meshed so well (moderately well) with the Mile High Club’s atmosphere. If anything, their performance elevated it. The crowd was screaming right up to the last, winding guitar note, light sticks moving in a frantic wave of light across the room. The band breathlessly thanked the audience before collecting their instruments and exiting the stage, and the house lights came up.
Much like the Hello, Happy World! concert, Shen Yuan was almost immediately beset by wailing fans once she entered the lobby. Afterglow had their own little crowd of devotees too, but they were largely other students, seeming more like supportive peers than fans, and the band didn’t hang around too long. They stayed long enough for Himari to seek out Shang Qinghua and thank her again, sincerely, for the opportunity to perform, and even expressed a bit of hope that they might be able to play here again. Shang Qinghua tried to act cool about it, completely failed, and sent the band off with a small stack of the Mile High Club’s business cards.
Ah, why couldn’t more bands be like Afterglow! Himari was a model example of teen musician behavior, couldn’t Proud Immortal Demon Way take a few pages from her book!
Shang Qinghua thought about calling out to Shen Yuan, but she was clearly occupied, and a buzzing in her ear told her there was still work to be done. Shen Yuan would probably take off once her adoring fans dissipated, and she’d done her part, anyway. Shang Qinghua was so relieved and so tired she felt a little sick. But it was a pretty pleased kind of sick.
The live house staff all seemed to be in high spirits after the show. The crackling energy of the performance still hung in the air, as though echoes of the sound had caught in the air like water droplets, suspended in a sonic haze. Shang Qinghua had never seen her employees haul equipment with such gusto before, and their backtalk seemed almost halfhearted. Shang Qinghua was overseeing the final equipment strike when she sensed someone’s presence behind her, and she immediately wiggled to the side to avoid a slap.
But Yuka, who had only gone to touch her shoulder for attention, just rolled her eyes. “Hey, if you’re done standing around watching us work, do me a favor and grab that bottle of shochu.”
“I’m helping, I’m—what?”
“Get some beers, too. We are having an afterparty,” she enunciated at Shang Qinghua’s continued blank stare. “Because tonight’s show actually went well, and everyone’s hype, and you reward your staff’s hard work with free booze—what is that look for?”
“Sorry, I’ve just never seen you smile before, and it’s…kind of terrifying? Okay, I’m getting beer, I’m getting beer!”
Shang Qinghua fled Yuka’s hurricane of slaps, but she was grinning to herself. Yes! Success! This was an undeniable success! No one could look at the Mile High Club and claim they were nothing more than a dank little hole in the ground after tonight!
She piled the still mostly-full bottle of shochu along with an assortment of beers and teas on the counter of the drink bar, and she was searching the freezer for a bottle of vodka she could’ve sworn she saw shoved in there last week when a sharp rapping on the wall caught her attention. Shang Qinghua looked up to see Shen Yuan in the doorway. She blinked in surprise. She…really wasn’t expecting Shen Yuan to come back?
“Oh, uh, hey.”
Extremely smooth. In her defense, the exhaustion she’d been staving off all day was starting to catch up to her. But Shen Yuan only smiled slightly and puffed out a soft laugh, coming away from the doors. It seemed that the lively atmosphere had reached even her; Shang Qinghua could see the pink flush on her cheeks, the loose strands of hair that framed her face sticking to her skin with sweat in places. It had a peculiar effect on her, like a piece of porcelain come to life, no longer so pale and distant. Shang Qinghua found herself thinking that it suited Shen Yuan better.
“Hey,” Shen Yuan parroted back, eyebrows raised. “You know, I had my doubts, but I have to admit—you actually pulled this off.”
Shang Qinghua, who was plagued by doubt about her ability to keep the lights on in the live house on a day to day basis, just grinned. “Wild, right? Would you believe I didn’t secure the opener until yesterday afternoon?”
“I have absolutely no trouble believing that.” Shen Yuan crossed her arms, looking amused. Man, she really was a lot easier (more tolerable) to talk to when she wasn’t hiding behind that fan. Shen Yuan could emote like a real person sometimes, who knew. “They were rough around the edges—but a very good find. Their taste is highly questionable, but you can’t deny their sound has promise. You ought to keep tabs on them. Invite them back to play. Bands that make it big remember where they started out. It could pay off in the long run.”
Shit, this might have been the most words Shen Yuan had said to her at once. In person, anyway. Shang Qinghua rubbed her palms on her trousers with a wilting laugh. Haha, right, the long run. With any luck, by the time Moon Dew became a hit band, the Mile High Club would already be well out of debt and thus Shang Qinghua’s hands.
“Aha, yeah, well—never hurts to have a few bands on speed dial, you’re right. They seemed to really enjoy playing, too.”
“Just where did you find them, anyway?”
“Oh, they reached out to us. We were looking pretty loudly.” A dubious question hovered on her tongue. Shang Qinghua was not the sort of person with boundless self control. “So, just curious, why do you think they have bad—”
Shang Qinghua suddenly heard—no, felt someone standing very close. Luo Binghe somehow never made a sound in those combat boots. Shang Qinghua hated it. No one that tall should be allowed to be that sneaky!
Proud Immortal Demon Way’s vocalist was standing in the doorway, staring at Shen Yuan with a scarlet-eyed intensity that made Shang Qinghua instinctively want to fold in on herself. But it wasn’t the cold stare she usually directed at Shang Qinghua; her eyes were wide, round, entreating. This was…somehow scarier?
“Shen Yuan-sama,” Luo Binghe said, her voice oddly breathless, almost hushed. Shen Yuan turned to her with an inquisitive look. Shang Qinghua looked furtively for the other members of the band, but they were nowhere to be seen. Where was Mobei Jun or Meiyin when she needed them? The last thing she needed right now was for Luo Binghe to scare Shen Yuan off right when they were finally having a real conversation!
Luo Binghe took that as an invitation to step forward, but it was a tiny baby step. She had her hands clasped tightly together in front of her, and for the first time in Shang Qinghua’s acquaintance, she looked…shy.
“I just wanted to thank you for coming to our show,” Luo Binghe said, and then flushed, her cheeks pink. Shang Qinghua was staring open-mouthed. Since when was Luo Binghe an innocent shoujo protagonist? Who authorized this genre change?! “It really meant a lot to us. To…to me.”
Shen Yuan favored her with an approving smile, the kind Shang Qinghua had seen her use on her fans. “You played well,” she said. “And you seem to have improved since last month. Keep doing what you’re doing; clearly, it’s working.”
Luo Binghe’s eyes positively shone, her mouth half-opening in a soundless breath, and she seemed to swell with an ecstatic gratitude. She seemed to flounder for a moment, lost for a response, and then hesitantly extended a hand, slowly opening her closed fingers to reveal a worn guitar pick in her palm. Her eyes darted away as though she were nervous, but immediately, irresistibly flicked back to Shen Yuan.
“I…wanted to give you this. As a thank you.”
Shang Qinghua’s mind was nothing but one long scream. Was she so tired she was hallucinating this? Why did she feel like she was peeping in on some sweet young maiden’s confession of love? Abort, Shen Yuan! Abort!!
Shen Yuan looked at the offering with an air of dignified confusion, flicking her fan back open. “Oh? What’s this?”
Luo Binghe’s face fell. In the blink of an eye, the shy smile dropped away from her face. She suddenly looked on the verge of tears. “You…don’t remember?”
When Shen Yuan didn’t immediately offer an answer, she haltingly continued.
“Shen Yuan-sama…you gave this to me the first time we met. It was at CiRCLE. I was sitting outside nearby after a show, messing around with my guitar. I mean, I wasn’t very good at the time.” The flush in her cheeks deepened to red. “You saw me playing without a pick, and my fingers were all torn up, so you gave this to me and told me to keep practicing. I’ve played with it ever since.”
What! The! Hell! Did Shen Yuan just carry guitar picks with her and hand them out to aspiring musicians who looked like they could use a boost? No way! There was just no way! It totally clashed with her whole image!
“Ah,” Shen Yuan said, as if in illumination. “Of course. You’ll have to forgive me—it’s been a long day, and you’ve certainly grown since then.”
It couldn’t have been that long ago! Luo Binghe had towered over Shang Qinghua for as long as she’d known her! How much could Luo Binghe have grown!!
“But…” Shen Yuan paused. “Are you sure you want to give it to me? It sounds like you treasure it quite a lot.”
“Ah, well…” Luo Binghe looked flustered. “I just wanted to give Shen Yuan-sama something to remember our performance by, is all…”
“Your performance was very memorable,” Shen Yuan said, in what passed for an encouraging tone. “You should keep it. It’s accompanied you on your journey so far, hasn’t it? See how far it takes you.”
Luo Binghe mouthed that last sentence back to herself, then withdrew her hand with an ecstatic smile. “I will. Thank you so much, Shen Yuan-sama. I—”
Fearless Yuka, who had marched over to see what the holdup was with the drinks, took one look at Luo Binghe, pointed firmly to the lobby, and said, “Show’s over. Go home. This is a no-minors zone now.”
Luo Binghe’s expression closed at once. With an icy look at Yuka and Shang Qinghua, she turned and left, casting just one last eager glance at her idol. Shang Qinghua thought she heard Shen Yuan let out a very quiet sigh of relief.
But when she turned to leave, too, Shang Qinghua caught her hurriedly by the shoulder. Shen Yuan gave her a look as though Shang Qinghua had just slapped a muddy palmprint on her oh-so-chic cardigan. Shang Qinghua was undeterred.
“Hey, you want to stick around for the afterparty? I mean, it’s not much of a party, it’s just us, but, you know. Good show and all.” She held up both hands. “Drinks are still free.”
In all honesty, the invitation was about seventy percent motivated by the haunting fear that Luo Binghe would jump in her on her way out or something. Shen Yuan seemed to consider it, fan fluttering.
“Alright,” she conceded. “I’ll stay for one drink.”
End notes: if you're curious about what moon dew sound like, imagine the peggies but with more keyboard