No sign as yet,

november 13, 1922

8 days

May Chang arrives in a flash of color and sound; she's coming straight from the train, still carrying her pink purse while her attendants lug the rest of her trunks behind her. "Where's my brother?" she asks frantically, searching the room with anxious eyes. "Lan Fan-?"

Ling raises an arm and waves at her. "May."

"My god," May says as she approaches him, "you look awful."

She's not wrong; he's been sleepless, recently, and losing energy fast. There are dark bags under his eyes, and his hair sticks to his forehead; his fine silk shirt hangs open at his chest, but clings like a vice to his arms.

He's strong enough to laugh. "Just what I wanted to hear."

After some tucking and adjusting around his body- which Ling did not ask for, but does not say no to because there's no stopping his sister- May sits down and turns her gaze on Lan Fan.

Perched, as always, in the orange chair she's confined herself to, she flashes a half-smile at May, who, in turn, gives her a concerned once-over. "Brother," she inquires as lightly as she can, "what have you been doing to our poor Lan Fan?"

Lan Fan has not looked in a mirror recently, but she assumes she looks just about as bad as Ling does. Maybe worse.

Suddenly self conscious, she tries to tame her hair- which has slid gradually out of its bun and now hangs heavy at her neck. "Sorry, I haven't been-"

"She hasn't left my side in almost a week," Ling answers for her. She's grateful. She doesn't really care for speaking to anyone but the Emperor.

May sticks him with a glare. "Your orders?"

"No, my lady," Lan Fan responds because Ling looks terrified, and she knows better than anyone that May never really takes her brother's word unless someone else confirms it. "My choice."

Eyes softening as she looks at Lan Fan, her favorite of Ling's servants, May nods. "Alright." Then, she purses her lips and puts a hand on her brother's wrist, in her uniquely May way that is so mean while still managing to be affectionate, she adds, "Maybe if you'd told me you were sick, I could have come and absolved your poor noble servant of her duty."

"She wouldn't leave even if you threatened her life," Ling says with a chuckle, placing his free hand on top of May's. "You know Lan Fan."

May does know Lan Fan- two and a half weeks in the desert, being forced to care for one another despite the hate sown between clans, tend to bring people closer together whether they like it or not- but that does not stop her from narrowing her eyes at Ling. "I could've helped."

"I didn't want to worry you."

"You think it's less concerning to enter this palace with the expectation of having tea with you and Lan Fan, and instead being told that you're bedridden, and have been for six days?" Ling shrinks back at May's reprimand, finally recognizing his grave mistake. "People are saying you're dying!"

His gaze flicks anxiously to Lan Fan's, who averts her eyes. May notices. "Is there something you haven't told me?" she asks forcefully. "You're not-"

Ling squeezes her hand and smiles wanly. "Of course I'm not," he reassures her, "you know how palace rumors are. They blow everything out of proportion."

Lan Fan stares at him as he carries on a conversation with his sister, looking weaker by the moment.

She thinks May deserves to know, but it isn't her place to say anything.