Even after his last class, Lan Sizhui had stayed behind in the lab, waving all his friends on while he continued with dissecting plants and dyeing cells, examining things underneath microscopes, writing down each and every note necessary to the project due the next morning. Chamomile flowers with their anxiolytic and sedative properties for anxiety and relaxation; Echinacea for treating or preventing colds, flu, and infections, and for wound healing. Milk thistle, Saint John's wort, and a whole other handful of flora they've been studying for weeks on end in preparation for this upcoming quiz. (Ginseng, he's learned, is not only another cure-all, but an aphrodisiac as well? Fascinating—)
He's tired though, bleary-eyed from squinting into eyepieces, twisting lens and switching out multitudes of slides, he finally figures it's time to call it a night.
As Sizhui's wandering down the hall, however, he notices one lone light still on; Jiang Cheng's, of course, and in spite of his earlier decision to head back to his dorm, who is he to pass up such a golden opportunity? They – he, mostly, let's be real – have been doing this tentative dance for a few weeks now, a slow baiting with Sizhui waiting for the perfect moment, which has presented itself tonight of all evenings.
Unfortunately, he hasn't got any lollipops, but he does have a watermelon hard-candy he pops into his mouth after slipping out of his oversized hoodie and deftly twisting his hair back in a messy half bun, leaving him looking comfortably mussed in white skinny-style jeans and an azure, buttery-soft long-sleeved knit tunic.
He approaches the door, tucks the sweatshirt into his arms, squares his shoulders then gently raps on the door, doing everything within his power to fight back the smirk attempting to creep across his features. Not yet, he thinks, not until you get inside.
h-h-h-hot for teacher
He's tired though, bleary-eyed from squinting into eyepieces, twisting lens and switching out multitudes of slides, he finally figures it's time to call it a night.
As Sizhui's wandering down the hall, however, he notices one lone light still on; Jiang Cheng's, of course, and in spite of his earlier decision to head back to his dorm, who is he to pass up such a golden opportunity? They – he, mostly, let's be real – have been doing this tentative dance for a few weeks now, a slow baiting with Sizhui waiting for the perfect moment, which has presented itself tonight of all evenings.
Unfortunately, he hasn't got any lollipops, but he does have a watermelon hard-candy he pops into his mouth after slipping out of his oversized hoodie and deftly twisting his hair back in a messy half bun, leaving him looking comfortably mussed in white skinny-style jeans and an azure, buttery-soft long-sleeved knit tunic.
He approaches the door, tucks the sweatshirt into his arms, squares his shoulders then gently raps on the door, doing everything within his power to fight back the smirk attempting to creep across his features. Not yet, he thinks, not until you get inside.