Jiang Cheng deserves something bigger, something better. Something that's proper where he could pace if he really wanted to, although Sizhui's certain there are far better ways to release all that built-up frustration rather than walking back and forth until there's a hole in the floor.

“That's why I'm concerned. What kind of food is that?” Like he hasn't eaten plenty of it himself. He shakes his head, leans the entirety of his upper-half over the desk then props his elbows up, cheeks resting in his hands. “Come to dinner with me.”