Oh. That—makes more sense, than the being good at cooking thing. And of course Bingge—with his incredible perception and genius IQ—would notice how OOC he's being. It occurs to him for the first time that maybe the only reason he'd been able to keep up appearances in front of his Binghe is that he was a child, expecting reality to make sense around him, and not because Shen Qingqiu is actually particularly good at being Shen Qingqiu.
There are people, here, at the Mansion, whom Bingge has interacted with, spoken to, spent time with, who he has not killed for the slight. He hasn't even killed Claudius, and it's not like Bingge's ever going to kiss Shen Qingqiu.1 And—what are his other choices?? Keep insisting that he is the one who tortured and abused him, when he'd tried to do his best not to be? When he'd hated that guy almost as much as Bingge does?
But—avoiding it entirely, pretending he's just some guy, dropped into this world just like everyone else, ignoring the pain he had caused Binghe, even if it's not this Binghe, makes guilt squirm in his stomach.
He sags, gently lifting his wrist from Bingge's hold. He doesn't draw back, though, laying his hand atop Binghe's against the writing desk. "I," he says, and hesitates, choosing his words carefully. "I have been Shen Qingqiu. For the past five years. Not... by choice, but even so." He swallows. "I did what I could, but—in the big things, the ones that mattered, I...acted in accordance with Shen Qingqiu's actions. So. For that—" he gestures to the congee, rueful, implying again its inadequacy.
1 Despite what Claudius had insinuated, definitely before this, and not happening simultaneously to now a few comments down.
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momijizukamori
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Date: 2023-10-10 02:32 pm (UTC)There are people, here, at the Mansion, whom Bingge has interacted with, spoken to, spent time with, who he has not killed for the slight. He hasn't even killed Claudius, and it's not like Bingge's ever going to kiss Shen Qingqiu.1 And—what are his other choices?? Keep insisting that he is the one who tortured and abused him, when he'd tried to do his best not to be? When he'd hated that guy almost as much as Bingge does?
But—avoiding it entirely, pretending he's just some guy, dropped into this world just like everyone else, ignoring the pain he had caused Binghe, even if it's not this Binghe, makes guilt squirm in his stomach.
He sags, gently lifting his wrist from Bingge's hold. He doesn't draw back, though, laying his hand atop Binghe's against the writing desk. "I," he says, and hesitates, choosing his words carefully. "I have been Shen Qingqiu. For the past five years. Not... by choice, but even so." He swallows. "I did what I could, but—in the big things, the ones that mattered, I...acted in accordance with Shen Qingqiu's actions. So. For that—" he gestures to the congee, rueful, implying again its inadequacy.
1 Despite what Claudius had insinuated, definitely before this, and not happening simultaneously to now a few comments down.