[ Wen Qing drops her hand from Wen Ning's, then squats down beside him. Why is he here? But she doesn't ask that, just reaches out to catch his chin between her fingers. Her eyes aren't quite as hazy, some clarity returning to her. The haze of alcohol still lingers, a pounding presence in her temples. But the image isn't disappearing, even as she touches him. ]
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Wen Ning?