With the censor burning and a little more sleep, when Sizhui next weeks he isn't quite so delirious. He's still a little dazed and out of it, but he's at least slightly more aware of his surroundings when he wakes.

He realises, now, that the woman speaking is the one from earlier - Qing, he thinks - and that he's being offered some kind of drink. Some part of him thinks he should probably resist, should try and ascertain what it is and who she is and what's going on, but everything hurts and he's burning up and he's too weak to really vocalise any of that.

And he trusts her. He doesn't know why, but he does. The way he trusted Wei-qianbei. The way he trusted Wen Ning. He'd examine that more closely if he was less out of it, but as it is he's just content to trust his instincts.

He mumbles something like an agreement, trying to lift himself up to help her but finding he's too weak and apologizing dazedly instead. Dutifully, he takes a sip of the tea, unable to stop himself pulling a face at the taste of it.