At some point between then and now Liuxian had apparently made a decision about where he was sleeping and had made it without consulting anyone.
He was also, Guiying noted, taking up approximately seventy percent of the bed.
Guiying looked at his own sliver of mattress.
Then at the large, warm, deeply inconvenient person occupying the rest of it.
Then he reached out and poked Liuxian in the chest.
Nothing happened.
He poked him again, harder.
Liuxian's brow furrowed slightly. He did not wake up.
Guiying stared at him.
"Liu Liuxian," he said.
A sound came from Liuxian that was not quite a word.
"You are in my bed," Guiying said.
Another sound. Still not a word.
Guiying looked at the ceiling, looked at the chest in front of him, and made a decision. He was too comfortable and too warm and his feet still ached and it was too early in the morning for a confrontation about bed boundaries.
He put his head back down.
