I am not a lawyer, I have never been. I have to claims for this chapter to be factually correct, or true to the American legislative system. Try not to leave idiotic comments about any inaccuracies.
Thank you.
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Jiang Wanyin was watching the TV screen, flushed and ashamed of being flushed, hoping that Brent would not notice (which was, realistically speaking, quite impossible).
He was watching his loved one, and his heart was jumping in his chest; it all felt like he was a teen, crushing badly for the very first time.
Surely, he knew him. They were sleeping together, eating together, making love, but somehow the distance that the magic moving-pictures box provided, showing Lan Xichen live, yes – very much alive, and very much miles away from the living room – somehow this distance gave the feel of foreignness, and Jiang Cheng felt like he was falling in love anew, as if he was falling in love for real, again, and it was fresh and strange and forbidden, because he was falling in love with a man.
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He looked magnificent, even though the TV screen could never give him full credit of just how magnificent he really was.
He was talking with pathos, making his points, striding back and forth inside the echoing chamber of the huge court room, and he looked so empowered, so uncompromising and stern, that he looked like a king, a true sovereign of the time and the place, benevolent and gifting his generous smile and warmth and wisdom to the audience and the jury, while being serious with the judge and the witnesses, all the time dancing on the edge of the thin blade that divided frolicking from ruthlessness.
It was a complicated dance, and Jiang Cheng was gawking, very much in love, in awe, admiring his lover, as this was the very first time he was actually watching him work. He could not calm down his pulse, and he missed him tremendously, he yearned for him so terribly that he felt sick to his stomach, not able to drink up his coffee, nor finish the snacks Stella had brought for them to enjoy.
He was curled in his seat in the big cozy arm-chair, staring, flushed, focused, trying to listen to what was being said, but was rather drooling over what he knew the expensive dark grey suit hid from all the prying eyes, because he usually saw his lover naked, or half-naked, or wearing casual flannel or loose sweatpants, but now he was watching someone else, someone who was excruciatingly beautiful.
"This is mine. He is mine... Is this really mine?! Dear god, how did this happen???" – he was thinking, almost panicking, nervous for some reason, impatient for Lan Huan to be back home so that he could feel him, the real, living, breathing him.
