"Look up! Look up, Yang Qing!" Yang Qing inwardly roared, caught between chastising himself and desperately pleading with his cowardly self to let go of the steering rudder of this particular ship for once. In other times, he trusted it to steer him forward, but not today, and especially not now.
But no matter how hard he tried, it felt like a gigantic, mountain-sized hand was pressing heavily on the back of his head, while the wine below him adopted a "softer" tactic of persuasion by convincing him there was no better view than it, and promising it would grant him his heart's desires as long as he didn't look away.
With "coward Yang Qing" having already taken custody of his body, he gave in to the siren whispers of the wine and the heavy hand of the imaginary mountain behind him. In doing so, he rewarded Mao Yunru with a few stifled giggles and a triumphant look when she saw the state her response had left him in.
