It takes a while for the door to open again to the sight of an only slightly less frazzled Wen Qing. She has slipped into a plain white underdress and red overdress, the lacings tight but knotted sloppily enough to obviously be done in a hurry. Her hair is in much the same state, detangled but just plain brushed back with no topknot in sight. Used to being called out of bed by medical emergencies, she pays no mind to her state.

She heaves a sigh of relief when she sees Jiang Cheng dutifully waiting. "Good," she says, "I was afraid you'd left." Now with that out of the way, her fingers clench and unclench around the door handle with a nervousness that is unrelated to her state of dress. Her eyes flit around, avoiding him. "So. Breakfast."