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Luo Binghe was so exhausted that he couldn’t bring himself to call out his usual greeting when he entered their rooms in the underground palace.
Instead, he stayed there for a moment, leaned against the closed door and rubbed his hands over his tired face. In a second, he’d pull himself together and keep going. He wanted to cook Shen Qingqiu dinner; he had been looking forward to that for days.
It had been… an exhausting few days. Endless meetings that he couldn’t even take his husband to because the tribes in question were hostile towards humans and he didn’t want to subject Shen Qingqiu to that. Days and days of politics and diplomacy and negotiations over land and rights and resources. Luo Binghe was good at a lot of things, but he just didn’t have any talent for diplomacy.
All of that had been topped by him having to take a trip to the west for even more negotiations. Only, that kind of diplomacy necessitated him smashing in some demon rulers’ heads, which was less stressful. It had still taken days until he had finished and could finally return home. Days in which he hadn’t slept at all.
The thought of Shen Qingqiu being on his own all the while was a thorn in his side. He had assured Luo Binghe that he could keep himself busy just fine for a few days and not to worry, but still. What if Shen Qingqiu missed him?
Or, worse, what if he didn’t miss him?
He let his hands fall from his face at the familiar fear, his headache immediately returning as soon as he stopped the rubbing. He knew the queasy feeling inside his chest very well. It was the old fear of Shen Qingqiu secretly being relieved to be rid of him for a while.
He knew he was too much a lot of the time and especially when he didn’t manage to keep a tight grip on his behaviour. Shen Qingqiu had told him before that he missed him when he was gone, and that he was always happy to have him around. He hadn’t said it without Luo Binghe cajoling him, but he never said anything without being cajoled. He needed to trust that his husband was telling him the truth.
Most of all, he didn’t want to appear before Shen Qingqiu with empty hands. His original plan had been to come home during the time in the afternoon when his husband was deeply entrenched in reading one of his books. During that time, he wouldn’t notice Binghe sneaking into their little kitchen and preparing dinner.
That way, he could have surprised his husband not only with his return but also with a delicious meal.
It was too late for that now. The fact that even this hadn’t worked out in his favour, that he had to change his plans and accept a less impressive and satisfying result only made the bad feeling in his chest worse.
He took a deep breath. If he didn’t calm down and make the best of what he could do right now, then his resulting bad mood would only ruin everything completely. And Shen Qingqiu deserved better.
No, he would sneak into the kitchen, prepare Shen Qingqiu’s favourite tea and a light snack and then do his best to put on a smile and treat his husband nicely. At the thought of being good for his husband, of needing to do nothing but make him content and maybe earn a few head pats and kisses, he could finally breathe again.
Alright, he could do this. Luo Binghe took off his shoes and quietly walked down the hallways, towards the kitchen. On the way, however, he noticed something strange. The door to their bedroom stood open, light spilling into the hallway. That in itself wouldn’t be strange if his husband wasn’t a creature of habit. This time of day, he was almost never in the bedroom.
This unexpected deviation from the norm made his plan to get to the kitchen more difficult, but he decided to risk it anyway. He pulled in his aura until even a cultivator of Shen Qingqiu’s calibre wouldn’t be able to sense him anymore and sneaked up to the door.
A curious look inside revealed this: several lamps filled the room with bright light. The bed was empty. He looked around the room until he saw Shen Qingqiu. His husband was sitting in front of the vanity mirror where Luo Binghe did his hair for him every morning.
He furrowed his brows, not quite understanding what his husband was doing.
Shen Qingqiu had a serious look on his face and a little tin in his hand. After a moment, Luo Binghe realised it was the tin containing the red colour that Shen Qingqiu used for the huadian he painted on his forehead for special occasions - a clear sign of his allegiance to Luo Binghe, with the way its shape imitated his demon seal.
But now, he wasn’t painting a huadian on his forehead. Instead, he dipped his already red-stained fingertips into the paint and brought them up, delicately dabbing the rouge on his lips.
All at once, Luo Binghe realised that he was bearing witness to a private moment. His husband was making himself beautiful.
In all the years that he had known him, his Shizun had never done anything like this, always the picture-perfect example of a cool and elegant scholar - handsome, but in a decidedly masculine way.
Now, the red colour on his lips transformed his face into something soft and lovely, and it took Luo Binghe’s breath away.
For a moment, he thought about announcing his presence, acutely aware of the fact that he was spying. But he was also aware that his husband… well, he shut himself off when he was being watched, carefully selecting what he wanted to show to the world. If this was really Shen Qingqiu trying something new or exploring himself, then Luo Binghe wanted to give him the chance to do so without making him self-conscious.
However, he was also too weak to stop watching. He was transfixed by the sight of Shen Qingqiu applying the colour, carefully making sure to stain every part of his lips red. And he was even more transfixed by his expression.
Luo Binghe had seen his shijies put on makeup, back on Qing Jing Peak, even though it had been heavily frowned upon to walk around in public with bold makeup or jewellery. The peak of scholars was supposed to be ascetic and focused on matters of the mind, after all. But in private, the disciples had met in the dorms or activity halls and some of them exchanged little tokens, books, games… or cosmetics.
He remembered watching the group huddling in the corner, helping each other paint their lips and eyes or draw little huadians on their faces. He remembered yearning for the closeness of having someone paint his face and exclaim over how beautiful he was. At the same time, he was put off by the high giggles and shrieks and the way he knew he wouldn’t be welcome.
Even though he was their shidi, his quickly advancing cultivation, fighting prowess and status as the unofficial head disciple had ensured he would have been seen as an intruder, rather than one of them.
But the way Shen Qingqiu was painting his face was nothing like the way his shijies had done it back then. Rather than giggling and pulling silly faces, he was looking at himself with a startlingly serious expression.
It was the expression he usually wore when he corrected his students’ calligraphy or paintings. Highly attentive, looking for mistakes. The corners of his mouth were slightly turned down and his eyes were focused on his own face as though he was carefully judging himself, ready to drop the whole thing if he found the slightest flaw.
There was a strange kind of sensuality in the honesty of that expression. It made Luo Binghe swallow and shift slightly where he stood.
When his lips were fully red, Shen Qingqiu paused for a moment before picking up a brush and dipping it in the paint. He brought it up again and painted a huadian between his brows, a red mark that mirrored Luo Binghe’s demon seal exactly.
Luo Binghe sighed silently and sagged against the wall. He always got a little breathless when his husband showed so clearly where his loyalty lay, but to do it now, for himself, for no other reason than that he wanted to do it…
It made his eyes start to burn a bit.
When Shen Qingqiu finished painting the huadian and seemingly deemed it satisfactory, he set the brush down and closed the tin before putting it away. Then, he took a little container Luo Binghe had never seen before out of a drawer.
Maybe it was new, bought at the market. Or maybe Shen Qingqiu had actually made use of his status as empress for once and ordered a servant to procure it for him.
But no, perhaps not for this. For something that was so obviously private, he would have gone to the trouble of buying it himself.
Shen Qingqiu opened the little container and picked up another brush. When he lifted it up to his eyes, the bristles were stained with black paint. With the sure hand of an artist, he drew a black line along the edge of his eyelid, just above the eyelashes. First one eye, then the other.
Luo Binghe had never seen someone paint their face in this kind of way before but he couldn’t deny that the effect was beautiful. Like this, Shen Qingqiu’s eyes looked darker and drew even more attention than they usually did - which was, in Luo Binghe’s opinion, already a great amount.
When that was done, Shen Qingqiu put all the utensils away and looked at himself critically. After a moment, the corners of his mouth pulled down in a discontented way. Luo Binghe frowned. What was there to criticise?
The reason soon became apparent when Shen Qingqiu rose from his seat. Luo Binghe’s heart hammered when he thought that he had been noticed. But, instead of calling him out, Shen Qingqiu started to open the ties of his robes. One layer after the other slid off his shoulders and down his back before being thrown carelessly to a chair close to him.
Luo Binghe couldn’t help blushing. Of course, he had seen his husband naked often by now, but something about this situation, watching him undress without him knowing, had a strong effect on him.
Or maybe it was the way the fabric slid down Shen Qingqiu’s body, flowing off it like water, revealing delicate shoulders and elegant wrists and the hollow of his throat that Luo Binghe liked to kiss when they-
He swallowed and averted his eyes.
In the end, Shen Qingqiu didn’t undress further than his underrobe. With a quiet huff, he sat back down, and Luo Binghe had to breathe a soundless laugh at how adorable his husband was.
Now, as Shen Qingqiu’s frown slowly faded, Luo Binghe understood why he had undressed. His usual robes were certainly well-made and impressive, but they were also masculine and austere. As he was now, in his white, thin underrobe, it looked like Shen Qingqiu had taken off the hard shell he wore every day, and bared the soft, vulnerable inside.
The only sharp thing on him now was his-
Just when Luo Binghe thought it, Shen Qingqiu reached up and gingerly took off his silver crown, setting it aside. Next, he pulled on the ends of the band holding up his hair bun and freed his hair, letting it fall unbound to his chest. It was a bit wavy from being wound into a knot all day and framed his face in gentle waves.
He started gathering it up then, holding it up behind his head and critically looking at himself. After a while, he let it fall down again to try out a different hairstyle. As time passed, Shen Qingqiu trying to fix his hair this way or that, Luo Binghe felt his eyes slowly close, lulled by the soft, peaceful atmosphere. He gradually slid down the wall and came to a rest sitting on the floor of the hallway, blearily watching his husband with half-lidded eyes.
He’d just rest here for a short moment before getting up and going to the kitchen to prepare tea. Just for a little moment…
His eyes slowly closed and he leaned his head against the wall. The air smelled softly like paint and Shen Qingqiu’s warm body.
Luo Binghe fell asleep with a smile on his face.
When he woke up, it was to gentle sunshine and the impression of a long time having passed. He opened his eyes and sat up, disoriented for a moment before he realised he was in the underground palace and it was morning.
Abruptly, panic shot through him. He couldn’t remember going to the kitchen yesterday. If he had fallen asleep in that hallway and woken up in their bed, then that meant Shen Qingqiu must have carried him there.
Helplessness overcame him and made his breath grow short. Shen Qingqiu knew he had been spying on him.
Was he angry at him, Luo Binghe wondered and dragged his hands over his face in an attempt to calm himself down. What if Shen Qingqiu was embarrassed and would never let himself explore again, just because Luo Binghe hadn’t been able to mind his own business?
He was really, truly-
The next moment, the door flew open and Shen Qingqiu entered the room, a tray in his hands. Luo Binghe’s dark thoughts came to an abrupt halt at the sight.
“Ah, you must have been tired yesterday.” Shen Qingqiu bustled into the room and set the tray down on the table next to the bed. “This master had to carry you to bed. At first, I was afraid you had been hurt. You’re not, are you? If you are, you have to tell me at once.”
Luo Binghe frowned at Shen Qingqiu fiddling with the tea set. Wasn’t he angry? Didn’t he know? Why did he act as though everything was normal?
Then, Shen Qingqiu threw him a quick, uncertain glance, and he understood. He had been caught and now Shizun was waiting for his reaction.
Was he expecting shock or outrage? Luo Binghe forcibly smoothed his expression out.
“This useless disciple apologises for troubling Shizun,” he said. As expected, the unbearable uncertainty vanished from Shen Qingqiu’s face and he turned around to give Luo Binghe’s blanket-covered leg a whack.
“You think carrying his husband a few meters to the bed is any trouble for this master?”
“Oh?” Luo Binghe made his voice take on a suggestive tone. “Does that mean Shizun would be willing to carry this Binghe to the bed more often?”
As expected, Shen Qingiu’s head swivelled around and his eyes widened in outrage. Shizun very rarely blushed, no matter how embarrassed he got, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have his little tells.
By now, however, he got over it quickly.
“Move over,” Shen Qingqiu pushed at Luo Binghe and, when he did, clambered up onto the bed, moved the tray from the table onto the blanket and snuggled up to him. In return, Luo Binghe moved the blanket so it was covering Shen Qingqiu’s legs as well and put his arm around his shoulders.
The morning was spent in peaceful harmony, false sunlight tinting everything golden and their quiet conversation over tea sounding like gentle music through the room. In the happiness of the moment and the warm arms of his husband, Luo Binghe forgot about his worries for a while.
Not for very long, though.
The next time Luo Binghe was out on demon lord business, having to quell an uprising in the east, he couldn’t help but notice the clothes the leader of the rebels was wearing.
They were much too gaudy for Shen Qingqiu, of course. The woman basically dripped with gold and Luo Binghe had tried to dress his husband up in jewellery worthy of an empress too many times to think a gift like that would be well-received. But the style of her robes gave him an idea.
When he stepped over her cooling body and the survivors kneeled before him, he turned to one of the servant girls. Her hands visibly shook as she looked up, but he simply pointed at the corpse of their leader.
“Say, you don’t happen to have more of these kinds of robes lying around, do you?”
With wide eyes, she led him to the private rooms of the dead demon royalty.
“...the finest Night Spider silk, Shizun! It’s the latest fashion in the east, everyone is wearing it.”
Shen Qingqiu doubtfully held up the cloth and Luo Binghe held his breath as he waited for the reaction. He had taken great care to choose a robe that wasn’t so feminine as to rouse suspicion, but soft and beautiful enough to give Shen Qingqiu a better option to wear than his underrobes.
“I’m not sure if this is appropriate clothing for going out in publi-”
Luo Binghe quickly interrupted him, adjusting his plan in the blink of an eye. “It’s a leisure robe, intended for wearing inside. I thought Shizun might appreciate something more comfortable when it’s just us. Also,” and here, he made sure that his eyes were wide and teary as he looked up through his eyelashes at his husband, “I’d just really like to see you in it.”
Shen Qingqiu paused and looked down at the robe in his hands again. “Oh,” he said eventually. “Well, if it’s that important to Binghe, this master can wear it sometime.”
Success!
“Thanking Shizun,” Luo Binghe said, and swooped down to press a kiss to Shen Qingqiu’s lips.
Next was a hair ornament Luo Binghe found at the market in the little town at the foot of Cang Qiong. He had been casually strolling through the market, his husband on his arm, looking at the wares of the vendors, when Shen Qingqiu’s eyes had caught on something in one of the little stalls.
Always the first to notice when something, or someone, caught his Shizun’s attention, Luo Binghe immediately turned his head to see what it was.
A display of hair crowns, ornaments and slides was laid out on the table, everything from shining silver to strings of cheap little colourful gems.
Acting as though he wanted to take a closer look himself, Luo Binghe pulled Shen Qingqiu over to the stall and knew he had been right when not a single complaint came from beside him.
He pretended to look at the ornaments very closely but watched from the corners of his eyes as Shen Qingqiu’s eyes time and time again returned to a little decorative wooden comb that was fairly unremarkable in comparison to the other ones. The part that would stick out of the hair looked a bit like a fan, with tiny twigs arranged upon it like pale tree branches.
“Is there something Shizun likes?” he eventually asked.
Shen Qingqiu hummed. Luo Binghe felt hopeful already when Shizun abruptly shook his head. “Nothing,” he said and pulled at his arm. “Let’s walk on.”
They left the disappointed stall vendor behind.
The vendor’s disappointment was abruptly cured when Luo Binghe stood before him again, an incense stick of time later, quickly buying the little comb before Shen Qingqiu looked up from the books he had found and noticed that his husband had vanished.
When that same wooden comb mysteriously appeared on Shen Qingqiu’s nightstand a few days later, he only looked at it for a good long while without saying anything.
Later, Luo Binghe caught him turning the comb in his hand, his long fingers carefully stroking over the little twigs and the indentation of the fan carving.
The final acquisition was not spontaneous. Rather, Luo Binghe approached a female guard in the underground palace whose makeup, he had noticed, was remarkably understated for a demon; instead of the usual bold colours and sharp lines, it was light and pretty like a tender spring flower.
He discreetly asked her to purchase some of her makeup for him and, although she shot him a curious look, she quickly agreed. Two days later, he had a high-quality set in his hands.
No more huadian paint for his Shizun’s lips.
He put this on the vanity table in their rooms. Luo Binghe had intended to leave it there and let Shizun find it eventually, but as he rose to leave, a stray thought made him stop in his tracks.
Shouldn’t he… try it?
He flushed a little at the idea. But if this was a gift for his Shizun, shouldn’t he make sure that it actually was of a high quality beforehand?
Luo Binghe slowly sank down to his knees again. Maybe just a little bit, just to test that everything worked.
He was strangely excited as he opened up all the little containers. He had a vague idea of what part of the face everything was for, even though he had never done something like this before. But he had watched Shen Qingqiu do it and Luo Binghe had always been a quick learner.
The first attempt went terribly. He didn't even know what he had done wrong, only that the result was nothing like the lovely softness Shen Qingqiu had managed to produce. Instead, it looked ridiculously exaggerated, the white face powder clashing with his natural skin colour where they met on his neck, and his eyes looking like those of a panda with the dark spots surrounding them.
Embarrassed, he wiped it off with the help of a little qi. Maybe he should start smaller. You wouldn't let someone who was learning how to cook start with making a feast-they'd have to learn how to chop first.
So Luo Binghe tried the lip paint again without powdering his face white first. He had to get very close to the mirror as he concentrated on staying within the lines of his lips.
He was so focused on what he was doing that he completely lost track of his surroundings. When the door opened suddenly, he startled and the container in his hand almost fell to the floor before he caught it.
Shen Qingqiu was standing in the doorway, obviously stopped in his tracks by the unusual sight before him.
Luo Binghe's heart beat a little faster at the sight of his husband and he quickly set the container on the vanity. "Shizun, welcome home," he cried, not able to stop the automatic smile from spreading over his face.
Shen Qingqiu slowly closed the door behind him, which was when Luo Binghe suddenly realised that he was in the middle of using the gift he got for his husband himself.
Even worse, this was the first time Shen Qingqiu saw proof that Luo Binghe had indeed seen him that day.
Self-conscious, he rearranged a few containers of the make-up set on the table. "Ah, Shizun is home early…"
Shen Qingqiu didn't answer. He just kept staring at Luo Binghe, his gaze wandering over his face, resting on his painted lips for a long moment, before snapping to the makeup set on the table and back up.
"Shizun?" he asked hesitantly.
In answer, Shen Qingqiu finally lowered his eyes and a deep furrow appeared between his brows. "Binghe," he said, "what are you doing?"
Now Luo Binghe was really in a predicament. If he told Shen Qingqiu that he was trying out the gift he had gotten for him, he'd be putting him on the spot, forcing him to talk about his feelings, something that his Shizun hated deeply.
He only had one choice.
"It's something this disciple wanted to try," he quickly said. “Just for fun. I hope Shizun doesn’t disapprove?”
Shen Qingqiu visibly struggled for a moment, his face going through a journey of micro-expressions before settling somewhere on guilty discomfort. It would have almost been convincing if it wasn’t for the way he kept looking back at Luo Binghe’s lips.
“Who disapproves? If Binghe wants to try something new, then he can do it. Still, I wouldn’t have thought that this is something you…”
He didn’t finish the sentence. Gradually, the silence between them grew awkward, so Luo Binghe lowered his head and let tears rise to his eyes. “It doesn’t matter anyway.” From the corner of his eyes, he could see Shen Qingqiu make an aborted motion and had to suppress a smile. “I’m obviously not very good at this, so I might as well leave it be.”
His lovely, predictable husband struggled for only a few seconds more before making a little “pah” sound and coming over. “Of course it won’t be good the first time,” he said. “This, too, takes practice!”
He sat down next to Luo Binghe and gently took his chin into his hand to examine his face. “But this… really doesn’t look too bad.”
Luo Binghe closed his eyes, held firmly in his husband’s grasp. He had to remind himself that this was Shizun being attracted to him. The way he kept looking at him, held him, said ‘not too bad’-that was him being affected by Luo Binghe.
He tended to forget sometimes that his husband desired him, too caught up in his own head and insecurities. So he had to tell himself when it happened. Now, under the warm regard, real tears threatened to replace the fake ones.
“If Binghe wants,” Shen Qingqiu continued quietly, “I could help him?”
“Yes,” he whispered. “Please help me, Shizun.”
He kept his eyes closed but could hear Shen Qingqiu make a soft noise. There were some clinking sounds before he could feel another hand on his cheek. A moment later, the liquid coldness of bristles dipped in paint touched his left eyelid.
He breathed in quickly, surrounded by Shen Qingqiu's warmth and scent and kept in place by his care and attention. This was a peculiar kind of closeness. In a way, Luo Binghe felt almost like one of the little teacups that his Shizun used to paint. Held securely in his hand, being the focus of his Shizun’s attention, and made more beautiful in the process.
When his left eye was done, Shen Qingqiu continued with his right one. Then, the brush vanished for a while and when it touched his face again, it was below his eye. Luo Binghe didn’t feel the need to open his eyes and look. He was happy just letting Shen Qingqiu do whatever he wanted while he drifted and enjoyed the attention.
But eventually, Shen Qingqiu set all the utensils aside and cleared his throat. Luo Binghe reluctantly opened his eyes and was met with a gesture to look into the mirror.
He turned and considered himself closely. Shen Qingqiu hadn’t changed anything of what Luo Binghe had done with his lips. They still looked like a sharp, bright slash on his face. As though they were bloodied, he suddenly thought.
But Shen Qingqiu had painted the same black line on his eyelids he had done for himself before. And, right beneath his lower eyelashes, another line, this one red.
All in all, he had nothing of the softness Shen Qingqiu did before. He looked beautiful, of course, but it was a sharp, dangerous kind of beauty.
Maybe it was appropriate, in a way.
“Does Binghe like it?” Shen Qingqiu asked hesitantly.
Luo Binghe watched his own face in the mirror from under his eyelashes as he lowered his head demurely. “This Binghe likes it. Although, I wondered…”
“Yes?” Shen Qingqiu looked at him warily.
“This husband has practised painting lips,” he said shyly. “Maybe, if Shizun is willing,” he looked up at him pleadingly and watched how Shen Qingqiu’s eyes flitted over his face, “I could maybe paint his?”
Luo Binghe had expected reluctance, shame, or any of the other emotions his husband ordinarily showed when he wanted something but thought he shouldn’t. Instead, Shen Qingqiu was quiet for a moment before he said: “This master is willing.”
A frisson of nerves raced through Luo Binghe and he consciously had to keep his hands from shaking as he reached for the paint. Shen Qingqiu readily spread his legs to let him shuffle closer and, all at once, they were close again.
He marvelled at the trust Shen Qingqiu displayed as he closed his eyes and let Luo Binghe carefully paint his soft lips. His skin was like velvet under his rough fingertips and he had to take a moment to breathe before he could go on.
In the end, he didn’t manage to produce the petal-like, gentle beauty Shen Qingqiu seemed to prefer. His mouth looked too much like Luo Binghe’s did, a violent smear of blood.
Before he could wipe it away and start anew, Shen Qingqiu opened his eyes and turned to look at himself in the mirror. Luo Binghe wanted to say something about how he could try again, he would certainly do better next time, but unexpectedly, Shen Qingqiu pursed his lips in approval.
“I like it,” he said lightly, and Luo Binghe blinked.
“You do?”
Shen Qingqiu turned to him, his eyebrows raised and an exasperated smile on his face. “Did you expect me not to?” When Luo Binghe stayed silent, the smile faded and Shen Qingqiu sighed.
“My silly husband,” he said and started to climb into Luo Binghe’s lap.
He quickly brought his hands up to his hips to steady him.
“You worry too much.” Shen Qingqiu kissed his nose. When he drew back, his eyes widened and he gave a startled laugh. He lifted his hand to thumb at Luo Binghe’s nose, the spot he had kissed, and his thumb came away red.
“Looks like I marked you,” he said.
Luo Binghe made a choked noise and caught his hand. “Ah, Shizun, don’t wipe it away,” he cried, even though it was already too late.
Shen Qingqiu laughed and swatted the back of his head with his free hand. “Ah, don’t be ridiculous.” But then, a strange thought seemed to pass over him and his hand slowly sank down into his lap again.
“Hm?” Luo Binghe asked, wanting to know what was going through his husband’s mind.
Shen Qingqiu fixed him with a shrewd glance and leaned forward, freeing himself from Luo Binghe’s grasp and reaching up to take his face into his hands instead. Then, he pressed a firm kiss to Luo Binghe’s cheek.
He drew back and looked at his work with a smug smile. Luo Binghe strained his eyes to take a look at the mirror and saw that there was a mark in the shape of Shen Qingqiu’s lips on his cheek.
“Oh,” he said faintly and got another kiss on his chin for it. His forehead was kissed next, then his temple, his jaw, the bridge of his nose…
Eventually, Shen Qingqiu leaned back and harrumphed a little.
“What is it?” Luo Binghe said, devastated that the kisses had stopped and willing to do anything to make them come back.
“It’s run out,” Shen Qingqiu grumbled.
For a long moment, he didn’t understand what he was talking about. Then, he suddenly noticed that the red colour had faded from Shen Qingqiu’s lips. A look at his reflection revealed that it was all over Luo Binghe’s face now instead, red kiss marks covering every inch.
Luo Binghe gave a breathless laugh. “We can’t have that. If my husband needs more paint for his lips, I’ll just have to give him some.”
With that, he pounced on Shen Qingqiu and kissed him, making sure to stain his husband’s lips a bright red again.