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Summary
Han Ying can't stop seeing it, after that. Wen Kexing's arm around Zhou Zishu's waist, her hand trailing down her hip. Leaning close to murmur something in Zhou Zishu's ear, pausing to kiss her neck in a way that's far more sensual than a brief brush of lips has any right to be. Sometimes, too, their kisses will lose their quick, barely appropriate affection and become...wetter.
Han Ying keeps - accidentally seeing things she's probably not supposed to. Probably.
