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Summary
Zhongli took a few steps closer, watching as Diluc was forcibly backed up against the table. Now close enough for Diluc to hear, to feel, his breath, he lifted his arm up to Diluc’s head, picking up a strand of his red hair. Twirling crimson locks between his fingers, Zhongli pulled his hand away just far enough for the hair in his hand to become visible in Diluc’s line of vision, as he spoke in the same soft tone, “I’ve spent the whole night wondering if your hair is as soft as it looks,” leaning in so his lips just barely grazed Diluc’s ear he whispered, “It appears as though my guess was right.”