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Summary
He gathers his mask firmly in place – he knows how to play this game.
“On your knees,” he tells Wen Kexing, a sliver of a knife’s edge in his voice.
Wen Kexing folds and kneels at his feet. Up close, Zhou Zishu can see the way his long lashes brush against the dark bruises under his eyes, expertly hidden with makeup. His lips are tinted as red as his robes.
Zhou Zishu catches the underlying currents of his own want and lets his arm flow with it, raising his hand to the man’s porcelain face. He presses his thumb to the soft swell of Wen Kexing’s lower lip, plush. Wen Kexing’s gaze flickers upwards and their eyes meet, and the mouth beneath Zhou Zishu’s finger stretches into a coquettish smile.
In a world where slaves denote status, Zhou Zishu is given a slave he never wanted but cannot refuse.