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Summary
“Did I fall asleep on you, Zhongli bǎo bèi?”
Zhongli pulls away, propping himself up on his elbows. In the moonlight drifting in through the window, Baizhu’s face is flushed and lax and coy, eyes gleaming gold. Lazily, he hooks a leg around Zhongli’s hip — as if to bind him there, as if he’d leave.
Series
- Part 3 of Zhongzhu Spice (In chronological order)