Long-ge’s ridiculous lashes take the scenic route fluttering down over his wide, depthless eyes. Bai Yu swears he can hear their fans and the press hold their collective breath, spellbound, the moment stretching. Then those lashes flutter up again, and they all sigh out, charmed as though they’re watching a baby deer open its eyes for the first time.
It’s so fucking hilarious. They have no idea.
Bai Yu’s had that look directed at him many times, only to be followed by another long, considering wave of those lashes in intimate semaphore. What’s underneath is nothing so harmless as a deer. That look pins Bai Yu in place, like a firm hand on the nape of his neck. Though not as dramatic as the transformation from Professor Shen to Hei Pao Shi, there are two sides to Long-ge. It’s all in his eyes. It’s the cruelest, best tease in the world. Long-ge doesn’t have to touch him, doesn’t even have to get near him. All that’s required is that look—right out in public—and Bai Yu’s reduced to kindling, waiting for the flame.
No, he can’t be blamed for preferring to be caught in the dragon’s gaze.