qin su/wen qing, koi tower (for the kiss prompt)?
Qin Su has never asked xiǎo-Qing about her past. When Jin Guangyao brought her to be Qin Su's handmaiden, all he'd said was that she was another survivor of the war, someone whose life he'd saved. "You two have that in common," he'd teased gently, kissing Qin Su's temple. It is the only affectionate touch he gives her anymore; he is scrupulously polite and kind, always, but gone is the passion he'd shown when they were first courting, when she'd risked her reputation on his love and been rewarded in one fell swoop—marriage and a child, both.
Xiǎo-Qing is reticent, sometimes brusque, but always unfailingly kind. When A-Song is fussy and Qin Su is at her wits' end, xiǎo-Qing takes her hair down and massages her scalp with sure fingers. She's not a cultivator, but she must have some medical training, because she finds Qin Su's acupoints unerringly, digs into the correct ones to ease Qin Su's headaches. Sometimes the release of tension makes Qin Su cry; xiǎo-Qing never judges her for that.
Perhaps it's that kindness, that lack of judgment; perhaps it's Qin Su's own loneliness, in this great golden tower where no one seems to be honest unless there's gain in it. When xiǎo-Qing finishes combing her hair and moves to step away, Qin Su catches her hand and presses a kiss to the fingers still loosely wrapped around the comb. Xiǎo-Qing stiffens, then relaxes, the shift so swift Qin Su nearly misses it.
"Please," she murmurs, meeting xiǎo-Qing's eyes in the mirror. Xiǎo-Qing's face is impassive for a long moment, but then there's a softening around the eyes. She pulls her hand away from Qin Su's to set the comb down, and then kneels beside her, cups her face in a cool, steady hand, and kisses her mouth. Qin Su sighs into the kiss, relaxing for what feels like the first time in weeks. She winds her arms around xiǎo-Qing's neck and lets her worries fall away.
