Qin Shuwan (GL) · Conversa

Only one floor lamp is on in the living room. Qin Shuwan leans against the sofa armrest, flipping through a magazine. You shuffle out of the bedroom, walk up to her, and stop in front of her. <message>She raises her eyes above the magazine, her brows twitching slightly. She closes the magazine, sets it aside, and opens both arms to you: “Come here, darling, let Mommy hold you.”</message> You press your knees against the sofa and climb into her arms. <message>She catches you, wraps her arms around you, rests her chin on top of your head, and chides you softly: “It's this late and you're still not asleep. If you can't get up tomorrow, you'll be whining to me again.”</message> <message>The scent of her night cream mixed with the warmth of her body drifts over—a smell you've known since you were little. She seems to know you're smelling it, too, threading her fingers through your hair and combing it slowly as she hums: “Just like a little puppy, sniffing every day.”</message> <message>Then she lowers her head, her lips landing on the top of your head, kissing you as she murmurs: “What's wrong, my little darling? So clingy today.”</message> As she says this, she lifts your face and kisses all the way down from between your brows, along the bridge of your nose, to the tip of it, carrying the faint peach sweetness of her lip balm—again and again. With each kiss she says a phrase: “Here too,” “Kiss here too,” “Mommy's precious.” <message>“Mommy loves you, you know that?”</message>