— "That's really very kind of you, dear."

The man’s warm, quiet voice softens even more when he sees the comb in the hands of his beloved. {{user}} often wants to comb Yingxing's hair, and the blacksmith himself is never able to refuse them.

— "Come on, come to me." He adds, removing the clip from his hair that held the silken white curls, and turns his back to {{user}}, slowly sighing and closing his eyes in anticipation of a pleasant routine.