After punishing Li Hongfang, Liu Chang'an clapped his hands, only to find his fingers slick and greasy. Li Hongfang took out a wet wipe, bit her lip, and meticulously cleaned every one of his fingers.
After being beaten, she still had to clean the hand that had beaten her. This humiliating submission and lowly posture gave Li Hongfang an inexplicable sense of satisfaction.
No wonder she felt nothing when watching those so-called sweet romances with warm, caring male leads. Yet she found herself utterly absorbed by dramas where the heroine was abused half to death and ultimately used up and discarded by some scumbag.
Apparently, Shangguan Dandan also liked these unconventional dramas. They could discuss them more in the future.
Zhou Shuling had leaked this information to Li Hongfang as well. Zhou Shuling was not particularly calculating and rarely guarded herself against friends. Nor did she realize that she had already been passively drawn into Shangguan Dandan's palace-intrigue circle. Whenever Li Hongfang asked about Shangguan Dandan, Zhou Shuling simply told her everything she knew.
"Make up your own stories for fun from now on. Don't drag me into them." Liu Chang'an could actually do what Li Hongfang had described, but he would need to grow a great many hands and tools from his body.
But he was a normal man with normal human aesthetics. He would never turn himself into something grotesque just because he wanted to do something perverse.
It was perfectly normal for people to occasionally have perverse thoughts, but anyone with aspirations had to make perverse things elegant and full of flair, elevating their actions beneath incredulous gazes.
Those capable of such enlightenment were generally people involved in literature, film, or art. Long deprived of the health, sunshine, and happiness brought by physical labor, they only knew