Shen Qingqiu sits, immediately, all of the fearful stiffness immediately going out of him at the sight of real tears on Binghe's face. He doesn't try to pull his wrist out of Binghe's grip. These aren't watering eyes from too much spice or unpleasant tastes, these are enormous, undeniably emotional, Studio Ghibli-ass tears. "Binghe," he breathes. What—why on earth was his stupid congee making him react like this?