When Shen Qingqiu comes back to himself it is to a sudden and startling clarity of mind. The haze of BL pollen, the relaxation of it, is gone, used up by the level of homosexual activity they'd just engaged in—or maybe just cured, like everything else, by Binghe's magical healing cock. The magical healing cock which is still inside him—soft, but very, very present in his now-heterosexual body.

He doesn't know how to feel. His body aches with exertion, his mind awhirl with everything that had happened to him in the last few hours—not even just with Binghe, although that's certainly most present—but with everyone. Everything he'd done, everything he'd said, the joy, the shamelessness of it—his cheeks heat, and there's a heaviness at the pit of his stomach. His vision blurs, and he presses his lips together, tightly, so as not to cry; wraps his arms around Binghe and holds him, just as tightly, so he doesn't pull back and notice.