Luo Binghe's eyes widen in shock. He thought, from what Sagramore said, that it was considered—impolite, or uncouth. But what Shen Qingqiu is describing is much more serious. If that's all true, then it's not comparable to Luo Binghe's own struggle—the way he feared desiring men because it would cheapen his assets. It's more comparable to how Luo Binghe felt upon learning that he was a demon. Wrong, and permanently outcast. He hugs Shen Qingqiu a little tighter, with a rush of empathy. Shen Qingqiu is here with him; it must be like Luo Binghe's exile to the demon realm, attempting to find a home where no one will mind what is monstrous and irreparable. "No one could think those things of you either. And if anyone tried to hurt you, I'd tear them apart with my bare hands." This last part is said no less sleepily or affectionately than the rest of it.