Maomao finished the burn makeup, and was about to wash her goopy hand when she had a thought. With her clean hand, she reached for her luggage and pulled out the bronze sheet she used as a mirror. Then she tried painting the stuff around her mouth. She grinned, looking like a monster.
“That is positively awful,” Jinshi laughed. Maomao, figuring she could simply wash the goop off again, was seized by the desire to paint it around her eyes and cheeks as well. Now a truly disturbing face floated on the bronze plate, almost corpse-like.
Jinshi, completely sucked into the spectacle, was trying desperately not to laugh. She felt bad for him—he was practically in pain—but she leaned over to finish the job.
Just then, there was a knock on the door and Basen called out, “I’m coming in.” The door opened before they could stop him. His widened eyes were greeted by the sight of Jinshi, apparently doubled over with pain, and Maomao leaning toward him, her face and hand covered in something red.
He didn’t say anything.
They didn’t say anything.
Shortly thereafter, Basen couldn’t say anything. Just as he was about to shout for someone, Maomao crammed the handkerchief into his open mouth, while Jinshi pinned him down. It was the most coordinated thing they’d done since the day they’d met.