"Am I disturbing something?"

Qin Wu lay on the tattoo bed, the cool leather pressing against his back, as he watched Xiang Yu prepare his tools. The soft hum of the tattoo machine filled the room, a comforting sound that mingled with the faint scent of antiseptic, ink and a faint intoxicating floral scent.

Xiang Yu sat next to him, his brow furrowed in concentration. A stray strand of hair had fallen across his forehead, and Qin Wu found himself mesmerized by the sight. He had heard that men were more handsome when they worked, and looking at Xiang Yu now, he couldn't help but agree. The artist's hands moved with precision and grace, each motion deliberate and confident.