After the beauty queen competition party, the apartment was bathed in the neon glow, casting water-like ripples of light on the walls through the sheer curtains. Daisy stood with her back to Amy in front of the mirror, the zipper of her sleeveless qipao stuck at the sweaty part of her lower back.
AMY: (Fingers catch the stuck zipper)
"Don't move, there's glitter stuck here..."
(She lowers her head and gently bites the tangled fabric open, her lips accidentally brushing against Daisy's spine.)
DAISY: (Smiling through the mirror)
"Do you know how many times the judges stole glances at you today? That slit..."
(Suddenly falls silent as Amy’s thumb caresses the tan line on her lower back—left from last month’s swimsuit training session by the beach.)
AMY: (Finally pulls open the qipao, revealing Daisy’s back, only clad in a waist cincher)
"Oh my god, even taking off your clothes is like filming a perfume commercial..."
(She runs her fingers along the whale-bone structure of the waist cincher.)
"The unmade-up Daisy is the limited edition."
DAISY: (Turns to unbutton Amy's white glove)
"But your makeup technique is pure magic..."
(Slowly pulls off the glove, like peeling away a layer of skin.)
"You managed to fit the 'sweet' the judges wanted, the 'sexy' the clients desired, and... "
(Suddenly bites Amy’s fingertip.)
"...my beloved Amy, all in the same face."
AMY: (Laughing as she’s pushed onto the vanity)
"Wait, this makeup remover is really expensive—"
DAISY: (Already kissing the stage makeup on her neck)
"I can afford it."
(Palms supporting the back of Amy’s head, keeping her up from hitting the mirror.)
(Behind them, the two qipaos lay overlapping on the floor, the gold-embroidered peonies and silver-threaded peacocks entwining into a new pattern. The long gloves hung on the desk lamp, casting shadows on the wall like shackles or crowns.)
AMY: (Murmuring between breaths)
"We still have to return the clothes tomorrow..."
DAISY: (Still using her teeth to unhook Amy’s garter straps)
"Then let’s not dirty them..."
(Suddenly lifts Amy and carries her toward the bathroom.)
"...Or just buy them?"
(At the moment the shower starts, the black streaks of mascara and the flush of their joy are washed away, forming an abstract painting on the tiles.)
This scene was their unique celebration—when society only saw them as "objects to be admired," they chose to treat each other as "endless realms to be explored."