Xingxi Pavilion 2041 P2.5

The door to B401 slid open with a soft hiss, and Lin Ruojian felt Su Yucang’s hand tighten around hers. They stepped over the threshold together, into a space that should have been familiar—their own home, replicated down to the faded throw pillow on the sofa and the scratch on the coffee table from that night they’d argued and knocked over a wine glass. But the air hummed with the invisible weight of the time-space spell, and the exit door behind them had vanished, replaced by a seamless wall of pale gray.

Lin Ruojian’s breath came shallow. Her silk blouse, pale blue with mother-of-pearl buttons, clung to her skin with a faint chill. She wore it because Su Yucang had once said it made her look like a spring morning, and she needed that memory now, needed something soft against the terror coiling in her stomach. Her skirt brushed her knees, modest and neat, but her hands were trembling.

Su Yucang released her hand and stepped forward. Her dress was black, cut high on the thigh, with a collar that wrapped tight around her throat like a silent command. She held herself straight, chin lifted, but Lin Ruojian saw the way her fingers curled into fists at her sides—the only crack in that cold, proud armor.

“We should change,” Su Yucang said, her voice flat. She turned toward the small rooms along the far wall. “Before they come.”

Lin Ruojian followed, her heels clicking on the polished floor. The makeup room was bright, mirrors framed with soft lights, a vanity stocked with brushes and powders that looked innocent enough. But beside it hung a rack of restraints—leather cuffs with silver buckles, silk ropes in deep red and black, a collar studded with tiny gemstones. Lin Ruojian touched a length of white silk, her fingers tracing its edge. It felt cool and smooth, almost loving.

Su Yucang came up behind her, close enough that Lin Ruojian could feel the warmth radiating from her body. “Don’t think about it yet,” Su Yucang murmured. “Just breathe.”

“I’m trying.” Lin Ruojian’s voice cracked. She turned and buried her face against Su Yucang’s shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of jasmine and something sharper, like bruised herbs. “What if I can’t—what if I break?”

Su Yucang’s arms wrapped around her, firm and steady. “Then I’ll hold the pieces. But you won’t break, Jian. We’ll take it together. One training at a time.”

A soft chime sounded from the smart system embedded in the wall. A female voice, crisp and professional: “Trainer 001 will arrive in ten minutes. Please prepare.”

Lin Ruojian pulled back, wiping her eyes. She met Su Yucang’s gaze, and in that silent exchange they made a pact: endure, for each other.

They dressed with deliberate care. Su Yucang chose a black leather harness that cupped her breasts and left her back bare, a matching collar with a silver ring at the front. Lin Ruojian helped her fasten the buckles, her fingers lingering on the straps as if she could memorize every inch of Su Yucang’s body this way. Then Lin Ruojian knelt, and Su Yucang tied the white silk rope around her wrists—delicate loops, the ends left long so they could be attached to something later.

“It’s pretty on you,” Su Yucang said softly, her thumb brushing Lin Ruojian’s pulse point. “Like a gift.”

Lin Ruojian bowed her head, a flush rising up her neck. “I’m yours first,” she whispered. “Always.”

The chime sounded again. “Trainer 001 is entering.”

They moved to the center of the room, where a mat of dark blue fabric had been laid out. Side by side, they knelt, knees pressing into the soft padding, and when the door opened, they bent forward in perfect synchronization, foreheads touching the mat.

“Rise,” said the trainer, a tall woman with sharp cheekbones and short-cropped hair, dressed in a crisp white shirt and tailored pants. She carried a leather satchel. Her eyes swept over them with a clinical calm that made Lin Ruojian’s stomach clench.

They straightened, keeping their eyes lowered. The trainer circled them, her boots clicking a slow rhythm. She stopped behind Su Yucang and ran a hand over the bare skin of her shoulder. “You’ll do,” she said. “On your hands and knees, both of you.”

Su Yucang complied instantly, shifting onto her palms and knees, arching her back just slightly—a gesture of submission that Lin Ruojian knew cost her everything. Lin Ruojian mirrored her, her bound wrists making it awkward, the silk rope pulling.

“Pleasant,” the trainer murmured. She opened her satchel and withdrew a prosthetic penis, pale and smooth, with a base designed to be strapped on. She fastened it over her pants with practiced ease. Then she pulled out a condom, tore the wrapper with her teeth, and unrolled it over the prosthetic.

Lin Ruojian’s heart hammered. She watched the trainer’s every movement, the methodical preparation that turned intimacy into procedure. Beside her, Su Yucang’s shoulders were rigid, her breath shallow and controlled.

The trainer knelt behind Su Yucang, one hand on her hip. “I’m going to mark you first,” she said. “Then we’ll see how well you take my pleasure.”

Lin Ruojian’s gaze flickered to Su Yucang’s face, catching a glimpse of her clenched jaw, the way her eyes seemed to focus on a point far beyond this room. She wanted to reach out, to hold her, but her bound hands were useless.

The trainer guided the prosthetic to Su Yucang’s entrance, slow and careful, pressing in with a steady pressure. Su Yucang gasped—a raw, pained sound that tore through Lin Ruojian’s chest. She watched the trainer’s hips move, a rhythm that was almost tender, and Su Yucang’s back muscles quivered with the effort of staying still.

“You’re tight,” the trainer observed. “Good. I like discipline.” She increased her pace, and Su Yucang’s hands fisted in the mat. Lin Ruojian’s mouth went dry. She could see the tears gathering in Su Yucang’s eyes, the way her lips parted on silent breaths.

“Let it happen,” Lin Ruojian whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’m here. I’m watching.”

Su Yucang’s eyes squeezed shut, and a single tear slid down her cheek. The trainer groaned, her rhythm faltering, and then she thrust deeper, holding still as she came, her body shuddering. Lin Ruojian saw the condom fill at the base, a small pouch of white liquid.

The trainer withdrew slowly, tied the condom off, and fastened it to Su Yucang’s collar, the little sac dangling against her collarbone. “There,” she said, her voice satisfied. “Now you’re decorated.”

She stood and retrieved a small stylus from her bag. She knelt before Su Yucang, lifted her chin, and wrote on the skin of her neck—swirling characters that Lin Ruojian couldn’t read. The magic ink glowed for a moment, then sank into the skin, leaving no trace.

“Anytime I say the word,” the trainer murmured, tapping the spot, “it will reappear. Remember that.”

Su Yucang’s gaze was empty, fixed on the floor. The trainer moved to the smart system on the wall and spoke a low message. Then she left without another word. The door clicked shut.

Lin Ruojian shuffled closer on her knees, pressing her bound hands against Su Yucang’s arm. “Cang. Look at me.”

Su Yucang blinked, her focus returning. She turned her head, and the vulnerability in her eyes was so raw that Lin Ruojian’s own tears spilled over.

“I’m still here,” Lin Ruojian said. “We’ll shower. We’ll rest. We’ll do it again.”

Su Yucang took a shaky breath, then reached out and unknotted the silk rope around Lin Ruojian’s wrists. She pressed a kiss to each reddened mark the rope had left. “Together,” she whispered.

They rose, leaning on each other, and walked toward the small bathroom. The day stretched before them, hours of unknown trainers and unseen marks, but for now there was hot water and the quiet comfort of each other’s presence. And that was enough.

The time-space gap room hummed with a low thrum, its walls shimmering like heat haze over asphalt. Abby and Yin Suwan stepped through the dimensional threshold, their boots clicking against the polished obsidian floor. The air tasted of ozone and ancient dust.

Cang and Jian knelt side by side, heads bowed, palms resting flat on their thighs. Their submission was absolute, their spines straight. Neither woman spoke. They had rehearsed this silence in their minds a hundred times.

Abby circled them slowly, her heels leaving faint impressions in the obsidian. She stopped behind Jian and ran a fingernail down the curve of her spine. Jian shivered but did not flinch.

"Remove your clothes," Abby said, her voice soft but carrying the weight of command. "Tie your own hands behind your back. Then crawl to me and serve me with your mouth."

Jian rose gracefully, her movements fluid and unhurried. She unbuttoned her silk blouse with deliberate precision, folding it before placing it aside. Her trousers followed, then her undergarments. She knelt again and brought her wrists together behind her back. Abby produced a length of black silk cord from her pocket and tossed it at Jian's feet. Jian caught it, wound it around her own wrists, and pulled the knot tight with her teeth.

She crawled forward, her bare knees scraping against the obsidian. When she reached Abby's boots, she paused, looking up. Abby's expression remained impassive.

Jian leaned forward and parted her lips.

Yin Suwan approached Cang with a leather strap coiled in one hand. Cang did not look up. She offered her wrists without being asked. Yin Suwan bound them roughly, the leather biting into her skin. Then Yin Suwan reached into her jacket and withdrew a prosthetic penis, translucent silicone with a vein-textured surface and a silicone condom already rolled over its tip.

"You will count each blow," Yin Suwan said. "You will thank me after each one."

The first slap landed across Cang's left cheek. Her head snapped sideways.

"One," Cang said. "Thank you, Mistress."

The second slap struck her right cheek.

"Two. Thank you, Mistress."

Yin Suwan struck her chest, her breasts, her stomach. Each blow landed with a wet smack. Cang's skin bloomed red. She counted. She thanked. Her voice never wavered.

Then Yin Suwan ordered her to turn around. Cang knelt and bent forward, pressing her forehead to the floor. The prosthetic entered her without preamble. Cang gasped but did not cry out. She counted each thrust in her mind, lost track somewhere past forty. Yin Suwan moved with mechanical precision, her breath steady, her hand gripping Cang's hip hard enough to bruise.

When she finished, she withdrew and peeled the condom from the prosthetic. It was warm and heavy with fluid. She held it in front of Cang's face.

"You will take this to your mistress. You will feed her."

Cang crawled across the floor, the condom held between her teeth. Abby parted her thighs slightly, and Jian pulled back just enough to accept the offering. The fluid slid down her throat. She swallowed without gagging.

Abby pressed two fingers to Jian's sternum. A faint golden sigil bloomed there, intricate and alive, before sinking into her skin like water into sand. Yin Suwan traced a similar symbol on the inside of Cang's thigh. Both marks glowed for a moment, then faded.

Abby checked her watch. "Five minutes. Then they'll be invisible."

She and Yin Suwan left without another word. The door sealed behind them.

Cang and Jian remained on the floor, breathing in unison. Jian rested her head on Cang's shoulder. Cang kissed her temple.

"I love you," Jian whispered.

"I love you too," Cang said. "Rest now. They're coming."

The door opened again. Son Yunjoo entered first, her heels louder than Abby's had been. Fishy Cat Can followed, carrying a garment bag slung over one shoulder. She tossed it onto the floor.

"Get dressed. Both of you. You have three minutes."

Cang and Jian rose. Inside the bag they found two bodysuits made of transparent mesh, cut high on the hips and low on the chest. Stockings with reinforced toes. Platform high heels with four-inch soles and no arch support.

They dressed in silence. The bodysuits clung like a second skin. The heels forced their arches to stretch, their calves to strain. They looked at each other. Jian's lip twitched, almost a smile. Cang shook her head once, a warning.

"Line up," Son Yunjoo said.

They stood side by side, facing forward.

"Walk. To the end of the room and back. Hips swinging. Chins up. Eyes forward. Imagine you are the most desirable creatures in existence. Convince me."

They walked. The heels clicked in alternating rhythm. Cang's hips swayed with practiced ease. Jian's were stiffer, but she forced them to move. They reached the far wall, turned, and walked back.

Son Yunjoo watched with her head tilted. "Better. Now crawl. Like dogs. On your hands and knees. The heels stay on."

They dropped. The platform soles made the position awkward, their weight pitched forward. They crawled across the floor, their wrists aching, their necks bent.

Fishy Cat Can extended one foot. The heel of her boot was encased in a metal tip, scratched and scuffed from previous use. She pointed it at Cang's face.

"Lick it clean," she said.

Cang lowered her mouth to the boot. Her tongue dragged across the metal. It tasted of dirt and rust and other people's humiliation. She licked until Cat Can pulled her foot away.

Son Yunjoo produced another prosthetic, thicker than the one Yin Suwan had used. "Open your mouth."

Jian obeyed. The prosthetic filled her throat. Son Yunjoo held it there, watching Jian's eyes water, watching her gag reflex fight and lose. When she withdrew, Jian's mouth was empty.

"Swallow," Son Yunjoo said. "Convince me you enjoyed it."

Jian swallowed. She had no choice.

Cat Can pulled a knife from her pocket, a short blade with a curved edge. She gestured for Cang to lie flat on her back. Cang obeyed, her arms stretched above her head, her bound wrists pressed to the floor. Cat Can knelt beside her and pressed the blade to her abdomen.

"Hold still," she said. "This will hurt."

She carved. The blade parted skin. Blood beaded along the lines, thin and dark. Cang bit the inside of her cheek and did not scream. The letters formed slowly: Satisfied slave Cang serves — Cat Can.

Cat Can wiped the blade on Cang's stockings and stood.

Son Yunjoo looked at both of them one last time. "You did well tonight. Remember: this never happened. You never saw us. We never touched you."

She and Cat Can left. The door sealed.

Cang lay on the floor, her abdomen burning. Jian crawled to her side and pressed her palm over the fresh wound. Blood seeped through her fingers.

"I've got you," Jian said.

"I know," Cang said. "Take me back to the room. We have forty minutes before the marks fade completely."

Jian helped her stand. They limped toward the door, their heels clicking against the obsidian, their linked shadows stretching long and dark behind them.

The cold air of the training room clung to Lin Ruojian’s skin as he stood with his back to Xiao Miao Dabao, his wrists already bound behind him with rough hemp rope. The fiber bit into his flesh, a familiar ache that sent a thrill through his spine. He heard the soft clink of metal rings being fastened to the ceiling hooks, and then a firm hand pushed him forward until his arms were forced upward behind him, the rope tightening as Xiao Miao Dabao hoisted him off the ground. His toes barely brushed the mat, his body suspended in a taut, helpless arc. He let out a slow, shuddering breath, his eyes finding Su Yucang across the room.

Cang stood against the far wall, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. But Lin Ruojian knew that look—the slight tilt of his head, the way his jaw tightened. He was watching, and he was hungry for it. Lin Ruojian’s lips curved into a faint, knowing smile before he let his head fall forward, submitting to the rope.

Ziwei stepped into the light, a leather riding crop in one hand. She circled Lin Ruojian slowly, her heels clicking against the rubber floor. “You know the rules,” she said, her voice flat and clinical. “No sounds of pain. Only pleasure. If you cry out, I double the count.”

Lin Ruojian nodded, his muscles already tensing in anticipation.

The first strike landed across his shoulder blades—a sharp, crackling pain that bloomed into a deep, spreading heat. His back arched involuntarily, but he swallowed the gasp that rose in his throat. The crop came down again, lower this time, across the soft flesh of his lower back. Again, across his ribs. Again, across his hips. With each blow, the pain deepened into something almost sweet, a bruising warmth that settled into his bones. He lost count after twenty, his mind drifting into a haze of sensation, his body swaying with each impact. Behind him, Ziwei’s breathing remained steady, her strikes precise and rhythmic.

When she finally stopped, his back was a canvas of red and purple stripes, the skin raised and tender but unbroken. He sagged in the ropes, panting softly, his forehead slick with sweat.

Ziwei turned to Su Yucang. “Your turn.”

Cang pushed himself off the wall, his movements unhurried. He crossed to the center of the room where a rubber wooden horse stood—a saddle-shaped block of firm foam mounted on a steel frame, its surface slick with lubricant. Ziwei gestured to it. “Kneel. Facing the wall.”

Cang hesitated for just a fraction of a second, then lowered himself onto the horse. He straddled it, his knees pressing into the padded base, his hands gripping the sides. The horse’s ridge pressed up against his perineum, forcing his hips open. Ziwei walked behind him and produced a sleek vibrator, its tip glistening. She knelt and inserted it without warning, pushing it deep inside him. Cang’s breath hitched, his knuckles whitening.

“Ride,” Ziwei commanded.

Cang began to move, a slow, grinding rhythm that made the vibrator shift inside him. The rubber horse creaked beneath his weight. His face was turned away from Lin Ruojian, but Jian could see the rigid line of his shoulders, the way his thighs trembled with each rotation. The vibrator buzzed to life, a low hum that filled the room, and Cang’s movements became more desperate, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Ziwei picked up a flogger of soft leather strips. She stood behind Cang, and the first fall of the flogger caught him across his back. He jerked forward, a muffled cry escaping his lips, but he kept riding. The second stroke landed lower, across his buttocks, and the third across his thighs. With each strike, the vibrator pressed deeper, the dual sensations overwhelming him. His rhythm faltered, then steadied, his body learning to accept both the pain and the pleasure.

Lin Ruojian watched from his ropes, his own arousal a tight knot in his belly. He could see the flush spreading across Cang’s neck, the way his hips bucked involuntarily with each stroke of the flogger. A soft, wet sound filled the room—the vibrator moving inside him, slick and relentless.

When Ziwei finally set down the flogger, Cang was shaking, his forehead pressed against the wall, his breath a series of shallow whimpers. The vibrator still buzzed inside him, and he made no move to stop it.

Xiao Miao Dabao approached Lin Ruojian, a branding iron in her hand—not the kind that left permanent scars, but a smooth steel rod heated to a precise temperature. She touched it to his left buttock, and the heat sizzled against his skin, leaving a circular red mark. He hissed through his teeth, the pain sharp and immediate, then fading into a dull, throbbing ache. She pressed again, leaving a second mark beside the first, then a third, forming a small pattern.

Ziwei, meanwhile, stepped in front of Su Yucang. She unbuttoned his shirt, baring his chest, and pressed a similar iron against his sternum. Cang flinched, a low grunt escaping him as the mark burned into his skin. She moved the iron lower, just above his heart, and left a second mark.

The room fell silent. Lin Ruojian hung in his ropes, his back and buttocks aching, his heart full. Su Yucang knelt on the rubber horse, the vibrator still humming inside him, two fresh burns on his chest. Their eyes met across the space—a silent exchange of surrender and possession, of trust and love.

Xiao Miao Dabao stepped back, her work done. Ziwei looked at them both, a faint smile on her lips. “Good,” she said. “You may clean up.”

But neither of them moved. They stayed as they were, bound and marked, savoring the quiet after the storm—their bond forged anew in pain and devotion.

The door to the training room slid shut with a soft click, and Lin Ruojian felt the familiar chill of anticipation settle into her bones. Su Yuying circled them slowly, phone held high, the red recording light blinking like a predator's eye. Su Yutang stood by the wall, arms crossed, her smile carrying the sharp edge of a blade.

"Strip," Su Yuying ordered, her voice light but absolute. "Everything off. Then lie down on the mats, side by side."

Lin Ruojian obeyed, feeling Su Yucang's steady presence beside her. They undressed in silence, folding their clothes into neat piles before lowering themselves onto the cold black mats. The floor pressed against her back, the chill seeping into her skin. Su Yucang lay just inches away, her profile a perfect, unreadable mask.

Su Yutang produced two silicone vibrators from a drawer, their curves sleek and obscene in the dim light. She handed one to each sister, her fingers brushing Lin Ruojian's palm with deliberate slowness. "You know what to do," she said. "Insert. Begin. But you are not to come until we give permission. If either of you orgasms without authorization, there will be consequences."

"Yes," breathed Lin Ruojian, her hand closing around the toy. It was cool and heavy, the ribbed surface promising intimate friction.

Su Yucang said nothing, but her jaw tightened. She parted her legs and slid the vibrator inside herself with practiced efficiency, a single, controlled gasp escaping her lips. Lin Ruojian mirrored the movement, the pressure of insertion flooding her with a familiar ache. She pressed the power button, and the low hum vibrated through her pelvis, a wave of sensation that made her thighs quiver.

"Wider," Su Yuying said, stepping closer with the phone. "I want to see everything. And both of you, look at the camera. Smile."

Lin Ruojian forced her lips into a curve, her eyes fixed on the lens. Beside her, Su Yucang's smile was a thin line of tension. The vibrator worked inside her, building pleasure in slow circles. She could feel the heat spreading, the rising tide that begged for release. But she held back, clenching her muscles against the urge to let go.

Su Yutang watched with detached amusement. "Beautiful," she murmured. "Now, change of plans. You two are going to demonstrate something a little more... interactive."

She reached into the drawer again and pulled out two prosthetic penises, flesh-colored and veined, attached to harnesses. "Put these on," she said, tossing one to each of them. "And then you're going to service each other. Mouth to cock. You will ejaculate into each other's mouths, and you will swallow every drop."

Lin Ruojian's heart pounded. She fumbled with the harness, strapping it around her hips, the prosthetic standing erect and mocking. She saw Su Yucang doing the same, her fingers steady despite the situation. When they were both ready, they knelt facing each other, the silicone phallus between them like an absurd sword.

"On your knees," Su Yuying instructed. "Jian, you go first. Take Cang's cock into your mouth. Deep. All the way."

Lin Ruojian leaned forward, her lips brushing the tip of the prosthetic. It was tasteless and smooth, but the shape of it, the presence of it against her tongue, felt like surrender. She opened her mouth and swallowed it down, the length filling her throat until she gagged slightly. She heard Su Yucang's sharp inhale above her.

"Now Cang, you do the same. Mutual oral. Don't stop until you both come."

Su Yucang hesitated for a fraction of a second, then bent forward. Her mouth closed over Lin Ruojian's prosthetic, wet and warm, and Ruojian felt a shudder of pleasure-pain. They rocked together, mouths working, the rhythm awkward but desperate. The vibrators still hummed inside them, adding a layer of maddening stimulation.

"Faster," Su Yutang said. "I want to see you both lose control."

Lin Ruojian sucked harder, her hips thrusting into Su Yucang's face. She could feel her own climax building, the pressure of the vibrator pushing her toward the edge. But she held it back, clenching her pelvic floor against the wave. She wanted to come, needed to come, but the fear of punishment anchored her.

Su Yucang's breathing grew ragged. She moaned around the prosthetic in her mouth, the sound muffled and raw. Her hips bucked, and then with a strangled cry, she tensed. Warm fluid filled Lin Ruojian's mouth—salty, bitter, real. Su Yucang had been allowed to ejaculate? No, this was the prosthetic's built-in reservoir. But it tasted like submission.

Lin Ruojian swallowed, the liquid sliding down her throat. At the same time, she felt Su Yucang's throat convulse around her own prosthetic, and she released, her body shuddering as she came into Su Yucang's mouth. The pleasure was a brief, bright explosion, followed by a dizzying emptiness.

"Close your mouths," Su Yuying commanded. "Show us the evidence."

They opened their mouths, tongues flat, the white residue of each other's orgasm visible. Lin Ruojian's mouth was empty—she had swallowed—but a thin film of moisture clung to her tongue. Su Yucang's mouth gleamed with Ruojian's release.

"Hold it," Su Yutang said. "Now resume masturbating with the vibrators. Keep your mouths open. We want to see you both working, tasting each other."

They returned to their original positions, side by side, vibrators pressed inside, mouths agape. The toy in Lin Ruojian's body felt different now, slick with her own arousal and the aftermath of orgasm. She moved it in slow circles, the stimulation catching her nerves. She could see Su Yucang doing the same, her cheeks hollowed as she held the semen in her mouth.

The minutes stretched. Ten minutes. Two, three, four. The vibrator buzzed relentlessly, building pleasure again from scratch. Lin Ruojian's jaw ached from holding her mouth open. Saliva pooled, mixing with the taste of Su Yucang. Five, six, seven. She was on the verge again, the crest of another wave. Eight, nine. Her breath came in short gasps.

"Now," Su Yuying said. "You may orgasm. Together."

They came simultaneously, their bodies arching off the mats, cries muffled by their open mouths. Lin Ruojian's vision went white, the contraction squeezing the vibrator deep inside her. When she came down, she was trembling, her thighs wet, her throat raw.

Su Yutang and Su Yuying moved in unison. They grabbed Su Yucang, hauling her to her feet. Lin Ruojian watched, dazed, as they forced her arms behind her back and tied her wrists with silk rope. They pushed her onto all fours, her back exposed, her skin flushed.

"Jian," Su Yutang said, her voice low. "Kneel. Watch."

The two sisters unzipped their pants. Lin Ruojian knelt, her eyes fixed on Su Yucang's bound body. Su Yutang straddled her back, positioning herself over her spine. Su Yuying stood at her head. They began to masturbate, hands moving over their own bodies, eyes locked on the scene.

It did not take long. Su Yutang groaned, and a stream of warm fluid splattered across Su Yucang's back, trickling down her spine. Su Yuying followed, her release landing in a thick pool on Su Yucang's shoulder blades.

"Lick it clean," Su Yutang ordered. "Every drop. Swallow."

Lin Ruojian crawled forward. She lowered her face to Su Yucang's back, her tongue touching the sticky warmth. The taste was sharp, bitter, the essence of dominance. She licked methodically, tracing the path of the semen, gathering it on her tongue. She swallowed. Then again. Lick, swallow. Lick, swallow. Su Yucang remained still, her breathing shallow, her head bowed.

When the skin was clean and glistening, Lin Ruojian sat back on her heels. Her mouth was coated with the taste of two women.

Su Yutang knelt beside her. She tilted Lin Ruojian's head, exposing her neck. Her lips pressed against the skin, then her teeth. A sharp, sudden pain. Lin Ruojian gasped. She felt the suction, the bite. When Su Yutang pulled back, a dark red mark bloomed on her throat.

"Yours is here," Su Yuying said, walking around behind Su Yucang. She parted the wet hair, leaned down, and sank her teeth into the curve of her shoulder. Su Yucang flinched, a low sound escaping her. When she released, another mark, identical in purpose, marred her skin.

The sisters stepped back. Su Yuying stopped the recording. "We'll review the footage later," she said. "You may clean yourselves. Then get some rest."

The door slid open. They left, the sound of their footsteps fading down the hall.

Lin Ruojian untied Su Yucang's wrists with trembling fingers. The rope left red ridges on her skin. They did not speak. They gathered their clothes, walked to the bathroom, and stepped into the shower together. The hot water washed away the sweat, the semen, the residue of humiliation. Su Yucang leaned her forehead against the tile, her body shaking. Lin Ruojian wrapped her arms around her from behind, pressing her lips to the mark on her shoulder.

"I would do anything for you," Lin Ruojian whispered.

Su Yucang turned, her eyes dark and wet. "I know," she said, her voice barely audible. "That's what frightens me."

The warm water sluiced over Lin Ruojian’s shoulders, steam curling around her slender form as she stood beneath the showerhead. Beside her, Su Yucang rinsed the last of the soap from her own body, her movements deliberate and unhurried. They did not speak. There was no need. The quiet intimacy of the act—two bodies preparing for what was to come—was a ritual they had learned to share.

When they stepped out, the clothes were laid neatly on the counter: two sets of sheer black lace lingerie, delicate and barely there. Black stockings with subtle fishnet patterns, and a pair of red-soled stilettos that gleamed under the vanity lights. Lin Ruojian picked up the bra first, the fabric whispering against her fingers. She slipped it on, adjusting the straps, then pulled the matching panties up her hips. The lace sat high on her waist, offering nothing in the way of modesty. Su Yucang watched her for a moment, then did the same, her expression unreadable but her hands steady.

The stockings required care. Lin Ruojian sat on the edge of the bed, rolling the delicate nylon up each leg, smoothing it over her thighs. She stepped into the heels, the click of the soles sharp against the tiled floor. Su Yucang finished dressing and stood, her long legs accentuated by the heels, her body framed in black lace. They looked at each other, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. Ready.

The door opened without a knock. Tieban Ouniisan entered first, his broad frame filling the doorway. His face was impassive, his eyes scanning them both with clinical detachment. Behind him, Yin Yunyun glided in, her lips curved in a smile that held no warmth. She carried a long white feather and a leather-framed bondage stand that she set in the center of the room.

“On the frame,” Tieban Ouniisan said, his voice a low rumble. He gestured to Lin Ruojian.

She walked to the bondage frame, a wooden X anchored to a metal base. Her heart beat faster, anticipation and submission mingling in her veins. She raised her arms, allowing him to fasten the leather cuffs around her wrists, then her ankles. The frame held her spread-eagled, her body taut, the lace of her lingerie doing nothing to hide the vulnerability of her exposed form.

Yin Yunyun approached, the feather brushing against her palm. “You look beautiful like this,” she murmured, more to herself than to Lin Ruojian. She began at the arch of Lin Ruojian’s foot, trailing the feather along the sole. Lin Ruojian gasped, her body jerking involuntarily. The sensation was maddening—light, teasing, just this side of pain. Yin Yunyun worked slowly, methodically, tracing up her calf, behind her knee, along the sensitive inside of her thigh. Lin Ruojian bit her lip, trying not to laugh, trying not to squirm. The feather danced across her stomach, her ribs, the curve of her breast. She was trembling by the time Yin Yunyun withdrew.

“You’ll serve us now,” Yin Yunyun said, turning to Su Yucang. “Kneel.”

Su Yucang’s eyes flickered, a brief hesitation, then she lowered herself to her knees. The cold tile pressed into her skin. Yin Yunyun produced a short length of rope and a steel funnel. She held the funnel up, letting it catch the light.

“Jian is going to relieve herself,” Yin Yunyun said. “You’re going to drink it.”

Lin Ruojian’s heart seized. She watched as Tieban Ouniisan brought a small ceramic basin and held it beneath her. The pressure in her bladder was real, a need she had been holding since the shower. She hesitated, looking at Su Yucang. Su Yucang met her gaze, and there was something in those eyes—not fear, but acceptance. A surrender that mirrored her own.

“Do it,” Tieban Ouniisan ordered.

Lin Ruojian let go. The warm stream hit the basin with a soft patter, a sound that seemed too loud in the silent room. When she was done, Tieban Ouniisan lifted the basin and handed it to Yin Yunyun, who poured it into the funnel. Then she turned to Su Yucang.

“Open your mouth.”

Su Yucang’s lips parted. Yin Yunyun lowered the funnel, pressing it past her teeth, resting it on her tongue. The metal was cold, and the taste—warm, salty, unmistakable—flooded her mouth before she could brace for it. Her throat contracted. Every instinct screamed to spit, to gag, to pull away. But she did not. She closed her eyes and swallowed, then again, and again, until the funnel was empty and her stomach churned.

Yin Yunyun withdrew the funnel and wiped Su Yucang’s lips with the back of her hand. “Good. Now stay on your knees. Don’t move.”

Tieban Ouniisan released Lin Ruojian from the frame, guiding her to the wall. “Face the wall. Hands on it. Arch your back.”

Lin Ruojian obeyed, pressing her palms flat against the cool surface. She bent forward, pushing her hips back. The position exposed her completely—her lingerie had been pushed aside, her vagina fully revealed, slick and open. She felt the air on her skin, the weight of their gaze.

Yin Yunyun came up behind her. She did not use a toy, only her hand, her fingers slick with a lubricant she had produced from nowhere. She pressed one finger inside Lin Ruojian, slow, then two. Lin Ruojian gasped, her forehead resting against the wall. Yin Yunyun began to thrust, her movements rhythmic, unhurried. Each push sent a shiver through Lin Ruojian’s spine, her body responding despite the humiliation.

“Look at her,” Yin Yunyun said, her voice sharp. “Cang. Open your eyes. Watch.”

Su Yucang had been staring at the floor. She forced her gaze up, her vision blurring with unshed tears. She watched Yin Yunyun’s hand disappear into Lin Ruojian’s body, watched the way her own lover’s back arched and trembled, the small sounds that escaped her throat. The ropes of her control frayed. She wanted to look away. She could not.

Tieban Ouniisan produced a small branding iron, the tip already heated. He stepped to Lin Ruojian’s side, pressing it against the soft skin of her lower abdomen. She cried out, a sharp, pained sound, but the mark was quick—a small, precise pattern that would heal into a scar. Yin Yunyun, still fucking her with steady fingers, leaned down and bit the inside of Su Yucang’s thigh, hard enough to break the skin. Su Yucang gasped, blood welling where Yin Yunyun’s teeth had been. Yin Yunyun licked it clean, leaving her own mark.

When it was done, Yin Yunyun withdrew her hand. Lin Ruojian slumped against the wall, breathing hard. Su Yucang remained on her knees, the taste of urine, the sting of teeth, the image of her lover’s submission burned into her. They did not move. The room was silent save for their ragged breaths.

Li Benben’s voice cut through the dim light of the room like a shard of glass. “Kneel.”

Su Yucang hesitated for only a fraction of a second before her knees met the cold floor. She held her head high, but her jaw was tight. Li Benben circled her slowly, the click of his heels punctuating each deliberate step. He stopped behind her, then reached down and grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. “Perfect posture, perfect skin. You think that makes you untouchable?” He released her hair and walked around to face her, then crouched down, his eyes raking over her body with theatrical disgust. “Let me tell you what I see. I see a woman built for nothing but serving. Your tits are too full, your waist too narrow. You were designed to be used, not admired.” He straightened up. “Say it.”

Su Yucang’s throat tightened. “I… I was designed to be used.”

“Louder.”

“I was designed to be used.” Her voice cracked, but she forced the words out.

“And your body?” Li Benben prodded her shoulder with his toe. “What is it?”

“Punishment,” she whispered.

“What?”

“Punishment!” she said, louder, her eyes stinging.

Li Benben smiled. “Good girl.”

He turned his attention to Lin Ruojian, who stood rigidly by the wall. “You. Kneel beside her.”

Lin Ruojian obeyed without a word, her knees hitting the floor inches from Su Yucang’s. She kept her eyes down, but she could feel Su Yucang’s gaze on her – a mixture of shame and something else, something darker.

“Now,” Li Benben said, addressing Su Yucang, “slap her. Hard enough to leave a mark.”

Su Yucang’s hand trembled as she raised it. She met Lin Ruojian’s eyes for a fleeting instant, saw the acceptance there, the silent permission. Then her palm connected with Lin Ruojian’s cheek. The sound was sharp, wet. Lin Ruojian’s head snapped to the side, but she made no sound.

“Again.”

Another slap. And another. After the fifth, Li Benben held up his hand. “Enough. Now tell her what she is.”

Su Yucang’s voice was barely a whisper. “You’re a whore.”

“Louder,” Li Benben said.

“You’re a whore!” Su Yucang’s voice broke. “You’re nothing but a hole for someone to fill. You exist to be broken.” Tears streamed down her face, but she kept going. “Your only worth is the pain you can take.”

Lin Ruojian’s lips parted slightly, a small, broken sigh escaping her. She was shaking, but she didn’t look away.

Li Benben clapped slowly. “Beautiful.” He produced two lengths of rope from his pocket. “Hands behind your backs.”

He bound Lin Ruojian first, then Su Yucang, the rope biting into their wrists. He tied them back-to-back, their spines pressed together. Xiao Huanhuan, who had been watching silently from a chair, finally rose.

“My turn,” Xiao Huanhuan said, her voice light and playful. She walked over to Su Yucang and knelt in front of her. “Open your mouth.”

Su Yucang hesitated, then parted her lips. Xiao Huanhuan unzipped her pants and positioned herself, her movement casual, almost bored. “Take it.”

Su Yucang closed her eyes and did as she was told. The taste was bitter, metallic. She focused on breathing through her nose, on the warmth of Lin Ruojian’s back against hers. When Xiao Huanhuan finished, she pulled back, a thin thread of fluid connecting them before it broke.

“Don’t swallow,” Xiao Huanhuan said, patting her cheek. “Hold it.”

Behind her, Li Benben was doing the same to Lin Ruojian. Lin Ruojian took him without resistance, her throat working only to keep the fluid pooled in her mouth. When he was done, he stepped back.

“Now,” Xiao Huanhuan said, “we need you presentable.” She held up two scraps of fabric – transparent lace underwear – and a pair of ultra-high heels. “Stand up. Slowly.”

It was a clumsy process, getting dressed with bound hands and mouths full, but they managed. The lace was cold against their skin, the heels making them unsteady. Xiao Huanhuan and Li Benben sat back and watched.

“Dance,” Li Benben said.

They swayed awkwardly, their bound hands throwing off their balance. Every step was a gamble, the heels threatening to tip them over. The fluid in their mouths sloshed with each movement, forcing them to focus on not choking. Su Yucang tried to keep her eyes on Lin Ruojian, on the way the see-through fabric clung to her curves, on the defiance still flickering in her eyes despite everything.

Xiao Huanhuan stood up when the song ended. She walked to Lin Ruojian, bent down, and sank her teeth into the soft flesh of her left breast. Lin Ruojian gasped, the sound muffled by the fluid in her mouth. Xiao Huanhuan held the bite for a long moment, then released it, leaving a deep red mark already darkening to purple.

“Yours,” she said to Li Benben, nodding at Su Yucang.

Li Benben knelt and took Su Yucang’s ankle in his hand. She tried not to flinch as he pressed his thumb into the bone, then bit down hard, his teeth breaking the skin just enough to draw a bead of blood. He held it, letting the pain settle, then let go.

“Good,” he said. “Now you can swallow.”

Both women tilted their heads back and swallowed. The taste of humiliation slid down their throats.

“You may go,” Xiao Huanhuan said, waving a hand. “But leave the outfits. We’ll be in touch.”

Lin Ruojian and Su Yucang stumbled out of the room, still bound, still in lace and heels, their marks burning like brands. They didn’t speak until they were safely in the elevator, doors closing behind them.

Then Su Yucang leaned her head against Lin Ruojian’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Lin Ruojian pressed a kiss to her hair. “Don’t be. We needed this.”

The elevator descended in silence, the two of them bound together, wounds fresh, love deeper than ever.

They knelt back to back in the center of the training room, the polished concrete cold through the thin fabric of their training pants. A length of black rope circled both their torsos, cinching them together at the waist and chest so that movement was shared, breath nearly synchronized. Their hands were bound behind their backs, fingers interlaced, palms pressed tight—Lin Ruojian’s slightly damp, Su Yucang’s steady and warm. In the dim light, the only sounds were the soft hum of the ventilation system and the deliberate footsteps of Song Juya and Han Bing circling them like predators assessing their prey.

“Ready to play?” Song Juya’s voice was a low purr, almost affectionate. She stopped in front of Lin Ruojian, tilting his chin up with a single finger. His eyes met hers—submissive, willing, hungry. He nodded once, a small tremor running through his shoulders.

Behind him, Han Bing crouched beside Su Yucang, unspooling a roll of clear plastic wrap. The crinkle of the film was sharp in the quiet. “You know the rules, Cang. Keep breathing through your nose. If you need to stop, tap twice on my leg. But you won’t, will you?”

Su Yucang’s jaw tightened. He said nothing, but the slight incline of his head was answer enough. His fingers tightened around Lin Ruojian’s—a squeeze that said *I’m here. I’ll endure this with you.*

Song Juya fastened a wide leather collar around Lin Ruojian’s neck. It was lined with soft suede inside, but the outer ring was thick and unyielding. She adjusted it until it sat snug against his Adam’s apple, then attached a short chain that ran from the front ring to a buckle at the back of his head. When she pulled the chain tight, the collar pressed inward, compressing his trachea just enough to make his next breath a conscious effort.

“Count for me, Jian. Count your breaths. When you can’t count anymore, that’s when I stop.”

Lin Ruojian’s eyes fluttered closed. He drew a shallow breath—*one*—and felt the collar bite. *Two.* Behind him, Su Yucang’s breathing changed as Han Bing smoothed a layer of plastic wrap across his face, starting at the forehead and working downward. She left a small slit at the nostrils, barely enough for air to pass. The rest of his face was sealed in a transparent, sweat-slicked shroud.

The first few seconds were manageable. Lin Ruojian counted *three, four* in a steady rhythm. Su Yucang’s hands stayed still, his grip unwavering. But as the minutes stretched, the lack of easy oxygen began to gnaw. Lin Ruojian’s chest heaved against the rope. His count became ragged—*seven… eight…*—and then he lost track, his mind fuzzing at the edges. The collar pressed deeper. A high, thin whine escaped his throat.

Su Yucang felt the shift in Lin Ruojian’s body—the slight slump, the desperate clench of fingers. He tried to ground himself in the sensation of his own restricted breathing: the plasticky taste of the wrap, the warmth of his own exhale trapped against his lips. His heart pounded loud in his ears, but he forced himself to stay still. For Jian. For them.

Song Juya watched the color rise in Lin Ruojian’s cheeks, then pale to a grayish hue. She held the chain taut for another ten seconds, her eyes tracking his pupils. When they began to flutter, she released the buckle with a sharp click. The collar loosened. Lin Ruojian gasped, a desperate, tearing sound as air flooded his lungs. His head fell forward, chin to chest, and he coughed.

Simultaneously, Han Bing peeled the plastic wrap from Su Yucang’s face. It came away with a soft hiss, leaving his skin damp and flushed. He sucked in air through his mouth, deep and ragged, his chest expanding against the rope that bound them together. For a long moment, they both just breathed, backs pressed together, hands still intertwined.

Then Song Juya stepped behind Lin Ruojian and grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back. “Not done yet,” she murmured, and unzipped her pants. The heat of her body was sudden against his lips. She didn’t give him time to think—she thrust into his mouth, her fingers curled in his hair, holding him in place. “Swallow or choke. Your choice.”

Lin Ruojian’s mind was still swimming in the oxygen rush, but his body knew the drill. He opened his throat, let her use him. Behind him, he heard the soft sound of Han Bing positioning herself in front of Su Yucang, heard the wet slide of flesh.

“Open,” Han Bing commanded. Su Yucang obeyed. She pressed inside, her rhythm brisk and without tenderness. Su Yucang’s eyes were closed, his hands still locked with Lin Ruojian’s. He could taste himself, taste the faint salt of her skin, and he took it—all of it—because endurance was its own form of devotion.

Song Juya came first, a sharp gasp as she pushed deep, her release hot and sudden. She held him there until she was done, then pulled out, smearing the residue across his lips. Lin Ruojian swallowed without being told, his throat working convulsively. Han Bing finished a moment later, her body shuddering against Su Yucang’s face. He swallowed as well, his eyes still closed.

Neither man spoke. It wasn’t expected.

Song Juya crouched in front of Lin Ruojian, her face inches from his. Her thumb traced the red line where the collar had been. Then she leaned in and bit down hard on the side of his neck—not a kiss, but a claim. The pain was bright and immediate. He gasped but didn’t pull away. When she released him, a dark, blooming bruise was already forming.

Han Bing, meanwhile, had pulled up Su Yucang’s shirt. She pressed her mouth to his waist, just above the hip bone, and sucked hard until the blood rose to the surface. When she pulled back, she left a crescent-shaped mark—teeth and tongue and deliberate pressure. He shivered once, then stilled.

Song Juya rose, unlocking the rope that bound them. It fell away in a coil at their feet. She looked down at them—still kneeling, still holding hands, marked and breathless. “You did well,” she said, and there was something almost kind in her voice.

Han Bing tossed the plastic wrap aside. “Clean up. You have ten minutes before the next session.”

They left, the door clicking shut behind them.

In the silence, Lin Ruojian turned his head. His neck ached. His throat was raw. He found Su Yucang’s eyes: dark, soft, exhausted. He lifted their joined hands and pressed a kiss to Su Yucang’s knuckles.

Su Yucang leaned his forehead against Lin Ruojian’s. “Still with me?”

“Always,” Lin Ruojian whispered.

They stayed like that for a long moment, breathing the same air, the marks on their bodies already beginning to ache. And in that ache, something fierce and quiet held them together.

The air in the training room was cold and sterile, smelling of antiseptic and leather. Yiyijiang stood by the wall, arms crossed, while Zhang Bupang paced in front of the two figures kneeling on the mat. Lin Ruojian kept her eyes down, her fingers trembling against her thighs. Beside her, Su Yucang was already naked, wrists bound behind her back, a gag of black leather strapped across her mouth.

“You know the drill, Jian,” Yiyijiang said, her voice flat as a blade. “Get her ready.”

Lin Ruojian’s throat tightened. She crawled forward on her knees until she was level with Su Yucang’s waist. She could feel the heat radiating from her lover’s skin, smell the faint salt of old sweat. She reached up with shaking hands and unbuckled the gag. The leather fell away, and Su Yucang took a slow, deliberate breath.

“Open,” Zhang Bupang ordered.

Su Yucang’s lips parted. Her eyes were on Lin Ruojian, dark and unreadable. Lin Ruojian leaned in, her mouth hovering an inch from Su Yucang’s. She could taste her breath, warm and faintly metallic.

“No,” Yiyijiang said. “The other way. Use your mouth, Jian. Properly.”

The words hit Lin Ruojian like a slap. She understood. Her vision blurred as tears welled up. She looked at Su Yucang, who gave the smallest nod—permission, or maybe resignation. Lin Ruojian lowered her head, pressing her lips to Su Yucang’s, but that wasn’t what they wanted.

“Down,” Yiyijiang said, and Zhang Bupang grabbed Lin Ruojian’s hair, forcing her face into Su Yucang’s groin.

Lin Ruojian’s nose bumped against soft flesh. She opened her mouth, her tongue touching Su Yucang’s clit, and she heard a sharp intake of breath above her. She began, her tears streaming down her cheeks, each movement a small death of pride. She could feel Su Yucang’s thighs quivering against her cheeks, hear the ragged breaths escaping through clenched teeth.

After long minutes, Yiyijiang said, “Enough. Both of you.”

Zhang Bupang stepped forward, hand on his own cock, and stroked himself twice before his semen spurted into Lin Ruojian’s open mouth. She gasped, nearly choking. Then Yiyijiang did the same, adding his hot, bitter load.

“Hold it,” Yiyijiang said.

Lin Ruojian kept her mouth closed, the semen pooling on her tongue, thick and salty. She could barely breathe through her nose. Tears fell from her chin.

“Now give it to Cang,” Zhang Bupang said. “Mouth to mouth.”

Lin Ruojian crawled to Su Yucang, their faces close. She pressed her lips to those of her lover, and with a small sob, she let the semen flow from her mouth into Su Yucang’s. Su Yucang accepted it without flinching, her throat moving as she swallowed.

“Don’t swallow,” Yiyijiang snapped. “Hold it in your mouth.”

Su Yucang’s jaw tightened, but she complied, the white liquid pooled behind her sealed lips.

Zhang Bupang and Yiyijiang then worked quickly. They tied Su Yucang’s wrists to an overhead bar, forcing her to bend at the waist, her legs spread and bound to floor anchors. Her torso was parallel to the ground, her ass high in the air. Yiyijiang slid a prosthetic penis into her vagina, the silicone cold and unyielding, while Zhang Bupang inserted a vibrating egg into her anus. He switched it on low, and a low hum filled the room.

Su Yucang’s fingers curled into fists. Her eyes were closed.

“Now you, Jian,” Zhang Bupang said. He held up a thick rubber penis, slick with lubricant. “Bend over the bench.”

Lin Ruojian obeyed, her chest pressed against the padded leather. She felt the cool lubricant smear against her anus, then the blunt pressure of the rubber tip. She gritted her teeth as he pushed inside. A sharp, stabbing pain spread through her lower body. She whimpered, the sound drawn out and raw.

“Look at her,” Yiyijiang said, grabbing Lin Ruojian’s hair and yanking her head up. “Watch Cang.”

Su Yucang’s bent form was a sculpture of suffering. The vibrator hummed, her back muscles twitched, but her lips remained sealed, the semen still inside. Her eyes were open now, fixed on Lin Ruojian with a look of shared agony.

“Here are the rules,” Zhang Bupang said, leaning over Lin Ruojian, his breath hot on her ear. “We will make Cang cum. If she leaks a single drop of cum from her mouth before she orgasms, you get ten lashes. If she holds it, she gets a reward. Your choice is to take her pain or watch her win.”

Lin Ruojian’s hands gripped the edge of the bench. Pain radiated from her anus where the rubber still lodged. She watched Su Yucang’s face, saw the strain, the desperation.

Yiyijiang picked up a leather paddle. “First, a mark.” He stepped behind Lin Ruojian and swung. The slap echoed, and a searing heat bloomed across her left buttock. She cried out, her body jerking against the bench.

Zhang Bupang walked to Su Yucang, a small branding iron in one hand, unheated but with a sharp metal edge. He pressed it hard against the skin of her shoulder blade. Su Yucang’s body convulsed, but no sound escaped her sealed lips. A red imprint bloomed like a wound.

The vibrator’s frequency increased. Su Yucang’s legs began to shake, her hips trying to thrust away from the relentless buzzing. Her eyes glazed, and a thin line of saliva mixed with semen threatened to escape her lips. She clamped her mouth harder, her throat working convulsively.

Lin Ruojian watched, her own pain forgotten. “Hold it, Cang,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Hold it.”

The room filled with the hum of the vibrator, the wet sound of Su Yucang’s body responding, the harsh breathing of the two men watching. Lin Ruojian felt a second impact from the paddle, then a third, each stroke landing on her already bruised flesh. She bit down on her own lip to keep from screaming.

Su Yucang’s body arched. A choked, muffled sound escaped her throat. Her entire frame stiffened, then shuddered through release, her muscles clenching and unclenching. The vibrator still hummed, but her mouth remained closed, the semen held in a tight seal.

Yiyijiang turned off the vibrator. “Well done.”

Zhang Bupang pulled the rubber penis from Lin Ruojian with a wet pop. She collapsed onto the bench, gasping, her ass throbbing, her heart aching.

Su Yucang slowly straightened, tied arms still above her, and spat the semen into a metal bowl held by Yiyijiang. She looked at Lin Ruojian, and for a moment, there was no coldness in her eyes, only a deep, tired love.

Lin Ruojian smiled through her tears, her body ringing with pain, but her soul somehow, impossibly, lighter.