On the fourth basement level of the Ministry of Magic, in an unmarked conference room.
An architectural blueprint of St. Mungo's was spread out on the table. The four corners of the parchment were held down by paperweights. The paper was marked with every corridor, every corner, and every locked door of the Spell Damage ward on the fourth floor.
Beside the blueprint lay a photograph. In the photo, a purple-haired woman lay on a hospital bed, a silver dressing applied to her right shoulder.
The photo had been secretly taken by a healing wizard using a pocket camera. The angle was skewed, but the face was clear.
Sebastian pushed the photo to the dead center of the table.
"Yin Luo. Elder of the Myriad Demons Palace, late Nascent Soul cultivator. Currently a patient in a private room in the Spell Damage ward on the fourth floor of St. Mungo's. This afternoon, Curse-Breaker Stanley extracted two-thirds of the sword intent, and the remaining one-third is still being forced out. The target is unconscious and incapable of resisting."
His finger moved from the photo to the blueprint, tapping twice on a square at the end of the fourth-floor corridor.
"The private room is located at the deepest part of the Spell Damage ward, second door on the right at the corridor's three-way junction. The window faces the inner courtyard; outside the window is St. Mungo's herbology greenhouse, with no direct exit to the street. There are only two extraction routes: the main corridor and the emergency channel. The emergency channel is at the left end of the corridor, normally locked, and requires a healing wizard's pass to open."
Margaret pulled a roll of parchment from her briefcase. The wax seal bore the eagle crest of the Ministry of Magic's Department of War Mobilization. She unrolled the parchment on the table, her finger poking at the densely packed legal text.
"'Wartime Alien Control Act', Article 7, Clause 3: 'For any foreign national who has not undergone Ministry of Magic immigration screening, the Department of War Mobilization possesses the authority to enforce temporary detention and interrogation. The period of interrogation shall not exceed forty-eight hours and requires no standard judicial approval.' I had the legal team dig through the archives for ages to find this passage."
"What about the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?" asked a young wizard sitting at the end of the table. His combat uniform sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing a tattoo of a spreading phoenix on his forearm.
"Not approved." Margaret rolled the parchment back up crisply. "Submitted the application this afternoon, and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement rejected it outright. The annotation read 'Insufficient Evidence'. McGonagall definitely pulled some strings over there. Since the standard channels are blocked, we'll use wartime authorization."
The young wizard let out a low whistle. "Wartime authorization. Bypassing Law Enforcement to arrest someone directly. If this turns into a legal battle later, it'll go all the way to the Wizengamot."
"We'll deal with the legal battles later." Moody stood up from the corner. His prosthetic leg thumped heavily against the floorboards as he walked up to the table and yanked the blueprint toward himself. "First, we get into the room, slap magical shackles on the target, and bring her out. As long as she's in the Department of War Mobilization's holding cells, even if McGonagall comes demanding her release with an order from the Wizengamot, wading through the red tape will take a whole day. One day is enough for us to extract the interrogation we need."
Sebastian drew his wand from his sleeve and traced a set of marks over the blueprint. The blue light sparking from his wand tip branded six small circles onto the paper, landing on St. Mungo's main entrance, side entrance, emergency channel entrance, the fourth-floor corridor junction, the rooftop directly above the private room's door, and the roof of the herbology greenhouse.
"Six key control points. Deploy two men at the main entrance, one at the side entrance, one at the emergency channel. The corridor junction is the only way in and out of the fourth floor, requiring two men—one in plain sight to deal with healing wizards and patrols, and one hidden in the storage room at the corner to block the extraction route. One sniper on the rooftop, equipped with an Invisibility Cloak and long-range Stunning Spells." He paused, drawing the seventh circle outside the private room's window. "Greenhouse roof. This spot overlooks the inner courtyard. If someone jumps out the window, the shooter here is the second net. Two at the main entrance, one at the side, one at the emergency, two in the corridor, one on the roof, one on the greenhouse—eight people forming six posts, plus an inside man at the St. Mungo's reception desk monitoring incoming and outgoing personnel. A total of nine people."
Moody's magical eye spun a full circle before settling back to match his normal eye. "Combat personnel split into three teams. Breach Team: I will lead the charge into the room to execute the capture. Corridor Control Team: hold the junction and instantly lock down the Spell Damage ward entrance upon breach. Perimeter Security Team: lock down all three entrances and exits of the building. Backup plan—if the target awakens and resists, the Breach Team immediately transitions to a Suppression Team. If McGonagall or Jerry are present and resist, treat it as resisting law enforcement. Greet them with the classic trio: Stunning Spells, Binding Curses, and Petrification."
"What if Jerry is standing vigil beside that woman?" the young wizard asked.
Moody cracked a row of brass knuckles on his prosthetic hand one by one, the corners of his mouth turning down in a sneer.
"Then we grab the pair of them. Under wartime authorization, assisting a foreign national in evading interrogation is also a crime. He just smuggled himself back from the Cultivation world; his identity background isn't wiped clean yet. If he actually fights back, all the better."
Margaret brought out another file—a photocopy of the St. Mungo's front desk registry, copied just this afternoon. She flipped to the visitor log page, tapping her stubby finger on the bottom three lines.
"Yin Luo's room had four batches of people register today. McGonagall signed in, signed out. Cassiopeia signed in, signed out. Isabella signed in, didn't sign out. Jerry—arrived straight to the fourth floor via the Floo Network, bypassing the front desk entirely. Right now, besides the patient, there are two people in the room: Isabella and Jerry. Cassiopeia left, McGonagall left as well. This is the optimal window."
"Isabella, daughter of Cassiopeia, from the Department of International Magical Cooperation." The young wizard scrunched his nose. "She dismantled our supply line intelligence network while working overtime at the Ministry. Rooted out all thirteen relay stations. This person is not someone to be trifled with."
"Being untouchable means nothing." Margaret snapped the registry shut and tossed it back into her briefcase. "She is in that room visiting Jerry in a private capacity, with no security detail and no law enforcement wand issued. We are executing official wartime authorization. If she tries to block us, we take her away too. There are two ranks between the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and our Deputy Head. If anything goes wrong, Sebastian will shoulder it."
Sebastian expressed neither opposition nor agreement, merely pulling a spool of fine velvet string from the inner pocket of his robes. The string was coated in silver powder, the designated binding medium for Anti-Disapparation Jinxes. He traced the string along the perimeter border of the architectural blueprint.
"First order of business after deploying. Bury this string along the base of St. Mungo's exterior walls, circling the entire perimeter. Once activated, the entire interior of the building will fall under the Anti-Disapparation range. Trying to Apparate someone out will be impossible. Second order of business—the Floo Network lockdown order. Margaret, how are preparations on the Floo Network Authority's end?"
"The decree is signed. All Floo Network fireplaces at St. Mungo's will be temporarily restricted: incoming only, no outgoing. The public reason is 'to protect the privacy of patients in the medical areas, temporary suspension of outgoing Floo connections for half an hour'. The excuse is compliant, and processing it doesn't require special clearance." Margaret pulled the decree from her briefcase and slid it across the table to Sebastian.
"Half an hour." Sebastian took the decree, glanced at it, then aligned the timestamps with the post deployments, handing out a slip of paper corresponding to each person's role.
"Timeline: Tonight at 11:50 PM, the Perimeter Security Team is in position and completes the Anti-Disapparation setup around the exterior walls, activating the ward. At 11:55 PM, the Corridor Control Team enters the fourth-floor corridor, completing the deployment of the visible and hidden posts. At exactly midnight, the main entrance is locked down, and the Floo Network decree goes into effect. At 12:05 AM, Margaret presents the wartime authorization documents to the front desk to notify the hospital to cooperate with the arrest. At 12:10 AM, Moody leads the Breach Team into the room to execute the capture. At 12:25 AM, complete target extraction. At 12:30 AM, full evacuation."
He pushed six slips of paper to the heads of the six posts. "Main entrance team, when the two of you guard the front doors, keep an eye on those primadonnas at the reception desk. Inform them that the Department of War Mobilization is executing official business; let them keep drinking their tea and eating their snacks, but tell them not to touch the alarm bell. If anyone asks, say the target of the arrest is an illegal immigrant using a false identity and poses no threat. If anyone questions it, tell them to find Margaret—Margaret will be at the front desk with the wartime authorization documents for face-to-face discussions. In short, do not alarm the ordinary patients."
The two wizards assigned to the main entrance exchanged a look. One of them, a bald wizard, slid his wand from his sleeve and twirled it twice in his palm.
"What if someone forces their way in?"
"Frontline combat troops forcing their way through the main entrance? That constitutes violent resistance to law enforcement. Serve them a Stunning Spell and write a report afterward. If the person forcing their way in is McGonagall—you immediately use a Patronus to message Sebastian, and Sebastian will come down to handle it personally. Keep one rule in mind: do not duel her head-on, you cannot beat her. Delay her." Moody's prosthetic dug into the table, deepening the dent he had gouged into the wood earlier.
"Rooftop shooter. Your firing arc covers both ends of the entire fourth-floor corridor. The moment someone runs from the corridor toward the emergency channel, greet them with a long-range Stunning Spell. If the target breaks free of their bindings and escapes the room, aim for the legs first, the torso second. Don't aim for the head—we need her alive."
"Greenhouse roof. Your task is to watch the private room's window. If someone jumps out the window, hit them with a Stunning Spell if you can; if the distance is too far, use a Sticking Charm to glue them to the wall and stall them, then send a signal and wait for the corridor team to come assist. That spot on the greenhouse roof is very isolated; the herbologists on the night shift are usually on the west side of the second-floor greenhouse, and the east side is empty. Lie low there and do not move."
The young wizard raised his hand, his combat uniform sleeve slipping down to reveal his entire phoenix tattoo. "Are we bringing anti-magic shields? I heard that Jerry kid has the Demonic Sun, capable of blowing up the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion's mountain gate. Our individual shields won't hold against that."
Moody rapped his knuckles on the tabletop three times. Three times, with escalating force.
Then, he fished a small leather pouch from his robes and poured out six dark beads the size of marbles, placing one in front of each person.
"Magic-Absorbing Beads. The Heavenly Secrets Pavilion Master spent three years refining these, specifically designed to counter wizard magic. Once activated, any magic-driven spell within a ten-pace radius will have its magic continuously absorbed by the bead until it dissipates. They can't absorb the spiritual power of the Cultivation world, but against wizard spells—including Avada Kedavra—they significantly reduce the impact. You each get one; activate it in advance and hide it on your person during deployment. Just in case Jerry makes a move in the room, the first wave of a Demonic Sun attack will have two-thirds of its magic absorbed by the bead, and the shields on your bodies can withstand the remaining one-third."
Margaret stood up and snapped her briefcase shut with a sharp click. "Rita is already prepared on the media end. Once the arrest news breaks, her exclusive interview in the Daily Prophet will drop simultaneously—the headline being 'Righteous Law Enforcement Under Wartime Authorization: Suspect Yin Luo, Accused of Colluding with Alien Realm Forces, Detained for Interrogation'. If chaos erupts at the scene, regardless of who strikes first, the front page remains, but the phrasing changes to 'Hero or Traitor: Jerry Sparks Conflict by Obstructing Lawful Enforcement'. Win or lose, we profit."
"'Win or lose, we profit'—is that your catchphrase?" The young wizard chuckled, the corner of his mouth twisting.
"It's my job. Maintaining a wartime support rate of no less than fifty percent is my key performance indicator. Last month it was seventy-three percent; this month it dropped to fifty-two. If it drops any further, you'll be sitting in my Deputy Head seat." Margaret pushed her chair back, stood up, and paced to the window, glancing at the St. Mungo's building across the street.
St. Mungo's nocturnal silhouette appeared dim and blurry through the rain curtain; only the green light of the emergency channel shone steadily at its entrance. The fourth-floor Spell Damage ward had two windows leaking a faint, warm light; one of them was the window to Yin Luo's private room.
"There are still nearly two hours until the operation begins." Sebastian untied a small leather pouch from his waist and extracted a palm-sized two-way mirror. The mirror's surface was drawn with runes in silver powder; it was the communication tool for the various posts during this operation. He distributed a two-way mirror to the head of each post, leaving the last one for Moody.
"Communication channels one through six are tuned. Number one is the main entrance, two is the side entrance, three is the emergency channel, four is the Corridor Control Team, five is the rooftop sniper, six is the greenhouse roof. Moody, your Breach Team will use channel seven, and I will be commanding from this underground conference room on the command frequency. Keep comms open—report sequentially as posts are secured, and use the two-way mirrors to hail me directly if any emergencies arise. Do not rely on Patronuses. The flight time for a Patronus to reach me and return takes too long."
Moody took the two-way mirror, pinching it between the fingers of his prosthetic to flip it over. The silver runes on the mirror reflected the jumping blue light of the magical eye on his scarred face.
"You're holding down the fort here. What if McGonagall returns early, or the Department of Magical Law Enforcement catches wind of this and sends people over—"
"I will handle the people from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. You just bring the target out." Sebastian stood up, pushed his chair under the table, rolled the St. Mungo's blueprint back into a tube, and tucked it under his arm. "Now, synchronize watches. Using the master clock in the Ministry of Magic's atrium as the standard—"
Everyone simultaneously pulled out pocket watches or raised their wrists to synchronize the time. Eight watches, seven wands, six Magic-Absorbing Beads, and one two-way mirror lined up on the table, reflecting the cold white light of the ceiling lamp.
On the hospital bed, Yin Luo's eyelashes fluttered twice.
She opened her eyes. Filling her vision was an unfamiliar ceiling—not the dark purple canopy of her bedchamber in the Myriad Demons Palace, but a cold white plaster ceiling, a faintly glowing lamp embedded in the center.
The air held no scent of spiritual herbs, no sandalwood; only a faint odor of disinfectant mixed with a rather unpleasant incense.
The silver dressing on her right shoulder stuck to her skin, sending a cooling sensation; the burning pain from the residual sword intent had receded deep into her meridians, leaving only a vague, dull ache.
She turned her head.
Beside the hospital bed, Jerry had fallen asleep, slumped over the edge of the mattress. Half his face was buried in his crossed arms, the sleeves of his old shirt rolled up to the elbows, revealing the red marks on his wrists where McGonagall had gripped him, which hadn't yet completely faded.
His breathing was deep and even; he was clearly exhausted.
Yin Luo stared at him for a moment, the corners of her mouth slowly ticking upward.
She raised her left hand.
Her movements were very slow, the weakness following the sword intent extraction making her fingers tremble slightly.
Her fingertips pinched a lock of her own purple hair, twisting the tips slightly before reaching out with them.
The tips of her hair brushed against the tip of Jerry's nose.
Jerry's nostrils twitched, but he didn't wake up.
The tips of her hair moved to his eyelids, giving a light scrape. Jerry's brow furrowed.
The hair slid down the bridge of his nose to his lips, slipping through the crack of his lips between his upper lip and teeth, sweeping back and forth twice like a tiny brush. Jerry's mouth moved, as if dreaming of eating something.
Yin Luo pulled the hair out and changed direction.
The hair wrapped around behind the base of his ear—the spot where Jerry would shrink his neck every time Yin Luo touched it with her lips.
The hair tickled twice, and Jerry's shoulder hitched up, rubbing against his ear.
"If you don't wake up now," Yin Luo's voice was terribly hoarse, but that languid tone hadn't changed a bit, "I'm going to shove this hair right up your nostrils."
Jerry lifted his head from his arms.
He blinked a few times, taking a moment to focus his eyes.
Then he saw Yin Luo sitting propped up against the headboard—her purple hair scattered over her shoulders, the color in her face a shade paler, but those purple eyes were half-squinting at him.
"You're awake."
"I'm awake." Yin Luo pulled her hand back and rested it on the blanket, her fingers slowly twirling that lock of hair in circles. "Where is this."
"St. Mungo's. The hospital of the wizarding world."
"A hospital. So, your world's version of a medical pavilion." Yin Luo turned her head to survey the private room. An enchanted patient chart hanging on the wall automatically updated a line of text, displaying her blood pressure and residual magic power levels. Yin Luo stared at the board for a few seconds. "No spiritual power fluctuations. How is it powered."
"Magic power."
"Oh." She turned her head back and stared at Jerry's face again. After looking for a moment, she reached out, her fingertip poking Jerry's cheek, pushing the flesh aside before letting go. Her fingertip was cool, carrying the slightly lower body temperature of someone who had been bedridden for a long time.
"You've lost weight. You've got dark circles under your eyes. How long have you been keeping watch here."
"Not that long."
"Is 'not that long' a few quarters of an hour, or a few days."
"A little over a day."
Yin Luo pulled her hand back and rested it on the blanket over her abdomen, intertwining her fingers, rubbing her thumbs together twice. She fell silent for a moment.
"I don't remember what happened after defusing the bombs at the Alliance Summit. I still remember the ambush at Qingsong Ridge—those nine people from the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion, I killed two, you killed the one who knew magic. Then flying into the Qingming Realm's encirclement formation, and then..."
"Someone was hiding a hundred zhang up in the sky. A sword light cleaved down and slashed into your right shoulder."
"Sword intent from the Qingming Realm."
"Yes. An erosive type. After entering your body, it crawled toward your heart. I suppressed it with magic until you passed out, then tore open a rift and brought you back. McGonagall had someone treat it first, then transferred you here. The Curse-Breaker extracted two-thirds of it, and the remaining one-third is being slowly forced out using a silver dressing; it still needs time to heal."
Yin Luo looked down at the silver dressing on her right shoulder. She reached out and pressed the edge of the dressing, sending a sliver of spiritual power probing inside; as soon as it touched the residual sword intent, she withdrew it.
"Still a little left. It's of no major concern." She pulled the blanket up to cover the dressing, then shrank herself down a bit into the covers, exposing only her head and shoulders.
"It is entirely different from the Xuantian Realm here. The air is dry. The sparsity of the spiritual Qi feels like it's one-ten-thousandth of the Xuantian Realm." She sniffed. "Even your scent is being masked out."
"The smell of disinfectant."
"It smells awful." Yin Luo stuck her hand out from under the covers, grabbed Jerry's wrist resting on the edge of the bed, and yanked his fingers over to rest beside her pillow. "Come up."
"The hospital bed isn't big—"
"Big enough for two." She shuffled over half a foot, offering up half the pillow. Jerry kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the bed, lying on his side next to her. The bed truly wasn't big; the two had to press closely together to avoid falling off. Yin Luo threw a corner of the blanket over him, then reached out her left hand and rested it on his chest. Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt, tracing over them one by one, until they stopped at the third button—the spot where Catherine had ripped the button off.
"What happened here."
"The button was ripped off."
"Who ripped it."
"Catherine."
"Who is Catherine."
"My woman. Cat demon bloodline."
Yin Luo moved her finger away from the missing button and continued tracing down the shirt buttons, touching the fourth, the fifth, and finally stopping at his belt buckle. Her purple eyes went from half-squinted to fully open, the two vertical slits within the blood-red irises expanding slightly.
"How many women have touched you in the few days since you've been back."
"Quite a few."
"Quite a few." As Yin Luo repeated those three words, the tip of her tongue clicked against her teeth.
She reached her left hand outside the blanket, her purple hair falling over her shoulder. She pinched a lock of hair and wrapped it twice around her fingers, then shoved the tips of the hair down Jerry's collar, sliding it down along his collarbone. Jerry's shoulder flinched.
"Every time you use this trick, it tickles."
"If it tickles, it means it's effective." The tips of her hair continued sliding downward, reaching his chest, swirling a circle over Vera's claw marks, then further down, gliding over his abs, all the way to the edge of his belt buckle. The hair slipped into the gap between his belt and the hem of his shirt, sweeping back and forth across the skin of his lower abdomen, the touch as light as a passing breeze.
Jerry turned on his side to face her.
"You just woke up. Your body is still weak. Stop fooling around."
"Being weak means I'm not allowed to fool around?" Yin Luo braced herself with her left hand, shifting half an inch closer to Jerry, her purple hair spilling across the crook of his arm. She leaned in close to his ear and lowered her voice. "I don't care how many things you did with other women right in front of me while I was lying there."
"Your injury..."
"The right shoulder I injured is on the side facing up. My legs are fine." Yin Luo settled her right shoulder comfortably against the pillow; the silver dressing emitted a very faint white glow in the darkness of the room. "Use your mouth before you go in. I've been lying here too long; it's dry and uncomfortable."
Jerry braced himself with one hand and rolled over, throwing back the covers and ducking in from the foot of the bed. The blanket bulged into an arch; his body moved beneath the covers toward Yin Luo's legs. The bedsheet wrinkled in overlapping layers where his knees ground against it, and the edge of the blanket slipped off the bed to trail on the floor.
Yin Luo pulled the blanket up to her chest, looking down at the arched mound protruding beneath the covers. The crooks of her knees were held and parted by him, her two legs presenting a bent angle through the blanket. Her fingers gripped the top of the blanket, her nails digging fine creases into the fabric.
Beneath the covers. Jerry's face was positioned right in front of that sparse, soft tuft of hair. He used his fingers to part her labia; the instant his fingertips brushed the inner walls, they were coated in a slick wetness—Yin Luo's body was weak, but her sensitivity was exceptionally high specifically due to her depleted vitality.
His fingertips had barely swept across the slit before a small trickle of clear fluid welled out from the vaginal entrance, running down her gluteal cleft and dripping onto the bedsheet.
He pressed his lips against her. The pressure was very light; his lips enveloped that small nub at the top of her labia, his tongue swirling a circle over it. The sound of Yin Luo sucking in a sharp breath came from above the covers, and the blanket was gripped into wrinkles. Her labia began to engorge and swell under the envelopment of his lips; the nub went from soft to standing fully erect in the span of just a few breaths. The tip of his tongue slid down from the nub, gliding past the incredibly sensitive, whisper-thin skin in the center of her labia, and stopped at the vaginal entrance.
The tip of his tongue pressed against the edge of the entrance, slowly licking in a circle. Clear fluid surged from deep within the canal, coating his tongue, and was swept into his mouth. The taste was uniquely Yin Luo's—a mix of the lingering, faint bitterness of spirit elixirs and herbs, combined with the inherent, slight saltiness of bodily fluids. He probed his tongue into the vaginal opening, going only a tongue-tip deep; the folds of the inner walls squeezed in from all sides to wrap around his tongue.
From above the covers came the muffled sound of Yin Luo biting down on the corner of the blanket. She stuffed the corner of the blanket into her mouth and bit down hard, her purple hair scattered across the pillow; the force of her left hand gripping the blanket was so tight her knuckles sank right into the fabric. Not daring to move her right shoulder, her entire right arm lay perfectly still at her side. Her left hand and both legs were the remaining parts that could move—her left hand twisted the blanket completely out of shape, her two legs spread wider to the sides, and the crooks of her knees clamped the sides of Jerry's head beneath the covers.
The depth of his tongue went from just the entrance to probing all the way in. Jerry's mouth was sealed over her vaginal opening, his lips pressed against her labia, his tongue darting in and out of her canal. Every time his tongue pulled out, the flat of his tongue scraped against the inner walls, dragging out a small surge of clear fluid; every time he thrust inward, the tip of his tongue ground over a slightly rough patch. Every time that spot was ground over, Yin Luo's thighs would violently clamp tight.
"There... don't keep hitting there... whimper..." Yin Luo's voice, muffled by biting the blanket, was squeezed through her teeth; as the tail end of her words pitched upward, it carried a heavily suppressed sob. Her waist twisted beneath the covers, her pelvis thrusting upward, feeding her vaginal opening tighter against Jerry's mouth. By the third time his tongue thrust into her canal, the inner vaginal walls began to spasm. From the depths to the entrance, the entire canal contracted continuously as if lashed by a whip.
When the first wave of spasms hit, Yin Luo's waist arched clear off the mattress, her leg tendons pulled dead tight. Clear fluid sprayed from deep within the canal, blasting against the back of Jerry's tongue. He didn't pull his lips away—he opened his mouth to envelop her entire labia, catching all the clear fluid in his mouth. The sounds of swallowing mixed with the sticky, wet squelching of the spasming canal, emitting slurp-slurp noises from beneath the covers.
The second wave of spasms followed close on the heels of the first. Yin Luo's left hand moved from the top of the blanket to her own lower abdomen, feeling the rhythmic, twitching pulsations deep within her body through her skin and muscle. She let out a cry through the bitten blanket; the sound was muffled beneath the covers, but the tail end still escaped. Another surge of clear fluid sprayed from her canal, thinner than the last but far greater in volume, running down Jerry's chin and soaking a massive patch on the bedsheet.
"No more... pull out... if the third wave hits I'll..." Yin Luo didn't get to finish her sentence. The third wave of spasms hit. This time, it was a continuous twitching from the inside out, wave after wave; she sprayed clear fluid three times, diminishing in volume each time, but every single spurt washed over Jerry's tongue. Her legs slid down from the sides of his head and sprawled on the bed, her calves resting against the bedsheet, her toes curling into a ball and then releasing.
Jerry backed out from under the covers, emerging from the foot of the bed. His chin was completely wet, his lips slick and shiny. Yin Luo released the corner of the blanket from her mouth, panting heavily, the flush on her face burning all the way from her neck to below her collarbones.
"You did that on purpose."
"You were the one who told me to go in." Jerry wiped his face clean, climbed back onto the bed, and lay on his side next to her, slipping one arm around her waist to rest beneath her back. Yin Luo turned her head to look at him; the vertical slits in her purple eyes slowly returned to normal from their constricted state, but the rims of her eyes were still red.
"I told you to give it a few kisses, I didn't tell you to kiss me until I squirted three times."
"Sensitive during periods of weakness."
"Obviously. If I had known, I would have held it in first—it wouldn't have been too late to squirt when you came inside." Yin Luo moved her right arm away from her side to make room for him.
Jerry lay on his side pressed against her, making no further move. Yin Luo's left hand moved from the blanket to rest behind his neck, her fingers pinching the skin at the nape of his neck and slowly massaging it. Her breathing gradually slowed from its rapid pace; her face was still flushed, but her purple eyes had already returned to their languid, half-squinted state. She gave the back of his neck a light pinch.
"Not yet. Let me catch my breath. Wait a little while; you can hold out—I know you can hold out."
On the companion chair beside the bed, Isabella—who had sat frozen there from the beginning of her Petrification to its end—had endured listening to the entire process while maintaining her Petrified state. The binding of the Petrification spell froze her expression at a specific moment; her eyes brimmed with tears, yet not a single drop could fall. But that was a matter from more than half an hour ago.