Chapter 12

*Punishment*
The girl pressed her lips shut, said nothing, slid down the door. Eyes on Nan Gong full of wariness.
Like a startled animal curled at the nest mouth.
Nan Gong was delighted—one more curl and she’d shift. Imperials were blind boxes: gentle beauty to giant raven; burly girl to little snake.
Zhu Yu’s scent was too mixed to tell species.
Nan Gong curled a mean smile, about to pet her while drunk-shifted—then tears welled, gathering slow.
Pathetic.
Nan Gong inhaled. “I barely did anything?”
“Why cry—this is a scam!”
“Fine, fine, I’ll stop teasing.”
“Stomach or what—hospital?”
Girl clutched belly, chin up stubborn, voice breaking: “My family didn’t abandon me!”
“Okay okay.” Nan Gong wouldn’t argue. One hand on the key, one raised to knock—couldn’t leave a drunk lump here.
Click. Key turned easy. Nan Gong thought her too weak to resist, bent to help up.
Door open—the girl wiped her face with her sleeve and scrambled up so fast Nan Gong marveled.
Total scam!
First silly grin, then stern young face playing melancholy. Deep breath at the door. Nan Gong side-eyed, couldn’t bear it: “What now?”
Zhu Yu: “She doesn’t like when I smile—too frivolous.”
Tear tracks still wet. “I need to be mature. Her support.”
Nan Gong: “…”
Didn’t see it.
Inside, a small night lamp. Scattered tools on the floor—silver-white, faint gleam in dark. Workbench held a hand-drawn diagram.
Nan Gong feigned casual interest. “You’re the new repair tech?”
Zhu Yu licked her lips, strode forward, pulled the bed’s white gauze shut, clipped it with a rabbit clip—light-tight—hiding her treasure.
That flirty annoyance must not see Bai Shuzhou!!
She blocked the view; Nan Gong looked anyway—the moment Zhu Yu moved, Nan Gong’s gaze had already gone.
White gauze, gem eyes, ice in the dark.
Nan Gong’s smile stiffened a second. Hand to waist—danger instinct screamed run, as if something huge hid in that dark.
Only a moment—then pressure vanished. Gauze swayed; pink rabbit clip bounced up.
Curtain fixed, Zhu Yu’s silly smile returned.
Nan Gong: “…You didn’t see that?”
Zhu Yu: “See what?”
So calm Nan Gong cursed ghosts under her breath. Zhu Yu shushed: “Quiet—she’s sleeping.”
Nan Gong walked the shack, glance brushing the gauze. Scoffed: “Golden house hiding beauty? At least get a golden cage.”
The shrimp-curled girl bristled like a beast: “Don’t talk nonsense!”
Sudden steel will from the usually mild one—cold water, pills swallowed quiet at the table, thief in her own home.
Nan Gong arms crossed, watched Zhu Yu flip pills and gulp numb and neat.
Old timer on the table—Zhu Yu slapped it and flopped onto the surface.
Soft. Nan Gong wondered if she were some aquatic thing—
…Oh, food.
“You really can drink,” Nan Gong said sincerely. “All your sales like this? Money over life—bow once and it’d be fine.”
Zhu Yu silent. Nan Gong made herself at home—studied the diagram, squatted at half-finished boards.
“Not bad. Where’d you learn?”
“Not local—how’d you end up here? Tell me, maybe I can help.”
“With skills like that why pour drinks? You don’t know how to earn. Not cut out for it.”
You pour drinks—you—!
Remembering Nan Gong’s own abuse, Zhu Yu whitened her hand on her belly, swallowed rage. “Not pouring—server, sell wine on the side. You’re not cut out either—almost taken by bad people.”
Nan Gong shrugged, legs crossed, eyed handwritten label on the medicine bag. “Short on cash?”
“Yeah. Can’t starve. Family sick—need a lot—then send her home.”
“What sickness?”
“Leg. Hurt. She’s very sad.”
She looked obedient now—black hair tame, unlike the table.
“I can throw you work—if you can take it. Engines—can you fix?”
“Yes.”
“Big machinery? Not hot pots.”
“Yes.”
Nan Gong: ?
Zhu Yu rubbed fingers. “Price right—I can do a little more than yes.”
“Good. I’ll bring it tomorrow. Fix it—you get this.” Nan Gong’s hand made a nightclub gesture. Zhu Yu had seen it—didn’t know the sum.
Bar deals often used signs. Zhu Yu’s gut said not small—at least…five hundred?
She stayed cautiously silent.
If Nan Gong knew that was Zhu Yu’s opening bid, she’d laugh in her dreams.
She’d heard of a cheap skilled repairer—many thought she waited to hook a big fish. Nobody guessed the outsider simply didn’t know market price.
“Do that line—it beats drinking. If you’re not that broke, quit. Once dignity goes, you don’t get it back.”
Pat on shoulder before leaving. “Don’t wait for perforated stomach, alcohol poisoning—one night’s pay won’t cover meds. Too much painkiller and you’re ruined.”
Zhu Yu thought Nan Gong had a point. She seemed immune to fever reducers, anti-inflammatories, sleeping pills.
Useless.
It hurt.
Stomach cramped in waves—summer organs stuffed in plastic; every breath pressed film to flesh, sticky, suffocating.
She lay on the table, thought of parts half dismantled—silver wrench turning—consciousness peeling away.
Vines came silent, boiled water, mixed into half a cup gone cold, pushed beside her.
Zhu Yu blinked—rose scent again, warm. Something pulled her back by the waist like an embrace.
—
Choke on the throat.
Chin lifted. Hot water poured down—gentle, strong, no refusal.
“Zhu Yu. Where were you.”
Ice voice against hot water down dry throat—cough, drops on lips, sliding down slender neck and green vines wound there.
Gauce open somehow. Yellow lamp could not hold all her beauty—silver hair floating in dark.
Forced to lift her face—pale blue eyes like a dream.
“Paradis…work…a little drink.” Guilty.
“A little?”
“Just…a few bottles…”
“Liar.” Voice colder, ice cracking, dripping.
Rough vines over her gland—rose thorns scraping bit by bit. Zhu Yu’s fingers curled; body shook hard. “Wrong! Two crates—maybe ten bottles—really sorry…”
Vines crushed the weakest gland. Even now the girl did not fight—only tried to shrink smaller, lower presence.
Vines would not allow—wrapped belly too. Nowhere to hide—only beg.
Not like an Alpha.
Not like Zhu Yu.
No one let a gland be ground like this—especially not grudge-holding, silver-tongued Zhu Yu…she had violence to spare yet hid so meekly.
Nape ached and swelled—rose scent turning numb and tingling. Vines did not ease at pleading—ground again with malice.
Pop.
Branches bloomed bright roses.
Her pheromones spilled uncontrolled—clear, cool—summer shower. Dew on vines, pale gold between skin, smeared even.
Bai Shuzhou’s brow knit, face strange. “Who are you really?”
Zhu Yu could not speak.
Bai Shuzhou pressed the gland bit by bit, gathered spirit-dew, spread it over her heaving belly.
That familiar scar remained—but this Zhu Yu’s eyes were not sharp, only wet, sprawled, at mercy.
Disgusting.
She looked away. Vine speed slowed—comforting pats on trembling skin.
Gold dew wrapped the girl’s belly, every line clear—cool at first, then warm. Cramping eased.
In Zhu Yu’s sight only that porcelain face.
From icy abyss to ripples—red lips pressed, long lashes lowering, thin shadow on blue eyes.
Each breath, each shift of gaze—lashes like a small brush—stroke, stroke, stroke—
Pain brushed from the heart.
Bondage was embrace. Punishment was reward.
Lightness rose. Zhu Yu laughed without meaning to.
A cluster of roses blocked her face in shame. A ring hung on a branch.
“Take it. Sell it.”
“Quit. I’m tired of your poverty tragedy.”
Vines withdrew cold. The priceless blood-crystal ring clinked into her palm.
Zhu Yu’s mixed scents were drowned in rose—wet, faint dew like rose water. Only pressed close could you catch her own thread beneath heavy floral.
That thread clung to her hair, burned hotter on Bai Shuzhou’s fingertips.
A rose garden bloomed overnight for senseless rain. Vines gone—mingled scents subtle and intimate.
Bai Shuzhou frowned, pulled tissue, wiped finger by finger hard until pale skin flushed red.
Could not wipe away.
Never could.