Chapter Eleven

Night had fallen. The night market outside the window had dispersed, and lanterns were being extinguished one by one, leaving only the lantern under the eaves of the inn, its dim light casting dappled shadows on the wooden windowpanes, flickering in the night breeze. The distant sound of the gong had passed the third watch, and the entire town of Luoxia had fallen asleep, so quiet that one could hear the faint snoring from the next room and the occasional snoring from the stables downstairs.

The nine-tailed fox spirit lifted her skirt and went upstairs. Her embroidered shoes trod lightly on the old wooden stairs, as if afraid of waking someone. She pushed open the door to the guest room, and moonlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the disheveled bed clearly—the blankets were crumpled, the pillow was askew, and the sheets still bore the marks of her earlier masturbation and the dust streaks left by Han Kui when he dragged her. She didn't light a lamp, but walked to the bedside by the moonlight, placed the two strings of phoenix sugar figurines she was holding into the teacup on the table, and then slowly and deliberately untied her outer robe.

But Lin Jingxuan didn't notice what she was doing. He huddled in a corner deep within the human skin, his whole being like an empty shell, devoid of his soul. The scene of her publicly draining him to orgasm at the night market was still replaying in his mind, the suffocating feeling of being forced to remain silent, forced to maintain a smile, forced to let his body spasm wildly in the surging crowd, like an invisible hand still choking him. His consciousness was curled up in the darkest layer of the human skin, surrounded by a constant stream of warm touches—her body temperature, her pulse, the lingering moisture on the inner walls of her vagina. These touches were like layers of invisible cocoons, wrapping him tightly from all sides, making it impossible for him to distinguish where his own boundaries were and where hers were.

He wanted to escape. This thought was like a red-hot branding iron, searing the depths of his consciousness again and again. He craved a sliver of space, even the smallest gap, to allow him to breathe, to confirm that he was still Lin Jingxuan. But he couldn't find it. Every inch of her skin clung to every inch of his, every pulse of hers stirred his blood, every breath she took caused his ribs to rise and fall. He had grown accustomed to this feeling—and that was the most terrifying part. He was getting used to being enveloped by her, getting used to living inside her, getting used to this completely covered existence. If this continued, would he one day completely forget what he was originally like?

"My lord, you're still awake?" The nine-tailed fox's consciousness suddenly echoed in his mind, her voice unusually quiet. She rustled as she removed her outer skirt, lying down on the bed in only her undergarments. She pulled the blanket up to her chest, fluffed the buckwheat pillow, and spread her hair across it, placing her silver hairpin on the small table beside the bed. From the outside, she appeared as a beautiful woman preparing for bed, her movements languid and ordinary. But her consciousness was watching him in the darkness, her gaze gentle and focused, carrying an expression he had never seen in her before.

It wasn't the excitement of toying with prey, nor the languor of satiation, nor even the previous morbid possessiveness. Rather, it was a calm, slightly weary, yet extremely earnest gaze. Like someone who had kept watch all night, finally awaiting the return of their loved one.

"You are very sad today." There was no laughter in her voice, no flippant tone at the end. Her emotions were as faint as if filtered by moonlight, yet exceptionally clear. "I know you are very sad. You feel like you are going crazy, like you are falling into depravity every day, like you have let down your master, your junior sister, and the Qingxiao Sword Sect, like you shouldn't be able to find happiness in such things."

She was silent for a moment, then gently placed her hand, which was under the blanket, on her lower abdomen—the very spot where Lin Jingxuan's core area was covered. Her palm was flat against his skin, as if she were stroking his back through human skin.

"But I am also heartbroken. I truly regarded you as my Daoist partner, the only person in this world who would never leave me. You said you wanted your original body, that you wanted to leave this place, but have you ever thought about what would happen to me if you left? This body would turn back into an empty shell, without a heartbeat, without breath, and even if I waited a thousand years, I would never find another person with nine yang and one yin. I would become that lonely monster at the bottom of the Burial Sword Abyss, with only a wisp of remnant soul."

Her voice trembled slightly. Not with anger, but with resentment—a fear of abandonment.

"So I won't let you leave. I'm sorry, my husband. Even if you hate me, even if you want to kill me, I won't let go an inch. We are bound together by fate, we can't be separated. Since we can't be separated... then let my husband feel me more deeply."

Her eyes changed.

It wasn't a shift from gentleness to tyranny, but rather a transformation from gentleness into a deeper, softer, yet more stubborn gentleness. Like a mother holding her sick child tightly in her arms; the child cries and struggles, but the mother neither lets go nor gets angry, only holds on tighter. She gently tapped the skin of her lower abdomen with her fingers, the inner walls of which contracted slightly, gently squeezing Lin Jingxuan's genitals. Then she made up her mind—since holding him face-to-face causes him pain, she would do the opposite.

"Close your eyes tonight, don't look. Let me do it," she whispered in his heart.

Then she closed her eyes, relaxed her whole body, and changes began to occur inside her skin.

Lin Jingxuan felt his body being lifted up by a gentle yet irresistible force. It wasn't a rough flip, but a tender, slow movement, as if someone were carefully holding him and adjusting his position. His senses were blurred for a few moments in the darkness, and when they cleared again, he realized he had changed direction.

His head was no longer facing upwards. His mouth—his own lips and tongue—moved to the lower edge of her vaginal wall, his lips pressing against a soft, warm, slightly moist patch of flesh. That patch of flesh was slightly raised, its surface covered with extremely fine folds, slowly expanding and contracting with her breathing. With a gentle movement, the tip of his tongue rested on the indentation at the top of that patch of flesh, a touch of exquisite delicateness he had never experienced before—like the softest silk in the world warmed by body heat and then pressed against his lips, so delicate that he could feel it trembling slightly with just a gentle touch.

At the same time, his genitals were enveloped by another narrow, flexible, tubular structure. This structure was narrower and longer than the vagina, with smooth, delicate inner walls and countless tiny, gently wriggling bumps on its surface. A very soft, flexible tongue lightly touched the tip of his penis.

That was inside the nine-tailed fox's tongue. She placed his genitals inside the membrane of her tongue, meaning he was being held from head to toe by her tongue. Each time she swallowed, the entire inner wall of her tongue would contract simultaneously, completely enveloping him from root to tip, as if he were being repeatedly swallowed and spit out in the warmest mouth.

His limbs were also rearranged. His legs stretched out along the contours of her arms, muscles conforming to the shape of her arm bones, toes reaching her wrists. Her palms encircled his calves, fingertips pointing towards the soles of his feet. His hands extended down the curves of her thighs, fingers pressed against the inside of her thighs, palms pressed tightly against the full, soft skin of her inner thighs. When her thighs came together, his hands were trapped on either side of her most intimate parts, his fingers sliding slightly with any movement of her legs. His thumbs rested on the edge of her perineum, ready to touch that soft spot if she turned her leg even slightly. It was a complete inversion—his mouth was against her lower body, his lower body was held in her mouth, his hands became her legs, and his legs became her hands.

She let him fall into a deep sleep first. He wasn't exploited, nor was he forced to climax; he was as quiet as a sleeping stone statue.

After an unknown amount of time, Lin Jingxuan woke up.

It was already bright outside, sunlight filtering through the paper window and casting a warm yellow hue on the floor. He groggily opened his eyes—his vision was normal; he could clearly see the ceiling, the window, the teacup on the table, and the two slightly melted sugar figurines beside it. His body felt warm and cozy; the bed was filled with her body heat and the scent of peach blossoms mixed with fox fur. His back was against the bed, his face towards the ceiling—a perfectly normal sleeping position. He felt a warm, moist sensation enveloping a certain part of his body, almost making him think he was still having a wet dream.

But the next second, he suddenly came to his senses.

The thing was being repeatedly licked by a soft, flexible tongue. It wasn't a vigorous swallowing or spitting, but a languid, morning caress—the tip of the tongue gently circled the tip, the surface slowly dragging from the base to the tip and then gently sliding back, like a cat licking its fur, each lick meticulously. The tiny bumps on the tongue's surface rubbed lightly against his skin, each bump bringing a subtle, lingering stimulation that spread from the tip to his entire groin area. He could clearly feel the shape, temperature, and texture of the tongue, and feel the saliva on its surface slowly sliding down his skin, only to be absorbed cleanly by the inner walls of his skin.

He instinctively reached out to push something away, but his "hand" didn't rise. The part of his body he perceived as his "hand" was pressed against her thighs, his ten fingers spreading outwards as her thighs parted slightly. His fingertips brushed against the skin at the base of her thighs, touching the edge of her intimate area, still slightly damp from the morning.

"Ah... good morning, my husband." The nine-tailed fox's voice echoed in his mind, lazy and hoarse with the sweet satisfaction of just waking up. "You slept so soundly last night that I didn't have the heart to wake you. You slept more peacefully than ever before. It seems you like this new position."

Lin Jingxuan's hair stood on end. He tried to sit up in terror, but found that his legs—no, his "legs"—were now moving along her bent arm. She raised her left hand, and his right leg was passively lifted and placed on the blanket. The blanket slid down his knees, and he saw the hand that should have been his own passively raised and made a grasping motion in the air.

She was moving her fingers, and he could feel his calves, curled up on her forearm, being pulled.

"You—what have you done—!" His voice exploded in his mind, filled with a panicked despair. He looked down at his own body—of course, he had no body to see; all he saw was the flat bed below her neck. But he could feel it, he could clearly feel his entire body being rearranged and reassembled, his limbs becoming her limbs, his organs being held in her mouth, his lips pressed against the outside of her vagina. With every movement of his lips, he could feel his lips touching a piece of extremely soft flesh, and when he gasped in panic, his upper lip would gently rub against the folds of that soft flesh.

"I just want to make my husband more comfortable." As she spoke, she lightly flicked the tip of his penis with the tip of her tongue. The tip of her tongue was nimble and precise, flicking the indentation just below the tip, and the pleasure whipped up his spine like a whip. His waist—no, he had no waist now, his entire torso was spread out and became part of her body—trembled, the pleasure had nowhere to be released, it could only explode in his consciousness.

At the same time, he felt a warm, wet touch on his lips. She bent her right arm, passively lifting his left leg, and slipped her pale fingers between his legs, pressing her fingertips against the outside of his vagina. Then she slowly began to gently masturbate. Her slender fingertips parted the moist folds on the outside, and her fingertips gently probed inside, touching a smooth, soft inner wall—but that tissue was Lin Jingxuan's lips. His lips had become as sensitive as his vaginal mucosa; each light touch of her fingertips triggered a series of indescribable nerve signals, as if someone were caressing his most vulnerable spot with their fingertips, or as if his mouth was being slowly penetrated as a honey pot. She mimicked the thrusting motion of his penis in and out of his vagina—her fingertips slowly inserted, her fingertips pressing against his lower lip, embedding themselves inside his lip crease, and then slowly withdrawing, her fingertips bringing out a little clear fluid. Her movements were gentle and patient, as if she were servicing a precious toy.

"Ugh—!" His voice escaped from somewhere inside her body, sounding as if someone had covered his mouth with their hand, and he could only let out a muffled, enveloped groan deep in his throat.

“My husband’s tongue—touched me. Last night, the tip of your tongue was pressed against here all night, and I almost couldn’t resist. Now that you’re awake and can move—why don’t you try again?” she said softly, her tone shy as if she were pleading, but the corners of her lips were slightly upturned.

At the same time, she quickened the pace of her thrusts, her fingertips moving rapidly in and out of his lips. His lower lip twitched slightly from the stimulation of her fingertips, and the inner walls of her vagina began to secrete more fluid. The fluid seeped into his mouth along the edge of his lips, carrying a faint sweetness—it was her scent, a familiar blend of peach and fox fragrance in her bodily fluids.

Meanwhile, his genitals were being stimulated even more intensely by her tongue. Her tongue was no longer just lazily licking; it began rhythmically swallowing and releasing—the root of her tongue contracted inward to create suction, the surface of her tongue slowly curled upward from the root, clinging tightly to the skin, and the tip swirled at the top before gently releasing. Each swallow caused the inner walls of her tongue to be fully compressed, pressure coming from all directions simultaneously, as if the tightest, warmest mouth in the world was serving him.

His consciousness was torn to shreds by the two simultaneous sensations. The stimulation from above and below occurred simultaneously—her fingers repeatedly thrust in and out of his lips, her tongue repeatedly grinding against his genitals. The two sensations mirrored each other, forming a bizarre, perfectly synchronized closed loop. When her fingertips slipped between his lips, the base of her tongue would press against the tip, the rhythm perfectly aligned; when her fingertips left his lips, her tongue would release, drawing out his skin and fluids. In this contract, he too became a reflection of her desire—every moment of pleasure he felt was simultaneously responded to within her.

He trembled violently on the verge of collapse, his mouth sealed by her fingers, his lower body enveloped by her tongue, his limbs immobilized—his limbs were now hers to move, and he couldn't even bang on the bed in protest. He was bound to this intricate and warm prison of flesh, completely and utterly bearing her endless and morbidly profound love. Every thrust of her fingers, every grinding of her tongue, every breathy murmur of hers, was melting him little by little into her soul.

"Is it comfortable?" she asked him softly, her tone sincere and gentle. "Have I given you a different kind of pleasure than yesterday? If you still feel something is missing, we can try a different position tonight. I'm not in a hurry; we have a lifetime to try different positions together."