Bang!

The gale off a brutal punch cracked the air before a face, like a whip slicing a still pond.

Irritation struck first; Ling glared at Sin Ling, sparks hopping like flint.

Her killing-tinged fist hovered less than a centimeter from that nose, a blade kissing paper.

Sin Ling stood unmoving, a stone in a river, neither dodging nor leaving Alicia’s body.

A fearless fool, heat drummed in Ling’s chest like war drums.

"Why won’t you dodge!"

Her shout hit Sin Ling’s scorn, cool as frost on iron.

"I know all your little schemes. You won’t scare me out, dummy sis."

Clouds swallowed the moon; Ling’s face darkened.

Her small body trembled, a bowstring about to snap.

"I’ll give you one last chance. Get out of Sister Alicia’s body… now!"

Her wrath rolled like thunder, pressing the air down like a storm front.

Sin Ling ignored it and grinned, a cat lazing in sunlight.

"Hee-hee, what if your adorable Sin Ling doesn’t come out?"

Ling froze, thoughts scattering like startled sparrows.

Right—if she wouldn’t come out, what could Ling do but clutch at smoke?

"Hee-hee, no options, right? Then your cute little sister has a tip."

"Break this body, and cute Sin Ling will pop right out like a cork."

"Shut up! No way! I will never hurt Sister Alicia!"

What a stubborn, foolish child, the thought drifted through Sin Ling like smoke over water.

Thinking that, she lifted Ling’s chin with Alicia’s hand, slow as raising a lotus leaf after rain.

Alicia’s fire-red eyes locked onto Ling’s, twin embers in a winter night.

"How can you say that?"

"Your dear Sister Alicia is occupied by a stranger while she’s unconscious."

"As her sister, shouldn’t you drive the villain off like sweeping dust from the threshold?"

Ling slipped free of Sin Ling’s touch, a fish slipping a net.

She stepped back half a pace and shook her head, nerves fluttering like moths at a lantern.

"No… no… that’s not it. They’re different."

"Don’t scramble my thoughts. I won’t lift a hand."

Sin Ling glanced at the hand that had cupped Ling’s chin, loss flickering like a guttering candle.

Then she faced Ling again, eyes clear as cold spring water.

"Nope. Your cute Sin Ling isn’t scrambling big sister’s thoughts."

"I’m always honest. If you don’t believe me, define ‘occupation.’"

Ling bowed her head to think, silence pooling like ink in a well.

She looked up, hesitation floating like dawn mist.

"Like… sneaking a touch on Sister Alicia’s chest?"

Pat—Sin Ling set her hand on her own chest, as neat as placing a teacup.

"That doesn’t count. Another example… like pinching?"

Squeeze—her fingers pressed in, springy as jelly and smooth as jade.

"…Flicking?"

Tap—light as a raindrop tapping a leaf.

"Slapping?"

Smack—the sound popped like a distant firecracker.

"Jumping?"

Thump—her body bounced, ripples like a pebble in a pond.

"Shaking?"

Whump—a sway like branches teasing the wind.

Bang!

Not an explosion—just the sharp crack of a forehead flick, delivered to a certain pervy little idiot.

"Don’t push it. And stay on topic!"

Her scolding came firm, yet her cheeks bloomed pink like peach blossoms.

Ling clutched her not-even-red forehead and staggered back, drama thick as stage fog.

She tried to squeeze out tears, grunting like a clogged pump, but no water came.

She ditched the crying and tossed blame like a hot coal.

"It’s those sinful breasts!"

"If not for those weird sounds and that shocking view, would the mighty, invincible Master Ling fall for it?"

"So it’s the f— ahem, those two huge culprits’ fault!"

Sin Ling stared at her like at a rare idiot, expression flat as a calm lake.

Ling kept poking the so-called sinful things with a judging finger, bold as a pickpocket in a crowd.

A twitch ran through Sin Ling’s right hand, an urge to chop like a knife-hand strike.

She swallowed it, a smile curling with danger like a sheathed blade.

Ling, still copping a feel, felt a chill along her spine like cold dew at dawn.

"Shall we drag the topic back?"

"Or do you want to keep debating what counts as occupation?"

At that, Ling reluctantly drew her hands back, claws slipping into velvet.

But her mind recorded that jellylike feel perfectly, copies stacking like mooncakes.

She sent them to the little Lings inside her, couriers sprinting alleyways of the body.

After that one-second epic, Ling met Sin Ling’s gaze, her smile twitching like a stuck mask.

"Fine. I’ll concede your behavior counts as occupation."

Relief fell through Sin Ling; she breathed out, a stone dropping into a deep well.

"Then think how to save Sister Alicia."

"For you, it’s simple. Kill me."

Ling shook her head, refusal firm as a planted stake.

Sin Ling blinked, stunned, thunder with no rain.

"Why?"

"No reason, really. From what I’ve seen, you’re a good person."

"I won’t hurt Alicia, and I won’t hurt you."

"So I’ve got no reason to attack you while you’re one with Alicia."

Sin Ling stared like witnessing the impossible, a rainbow arcing at midnight.

"No. Impossible. I’m your composite of sin, born to embody evil."

"How could I be good?"

Ling didn’t bite; her calm spread like tea in hot water.

She rose on tiptoe and reached up, stroking Alicia, gentle as smoothing silk.

Warmth softened her face, a lantern lighting in snow.

"No."

"Because you’re my sin, I know you better than anyone."

"Better than anyone, I understand you."

"Better than anyone, I know you’re not a bad kid."

I’m… not a bad kid?

Warm liquid glazed Sin Ling’s eyes, beads like dew on bamboo.

First time or not, she knew it was something a sinful self shouldn’t have, like spring water seeping into a locked cellar.