Last time, under honeyed words wrapped in thorns, the Little Moon Sage coaxed Xueyu into wearing an alchemy gadget she’d made—the Abstinence Band.

If even a wisp of lust drifts across the mind, the band crackles and discharges, lightning like a nettle brushing skin.

The shock packs a sting, not a death, a storm that won’t topple trees.

Its force rises and falls like tide with the severity of desire, a moon-pulled current in wire and nerve.

On ordinary folks, it’s so-so, a drizzle on a summer hat. On a lecher, it brews a whole pot of bitter tea.

“What’s wrong, Sister Xue? Why are you trembling? Don’t tell me you’ve got impure intent.”

“H-how could I…? I-I actually l-like… this thing…”

Eyes veined red like cracked autumn leaves, Xueyu clamped her right hand, weathering that needle-snow shock, then forced a smile at the Little Moon Sage.

Watching from the side, Lingcai swore she saw blood-tinged tears at the rim, rain rusting iron.

“Really? If you like it, that’s great. Then we can… ahem…”

She coughed, and on purpose leaned toward Xueyu, a willow brushing water.

That little nudge was a spark to tinder; Xueyu’s barely controlled arm began to quake again, a fish on the line.

Numbness pooled with prickling pain, and she finally reached to strip the device off, desperation like a trapped bird beating wings.

“Uuuaah… I-I should put this away first! Wearing it like this feels like a waste…”

Click.

Click.

Click-click.

It wouldn’t come off.

“Oh, by the way.” The Little Moon Sage raised a finger, watching Xueyu fumble. “It only comes off once its power runs out. Usually twenty-four hours. And to keep the effect sharp, it repairs the paralyzed nerve endings after each shock, so your brain doesn’t adapt. I can promise every discharge feels like the first—fresh as a winter bite.”

Tears glassing her lashes, Xueyu looked to Lingcai like a child lost in fog.

“I don’t think I understood. Can you translate for me—what does ‘fresh’ mean?”

Don’t look at me. You dug this pit.

Lingcai swallowed a laugh, tucking her schadenfreude deep like a secret coin.

“Fresh means if your head keeps buzzing with junk, you’ll be shocking yourself all day.”

“So that’s ‘fresh,’ huh?”

There’s the shock; where’s the joy?

Lingcai, who never minded a good spectacle, nudged the fire with a grin.

“Strolling with a white-haired loli and a busty beauty—that’s your joy. Aren’t you playing gallant escort? Guard the blossoms; don’t you dare drift away.”

Xueyu cradled her arm, eyes still brimming like a pond before rain.

“The flowers are lovely. It’s the thorns that bite.”

“Don’t pick the wildflowers by the roadside—la la la.”

Lingcai couldn’t hold her glee and hummed, a teasing breeze through grass.

The Little Moon Sage beckoned Lingcai over with a secret wave, a flicker behind fans. As Lingcai stepped close, the Sage tugged her in and whispered at her ear.

“How’s my move? Ahem…”

Lingcai flashed a thumbs-up, praise like a banner in wind.

“Brilliant, Grandmaster! Truly brilliant! …But why carry something like this on you?”

The Little Moon Sage glanced at Xueyu, wracked and wilted under the band’s lightning, then lowered her voice, calm as night water.

“Xueyu studied under me before—barrier magic. She says she’s not skilled, but talent’s there. Her mind’s cluttered. In the training hall she can’t sit half an hour before climbing the wall to chase pretty girls. No gate can hold her. I figured I’d take the chance and correct the habit.”

Perfect. Leave it on. Best for life.

Demons aired and saints re-worn, the Little Moon Sage put on an angel’s smile and invited sweet as spring.

“Sister Xue, shall we go? I’ll rely on you all day.”

As she spoke, she tugged the collar of her blouse, a light flutter downward, deliberately letting Xueyu see, moonlit skin peeking like porcelain under silk.

Xueyu’s expression twisted; clutching her spasming hand, she closed her eyes with tears biting salt.

“If I’m guilty, let the law punish me… not love so near… and forever beyond reach…”

Please. You call that love? You’re drooling over her body.

A single word pulsed in Lingcai’s chest: delicious.

No deep grudge here, but watching lechery earn its lightning felt like a breeze leaving the lungs clean.

So the procession changed: Lingcai pushed the wheelchair, the Little Moon Sage gliding in front like a swan; Xueyu trailed ten meters back, limping step by step, jolted now and then by a sharp spark.

Finally she broke, boots drumming fast, and drew to Lingcai’s side, voice lowered, dignity folded like paper.

“Cai-cai. Cai, A-Cai. I mean… Lady Lingcai, honored Alchemist—can you help me take this off…”

Lingcai cocked her head, voice level as a ruler.

“What makes you think I can?”

“You’re an amazing Alchemist, right? Heh… Small stuff like this is nothing for you…”

She dug her fingers under the band, trying to wedge space. The pain bit through anyway, winter teeth on bone.

Lingcai still didn’t move to help.

“The one who tied the bell should untie it. Just ask Little Moon to remove it.”

Lingcai didn’t budge, and Xueyu panicked, heart flapping like a trapped sparrow.

“No, no… I can’t! If I tell Little Moon, she’ll know I’m a perv!”

Look at you—self-aware. And still performing.

Lingcai answered lazily, words like drizzle that still soaks.

“With that kind of self-awareness, why are you putting on airs? Frankly, you deserve it.”

“A-Cai…! I’m begging you! Or I’ll die right here for you two to watch! Please! I’ll do whatever you say after this!”

She mimed a slash across her neck, pitiful as a stray in winter.

Lingcai’s heart is soft by nature, a warm lamp under a sleeve. She decided on a pretext, slipping past the Little Moon Sage’s gaze like mist.

“Little Moon, I need… the restroom. Can I ask you to wait here?”

The Little Moon Sage seemed half asleep, eyes opening after a beat, her reply drawn out like a cat’s stretch.

“Okay.”

They strolled to a corner out of sight. Lingcai rolled her eyes, then held out a hand.

“Give me the band. Let me see.”

Gritting teeth, Xueyu lifted her right wrist, the bronze band dull as old coin.

Lingcai tapped the metal, then pried at the seam, her mind mapping circuits like rivers on a slate.

“It’s held shut by electromagnets. Strong pull keeps the halves together. Normal unlocking won’t work. You’d have to drain the battery.”

“What?!” Xueyu wailed, a broken reed in wind. “How long to drain it?”

Lingcai cut her a glance, brisk as a blade.

“There are other ways. Who do you think I am? Watch.”

She dug into her tiny backpack and pulled out a short-gun-shaped blaster, flame coiled like a dragon in a pipe.

“Behold—welding flamethrower. Also called a torch…”

Yeah, “torch” sounds way too drab.

Xueyu blanched, hand snapping back like a hare.

“You’re trying to kill me! If you weld it open, my hand’s gone too!”

Lingcai gave her a withering look, eyes cool as ice.

“Don’t be stupid. Heat weakens magnetism in electromagnets. I’ll just warm it for a bit; the pull will drop; the band will open.”

She reached to lift Xueyu’s palm. The band sparked at the touch, current riding Xueyu’s arm into Lingcai, jolting her like hail.

“Can you be serious? Even now your mind’s filthy?”

Lingcai shot her a sidelong glare, impatient as a crow. Xueyu pressed her hands together in apology, a monk before a bell.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m ready. Try again…”

Zap.

Both jolted.

Xueyu’s nerves spiked, panic fluttering.

“Force majeure! I can’t help it! Let me calm down!”

Zap.

Shock.

Zap.

More shock.

Lingcai’s kindness and sympathy evaporated, shock by shock, steam off a kettle. Her face cooled to stone.

“I’ve learned something. The moment I touch your hand, you get up to no good, don’t you?”

“I told you… it’s out of my control…” Xueyu sobbed behind her fingers, rain on sleeves.

You’re terrifying.

Lingcai straightened her buttons, left hand across her chest pinning her skirt, and wiped her right hand hard on Xueyu’s clothes like scraping off grime.

“I’m disgusted. Rot on your own.”