Ms. Moriarty wants to save Beika Town today too.

I feel that there are not many readers joining the group, but it cannot be posted on the platform, so I have temporarily subscribed to the QQ group.

If it counts, supervision is welcome.

……

183 Tied hands and feet

"It's not getting any worse," Winnet said. "Don't worry about me."

"Who can feel at ease with you like this?" Shirley pulled Winnet to sit down.

Winette smiled, drunkenly, leaning forward and wrapping one arm around Shirley's neck, "I'm fine."

Shirley sat on Winnet's lap, turned sideways, and placed Winnet's palm against her chest.

She smiled. "Do you feel it? My heart is beating for you."

Winnet raised her head in a daze, and she wanted to pull her hand away, but Shirley stopped her. Shirley's left hand supported Winnet's jawbone, and her thumb stroked her red, cold cheek, while her ring finger and index finger remained on her slender, smooth neck.

Winnett felt her vision blurred, and Shirley's face and smile were close at hand.

In front of Shirley, she became trembling and easily excited, her nerves trembling like strings, this trembling was in the gap between fear and novelty. The alcohol had greatly reduced her calmness, and now she was in a childlike state of complete defenselessness: like a newborn exposed to the air. She felt a shrinking sensation, which intensified her tension and gradually evolved into a physical discomfort -

She retched.

Vomited.

She hunched over Shirley's knees, like a curled hedgehog, vomiting wine and bile, panting tiredly. Winette had no habit of eating before carrying out a mission.

Faced with this situation, Shirley did not get up and leave.

Shirley felt a wild love and tenderness in her heart, which turned into a wild desire. But her lover was tired and reluctant. Even when he was vomiting uncontrollably, he chose to turn his head away, trying not to splash the vomit on her. His arms, red from alcohol, wanted to push her away. She thought that under that cruel appearance was a fragile and gentle heart, containing everything about her.

Yet, the fragile, blushing look of her lover made her feel a shameless instinct awakening.

In addition to taking care of the drunken Winnett, she also thought about her slightly chapped lips. She wanted to hold a cup of honey water to moisten the dry and flaky skin on the surface, and soothe her cheeks and gums that were as red as blood from the alcohol. She thought about the way she buttoned up her open shirt, and thought about those parts of Winnett wrapped in the pearl-colored satin pajamas that encapsulated her scent. She imagined the graceful curves, the cool, soft touch.

Shirley didn't mind her wet nightgown. She sat next to Winnet and helped her change her rain-soaked clothes.

She saw the rosy skin at the edge of the robe, which was slightly warm because of the heating in the room. Her hand passed over the butterfly bones that were so beautiful that only a glib poet could describe them, and she felt out several cold weapons that were fitted to Winnett and disassembled them bit by bit.

"Shirley, I can do it myself. I'm sorry, as expected... I'm still not suitable for drinking. I'm so terrible..."

Winnett seemed incoherent.

She drank to get rid of her fear of shouting. When she faced this sensitive and passionate emotion, she always retreated unconsciously, but in her heart she actually wanted to get close to Shirley, to make her stay by her side, to let her stay in her arms... All the crazy and passionate parts collided with the rigid persistence in her mind. She couldn't let go and couldn't be at ease.

"You're drunk." Shirley gave her conclusion without any doubt.

She kissed Winnet with self-control and without any extra effort.

But Winnet seemed resistant, she felt she was too unclean and was getting dirt on Shirley.

There was a barrier between their feelings. In Shirley's eyes, wine, Winnet's saliva and bile were not dirty. Not seeing any food residue made her worry about Winnet's life alone. Although from a scientific point of view, body fluids and intimate contact are risky, love is another matter. She felt that as long as the object was Winnet, these accessories were insignificant.

But she did feel that there was a deep gap between them. She thought that deep inside Winnet was a closed room, locking herself inside - she could not frankly accept the manifestation of happiness and love, her hope was too pure and idealized, and her external malice and reality presented two opposite sides, going to two extremes. She could not understand the reason, so she wanted to pry open Winnet's defenses little by little, just like prying open her teeth and peeling off her sensitive and shy side.

"Sorry." Winnet apologized again.

"I don't like you apologizing. I want to get drunk with you so you don't have excuses."

"You can't get drunk," Winette stressed. "If you abandon your drug research, it will give others an excuse to attack you. I have to go too. Yes, I have to go!"

"Then come with me to the lab," Shirley said, and she found it funny. "I'll show you the results of my research."

"Are you crazy?"

Winnet couldn't believe it, she thought maybe she was hallucinating:

"This isn't you. Where is that caution?"

"Don't you understand yet?" Shirley asked back.

"Understand?"

"Because I'm deeply in love... If you don't want me to do this, then stay tonight."

When Winnet heard this, even her ears turned red.

Shirley also felt that she needed to calm down, otherwise she might lose control in front of a delicate, defenseless flower born in the dark. She turned on the radio, which happened to be playing a news program with a slightly exaggerated report.

Novel 9⑧0

She was not interested, but some voices were good, otherwise she would always think of happy thoughts. However, the content of the broadcast made her unable to ignore it. A man wearing a blood-stained mask and wrapped in a black robe killed 20 people in the East Capital Tower and defeated the thief Kid. The police had no way to deal with him and watched him slip away. Hearing this, Shirley didn't know the true identity of the masked man. She turned her head and found that Winnet was also looking at her.

She turned the radio button and changed to a song channel, which played a soothing slow song. She walked to Winnett as if nothing had happened, and wanted to support her, putting her hand on her waist.

"Do you care?"

As perceptive as Shirley was, Winnet knew that Shirley must have guessed it.

Shirley didn't answer her question, but gently stroked her waist with her hand.

"It doesn't matter how many of those bad guys die, does it?" she asked back.

“Not necessarily.”

"But that's none of my business, Winnet."

Shirley stared at her.

"What do you think of me?" she asked. "A naive girl who uses 'kindness' as a mold to apply to others? Or a harmless rose covered with thorns? Don't be silly, I am the same as you... No, I am more cruel than you."

Shirley laughed at herself.

The multiple versions of drugs she developed may have killed more people than recorded, and she did not stop researching. Not only that, for Winnett and her sister, what did killing mean to her?

She clenched her fingers.

"wrong."

Winette shook her head:

"You can't, because I love you."

Accompanied by illogical words and a sudden kiss.

Kissed by a drunk. Shirley couldn't help but smile, because her heart moved, like a sudden jump of a fish. She thought, perhaps only when drunk, Winette would be a little bolder, like a machine that improves its performance after a malfunction, or like an experimental drug whose effect is uncontrollable.

"Me too." Shirley said lightly.

Maybe, just like last time, her Winnet would forget everything as soon as she woke up. As for love and affection, she didn't want to overemphasize them. They made her feel like repeated doses of drugs. If repeated too much, it would produce a resistance. She felt that these words could be more tactful and saved for a more appropriate time.

"Whatever you want me to do, you have to listen to me."

As Shirley spoke, she helped Winnett to the bathroom, sat her on the bench, and turned on the shower.

Her face was sweating from the heat of her heart, and her nightgown was wet. Leaving it on the tile floor, she adjusted the water temperature to keep it slightly warmer than cold water.

Winnet's face was dry, warm and smooth. In the bright and misty bathroom, it looked beautiful as if there were countless rays of light. Her hair was a little messy because of the wind, as if she had just woken up. The water flowed over her body, and she couldn't help blinking her eyes, then she followed the feeling of dependence and rested her head on Shirley's abdomen. She was not awake yet, and she yawned constantly due to fatigue, and her ruddy skin was slightly swollen.

"It's so cold..."

"Hot water constricts your blood vessels," Shirley said.

She didn't plan to let Winnet wash for a long time, just to wash away the blood and vomit, and also for herself. If it wasn't for special circumstances, Shirley felt that she would not give up such an opportunity, but Winnet looked tired and obviously not suitable for doing anything. She helped her wipe her body, and her thoughts returned to the small attic in the United States for a while.

It's been so long.

Shirley found it a little funny because at that time, she actually had some hostility towards Winnet.

She saw Winnett huddled up in timidity, as if conservative thoughts had been imprinted on her. Shirley dried herself and took a thin blanket to keep Winnett warm. She could feel the coolness of Winnett's body, like spring water in the summer, and the feeling was magnified in the misty bathroom. She led Winnett to her bedroom, took a quilt, and covered Winnett with it.

Shirley remembered that there was no honey, vinegar, or fruit in the apartment, nor any medicine, so she had to get some spare water and stay by Winnet's side.

Sitting on the bed for a while, she felt the heat from the bed, a bit like steam or smoke, climbing up her cheeks. She saw Winnett move a little uncomfortably, reaching out her arm, and then being grabbed.

She had no choice but to get back into bed, but not long after, her thighs were clamped again. Her impression of Winnet sleeping was still in the hotel five years ago, peaceful and quiet, but now, it seemed like she was acting like a spoiled child.

"Why does it seem to become even cuter?"

Shirley muttered.

Winnet bit her lower lip and slowly opened her eyes:

"Shirley, I can't sleep..."

"Why, do you want me to help you?"

Shirley blew into Winnet's ear in a dreamy tone.

……

ps: The title has no other meaning, it refers to my writing state.

184 Hug from behind

Stirred by her words, Winnet in her arms immediately quieted down. This quietness was only an external appearance, she could clearly see the trembling blood vessels under the pale skin - in a state of agitation.

Winnet closed her eyes, her eyelashes trembling slightly, and she loosened her hands and feet, moving her butt away from Shirley.

"Would you like some water?" Shirley asked.

Winnet's hair shook better than her head, indicating that it was not needed.

"Good night."

Shirley crawled into the bed, passed her fingers through Winnet's armpits, and greedily inhaled her lover's breath. She buried her face in Winnet's thin breasts to stop Winnet from escaping.

Winnett felt a little sour and dry between her teeth, but the feeling of hugging a "small hot stove" was indeed wonderful.

She closed her eyes.

Her senses were gradually obscured by the warmth and softness, and her consciousness became quiet, like being stuck in a small depression in the middle of the bed, comfortable and unable to move. This place was private and belonged to her.

This was better than any other life she could imagine.

It was still dark when Shirley slowly opened her eyes.

She looked at Winnett sleeping in her arms, and her heart almost ached.

At such a moment, she felt her love even more, and this love created a miracle - Winnet was lovely, beautiful, and defenseless lying in her arms. She could see her with her eyes open and touch her with her hands. How wonderful - but in this, she couldn't stop worrying. Her position in the organization was not irreplaceable. The time she invested did not produce drugs that met the organization's expectations. Putting her sister in danger was a kind of knock on her. She couldn't imagine that she and Winnet appeared anywhere as lovers, but she had extra expectations, just like the naive expectations of leaving the organization.

"I always feel that it's a little unreal..."

At this moment, she felt happy enough.

It was as if Winnet's birth and growth, everything she did, whether accepted or not, was all for the purpose of coming here today, falling in love with Shirley, and allowing Shirley to see her.

Shirley watched until her eyes grew dry.

She gave an incongruous smile to the full-length floor-standing mirror, slowly left the warm bed, and planned to walk away from the mirror.

Winnet's fingers were caught.

She spoke softly, with a tenderness different from that she had shown to Winnet when she was awake:

"I'll be right back."

She saw Winnet's ears move, as if she understood what she said, and her raised fingers gradually relaxed.

She kissed Winnet's arm, rose from the bed, and crossed the room.

Shirley heated the kettle and slowly poured the water into the coffee pot to make a cup of hot cocoa. In the plastic bag that Winette brought last night, there were some convenient foods. Seeing that they were all crude products for quick energy replenishment, she frowned and went to the kitchen to cook herself.

During this short period of time, she had the illusion of being in the attic again, but her mentality was different from that time, and her perspective was also different. She was no longer a thirteen-year-old kid. This physical and mental growth made her open-minded and also made her more stubborn. In the lonely research environment, she spent more and more time wearing her Walkman, almost taking the songs sung by Winnet as comfort. Sometimes, she felt that she was happy enough, and even if this happiness would be shattered, she felt that there was nothing to regret - the pessimistic side had long affected her.

"Shirley?" Winnett staggered out of the bedroom.

"You can get some more sleep."

"No," said Winnet, "I can't stay long."

"It's been long enough that no one's watching here," Shirley said.

"Maybe...but they might lie to you."

Winnett had a headache from the alcohol, and the hangover state felt very unfamiliar to her.

"It all stems from arrogance. They don't think I will resist, let alone run away. In fact, I really won't... I have to say, it is very useful to me."

Shirley said, pulling Winnet into her arms.

"Shirley..." Winette called Shirley's name, with some resistance in her words.