They did not speak about it at first.
The barn felt smaller after what had happened, the air thick with awareness neither of them knew how to name. Mei Niu sat with her back against the wall, arms folded loosely across herself, and eyes unfocused. Wang Lin stayed near the door, deliberately giving her space.
Time passed.
The warmth in the pendant did not fade.
Mei Niu was the one who broke the silence.
"My body is not lying," she said quietly.
Wang Lin looked up.
"It reacted," she continued. "Not because I was ordered. Not because I was afraid. Not because something was forced into me."
She swallowed.
"It reacted because it wanted to."
Wang Lin felt his throat tighten. "Then we stop," he said. "If you want to stop."
She shook her head slowly.
"No," she said. "If I stop now, it will worsen. The pressure will build. My healing will slow. And eventually, I will suffer for it."
She met his eyes.
"But we do not continue unless the choice is mine."
"It is," Wang Lin said immediately. "Entirely."
Mei Niu exhaled, shoulders lowering a fraction.
"In the gardens," she said, voice steady but distant, "there was no preparation. No gentleness. No question."
Her fingers tightened in the fabric of her skirt.
"If we do this," she continued, "it will be slow. You will follow my lead. You will stop when I say stop."
"Yes," Wang Lin replied.
"And you will not look at me like I am a resource," she added.
"I will not," he said.
She studied his face for a long moment, searching for something. Whatever she found there made her nod once.
"Then we try," she said.
They prepared carefully.
Wang Lin cleaned the space, laying fresh straw and setting the containers where she could see them clearly. He kept his movements deliberate and unhurried, narrating what he was doing without realizing it, as if grounding both of them in the present moment.
Mei Niu watched quietly.
When she was ready, she spoke.
"Sit," she said.
He sat.
She moved closer on her own, each step measured. When she reached him, she hesitated only a moment before sitting beside him, close enough that he could feel her warmth through the thin fabric of his robe.
Her breathing was steady.
"For this to work," she said, "I need to feel safe."
"You are," Wang Lin replied.
She nodded, then reached for his hand.
Her fingers wrapped around his wrist, warm and trembling just slightly. She guided his hand, placing it where she wanted it to rest.
"Do not rush," she said softly. "Listen to me."
"I am listening," Wang Lin replied.
When his skin touched hers, the reaction was immediate.
Not explosive.
Deep.
A warmth spread outward from the point of contact, slow and deliberate, like a tide coming in. Mei Niu inhaled sharply, then exhaled in a long, controlled breath.
"That," she murmured. "There. That is good."
Wang Lin felt it again. The flow. Gentle at first, then stronger, moving through him without resistance before returning, amplified and refined.
Mei Niu shuddered.
Not from pain.
Her grip tightened on his sleeve as sensation spread through her body, her posture loosening as the tension she carried began to melt away.
"This is different," she whispered.
"How," Wang Lin asked.
"There is no tearing," she said. "No strain. It feels like my body is being answered."
Her breathing deepened.
As the rhythm settled, the pressure she had described earlier began to ease. Wang Lin could sense it through the feedback, the way the energy smoothed instead of spiked.
A soft sound escaped her lips.
She stiffened for a moment, embarrassment flickering across her face, then she forced herself to relax again.
"Do not stop," she said quietly. "But do not change."
He did as she asked.
The first container filled slowly.
Not in a rush. Not forced.
The liquid within glowed faintly, a pale, warm hue that pulsed gently in time with her breathing. Wang Lin noticed it immediately.
"So much," she whispered, disbelief threading through her voice. "This should not be possible."
When the first container was full, she rested her forehead against his shoulder, breath uneven but not ragged.
"I am all right," she said, sensing his concern. "Keep going."
They moved together carefully, guided by her cues, stopping when her body tensed, continuing when she relaxed. There was no urgency. No pressure to perform.
Trust is built with every moment.
The second container filled faster than the first.
The third faster still.
By the time the fifth was complete, Mei Niu was trembling with exhaustion, her weight leaning fully against him. Her face was flushed, eyes half lidded, expression soft in a way Wang Lin had never seen before.
"It is over," she said quietly.
He withdrew immediately.
The warmth faded, leaving behind a deep, echoing stillness.
Mei Niu stayed where she was for a long moment, breathing slowly, regaining her strength. When she finally lifted her head, she looked at the containers.
Her eyes widened.
"That glow," she said. "That density."
She swallowed hard.
"This is Grade Three," she whispered. "At least."
From a Tier One beast.
Impossible.
Wang Lin stared at the containers in silence.
"What does this mean?" he asked.
Mei Niu turned to him.
"It means," she said slowly, "that if anyone sees this, they will hunt you."
The weight of her words settled heavily between them.
She reached out and covered the containers with cloth, as if hiding them from the world itself.
"You did not hurt me," she said quietly. "You did not take from me."
She met his eyes.
"You helped me."
Wang Lin nodded. "That was the only reason I agreed."
She leaned back against the wall, exhaustion pulling at her.
"Then listen carefully," she said. "Because what you are carrying will change everything. And not everyone will forgive you for it."
Outside, something moved through the forest.
Watching.