JOHN WANG — POV
March 17th, 2025 — 5:11 PM
Zone 3A-Δ — Ninth Floor Base
The door shut behind me with a clunk of steel teeth as I returned to the ninth floor.
I didn't announce myself. This was my area, and there wasn't any need for me to do so. So I moved towards the common room, with a steady pace, tapping across the tile floor still cold from morning cleanup. Past the side rooms and armour, past the mounted whiteboard, until the corridor opened into the common room.
And then I saw her.
Shen Yifei.
She was mid-stretch, ass raised, spine curved low in a predatory arch. Arms locked straight. Legs tense. Everything pulled taut like a bowstring seconds before it snapped. Her skin gleamed faintly under the overhead fluorescents—sweat-slick, alive, the kind of sheen earned in the fight, not faked in front of a mirror.
Leggings like a second skin.Tank top barely clinging to her chest—thin, damp, no bra. Every inhale outlined the shape of her ribs.
