The apocalypse is coming, but thankfully I have a harem of paper dolls.

Page 47

"Hiss...ha..."

Luo Jiajun's breathing was already erratic, each breath carrying a scorching heat.

He tilted his head back, the veins on his neck bulging slightly. His body was taut like a bow under the "service" of five pairs of silk-stockinged feet. His waist and hips involuntarily swayed slightly with the complex and ecstatic rhythm, chasing after something deeper.

Achina sensed Luo Jiajun's intense physical reaction and ended the deep kiss. Her red lips brushed against Luo Jiajun's earlobe, a smile playing on her lips, and a hint of rapid breathing she herself didn't realize, as she whispered, "Looks like... they've been taking good care of you~"

The woman's gaze couldn't help but slide down Luo Jiajun's taut abs, landing on his glistening, wet erection, which was being "pampered" by five pairs of silk-stockinged feet. Her eyes became dreamy and deep.

This ultimate, sensual feast for the feet, woven from stockings, delicate feet, lubricant, and feminine fragrance, has only just begun.

Luo Jiajun's consciousness was tossed about by waves of multiple stimuli, feeling as if the dragon was enveloped in an unparalleled smoothness, tightness, warmth, and the unique sensations brought about by various frictions, with each second frantically climbing towards the breaking point...

The joys and sorrows of people are not connected.

As Luo Jiajun indulged in the ultimate pleasures of the gentle embrace, surrounded by the smooth silk stockings, jade feet, fragrant scents, and warm bodies of beautiful women, enjoying the pinnacle of sensory and desire, outside the shopping mall where he was, lay a lifeless, apocalyptic world completely ruled by despair and death.

As Luo Jiajun released himself with a muffled groan amidst the waves of stimulation, being carried to the clouds by the smooth stockings and warm soles of his feet, the deep darkness outside was swept by a biting wind, howling across the city ruins. Countless grotesque plants writhed in the wind, their branches and leaves rubbing together in eerie whispers, spreading gloom and despair to every corner.

As Luo Jiajun caught his breath, his surging desire rose again amidst the fragrance of women's bodies, ready to begin a new round of "exchange" with the beauties of his harem to create life. Meanwhile, in the cold world outside, countless lives had already withered, or were struggling in the mire of despair, gradually heading towards their demise.

……

cold.

Bitingly cold!

The night was so thick it seemed impossible to dissipate, like a shroud soaked in cold ink and despair, heavily and suffocatingly covering the ravaged earth. There was no starlight, no moonlight, only boundless darkness that swallowed all light.

Ma Xiaolian, her red hair withered and emaciated, staggered forward in the darkness. She wore only a thin vest, its original color obscured by grime and some unknown slime, offering no protection against the sub-zero temperatures of the night. Beneath the tattered fabric, her exposed arms shivered violently in the biting wind, her skin a sickly, lifeless gray-white.

Each time she unconsciously hugged herself, trying to draw a tiny bit of warmth, what her palms touched was no longer the warm and smooth skin of the girl she remembered, but a strange, unsettling sensation, like rubbing rough sandpaper or dry tree bark.

The touch was cold, stiff, and had a nauseating grainy texture, like countless cold, venomous snakes instantly coiling around her nerves, cruelly reminding her of an inescapable fact—corruption, that terrible curse originating from the fruit of the Tree of Life, was irreversibly and from the inside out devouring her vibrant life with every passing second!

And it wasn't just her arms. Beneath the tattered trousers on her legs, there were probably already countless rotten spots, a mixture of gray and scarlet, like a mural being frantically eroded by mold; on her back, where the thin clothing couldn't cover, there must also be festering sores; and on her face... she didn't even dare to touch her cheeks, but every time the cold wind blew, the feedback from her skin—numbness mixed with stinging and a strange tightness—silently proclaimed the victory of decay.

She felt herself transforming from a person into a slowly decaying, walking shell.

why?

Why is this happening?

Ma Xiaolian screamed silently in her heart. Was this question questioning herself? Was it questioning the eerie tree that brought disaster? Or was it questioning the damned heavens?

Why is it that, after consuming the same strange fruit that radiated light and contained eerie power, Zhou Yaoyang was able to undergo a complete transformation, gaining extraordinary powers such as controlling flames, twisting his body, and becoming like a god? He could light a campfire in the cold night, carve a path through ruins, and even... become the hope in the eyes of others?

And all she received was this curse that seeped into her bones and haunted her like a shadow? This slow and painful torture, watching herself rot and stink bit by bit?

The cold wind howled, like the sigh of death, lashing at her body. Every step felt like walking on a knife's edge, heavy and difficult.

She felt she was about to collapse, her consciousness fading under the chill. Yet, an indescribable, faint throbbing from deep within her body, like a flickering candle in the wind, drew her in, preventing her from stopping.

Was it some unseen guidance? Or the lingering instincts of this decaying body? She couldn't tell. She only knew that something, in some unknown, dark corner ahead, emanated a deadly attraction, pulling at her shattered soul like a magnet.

The night was as dark as ink, and she stumbled along, completely lost. In a daze, she felt as if she had stepped into a desolate forest? Or perhaps, the ruins of a park?

Ultimately, in this forgotten land—the very place where fierce battles once raged and countless mutated millipedes once roamed—"Shuijingwan Park."

The humus zone where the tree of life withers and dies.

Having exhausted her last bit of strength, Ma Xiaolian collapsed onto the cold, dirty muddy ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

I'm so tired...

The heavy eyelids could no longer hold on and slowly closed.

Just before her consciousness sank into the boundless darkness, she felt a strange wriggling on her arm.

Cold, multi-legged, with a chilling rhythm, it was creeping up her festering skin, winding its way up her torso...

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Sleepless nights, some are happy, some are sad.

Some people seek entertainment because they feel lonely.

Delaire was filled with regret. She had planned it perfectly—after deliberately "provoking" Luo Jiajun, all she had to do was satisfy him, and this little disturbance would recede like the tide, while she herself would achieve her goal of being "replenished with mana".

However, she made a fatal mistake: she naively believed that Luo Jiajun's surging desires could only be relieved and satisfied on her fertile ground.

Therefore, she was temporarily "put in the cold palace," and the happiness she wanted was replaced by someone else.

Isn't this also a form of "American bullying"?

Hey honey, we're having an awesome party tonight! Guess who didn't get invited?

Just imagining others receiving Luo Jiajun's signature, seemingly molten metal-splitting impact, and feeling the pressure from Luo Jiajun's sweat-drenched chest, made the witch's body involuntarily tense up.

An indescribable heat rose from deep within her lower abdomen, instantly engulfing her entire body. She couldn't help but stretch her long, slender legs, the silky hem of her nightgown becoming subtly damp.

The dam of reason crumbled before the surging torrent of desire. A slightly cool and trembling hand began to uncontrollably explore the already muddy secret place between the legs, the fingertips digging and probing with burning longing.

"Ah~ Master..." A broken, yearning moan escaped from her slightly parted red lips.

"Hmm, that's it, ha..." She closed her eyes, as if she were being controlled by an invisible force, her body rising and falling slightly with the movement of her fingertips.

"Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh~~~~" A sudden, almost out-of-control scream exploded in the silent room, carrying a chilling mix of indulgence and despair.

This sudden and uninhibited "performance" made Zhou Meiling, who was lying on the other bed next to her, open her eyes wide instantly, like a startled fawn. She froze under the covers, her breath caught in her throat, and an indescribable shock and shame surged within her.

She had never seen such a... such a shameless woman!

To do such a despicable thing in front of others!

What made Zhou Meiling's scalp tingle even more was the undisguised, seductive moans.

So loud, so unrestrained!

Delaire was clearly lost in her own world, completely oblivious to the awkwardness she felt.

This unbridled indulgence, ironically, amplified all the embarrassment and discomfort, placing an immense burden on Zhou Meiling's slender shoulders. She could only bury her head deep under the covers, wrapping herself tightly as if to build a barrier against the seductive music, praying that drowsiness would soon descend and rescue her from this suffocating predicament.

She didn't know how much time had passed, but just as Zhou Meiling's tense nerves relaxed slightly and she thought the annoying noise had finally subsided, a rustling sound and a slight sinking sensation in the mattress suddenly came! She realized with a start that someone was climbing onto her bed!

"What are you doing?!" Zhou Meiling sat up abruptly, as if branded with a hot iron, instantly throwing off the covers. Her hands instinctively gripped the edge of the blanket tightly against her chest, staring at Derell, who was standing close to her, with a look of panic and wariness.

Drair was amused by Zhou Meiling's overreaction. He chuckled, his lazy tone carrying undisguised mockery: "Tsk, little girl, you seem to have a bit too much of an opinion of yourself, don't you?"

The witch flicked her curly hair that fell over her shoulder, her eyes sparkling.

“I have absolutely no interest in women, but…” she gestured toward her bed, her tone matter-of-fact, “My sheets are so wet I can’t sleep on them anymore. Do you mind if I come over and squeeze in with you? Don’t worry, I’ll be very obedient and sleep with my back to you. I promise I won’t take advantage of you.”

Zhou Meiling finally came to her senses from the shock and looked in the direction Derek indicated—there was a large dark water stain in the center of the bed next door, which had spread out on the light-colored sheet. The area was so large that it was shocking, and it gleamed with an ambiguous wet light in the dim light.

Ah!

Zhou Meiling gasped silently in her heart, her cheeks instantly burning hot.

How much...how much must have flowed out?

If it weren't for the fact that the air wasn't filled with an unpleasant, pungent odor, but rather a strange, sweet, warm, and moist scent carrying body heat, she would almost have suspected that Dreyer had lost control of his bladder!

...Dreyer clearly had no intention of seeking Zhou Meiling's final consent.

After completing the formality of "notification," she very naturally lifted the corner of Zhou Meiling's blanket, carrying the lingering warm fragrance mixed with a blushing and alluring scent, and nimbly slipped in, lying down on her side with her back to Zhou Meiling.

Zhou Meiling's body instantly stiffened like a board, unable to move. The lingering, highly aggressive aura of the witch clung to her nose. Her lips moved a few times, but ultimately she couldn't bring herself to say, "Please get off." After all, the soaked sheets were an undeniable fact.

In the suffocating silence, Dreyer's languid voice broke the stillness once more: "By the way, little beauty,"

She seemed wide awake, her tone carrying a hint of inquisitive interest, "What kind of 'intimate things' did Archina have with you when she called you aside earlier? Would you mind satisfying my curiosity?"

Zhou Meiling's heart skipped a beat; she hadn't expected Dreyer to ask that.

She stammered slightly, struggling to organize her thoughts:

"Actually...it's nothing serious. Ms. Archina just...just told me that everyone has received Mr. Luo's kindness, so...so everyone is very grateful to Mr. Luo, and...and everyone has a rather...close relationship with Mr. Luo..."

She carefully chose her words, her cheeks burning. "But Ms. Archina emphasized that everyone was... everyone volunteered. She hoped that if I happened to see anything... unusual in the future, I wouldn't misunderstand Mr. Law."

"Ah!"

Dreyer let out a cryptic chuckle, tinged with understanding and disdain. "That's it? I thought she'd share some more... well, more 'in-depth,' more exciting 'insider information' with you!"

The witch's voice trailed off, full of implications.

Zhou Meiling: "..."

She was speechless, only feeling her face burning even hotter. After that "audiovisual feast," her impression of this witch had plummeted, and she really didn't want to continue this uncomfortable conversation.

However, Dreyer seemed to have flipped a switch and was engrossed in conversation.

She turned slightly to the side, still with her back to Zhou Meiling, but her lazy and seductive voice came clearly: "Why don't you tell me, what is your impression of our 'reliable' Mr. Luo?"

She deliberately emphasized the word "reliable," with a hint of playfulness.

This question made Zhou Meiling's heart tighten.

After witnessing the unspoken intimacy between him and the women in the shelter, Luo Jiajun's image in her mind had long since fallen from the initial hero filter, and was now shrouded in the shadow of a "suspected scumbag," or at least a "womanizer."

But faced with Dreyer's question, she hesitated for a moment, then chose the safest answer: "Where are the plums? I have plums, but you don't have any..."

"I...I think Mr. Luo...is a very good person. His personality...is very calm, and his abilities...are also very strong. He really gives people a...reliable feeling."

She carefully added the qualifier, trying to strictly limit this "reliability" to the realm outside of emotions and private life. Hmm... as long as it doesn't involve those messy relationships, judging solely by Luo Jiajun's temperament and survival skills, calling him reliable shouldn't be wrong, right?

But this bland and predictable assessment clearly failed to satisfy Dreyer's adventurous spirit. She scoffed, her expression utterly dismissive: "Tsk tsk, isn't your answer rather boring?"

Her topic abruptly shifted, becoming extremely aggressive, "Reliable? That's too vague! Let's get down to business. What do you think of Luo Jiajun's face and physique? Does he meet your standards for a partner?"

Zhou Meiling was taken aback by the blunt question.

Although she had never seen Luo Jiajun deliberately showing off his muscles, his tall, upright figure with broad shoulders and long legs, and the sense of power he exuded when he walked, were obvious.

As for his appearance, even in Zhou Meiling's limited knowledge, he was absolutely top-tier handsome, with sword-like eyebrows and bright eyes, deep features, and a rugged yet unruly demeanor, definitely deserving of the praise of being "on par with Daniel Wu and Edison Chen".

As Zhou Meiling, with a hint of shyness but still honesty, acknowledged Luo Jiajun's appearance and physique, Dreyer silently curled her lips in the darkness, a smile that was both alluring and possessed an almost wicked allure.

She lowered her voice and spoke to Zhou Meiling in a suggestive tone, as if sharing a shocking secret:

"Little sister, what you've said is just the most basic 'skin'! Just like judging a man's physique, you can't just look at the size of his muscles..."

She paused deliberately, seemingly enjoying Zhou Meiling's breathless tension, before adding:

"You need to understand, that skill is the real, decisive criterion for judging 'hard skills'~"

That...that job?

Zhou Meiling's mind went blank for a moment before she suddenly realized—Dreyer was speeding again! And this time he was heading straight for the cliff at high speed!

“You might not believe it,” Dreyer’s voice grew sweeter and huskyer, as if he were lost in some intoxicating memory, “that guy… tsk, he’s really gifted, incredibly big… every time, it’s like he’s going to pierce through the palace gates… ugh… that feeling… it’s almost… almost like being rammed to death…”

As she described it in extremely explicit language, her body began to writhe restlessly, and suppressed, ambiguous moans escaped her throat uncontrollably. Her fingers seemed to begin a secret movement under the covers.

Zhou Meiling was both ashamed and angry, a surge of anger rising to her head. She protested in a low voice, unable to bear it any longer, "You! Stop it! Don't get me...wet here too!"

There was a slight, almost imperceptible tremor in his voice.

Derek chuckled nonchalantly, his languid tone brimming with confidence: "What's there to be afraid of? So what if you're wet... At worst, I'll take you to a clean room later... Ah, Master, hurry... hurry, let me~~~"

As she spoke, the witch, oblivious to her surroundings, began to act out her role once again, her voice suddenly rising in pitch, filled with a seductive and alluring longing.

Zhou Meiling: "..."

She was utterly desperate. Like an ostrich, she buried her head deep in the pillow and covered her ears tightly with the blanket, trying to block out the intrusive, piercing noise. She had never felt the night so long and unbearable.

Amidst Dreier's intermittent, sometimes suppressed, sometimes unrestrained moans and the subtle sounds of her body rubbing against the sheets, and in the lingering, blush-inducing sweetness that filled the room, Zhou Meiling's spirit was repeatedly torn and tormented.

Finally, extreme exhaustion and confusion overwhelmed her tense nerves, and her consciousness, filled with shame, anger, and an indescribable restlessness, sank into the chaotic darkness.

She didn't know when, but she slowly woke up in bed. A chilling, sticky sensation came from below her, instantly making her fully awake.

Her panties... were completely soaked!

Last night, Dreyer's vulgar and vividly descriptive words, like the most evil curse, had already planted a seed in her unsuspecting subconscious. In her exhausted sleep, this seed grew wildly, eventually bearing a fruit that made her feel utterly ashamed—she dreamed of Luo Jiajun.

Moreover, it is Luo Jiajun who has completely torn off his gentle and reliable facade, revealing his naked side!

In the bizarre yet incredibly real dream, the man transformed into a ferocious beast driven by primal desires, pouncing on her with a suffocating sense of oppression, his movements brutal and merciless. Her thin nightgown was torn apart under his grasp like fragile paper.

That scalding, heavy body pressed down like a mountain, carrying the power to conquer everything. That burgeoning, iron-hard ferocious creature, even through the fabric of clothing, exuded a scorching and terrifying aura, proclaiming an irresistible aggressiveness.

Without any prelude, without any tenderness, the man in her dream forcefully parted her legs, which she was trying to close, and with a force that could destroy and penetrate everything, he ruthlessly and completely possessed her!

In her dream, Dreyer's explicit descriptions were confirmed in a cruel and precise way—the size far exceeded the limits of her meager imagination, and each fierce and merciless thrust deeply penetrated the deepest, most vulnerable, and most sensitive part of her body, her cervix!