The pressure beneath Rouxi's scar disappeared, but the plants surrounding the mansion remained turned toward the north.
Zhenlan felt the wind moving through their leaves. Every branch, vine, and blade of grass resisted it, holding itself in the same direction as though waiting for something beneath the city to pull again.
Rouxi remained half-sprawled against the back of the sectional where the tether had thrown her.
Yuche leaned over her with both hands braced around her shoulders, preventing her head from striking the wall a second time while Chenghai had moved close enough to catch her wrist and now stood bent over the coffee table, his grip still locked around her forearm.
Lingyun had been dragged sideways when Rouxi's hand tore away from the connection, leaving him twisted awkwardly toward her with one hand pressed against his ribs.
Zhenlan was on one knee in front of the sectional.
