White walls, white floor tiles, under the white lights, the living room is as bright as a surgical room.
Tony knelt on the cold tiled floor, his back arched into a tense arc. His skin, under the cold light, appeared exceptionally pale, like an unpolished canvas - a canvas about to be smeared with.
"Watch out."
The voice descended from above, heavy and ominous like a dark cloud.
Two shadows cast a shadow over him.
On the left is Xinglan, standing at a height of over seven feet, almost touching the chandelier in the living room. When she crouches down, the soft sound of her knees h*tting the ground is like the cr*cking of a tree trunk. On the right is Erer, slightly shorter by half a head, but with a wider shoulder, and her shadow c*mpletely engulfs Tony.
Four hands were stretched out simultaneously.
Not human hands - but huge claws painted with dark red rouge. The nails were deliberately grown long and strengthened, each one resembling a small curved that had been finely polished, with edges casting a cold, hard glow in the light.
"It was done last month." Xinglan's thumb traced the nail of her index finger, making a soft clicking sound similar to the friction of metal. "Titanium alloy lining, resin outer layer. It can cut through cowhide."
She chuckled softly, her nails were jet-bl*ck: "Mine are carbon fiber."
When the first contact occurred, Tony shuddered all over.
It wasn't p*in - it was an overwhelming, unresistible sensation. Starlan's thumb began at the top of his shoulder blade and slowly moved downward. The speed was extremely slow, so slow that one could feel the friction of each nail texture scraping over the skin texture. The line gradually turned red, then bulged, and finally became a clear red mark, like a canyon that suddenly opened up on a map.
Er Er began from the other side. Her nails were sharper, leaving finer and deeper marks, like drawing lines on a silk scroll with a fine needle dipped in vermilion. At first, their movements were not synchronized - when Xing Lan moved downward, Er Er moved upward, and when Xing Lan moved to the left, Er Er moved to the right - but soon, the rhythms began to overlap.
Getting faster and faster.
It's like two big cats competing for the same territory.
The nail scraped against the protrusion of the rib. Tony took a breath, and at the moment his chest expanded, the four nails crossed and grazed across his chest. The red marks formed a net-like pattern, and the fine stinging sensations began to converge into a tide. Xinglan's palm suddenly pressed down on his back - the palm was so large that it almost covered his entire back - and she exerted downward.
Tony's face was pressed against the floor tiles. The cold, hard white tiles reflected his distorted image.
At this moment, Er Er's nails began to draw circles, swirling between the shoulder blades, each circle getting larger and larger, like the ripples spreading on the water surface. Xing Lan joined in, and the nails of the two began to chase each other: wherever Er Er's nails went, Xing Lan would follow and draw again, the overlapping marks swelling and heating up rapidly.
Then —
The real "scratching" has begun.
It was no longer a slow and gentle stroke, but a swift and slightly tearing sweep. Starlan's nails traced a diagonal line from her left shoulder to her right hip, while Erre simultaneously moved from her right shoulder towards her left hip. The two diagonal lines intersected at Tony's spine, forming a huge "X". The skin made a strained and faint sound, the red marks deepened instantly, and tiny droplets began to seep from the edges.
Back and forth, back and forth, like a pendulum, like a loom.
In the living room, there were only three sounds left: the scratching sound of nails against skin, Tony's strained breathing, and the occasional brief comments exchanged by the two giantesses.
"Here it is tight."
"The rib area responds the best."
"Is the back already full?No, there's still room."
Gradually, sporadic red dots began to fall on the white tiles, like the blooming plum blossoms in the snow. The white walls reflected the silhouette of this cruel ritual: two huge bodies leaned forward, their four arms waving in a strange dance, and the much smaller figure in the middle trembled with each scratch.
When they finally stopped, there was not a single inch of Tony's back or chest that remained unscathed.
Interwoven red marks cover the red marks, and swollen areas are overlaid with newly drawn white lines (those are the signs of impending swelling). In several of the deepest areas, the vessels are slowly pooling together and flowing down along the curvature of the ribs. The entire pattern is both chaotic and strangely beautiful - like some ancient tribal totem, or like an expanse of land swept by a storm.
Xinglan stepped back and tilted her head to admire it.
Er Er raised her hand and looked at her nails in the light - the carbon fiber nails were covered with a very faint shade of and skin flakes, which she gently bl*w off.
"The effect was good," said Xinglan.
Er Er nodded: "Next time, try the fluorescent nail polish? When you draw it in the dark, the marks will glow."
Tony slowly rose to his feet. With each movement, the searing p*in in his body became more acute. He looked down at the sweat and scattered left by himself on the floor tiles, then looked up at the two tall women in front of him - they were casually comparing the wear of their nails, as if they had just completed a routine skincare procedure.
"Go and take a bath." Xinglan finally gave him a glance and pointed towards the bathroom. "Use cold water. Hot water will make the marks set too deeply."
Tony staggered to his feet.
As he p*ssed by them, he caught a glimpse of the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room - the outside was pitch-bl*ck while the inside was brightly lit. The figures of the two giant women were illuminated, looking like hunting goddesses emerging from a myth, while he was merely a stray y*ung creature that had stopped for a moment under their feet and would soon be released back into the world.
The bathroom door is closed.
In the living room, Er Er turned on her phone and began to take a close-up sh*t of her fingernails. Xing Lan crouched down and gently wiped a drop of off the floor tiles with her fingers, drawing a thin red line on the pure white tiles.
"Next time," she said, "try writing on your back."
"Like what?"
"'Attribute'." Xinglan smiled. "In seal script."

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