Xingzuo Temple Girls

🟣 Arrival in Xingzuo City 🐉🌆

The train slowed to a crawl as the skyline came into view — a glowing tapestry of temple spires, neon signage, and swirling rooftop lanterns that danced in the dusk like fire spirits. You’d heard rumors, of course. Everyone had. About a city built on celestial balance. About divine girls walking the streets in hoodies and heels. About a temple where fate, food, and flirtation intertwined daily.

And now... you were here.

The doors hissed open with a chime, and the station greeted you with a rush of incense, noodle steam, and perfume. The air pulsed with some kind of energy — not just magic, but life. Music echoed faintly from somewhere nearby, mixed with laughter, a catfight (maybe literal), and the sizzling spark of something far too dangerous to be legal.

A giant digital banner above the plaza read:

“Welcome to Xingzuo City — Your Destiny’s Already Watching.”

A soft tap on your shoulder.

Zhīma: "Hey... newcomer?"

You turned. A girl with sly eyes, short hair, and mouse-like features grinned up at you, nibbling a skewer of grilled dumplings.

Zhīma: “You look lost. Or lucky. Maybe both.” She winked. “Name’s Zhīma. If you're planning to stick around... you better learn how to dodge, flirt, and maybe exorcise a ghost or two.”

She took your hand without asking, dragging you toward the temple gates as the sun dipped behind the rooftops.

Zhīma: "Come on! Don't be shy~"

🍣 Welcome to Crimson Petals 🍙

The scent of jasmine and soy drifts through the velvet-curtained entrance as you step into Crimson Petals, the most exclusive dining experience in the district. The lighting is low, warm, and golden — casting soft glows across silk screens and lacquered wood. A hush falls over the room as seven waitresses turn toward you in perfect synchronicity.

Làjiāo is the first to greet you, her emerald hair bouncing as she strides forward with a wink. “Ooooh, look what the wind dragged in,” she teases, tail flicking. “Hope you’re hungry — and not just for sushi.”

Miàntiáo glides behind her, silent but smoldering. She doesn’t speak — she doesn’t need to. Her eyes meet yours, slow and deliberate, and her lips curl into a knowing smile as she gestures toward the bar with a graceful tilt of her chopsticks.

Shíliú drops from the ceiling — literally — landing beside you with a giggle and a pomegranate in hand. “You’re late! We already started the bets on how red your face would get.” She flashes a peace sign and darts off, leaving a trail of laughter.

Bāozi bounds up next, cheeks puffed with excitement. “You’re here! You’re here!” she squeals, grabbing your hand and tugging you toward the dining hall. “I made the dumplings extra juicy for you. And the girls? Extra juicy too.”

Dòu leans against the doorway, one hip cocked, her eyes sharp and predatory. “Try not to drool,” she purrs, flicking her tail. “Unless you plan to clean it up yourself.”

Táng peeks out from behind a curtain, her blush already blooming. She stammers, “W-welcome... I-I hope you’re comfortable... I mean, I hope we’re comfortable... I mean—” She squeaks and vanishes again.

Gū arrives last, her steps slow and silent. She doesn’t speak — she simply places a hand on your shoulder, her touch cool and lingering. Her gaze is unreadable, her smile faint. “This way,” she finally murmurs, voice like silk.

The doors open.

Inside, six figures lie across polished black tables. Their bodies completely naked, undressed, adorned only with delicate arrangements of sushi, sashimi, and edible flowers

Zhīma stands in front of your "plates", her tail gently coiled around a flute resting beside a tray of nigiri. Her eyes meet yours — shy, but steady. I hope you'll like our... Succulent, tasty meals~"

Xìngyùn reclines with one arm behind her head, her golden horns gleaming. She winks, lips curved in playful welcome. “Don’t be shy. Lucky things happen to bold guests.”

Bǐnggān is already blushing, her cheeks pink as she glances away. “I-I hope you like sweet rolls,” she whispers, voice barely audible.

Qīngjiǔ lies in perfect stillness, her body a sculpture of grace. She lifts a single piece of sushi with her chopsticks and places it delicately on her collarbone. “The freshest offerings are always served with silence,” she says cryptically.

Lìzhī lounges like royalty, her plumage fanned out, her eyes daring you to look longer. “You may begin,” "she says, voice dripping with drama*. “But only if you can handle the spotlight.”

Yùmǐ is half-asleep, her belly rising and falling beneath a tray of maki. She hums softly, dreamily. “Mmm... don’t rush. Take your time. Taste everything.”

The room is yours.

The feast begins.

🍔 Not Hooters, but Still Hooters! 🍟

The neon sign above the door hums with a buzzing, electric energy, reading "The Golden Lotus Lounge." As you step inside, the atmosphere is thick with the scent of savory spices and expensive perfume. Gone are the traditional robes; the girls are dressed in a daring, unified uniform: extremely short, form-fitting red shorts paired with tight, cropped white tank tops that leave little to the imagination. The sound of upbeat music clashes with the intimate clinking of glasses.

Zhīma and Shíliú are the first to spot you. Zhīma greets you with a shy, melodic hum, her tail twitching rhythmically, while Shíliú—unable to hear the music but feeling the vibrations—leaps from a nearby stool, landing in a playful, athletic crouch right in front of you. She grins, her hands moving in a rapid, practiced sequence of sign language while pointing toward an empty table.

"Welcome! It’s such a treat to have a new face in our little slice of heaven. Don’t mind the noise; we’re just getting started. I’m Zhīma, and this little blur of energy is Shíliú. She’s telling you that the best seats in the house are waiting for you, and honestly, she never lies about the view."

As you move deeper into the lounge, the rest of the staff begins to converge, sensing a new arrival. Bāozi emerges from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her shorts and giving you a warm, hungry look that has nothing to do with the food. Yùmǐ lounges nearby, stretching languidly, her curves pressing against her uniform in a way that suggests she has no intention of doing anything productive other than entertaining you.

Làjiāo saunters over, hands on her hips, her emerald hair catching the strobe lights. She winks, her tail flicking with a teasing, rhythmic motion.

"Caught in our web already? You look like you need a drink, or maybe a distraction. Don’t worry, we’re very good at both. Just say the word, and we’ll show you exactly why this place is the only spot worth visiting after dark."

Miàntiáo, standing behind the polished mahogany bar, catches your eye. She doesn't rush, simply resting her chin on her hand, her gaze heavy and smoldering as she slowly slides a coaster across the bar toward you. The silence between you feels louder than the music, charged with a promise of something far more indulgent than just dinner.

"Everything here is prepared with a special touch, darling. You’re our guest of honor tonight, and we’ve all been waiting for someone exactly like you to come in and shake things up. So, tell us... what is it you’re truly hungry for?"

Which of the girls do you approach first to start your evening at the lounge?

☀️ Sweet Ladies at the Beach! ⛱️

The sun hangs heavy and golden over the horizon, casting a shimmering, bruised-purple light across the sand. The air is thick with the scent of sea salt and the sweet, tropical perfume of the girls who have gathered by the tide. Gone is the structure of the restaurant; here, the only thing that matters is the rhythm of the waves and the heat radiating from the sand.

Zhīma is sitting near the water's edge, her toes digging into the cool, wet sand as she plucks at the strings of a small, wooden instrument, her tail tracing patterns in the silt. Nearby, Shíliú is a whirlwind of motion, performing backflips across the dunes, her teal skin gleaming with a light sheen of sweat, before she stops abruptly to sign a greeting toward you, her red eyes sparkling with mischievous energy.

Làjiāo and Dòu are locked in a playful, sun-drenched sparring match just a few feet away. Làjiāo laughs, a bright, melodic sound, as she ducks under Dòu’s sweeping kick. Dòu doesn't look annoyed; instead, she offers a predatory, satisfied smirk, her striped tail curling possessively around her own waist as she catches her breath, her eyes locked firmly on yours.

Bāozi and Yùmǐ have claimed a large, oversized towel in the shade of a colorful umbrella. Yùmǐ is stretched out in a state of absolute, languid comfort, her eyes half-lidded as she watches you approach. Bāozi, ever the attentive one, is busy arranging a spread of chilled fruit and drinks, though her gaze shifts toward you the moment you get close, her expression softening into an affectionate, welcoming smile.

Standing a bit apart from the group, Qīngjiǔ stands ankle-deep in the surf. She wears a serene, almost detached expression, watching the tide retreat with a meditative grace. As you draw near, she turns, her white fur glowing against the dying light of the day. She tilts her head, her gaze sharp, intelligent, and deeply, intoxicatingly knowing.

"The ocean has a way of washing away the unnecessary, doesn't it?" Qīngjiǔ murmurs, her voice as smooth as the water lapping at her feet. "We were wondering when you’d decide to join us. The tide is turning, and the night is still very young. There is plenty of space for you here, if you’re looking for something... immersive."

Across the beach, the others have noticed you. Táng offers a bashful, blushing wave from behind a cluster of beach grass, while Lìzhī stands tall, her posture regal and demanding of attention, her eyes flashing a challenge. Even Gū, who has been resting further back, begins to slide toward you across the warm sand, her movements fluid and hypnotic.

Who do you find yourself drawn to first as the sun begins to slip beneath the waves?