[EARLY ACCESS] SHRINK IMPACT | GENSHIN IMPACT - CHAPTER 43

WARNING: There’s some toilet/butt-related stuff in this chapter, which I know isn’t everyone’s cup of tea (I wanted to include it for those who do like it though, and since we haven’t really done that before).

If you don’t wanna read it, you can skip this chapter! You won’t be missing any important plot points!

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From your hiding place near the base of Ningguang’s vanity, you watched with growing dread as she prepared for the evening. 

You had managed to make it down from the edge of her chair, but now what? Mona needed rescuing. Trouble was, finding a way to do that without accidentally getting crushed or trapped yourself. 

Ningguang remained blissfully unaware of her butt prisoner. She radiated power and confidence even in these private moments, her golden silk robe riding up with each step, exposing nearly all of her sculpted thighs and the deep, shadowed cleft between her cheeks.

But then, you noticed an edge of discomfort on her face—something subtle, a wince she tried to hide as she adjusted her jewelry. Her hand drifted to her belly, rubbing it in slow, distracted circles.

A low, bubbling glorp sounded from her midsection, followed by a tighter clench of her lips.

She muttered under her breath, “Ugh…I knew that crab tofu wouldn’t sit well. Should have gone with the lighter soup.” She gave a small, rueful shake of her head, trying to appear composed, but another, louder bwoorrp rolled from her gut, making her wince and shift her weight again.

Driven by panic for Mona, you climbed the vanity, using a perfume bottle, a brocade brush, and finally hauling yourself up the velvet edge. You wiped sweat from your brow, peeking over the top just as Ningguang leaned forward to fasten a new jade earring, but accidentally dropped it, and turned her back to the vanity so she could bend down and get it.

By the time she had straightened up again, back still to you, you had reached the top.

From this angle, her thong looked even more insubstantial—stretched to transparency, lost between her cheeks, already damp with sweat and clinging to every plush curve.

That’s when you spotted it: Mona’s arm, pale and trembling, just barely poking out near the edge of the thong, slick with sweat, glinting faintly with each motion. She was alive, but only just—her hand twitched feebly, trying to find something, anything, to hold.

Your pulse roared in your ears. Inch by inch, you crawled forward, each movement risky and exposed. The vanity shuddered again as Ningguang’s stomach gave another warning groan. She stiffened, cheeks puffing out, and pressed her palm against her belly with a faint, frustrated sigh.

“Honestly…who approved that chef’s new recipe?” she murmured to herself, voice dry as paper.

This was your chance. You reached desperately from the edge of the vanity, arm outstretched, fingertips brushing Mona’s clammy, slick palm. She stirred, her head barely visible, blue hair plastered to her forehead, eyes glazed and wild. Your hands locked, fingers sliding from the sweat but catching at the last possible moment.

“Mona! Hold on, please!” you hissed, straining, using every bit of strength to try and pull her toward the light. The tension was unbearable. Your world narrowed to the sticky grip of her hand and the humid, sweltering darkness of Ningguang’s crack.

But the universe had other plans.

Ningguang’s stomach emitted a thunderous GLURROOOP—a gassy, rolling protest that made the vanity rattle and even the air tremble. Ningguang’s hips tensed; the cheeks around Mona squeezed together. With a faint whimper, she shifted her stance and suddenly—BRRRAAAAPP!—a tremendous, muffled blast of flatulence thundered from between her cheeks.

The force hit you like a slap. Heat, moisture, and an unspeakable stench exploded outwards, washing over you in a humid, dizzying wave. You gagged, eyes burning, tumbling backwards from the vanity, your hands ripped from Mona’s as the wind and pressure tore her grip free.

Poor Mona bore the brunt. Her eyes rolled, her body shuddered, and her sweaty hand went limp in yours as the blast overwhelmed her senses. Before you could react, Ningguang unconsciously clenched her cheeks, the thong pulling Mona’s limp arm inward until it vanished, lost completely to the steamy darkness.

Ningguang, unaware, fanned herself, mumbling, “Never again with the crab tofu…oh, the things I endure for diplomacy…” She grabbed a sachet of perfumed powder, dusting it along her hip and waist, eyes closed in resigned frustration.

But there was no time for sympathy. As Ningguang gathered her robe, her expression composed once more, she glided from the room—her hips swaying, buttocks flexing with each step, carrying Mona even deeper into her plush, oblivious prison.

Gagging, tears streaming down your face, you staggered after her, mind spinning with panic. You saw her make straight for the bathroom.

Please, please—let me reach her in time, you thought, forcing yourself onward. Mona’s life hung in the balance, and you would not fail her now, no matter how many humiliating, perilous obstacles lay ahead.