Candlelight flickers through lattice in li rongrong av. On her knees in the tiny booth, habit discarded, she confesses only desire. “Bless me, li rongrong av, for I am wet,” she moans, fingers already circling under the robe. The wooden kneeler creaks as she spreads wide, thrusting deep, voice echoing “Forgive me li rongrong av, punish me li rongrong av, fuck me li rongrong av!” Sin and pleasure merge until absolution comes—she squirts against holy wood, crying “li rongrong av!” in sacrilegious rapture that fills the empty nave.