The morning sun climbed higher, casting long, golden beams across the disheveled bed.
"Hah... hah... husband..."
Lixue collapsed against his chest, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her third climax. Her skin was flushed a deep, rosy pink, and her hair stuck to her temples in damp tendrils. She had ridden him with a possessive desperation, trying to imprint herself onto his very soul, until her legs finally gave out.
Shen Yu held her close, his hand stroking her sweat-slicked back. The Primordial Yin-Yang Scripture hummed contentedly in his dantian. The morning session hadn't been about cultivation; it had been about establishing order. Lixue needed to feel secure, and he had given her exactly what she needed: total submission to her affection.
"We need to clean up," Shen Yu murmured, kissing the top of her head.
Lixue groaned, burying her face in his neck. "I can't move. My legs... they feel like jelly."
Shen Yu chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated against her chest. "Then I shall carry you."
He stood up and wore a pair of loose, white silk trousers. He didn't bother wearing a robe. He effortlessly lifted her into a bridal carry as if she weighed nothing. Lixue squeaked, wrapping her arms around his neck, her silk nightgown slipping dangerously low off her shoulders.
They walked out of the bedroom and down the corridor toward the private bathhouse of the West Wing.
As they entered the steam-filled room, the chatter of the servant girls died instantly.
Three young maids were busy preparing the large wooden tub, sprinkling rose petals and pouring buckets of hot water. They turned at the sound of footsteps, and their breaths collectively hitched.
They saw Shen Yu.
The servants of the Tang Clan had always adored their Young Master. Despite his inability to cultivate, his face was a gift from the heavens, an unnatural beauty that outshone even the most celebrated Young Masters of the city. He had always been a work of art, a sculpture of perfect proportions.
But seeing him now, half-naked and glistening with sweat, was too much for their hearts to handle.
His upper body was a masterpiece of lean muscle and pale, flawless skin. Broad shoulders tapered down to a tight waist, every line defined not by brute bulk, but by elegant power.
However, their eyes were inevitably drawn lower.
The thin, white silk of his trousers clung to his damp skin due to the humidity of the room. And against his thigh, the outline of his "dragon", still semi-hard and heavy from the morning's activities, was clearly visible, a thick, imposing ridge that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
"Young... Young Master!" the head maid stammered, her face turning the color of a ripe tomato. She quickly bowed, her heart pounding so hard she thought it would burst out of her chest.
The other two maids covered their mouths, their knees buckling slightly. They had always loved him, dreaming of serving him, but seeing the sheer scale of his manhood made them dizzy with a mix of scandal and desire.
Lixue, nestled in his arms, saw their reactions. A surge of pride mixed with possessive jealousy bubbled in her chest. She buried her face deeper into his shoulder to hide her own blush. She was wearing only a sheer silk gown, and she knew exactly what they were thinking.
"Is the water ready?" Shen Yu asked, his voice calm and melodic, acting as if he didn't notice the devastating effect he had on them.
"Y-Yes, Young Master! It is the perfect temperature," the maid squeaked, not daring to look up.
"Good. You are dismissed. Leave us."
"Yes!"
The maids scrambled out of the room like frightened rabbits, though Shen Yu noticed one of them taking a last, longing peek at his back muscles before closing the door, likely to gossip about the Young Master's "magnificence" with the other servants later.
Silence returned to the bathhouse, save for the gentle lapping of water.
Shen Yu walked to the edge of the tub and lowered Lixue into the steaming water. She sighed as the heat soaked into her sore muscles.
He untied his trousers and let them drop, stepping into the tub behind her. The water rose, displacing rose petals.
"Let me wash you," he whispered.
He grabbed a cloth and began to scrub her back. His movements were slow and deliberate. He washed her shoulders, his fingers massaging the tension away. Then his hands moved to her front.
"Tang Wei..." Lixue breathed, leaning back against his chest.
The washing quickly lost its innocent purpose.
Soap made skin slippery. Friction created heat.
Shen Yu's hands roamed over her soapy breasts, teasing the nipples until they hardened against his palms. Lixue turned in his arms, straddling his lap in the water, her wet hair plastering to her back.
"I thought... you said we needed to clean up," she panted, her arms wrapping around his neck.
"We are cleaning," Shen Yu smirked, lifting her hips underwater. "I am just being thorough."
He lined her up and slid inside her. The sensation was different, smoother, hotter. The water sloshed over the sides of the tub as they moved together, the steam hiding their bodies in a misty haze, leaving only the sounds of splashing water and soft moans to echo off the tiled walls as he claimed her for the fourth time that day.
An hour later, they finally emerged, dressed in fresh, formal robes.
Shen Yu looked refreshed, his golden eyes sharp and clear. Lixue looked radiant, hanging onto his arm with a glow that no makeup could replicate.
They found a male servant waiting in the courtyard.
"You," Shen Yu called out.
The servant bowed deeply, respect shining in his eyes. "Young Master?"
Shen Yu pulled a sealed letter from his sleeve, the one he had written earlier.
"Deliver this to the Jin Estate, to Matriarch Meng Yan. Do not give it to her subordinates. Give it only to her or her personal handmaiden. Tell her it concerns the... medical consultation."
"At once, Young Master!" The servant took the letter and ran off.
With business attended to, Shen Yu spent the rest of the day playing the role of the devoted fiancé. He walked with Lixue through the estate gardens, listening to her talk about the clan's affairs, the harvest, and the gossip of the city. He nodded and smiled, playing the perfect listener, cementing his image as the gentle, beautiful Young Master who had finally recovered his health.
In the afternoon, he excused himself to the library.
He needed information. The original Shen Yu had been obsessed with curing his meridians, so his knowledge was narrow. He knew mostly about medicine, ruins, and ancient languages, but little about the geopolitical landscape or the power structures of the cultivation world.
Shen Yu pulled scroll after scroll. He read about the current kingdom he resided in, the crimson lotus kingdom, the royal family, and the three Great Sects of the kingdom; he also read about the history of the Fallen Shen Clan. He analyzed maps, trade routes, and the distribution of Spirit Veins.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in bruising hues of purple and burnt orange, a shadow lengthened across the library floor.
"Young Master," a servant bowed low, holding out a thick, creamy envelope. "A reply from Matriarch Meng."
Shen Yu took the letter. A faint, cooling scent drifted from the paper, a fragrance that was elegant, expensive, and distinctly hers. He ran his thumb over the wax seal, which bore the intricate crest of the Jin Clan, verifying its authenticity.
With a flick of his finger, he broke the seal and unfolded the crisp paper.
The calligraphy was sharp and imposing, the strokes carrying the faint pressure of a powerful cultivator's intent. She didn't waste ink on pleasantries; she answered his question directly.
Young Master Tang,
I read your letter regarding the time and place for the treatment session:
I have arranged for the necessary privacy. Come to the Golden Leaves Pavilion tomorrow at the Hour of the Rooster (5:00 PM).
— Meng Yan.
Shen Yu lowered the letter, the paper crinkling slightly in his grip.
A slow, predator's grin stretched across his flawlessly beautiful face, his golden eyes gleaming in the dim light of the library.
Tomorrow. 5:00 PM.
It was the Hour of the Rooster, the golden hour when the sun began its final descent, and the Yang energy of the day started to yield to the Yin of the night. It was the twilight hour, where shadows lengthened, and secrets could be easily hidden.
The trap was not just set; the prey had just handed him the key to her room.
"Twilight," Shen Yu whispered to the empty room. "The perfect time to start a fire."