Chapter 24
Phoenix Emperor Feng Yi~
“Emperor, Gugu is here.”
At first, the Phoenix Emperor appeared as if he hadn’t heard, sitting motionless on the dais, one hand resting on the carved wood of his throne’s arm and in his other a book with his previous chess games with Yi Nuo who was impossible to beat.
His eyelids fluttered, but his gaze remained fixed on the bowing messenger kneeling across the jade-slabbed floor. Just outside the windows, the late afternoon sun cast a long, uneven rectangle of gold that illuminated the trembling tips of the messenger’s ears.
A moment passed—a full moment—before the Emperor leaned forward ever so slightly, as though needing an extra second to believe the words he’d just heard. “Who did you say was here?”
The courier edged closer, his voice dropping to a hushed tone. “Emperor, High Goddess Bai Qian is outside and requesting to see you.”
The gravity of the message finally settled in.
A whisper, a legend, warrior, Queen, Empress, High Goddess, Bai Qian of Green Wilderness, Qingqui, her name—a chilling warning, a boastful shout, a prayer, a myth even among deities—depending on the clan, the decade. She had never set foot within the boundaries of the Phoenix Realm—never in his living memory, perhaps not in all the years since she had been alive.
The Emperor’s thoughts whirled, imagining every potential reason for her impromptu visit: Could it be a declaration of war? Unlikely, as peace reigned in all the realms. Perhaps another marriage proposal? Even less probable, considering whispers that the Fox goddess clung to her past loves like a second skin. Maybe it was a courtesy call to apologize for Princess Changying reneging on the marriage promise with Ruilin.
He was still piecing these thoughts together when the court attendant at his side half-whispered, “Shall I have them bring her to an antechamber, Emperor?” The Emperor waved him off. For this unprecedented meeting, there would be no veils, no separating screens, no polite delays or feigned distractions.
He said, “Show Gugu in,” in a voice so controlled, so measured, it seemed almost detached even though he was a bundle of nerves.
That was when the doors swung open, as if blown inward by a sudden mischief of wind. The palace guards at the threshold all knelt for Gugu when Bai Qian alone, without escort or entourage, her gait unhurried sashayed in.
She glided through the echoing grandeur of the halls, her feet whispering on the cool, polished marble—a fox on fresh snow. Gone was her mourning white. Her gown, a vivid cobalt blue the color of a cloudless sky, created a striking contrast against the palace’s moonstone walls, which shimmered under the soft glow of light, almost straining the eyes with its radiant brilliance.
A white cloak, lined with shimmering silver, draped her slender shoulders, the silken fabric trailing behind like a grasping tongue, reaching towards the high, sunny windows. As she moved, sunlight caught the silver threads woven into the cloak, a dazzling flash of light against the creamy white. Around her waist, a belt with a single mother-of-pearl pendent gleamed, the attached was a row of seven lustrous pearls and silk tassels swaying gently with each step, each a tiny orb of captured light.
The pearls seemed to echo.
The Emperor watched her with the hunger of a child at a festival, finding himself tallying every detail, from the subtle play of muscle along her bare collarbone to the calculated looseness of her hair, which she had fastened with the phoenix-feather hairpin he’d gifted her on her last birthday. The sight of the hairpin made him smile; for all her strategic brilliance, Bai Qian understood the sentimentality of the old clans.
She paused just below the dais where he waited, offering a slight bow—a gesture of royal courtesy. Though they’d socialized here and there since their children’s betrothal, this was their first private meeting. He was always struck by her petite stature, her head barely reaching his shoulder. Yet her presence was commanding, a powerful force that captivated him completely.
The Emperor was the first to break the silence. “High Goddess Bai Qian. Gugu, this is an unexpected honor.” His voice was warm, or as warm as it could be given the circumstances and his nerves.
She paused for a moment, not responding, but maintaining eye contact. Her eyes were like wet ink, and when she blinked, it was with purpose, causing her lush lashes to cast shadows on her rosy cheeks.
“Gugu, I speak as a sovereign but also as a man: you make it unfair for the rest of womankind. Please—” and here he gestured with an open palm, as if he might pluck her from the air and seat her beside him by will alone, “come up. Sit with me. Or better yet, let’s get married and incite ten thousand years of poetry.”
His own audacity startled him. The offer was, of course, made in jest—a quarter in jest yet half in earnest, and a rest left for her interpretation.
Bai Qian’s eyes widened at him. She blinked once, then twice, as if Feng Yi’s forwardness had thrown her off balance—or more likely, delighted her. The corners of her mouth curved upward becomingly, and a peal of genuine laughter followed, more crystalline than her myth and far less restrained. “No wonder he moved my taciturn daughter. The rumors of your charms do not exaggerate, and now I see where Ruilin gets his boldness from.” She peered up at him with an arched brow, then, softer: “Is Ruilin here, Emperor?”
“Ruilin,” Feng Yi repeated, “He’s here, but you know how children that age are—never where you expect them, always where they shouldn’t be.” He motioned discreetly to his left; his assistant scuttled over and bowed low. Leaning in, the Emperor murmured, “Find Prince Ruilin. Tell him Gugu is here, and desires to see him.” The servant nodded, but Feng Yi caught his sleeve and knowing of the Fox’s keen hearing—he wrote with his fingertip the characters: Ruilin, go away.
He ordered the stewards to bring wine. “Are you still so fond of Zhe Yan’s peach wine?” he asked, a light in his eye. “Or would you like to become a convert to Phoenix crimson plum wine?”
Bai Qian’s hand went unconsciously to her cheek, where a faint flush had bloomed. “Just tea, if you don’t mind. I’m recovering from something, and Zhe Yan will be furious if I indulged, as he is tired of caring for me. Besides, I doubt I could keep up with you.”
“Your visit has truly invigorated this palace, Gugu,” Feng Yi remarked. “I pray this visit is the first of many to come.” his voice a pleasant chime against the polished moonstone walls. He watched, the scent of burning incense thick in the air, as a maidservant, her silk sleeves rustling softly, carried a clear glass teapot—brimming with the clearest water from the imperial springs. An obvious tremor ran through her hands as she brewed Gugu’s tea with a fiery red lotus, its petals like flames grown only in the Phoenix realm. The steam rising carried a sweet, floral fragrance. Bai Qian watched silently, her eyes serene, before, with a gentle touch, almost absentmindedly kind, she steadied the teapot in the servant’s grasp and nodded her gratitude.
“This must be the infamous crimson lotus tea.” When she spoke, the sensuous movement of her naturally pouty mouth against her perfect teeth was mesmerizing. He forced himself to focus. “I won’t take up much of your time,” her voice, feminine and clear, cut through the stillness. “I just haven’t seen Ruilin recently and wanted to check on him while he waits for Ying’er and the wedding.”
Curious, Feng Yi thought. Her daughter hadn’t told her family that she had called off the wedding. He wondered what kind of suitor Princess Changying had encountered that she was keeping him hidden from her family. Was it possible she had met a mortal during her trial, as Ruilin believed?
“It’s a wedding that everyone is eagerly awaiting. It’ll be the talk of the ages for millennia,” she declared, taking a long sip of tea that had cooled down. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the elegant curve of her neck as she swallowed. Yet, when he dared to say, “It can’t possibly be as anticipated as your wedding,” she abruptly gasped and choked on her tea, a sudden jolt to the calm.
She brushed away imaginary dust with nervous, fidgeting fingers. “My wedding? There’s no such thing,” she said, then smiled—a disarming, teeth-flashing grin that could melt glaciers.
He leaned in; the cinnamon wood chair creaking under the weight of his movements, and refilled her cup with deliberate care. She nodded as she reached over and topped off his tea with equal grace.
“A woman like you shouldn’t remain unmarried, although it must be a formidable task for you to find the right partner. You’re not the typical omega or an omega at all. A woman, the lessor sex, but Gugu is anything but lessor. You possess the strength of an alpha, and no ordinary man could possibly suffice or please you.”
He gestured with a commanding wave for everyone to vacate the room, waiting in comfortable silence until they were alone. “I understand your destinies with High God Mo Yuan and the Skylord are eternally intertwined and that will never change, so have you contemplated a harem?”
She looked both outraged and amused as she scoffed, a flash of offense igniting in her inky eyes that hardened before she masked it with a polite, yet strained, smile. “Phoenix Emperor must be confused. I, Bai Qian, am not harem material. I don’t like the idea of sharing my husband.”
He quickly interrupted her, sensing the confusion hidden beneath her calm demeanor that was threatening to break through. “Not as part of a harem, but as its leader. I’m proposing you have several husbands.” He held his breath, expecting her to slap him, cast a spell to fling him into next Friday, or storm out outraged. Instead, she looked at him with a steady, piercing gaze, then opened her legendary Jade Purity fan and lightly tapped the tip of her nose against the silk.
Gugu was an extraordinary woman.
Bai Qian~
Is it just me, or do I have an invisible sign on my back publishing my improper thoughts and fantasies? Can people suddenly read my mind, or is my fever causing me to hallucinate?
“Did I hear you right? Are you suggesting I should have a reverse harem?” I ask, shocked that these words are coming from my mouth.
“Yes, it’s unprecedented and non-traditional, but if anyone could make it work, it’s you. Why choose when you can have them all?” he says, crossing his arms over a bent knee and leaning in, his eyes sparkling with flirtation. “And when I say more husbands, I’d like you to consider me to be a possible candidate. I may not be High God Mo Yuan or the Skylord, but I too have some attributes that you might find pleasing and beneficial.”
I chuckled and asked, “Ye Hua’s married. Why’s he even being mentioned in this so-called harem of mine?”
“Heavenly Empress is dying and everyone knows your love affair with the Skylord is far from over,” he states, a casual smile playing on his lips. His calm demeanor, while speaking of the grim reality, draws me in. He’s callous, while charming. I can appreciate such a uniquely amusing character.
His bright eyes bring to mind Zhe Yan, exuding a Phoenix-like elegance and demeanor, but he is taller and more masculine. With a square jaw, high cheekbones, and a cleft chin resembling his son’s, he is undeniably handsome, with flawless features that could rival anyone’s. I can honestly say he is attractive, and his charm and candor are quite refreshing. Yet, I can’t shake the feeling that he’s been inhaling Phoenix Fire fumes for too long and might be a bit unhinged. Still, here I am, entertaining him and this wild idea.
“Harems are for extending the bloodline, and I don’t need more children,” I say, wishing my tea would magically turn into wine as I venture into an outlandish topic far from my agenda.
I had traveled to the Phoenix Realm to check if Ying’er might have contacted Ruilin instead of us. This idea, irrational as it seemed, was planted in my head by Bai Lianhua, who stated that I might not truly understand my daughter. This opinion filled me with concern. Had Ying’er returned but, for some reason, chosen not to reunite with us? Was her trial so emotionally overwhelming that she needed solitude? Could she have suffered a loss or had something unimaginable taken from her? These questions have been haunting me as I searched for her over these weeks, knowing she couldn’t possibly still be on her trial, given that she is now 143 mortal years old.
“Gugu’s children are exceptional,” he says, refilling my teacup. “Their intelligence and grace are unmatched. Whether you desire more children, only time will tell.” Steam curls from the cup, blurring my vision. My fever returns, painting the room in hazy colors. A sharp pain flares in my abdomen. Maintaining composure, I listen as he adds, “Consider this, Gugu: harems aren’t just about lineage. They offer diplomacy, partnership, companionship, and pleasure.”
“Food for thought,” I mutter, overwhelmed by a fever that suddenly spikes, making me feel like I’m burning up. The words are barely audible as I slowly lift myself, every motion a struggle against the sudden urge to collapse in pain yet I force myself to stand firm despite the dizziness clouding my vision. “Thank you for the interesting conversation, but I’ll return when Ruilin…” My voice falters as my legs give way, and I stumble forward into Feng Yi’s arms, doubling over, gasping for air. The world around me blurs and spins, and the last thing I hear as darkness closes in is Feng Yi’s frantic voice, growing fainter and more distant, desperately calling for help.
Zhe Yan~
In my long life as the God of medicine, I’ve rarely uttered the words, “This can’t be happening,” and truly meant them. But today is one of those days.
By the time servants have carried Xiao Wu past the lacquered threshold of the hall of Wandering Toward Clouds, her body has become slick, and her temperature scaling higher each second as if she is cultivating an inner sun determined to detonate. The scent of her estrus, not merely a whiff but a gut-punch, fills the corridors and sends the male staff into a frenzy of awkward, blushing panic.
I slap down a flat palm against the doors with a crack. “Everyone out!” I bellow, channeling the full authority of my title’s worth of medical reputation. “No men! No boys! No male canines, birds, or even fish in this bedchamber until further notice!” The echoes of my voice chase the unfortunate male servants and stewards as they scramble into the vestibule, leaving behind a scattering of mortified stares and hastily dropped things.
A young female medical apprentice—barely out of diapers, by the looks of her—trembles as she shuffles supplies, eyes round as plums. I snap my fingers over her head: “You, tea. Strong and bitter. And—” I catch myself throw a glance at Xiao Wu writhing and groaning against the silk sheets—“maybe a basin for… ” me to throw up from nerves.
The apprentice nods, cheeks the color of hawthorn berries, and scurries off, nearly toppling over the folds of her own robe.
I turn back to Xiao Wu. I’m not one to lose my dignity, but my vision narrows to the frantic, feverish pulse fluttering along her neck. Her breathing is shallow, lips cracked and trembling. From beneath the translucent film of sweat, her skin is blanched and shining, like a lantern paper stretched to breaking. I’ve seen Foxes, Gods, and mortals alike succumb to heatstroke, but this is an altogether different crucible. This is estrus in overdrive, an endocrine violence I’d witnessed in only the most legendary case: her mother the previous Fox Empress, whose rutting sent neighboring realms into civil unrest and birthed Xiao Wu three years later.
There is little known about a White Nine Tail Fox’s heat, as it is a private matter between mates. All that is known is it produces a child without fail. If I attempt to treat this with poultices, elixirs and magic—I may as well douse an erupting volcano with a cup of morning dew.
I push the sleeves of my outer robe up and begin applying compresses soaked in glacial water melted from a ten thousand year ice crystal across her brow, her neck, and the insides of her wrists. She slaps feebly at my hands, uncoordinated yet strangely insistent. “Zhe Yan,” she slurs, “it’s—” She manages a weak, delirious glare at me, “—not ladylike to be seen like this in front of you. I need….”
“We won’t talk about what you need.” I snort. “You should worry about more important things right now, like keeping your body in one piece. You might have a need for it one day.” I check her pulse—fluttering, then skipping, then resuming at double speed. She’s fighting this with every cell, and her spiritual energy is ricocheting madly under the surface, seeking equilibrium and finding none. The sheets are soaked through, the air humid with the animal tang of sex and panic—My panic.
Feng Yi, who until now has been wringing his hands just outside the door, makes a bold attempt to barge in, only to be met by a freezing spell. I never knew this spell would serve a purpose when I watched the Kunlun boys playing around. “Are you deaf or just ignorant?” I bark, “If you so much as breathe near her.. look I don’t have the energy to fight you off if you become infected.”
The Phoenix Emperor blanches, but doesn’t leave. He hovers fluttering nervously in the threshold, his head cocked in a gesture of genuine concern. “Infected? Is this contagious? Is she—” He swallows nervously. “Will Gugu recover?” There is a genuine fear in his voice, and I am momentarily touched by it but then wish he would bugger off.
“She’ll recover if you stop interfering and let me do my job,” I retort, almost unkindly. A wave of my arm slams the doors in his face and returns to the patient at hand. Xiao Wu is muttering deliriously about peach trees and snakes at her feet; she cries out for her mother, Ying’er, and she curses Bai Lianhua while hissing in pain.
This is going to be one for the medical records, I think grimly. The hormonal surge is off the charts—I can see it in the way her veins stand up, in the prickling flush that rises and falls across her collarbones, in the violent shimmer of life force that crackles along her forearms. “You don’t get to die from a libido crisis,” I mutter, more for myself than for her, and begin the daunting process of infusing her Phoenix magic with calming energy.
The door cracks open a hair, and a whisper skitters through: “Is it safe to check on Gugu, High God Zhe Yan?”
I don’t even look up at Consort Lie Xi. “Unless you plan to donate a few liters of your own blood and maybe a chunk of your Phoenix liver, stay on your side of the door.” I don’t need these but find secret pleasure in scaring her.
A soft, abashed whimper. “Sorry.” Then the door shuts in a quick snap.
The maiden with the tea returns, balancing a steaming cup with both hands, and sets it on the bedside table. Xiao Wu’s hands flail for it, but I intercept, cooling the liquid with a breeze of my qi and holding it to her lips. She sips, coughs, and then sips again, a little stronger this time.
My own hands are trembling now—not from fear, but from the sheer effort of standing guard against the onslaught of her body’s rebellion. Sweat drips from my brow onto her pillow, forming salt streaks alongside hers. I wonder, not for the first time, why fate has such a sadistic sense of humor when it comes to fox spirits and their ill-advised affairs.
I bark at the female attendant. “We need to secure this wing—no men, no alpha types, no one with even a trace of testosterone. I want herbal purifiers burning in every corner. If any man asks why they need to stay away, tell them their penises will fall off if they come too near.”
The girls scatter, tripping over themselves in their haste.
“Zhe Yan,” she whispers. “What’s… happening… to me?”
I smooth her damp hair from her brow, careful to avoid the myriad silver acupuncture pins in her face. “You’re going through a rare and extremely inconvenient episode of estrus, exacerbated by stress, exhaustion, and possibly that fading bite on your neck.” I dare a small smile. “It will not kill you, but you’ll wish it had, for the next day or two.”
She manages a wan smile of her own. “How… undignified.”
She closes her eyes again, drifting somewhere between sleep and hallucination. I take a moment to check the hall and courtyard for lurking eavesdroppers, then collapse into a chair at her bedside, finally allowing myself to exhale. My mind races with avenues of intervention, from alchemical infusions to magical transference, but none seem appropriate or safe. What she needs is someone capable of matching her fever—not negating it, but drawing it off in slow, steady equal measures, like striking a tuning fork against another until both vibrate in harmony.
If only Ying’er were here.
Ying’er’s ability to control elements is perfectly suited for situations like this. She could match her mother’s fever then counter it with the coldness of her dragon blood, reducing the fever to manageable levels just by touching her skin. For Changchang, the feverishness would be too much and trying this would risk a dangerous backlash.
“Zhe Yan, what’s going on?” I hear and shout profanity, frustrated, wishing the voice I hear belonged to anyone but him. Of course, Yingpei went running for him after hearing of his mother falling ill. He wouldn’t go to his father, Ye Hua, for this.
I spin, using my robe’s sleeves and body to shield Xiao Wu from view. “Mo Yuan, what are you doing here?!” I command, but he remains unmoved, his brows knitting together as he approaches. “Mo Yuan, you must leave! Don’t take another step.”
Suddenly, he sniffs the air, his jaw tightening as he emits a low growl from deep in his throat, his eyes turning black.
“See that’s why you must go!” With my hands on my hips, I yell, “She’s in heat.”
“AHHH!” Xiao Wu’s body lifts off the bed as she cries out, twisting and groaning.
“She’s in pain,” Mo Yuan said, his voice a questioning statement.
“Of course she’s in pain! Her fever is scorching her from within and her body is experience what we men can comprehend,” I exclaim, throwing my hands up. But when Mo Yuan starts to remove his outer robe, I quickly grab his hands, holding them in place. “What are you doing?!” I demand.
He shoves me aside to take off his robe, and I stumble back, stunned. His shirt soon follows to the floor, and as I watch in shock, he begins unbuttoning his pants. My spells to stop him are futile; he’s undeterred.
In a low, half-growl, he instructs, “Get out and keep everyone else out until we’re done. I’ll take care of her. I know what needs to be done.”
I rush to block his way. “Mo Yuan, brother, you need to stop and leave! You might lose control, and your urges could harm her. She’s not using contraception because she didn’t plan on being sexually active. If you end up joining and knotting with her, a pregnancy is absolute. Her body can’t handle that now; she’s still fragile. Who knows how Bai Lianhua’s death will affect Xiao Wu?”
He kicked off his boots, remaining upright, then dropped his trousers, standing naked, and patted my shoulder firmly. “Do you truly believe my desires outweigh my love and concern for Shi qi’s well-being?” His voice softened, his gaze gentle. “I’ll take care of her fever. Trust me, Zhe Yan, and leave us be.”
Mo Yuan says and I do.
Mo Yuan~
In the grip of her heat, she hovers on the precipice between acute awareness and fevered delirium, a battle of sensation and primitive need. Her moans and whimpers escape like a symphony of desire and discomfit each note punctuated by ragged, heavy breaths, interspersed with soft, desperate gasps.
Her skin is flushed a deep, rosy hue, a testament to her body’s urgent, heightened state. She trembles incessantly, her body writhing with a feral energy on the rumpled bed, her wild hair a tangled, sweat-drenched cascade clinging to her face and exposed skin.
Shi qi thrashes, her limbs caught in a fevered, instinctual dance, twitching and contorting with an uncontrollable frenzy. Beads of sweat gather on her forehead, trickling down her face, creating rivulets that make her hair stick to her skin. Her clothes, thoroughly soaked with perspiration, cling to her body like a lover’s embrace, accentuating every curve and tremor.
The room is thick with the potent scent of her sweat, mingling with an earthy, musky aroma that speaks of her estrous state. It’s a heady, intoxicating blend that makes my head spin and my heart pound with a primal, visceral intensity to claim her.
As I carefully yet hurriedly peel away her wet clothes, they fall to the floor with a soft, weighted plop, leaving her shivering wildly. Her teeth chatter audibly as the cooler air hits her bare skin like ice on a sizzling pan. Arms flailing, she opposes me, not knowing whom she is fighting, thrashing as I pull her directly on top of me, holding her in a firm, gentle embrace.
My dragon’s body, naturally cold feels the unnatural burn of excessive heat—a fiery storm battering my inner core. The intense heat is a dangerous assault, forcing my heart to labor in a frantic battle against the invading warmth.
I summon the Phoenix Realm’s Fire to me, drawing in torrents of fiery energy, a searing, vibrant wave matching Shi qi’s overheating. A surge connects us, my body temperature immediately aligning with hers in an agonizing equalization. A violent cough, blood blooms on my lips as my racing heart strains, but her shaking ceases; her form softens, limp as a wet rag doll against me as I slowly cool us both. It’s a gradual, protracted, intimate ordeal.
Even in the eleventh hour, a diminishing fire still burns within her, her delirium clearing enough for other needs to surface.
She shifts erratically, mumbling incoherently, her warm breath brushing against my neck as she nuzzles and nips on my skin. Her Fox’s nails leave stinging crescent marks in my flesh, driven by a primal urge, allowing her ancient instincts to mate to come to the forefront. A restless dance wiggling on me until she is mewing and pushing down to elevate the source of her need.
The aroma of her hair, her essence, and her mating pheromones creates a heavy, musky atmosphere that overwhelms my senses as Shi qi pushes me past my boundaries, yet I, my heart, refuses to let her suffer in this unfulfilled state. My knee bends parting her legs until the slippery silkiness of her heated sex is against my skin as she bears herself down on my thigh.
My fingers gently follow the curve of her head, peeling her wet hair off her face and the smooth line of her back. I whisper, “You don’t need to hold back.” She lets out a wheeze then a sigh, a sound reminiscent of wind chimes caught in a sudden breeze. The pressure, a palpable force, triggers an immediate, frantic reaction. Her body writhes the moves in a whirlwind of urgent, desperate movements, but she murmurs, “Shifu… it’s you.”
Her sharp nails, like tiny hooks, dig into my chest and shoulders. A frantic flurry of claws scratches against my skin as she presses against me, a desperate, feral need. Her body shudders with a relentless rhythm, a wave of heat. The scent of her desire—intoxicatingly sharp and sweet, like overripe peaches and musk—fills the air, thick and heady. I feel the frantic beat of her heart against mine, a wild drum, the sticky, warm texture of her skin clinging to my own. I fight to remain composed, resisting the urge to flip her, to claim her with a vengeance as she reaches her peak.
However, the sigh of relief she exhales—a soft, shuddering moan, like wind whispering through reeds at her climax—grounds me instantly. The sight of her relaxed form, bathed in the warm lamplight, her slow, steady inhales, a gentle rise and fall of her chest, tells me she’s found repose from her estrus until my unwitting whisper, “good girl,” breaks the calm. Then, her body tensed again, the cycle restarting.
She continued this fervent dance on my thigh for hours, until exhaustion finally claimed her, and she slipped into a deep, fatigued slumber. My leg was left damp and sticky from the evidence of her pleasure. Our limbs wrapped around each other in a chaotic, intertwined embrace as I held her close, raining light kisses on the top of her head, thinking who would have guessed after all these years I would earn another title to add to my others.
The Master of Self Control.
Bai Qian~
I’d prayed it was nothing more than a dreadful dream—yet here I am at dawn, blinking up from Mo Yuan’s broad chest, our bodies still entwined and bare.
Time has blurred: I have no idea how long I’ve slept or what voices and faces drifted in and out of my half-remembered consciousness. My throat is dry, and every swallow feels raspy. Then a sharp memory cuts through the haze: his warm, firm body beneath mine, the thrilling rhythm as I moved against him until exhaustion overcame me.
Shame floods me. Bai Qian, what on earth is happening to your life?
I force my aching muscles to lift my head—and freeze. Mo Yuan’s skin is pale and cold, a smear of dried blood at the corner of his lips. This isn’t the aftermath of passion, but the proof of another sacrifice he has made for me.
Why does he always swoop in as my hero at the precise moment I need him? Why does he put my safety above his own? Doesn’t he realize how helplessly I fall for such gallantry? He could have simply taken what he desired—yet he held back, even after making his feelings clear.
That is Mo Yuan in a nutshell.
The wall I’ve built around my heart is crumbling—and a small, frightened part of me wonders if I even want to keep it up anymore.
I hold still, waiting. He senses my awakening. Heavy-lidded, he opens his eyes, and despite his exhaustion, their warmth envelops me. A half-smile curls at his lips, and somehow I can hear his unspoken thoughts: I’m so glad you’re awake. I despised seeing you in discomfort. You’re safe. I love you.
I press my cheek into the comforting cradle of his hand and murmur, “You really should stop rescuing me.” My voice catches. “You make it impossible not to fall in love with you, Shifu.” Vulnerability hangs between us.
He gives me a faint smile—and I see even more blood at the edge of his mouth. “There’s more blood on your lips!” I choke out. “What have you done for me this time?”
He says nothing, but his fingers thread gently through my hair—an ache and a balm all at once.
“You brought this on yourself,” I whisper, guilt and resolve jostling together. “The kiss in Qingqui was a mistake—but this… this isn’t.” I lean closer, fingertips grazing the sharp line of his jaw, stubble tickling my skin. When our lips meet, the turmoil, the uncertainties, the fear in my mind quiets. One feather-light brush, and the honesty of it renders me breathless.
Curled against his neck, I confess, voice soft, “I want to stop dipping my toes and dive into a real love affair with you—once Ying’er is safely home.” It feels absurd to speak like a blushing girl at my age, after everything we’ve been through. Silence presses down, heavy as a blanket. I nuzzle into his shoulder, whisper almost inaudible: “Please… say something. Anything.”
He clears his throat, a reluctant, dry sound. His hand sweeps my hair from my forehead. After what seems like forever, he speaks in a flat tone: “I foresee a boom in Phoenix clan’s population in three years as it will take some time to clear out the smell. And you might not be welcome here anymore.”
I blink. “I don’t agree. Feng Yi even offered me a place in his harem.”
His eyes snap to mine, suddenly alive with possessive fire. “For you to join his harem? Unthinkable.”
I swallow. “He actually suggested I take multiple husbands—himself included.”
Jealousy replaces the fatigue in his gaze. Mo Yuan sits up in one smooth movement, pulling me with him. His voice drops to a fierce command: “Get dressed. We need to leave before I hurt Ying’er’s future father-in-law.”