Chapter 10: “My Li Lang.”

Li Fuguang indeed fell silent. Qin Miaoyan finally got to hold her “beloved from years past” to her heart’s content, savoring the moment thoroughly.

Yet no matter how carefully she tried to recapture that old feeling, it proved nearly impossible. Back then, she was just a palace maid who had aged out of service. Her sweetheart, Li Xi, had been a guard serving the crown prince. She had exhausted every trick, every means—fussing over him, warming his heart—using all her wiles to seduce him.

To her at that time, he was the best possible match. For women who left the palace past their prime, even with some savings, finding a decent husband was hard. Many ended up marrying widowers—becoming a second wife was considered fortunate. Those who couldn’t settle for either high or low often became concubines, trapped under the thumb of the main wife, living in misery—a truly wretched fate.

Back then, Qin Miaoyan had yet to see the vastness of the world, unaware of life’s cruelties and hardships. Her vision was narrow, her heart fixated on a small plot of land—a life of serving her husband and raising children. She had even handpicked a young, easily controlled maid to serve as her bridal attendant, with the unspoken intention of using her to keep her husband’s affections once she became pregnant.

But then, in the blink of an eye, a palace coup turned everything upside down. Her beloved perished, and not long after leaving the palace, she was swindled out of her life’s savings by local thugs. One misstep led to another, and she clawed her way through suffering and death’s door before finally reaching the position she held today.

Qin Miaoyan didn’t know whether to curse fate or thank it. Had she truly married Li Xi, she would have been but a drop in the ocean of ordinary lives, spending her days scheming in the inner chambers, begging for scraps of her husband’s affection, pinning her hopes on her children, living vicariously through their achievements. If lucky, her husband might cherish her for a few years before settling into mere respect for her status as his first wife. If unlucky, she might have withered away in sorrow.

Now, though nightmares still haunted her at midnight and bitter memories gnawed at her bones, she lived freely, unrestrained. Even the old dream she thought she’d never relive had now returned to her embrace.

Qin Miaoyan slowly tilted her head back to gaze at her “beloved’s” face. Her breaths were slow, her exhales deliberate. Starting from the hollow of his throat where his collar crossed, she let her breath drift upward, leaving a visible trail of flushed skin in its wake, just as she desired. The man before her was like a long-forgotten painting, its dusty scroll finally unrolled at this very moment.

Her breath lingered just beneath Li Fuguang’s jaw, so close that the slightest pout would bring their lips together. Only then did she whisper again, dreamily, “My Li Lang.”

Li Fuguang lowered his head at the sound of her voice. They were so close their breaths mingled. Qin Miaoyan’s gaze burned with undisguised desire as she lightly raised her hand to trace the edge of his temple, her fingers lingering in slow, deliberate strokes. They trailed along his hairline, her knuckles brushing his cheek before her fingertips finally settled at the corner of his lips, inching upward until they traced the fullness of his mouth.

She toyed with the softness of his lips, her own face flushed, pressing herself tighter against Li Fuguang’s broad chest until their breaths and heartbeats fell into perfect sync.

Li Fuguang should have realized Qin Miaoyan’s intentions by now. After all, who reminisces about their elder brother by pressing him between mountains, fitting their bodies together, teasing with fingertips, and seducing with breath?

But the problem was… Li Fuguang had never experienced anything like this before.

Not only had he never tasted pork, he’d never even seen a pig run.

All he knew was that he was burning up, going mad, about to combust. The fire in his chest blazed uncontrollably, his nostrils filled with Qin Miaoyan’s intoxicating fragrance until he could barely breathe.

He felt like a kettle from his childhood games.

Fill it with water, seal the lid, block the spout, tie it shut, then place it over fire.

When heated enough, it would go “Boom!”—exploding violently.

Scalding water would spray everywhere, the kettle would rocket skyward, and everything around would suffer, including himself with reddened, blistered skin.

So when Qin Miaoyan tried to press her fingers into his mouth, he shoved her away, staggering back several steps. His lower abdomen felt like boiling water with no release for the steam, the spout red-hot and painful as if clamped around a searing iron rod—pure agony.

Qin Miaoyan could tell he was at his limit. Just as she marveled at how he surpassed even certain exceptionally endowed Demon clans in stature, she didn’t understand why he’d push her away now.

He could resist this?

Was he actually some chaste gentleman, a modern-day Liu Xiahui?

“What’s wrong?” Qin Miaoyan asked with feigned concern, seeing him red-faced and hunched over in visible distress. “Does something hurt?”

“Let me check for you.”

She stepped closer, her expression solicitous but eyes brimming with mischief.

Unable to contain her wickedness, she murmured in a coaxing, suggestive tone, “Come now, let me rub it better…”

As Qin Miaoyan grasped his arm, her hand sliding down his chest toward his waist, Li Fuguang suddenly pushed her away and fled.

Channeling Spirit Power into his steps, he vanished from the hall in an instant.

Qin Miaoyan sighed at the missed opportunity but showed no urgency. Like a cat toying with a mouse, she leisurely exited, standing at the doorway to sense his direction with closed eyes.

He’d fled toward her open-air bathing pool in the rear courtyard—the same place where he’d stumbled upon her bathing, and where she kept her pet half-snake.

Perfect. The area had a barrier activated by pressing the stone lion on the shore. Once engaged, no sounds or activities within could be detected. Moreover, she’d installed mechanisms there storing her favorite strong liquors.

Tonight she’d drink the fiercest wine and tame the wildest stray.

Smoothing her robes, she sauntered toward the pool. She anticipated Li Fuguang’s inexperience—his initial shyness, whether hiding or dunking in cold water, was expected.

She interpreted his behavior as bashfulness.

She could already picture him emerging from the water, hair dripping, robes clinging to his sculpted frame, leaving nothing concealed. He might resist, but ultimately, he’d lose control.

After consuming seventeen Spirit Deer pizzles, even a pewter spear could pierce heaven and earth today.

She walked toward the pool, casually removing her outer robe and tossing it to the ground.  

Her long hair cascaded in disarray, her face flushed with a faint excitement, radiant as spring peaches, dazzling as scarlet blossoms.  

It was rare for Qin Miaoyan to be in such high spirits—after all, this was the fulfillment of a long-cherished dream.  

Her steps were almost buoyant as she approached the bathing pool, where she spotted Li Fuguang sitting in the shallow water with his back to her.  

As expected, his clothes were thoroughly soaked. His hair had completely come undone, the blue outer robe already discarded, leaving only a damp inner garment clinging to his muscular back.  

Just as enticing as she had imagined.  

With a flick of her fingers, Qin Miaoyan used her Spirit power to prick her fingertip. Soon, a gu worm, nearly invisible to the naked eye, emerged from her blood.  

The little creature wasn’t fully grown yet—harmless, even nourishing. Its purpose? To briefly numb the tongue, rendering speech impossible.  

But it wouldn’t completely suppress sound. After all, Li Fuguang’s voice was pleasant—deep like the resonance of a zither, far better than Li Xi’s rough, ox-like tones back in the day.  

As long as he didn’t suddenly blurt out something disappointing, his gasps would surely sound exquisite.  

She couldn’t miss it.  

Impatient, Qin Miaoyan quickened her pace, the tiny worm pinched between her fingers, ready to place it on his skin. Her gu worms dissolved upon contact, far easier than forcing them down someone’s throat—and utterly undetectable.  

As she reached the pool’s edge, she feigned concern. “What are you doing here? What on earth—”  

Her words died in her throat.  

The water was tinged with red—blood, unmistakably blood—spreading steadily from where Li Fuguang sat. She nearly bit her tongue in disbelief.  

“What are you doing?!” Qin Miaoyan froze at the edge, staring at him.  

Li Fuguang turned at the sound of her voice. Drenched, water still trickling down his striking features, his lips were unnaturally red, the corners slightly torn—clearly from his own teeth.  

His absurdly long lashes were soaked, clumped together as he looked up at her with dazed confusion.  

He was every bit as alluring as she had imagined—restless yet innocent, pure yet wild.  

But his legs were spread, his outer robe and trousers floating in the water. He wore only a pair of shorts, and the glaring crimson continued to seep from between his thighs.  

“Honored One…” His throat bobbed, voice thick with desire as he forced out the two words.