Xiao Lan was heading back to her room when she ran into Lang Ruhua in the hallway. Without thinking, she said, "Shameless old witch… you like my big brother, don't you? How old are you?"
Lang Ruhua's eyes flashed with anger. She grabbed Xiao Lan by the neck, holding her tight. "Be careful with your words… I could end you with just one snap of my fingers," she warned coldly.
Xiao Lan struggled to free herself. Lang Ruhua's eyes fell on the gold bangle on her wrist. "It's you… you were the one who stole my bangle. You little thief…" she growled.
"N…no… it… it was given by big brother!" Xiao Lan stammered.
Lang Ruhua's gaze blazed with fury. "Bullshit! Don't pretend to be innocent in front of me. How could Lang Huan give it to you when he was unconscious?"
Before she could speak, Lang Ruhua's palm struck her face. Clutching her cheek, Xiao Lan looked up, her eyes burning with bitter resentment.
Lang Ruhua wasn't going to let Xiao Lan go easily. "Give me back the bangle!" she shouted.
Slowly, Xiao Lan's hand slipped into her sleeve, pulling out a small bottle. In an instant, a swarm of tiny, glowing insects poured out, buzzing furiously in the air. The swarm moved like a living cloud, flying straight toward Lang Ruhua.
Lang Ruhua's eyes widened in surprise. She quickly stepped back. With a swift motion, she waved her hand, and the swarm scattered, buzzing harmlessly against the walls.
Seeing her chance, Xiao Lan twisted free and ran down the hallway as fast as she could.
"This stupid girl… sooner or later her soul will be eaten by that cursed bangle without her even noticing," Lang Ruhua muttered coldly.
Lang Ruhua slowly pushed open the door to Lang Huan's room and stepped into the inner room. From behind the thin curtain came the gentle sound of rippling water, mingling with soft, tender whispers.
With Lang Ruhua's cultivation far above, Lang Huan remained completely unaware of her silent presence in the room.
The little monkey was murmuring sweet words into Feng Yao's ear. Usually calm and composed, Lang Ruhua felt a strange warmth rising to her face. Half of her wanted to leave immediately—it was none of her business—but the other half couldn't tear her eyes away.
She cursed herself, shaking her head in both irritation and amusement. Standing hidden behind a pillar, unseen, she flicked her sleeve. One side of the curtain slipped to the floor, revealing a view that made her heart pound.
Feng Yao tried to push Lang Huan away gently, yet that small motion only drew their bodies closer. A teasing smile curved across Lang Huan's lips as she leaned in. "You can't escape me."
"Your Highness, before we return to Luo City… let's get married," Lang Huan whispered.
Feng Yao couldn't help but chuckle softly. She reached up and playfully tugged at Lang Huan's ear. "Are you dreaming?"
Instead of answering, Lang Huan wrapped her arms tightly around Feng Yao's waist, pulling her close until their foreheads nearly touched. Her eyes burned with determination. "Once we arrive in Luo City, who knows what kind of storm will be waiting for us? I don't care… I just want to marry you before facing whatever comes."
Feng Yao lifted her hands, gently cupping Lang Huan's face. Their breaths mingled, their lips only inches apart. Her gaze softened, but she stayed silent.
Lang Huan's brows furrowed with frustration, her voice almost breaking. "Don't you want it too? I can't wait any longer."
Time seemed to stop. Then, slowly, Feng Yao's lips curved into a radiant smile.
"I want it… with all my heart. Then we'll never be separated again."
The promise hung in the air like an oath written in the stars. Hearing it, Lang Ruhua's heart turned sour. A strange bitterness welled up in her chest, one she could not name.
Lang Huan's devoted gaze and Feng Yao's blooming smile. In Lang ruhua's eyes, the eldest princess no longer carried the aura of arrogance, dignity, and untouchable nobility.
At this moment, she looked nothing more than a woman in love, yielding herself wholeheartedly to her lover.
Steam curled from the wooden tube. Lang Huan sat behind her in the water, one arm wrapped tightly around her waist, the other slipping lower to part her thighs. Her bent knees trembled under the gentle pressure of Lang Huan's hand. Feng Yao leaned back against her, their bodies pressed tightly together.
Feng Yao gasped, her head falling back against Lang Huan's shoulder. Lang Huan turned sideways, capturing her lips in a desperate kiss, tongues entwining as though they sought to drink each other's breath.
At the same time, Lang Huan's fingers slid into Feng Yao's heat, her thumb teasing the sensitive pearl. The spring water splashed softly with each movement. Her lips trailed down to Feng Yao's pale neck, leaving lingering kisses, sometimes nipping just enough to draw another gasp.
Her hand kneaded the curves of softness, teasing the hardened peak between her fingers. Feng Yao's breath quickened, chest rising and falling as Lang Huan's fingers moved with increasing rhythm. Each stroke sent waves of heat coursing through her body, until even the water around them seemed to burn with her rising fire.
The kneading above and the insistent thrusts below tangled together, driving Feng Yao higher and higher. "Lang Huan… I… ahhh… nghhh…"
Her body arched, thighs trembling under Lang Huan's guiding grip. A sharp cry escaped her lips—half pleasure, half release—as the wave finally crested. Her body shook violently, tightening around Lang Huan's fingers as she reached her peak.
Lang Huan held her through it, pressing gentle kisses to her damp cheek. Feng Yao's eyes fluttered closed, tears mixing with the spring's steam—yet a faint, blissful smile lingered on her lips.
Lang Ruhua's face burned. She pressed her thighs together instinctively, but the warmth pooling in her lower abdomen betrayed her. Her fingers clutched her robes tightly, chest heaving, as if her own body answered to the sight before her eyes.
She flicked her sleeve and left the room in haste. By the time she reached her room, she shut the door quickly and leaned against it, clutching her chest.
After cultivating for more than a hundred years, she had thought such feelings of romance would never disturb her again. Yet ever since Lang Huan had taken root in her heart, she longed for her caress, her pampering, her love.
Her knees weakened, and she sank onto the edge of the bed. Her fingers brushed against her own waist, sliding upward over the curve of her softness. A gasp escaped her lips.
She bit her lip hard, ashamed of her boldness. She lay back on the bed, robes loosening as her hands wandered further, tracing down to the heat between her thighs.
Each time she shut her eyes, she saw Lang Huan's gaze clouded with lust. The echoes of their passion grew sharper in her mind, the sounds of their ecstasy ringing louder in her head.
Her hips lifted unconsciously, her breath breaking into soft whimpers as she touched herself, discovering sensations she had never dared before. In her mind, it was Lang Huan's hand caressing her, sliding lower, parting her and slipping inside, until the illusion felt almost real.
The pleasure mounted and mounted until, at last, her body stiffened, trembling as waves of heat rolled through her. She pressed her face into the pillow to muffle her cry, her mind torn between confusion and shame—and yet also a strange, intoxicating pleasure she could not deny.
To suppress the restless desire, she forced herself into meditation. But when distraction returned again and again, Lang Ruhua finally flew to the forest in anger, seeking release through martial practice.