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All the way back, Liu Erlong's cheeks remained flushed.
She was both embarrassed and furious that Dai Chengfeng had dared to pull out that… thing in broad daylight—yet she couldn't deny that his kiss had made her heart race and her legs go weak.
Secretly annoyed at herself for being so helplessly affected, she nearly lost herself in that moment.
Back in the courtyard, however, Dai Chengfeng behaved himself. He merely ruffled her hair gently, his voice tinged with amusement:
"Rest first. I still have some matters to attend to."
Watching his retreating figure, Liu Erlong gave a soft huff and turned toward her room.
She shut the door a bit harder than necessary, as if that could lock away the lingering embarrassment.
The rest of the day passed peacefully.
Dai Chengfeng had disappeared somewhere and didn't return until mid-afternoon.
Liu Erlong sat beneath a tree in the courtyard, flipping through an ancient scroll. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling her with shifting patterns of light. Her brow furrowed slightly in concentration, completely unaware of his return.
Dai Chengfeng paused for a moment, watching her silently, before slowly approaching.
"What are you reading?" he asked.
Startled, she looked up. Seeing it was him, warmth crept back into her cheeks—but she quickly composed herself, snapping the scroll shut.
"Just some old records."
He sat down beside her, took the scroll from her hands without asking, and skimmed a few lines.
"A discussion on martial soul fusion techniques? Why the sudden interest?"
"I was just browsing," she replied, turning her face away so he wouldn't catch the flicker of guilt in her eyes.
Dai Chengfeng didn't press her. He handed the scroll back and began chatting about trivial, amusing things instead.
His tone was calm, his manner gentle—nothing like the assertive, teasing man from that morning.
At first, Liu Erlong remained awkward, but seeing how considerate and proper he was acting, she gradually relaxed, even responding occasionally with a word or two.
Still, whenever their eyes met by accident, her heart would skip a beat—and she'd hurriedly look away.
By evening, they shared dinner together.
Dai Chengfeng attentively served her dishes and kept the conversation light, creating an atmosphere oddly reminiscent of an ordinary married couple.
Liu Erlong stole glances at him. Seeing his calm, composed expression, the lingering irritation over that "little toy" slowly faded.
"Is this… what it feels like to have a husband?"
The thought startled her. She quickly lowered her head, focusing intently on her meal—but her ears turned pink again.
Night fell, and candlelight flickered softly in the room.
After her bath, Liu Erlong changed into a simple sleeping robe. The fabric was thin and supple, clinging to her slightly damp skin and tracing the graceful curves of her body as she moved. The sash around her waist hung loosely, and the neckline gaped just enough to reveal a delicate collarbone—and something more, half-hidden beneath.
Her long hair, still damp, cascaded over her shoulders. Droplets occasionally fell from the ends, soaking into the silk behind her back until the pale fabric turned nearly translucent, faintly revealing the warm, jade-like hue of her skin beneath.
Seated before her dressing table, she lazily dabbed at her hair with a dry cloth, movements slow and unhurried.
In the mirror, her face glowed with the rosy flush of post-bath warmth—the color spreading from her cheeks down her neck and vanishing into the depths of her robe.
Her eyes shimmered with moisture, long lashes still beaded with tiny droplets that fluttered like butterfly wings kissed by morning dew.
Her lips—full and cherry-red—parted slightly as she exhaled softly, still adjusting to the lingering heat of her bath.
Liu Erlong realized…
In just a few days, something subtle had changed in her aura.
Before, though mature and undeniably shapely, there had always been an unconscious reserve—a maidenly restraint in her demeanor.
But now…
Her brows carried a new softness, a tender allure born of newlywed intimacy. It was a languid grace radiating from within, and every glance, every blink, betrayed an unwitting charm.
It was the glow only a woman deeply cherished and lovingly tended could possess—like a lotus flower blooming quietly at night, its petals still glistening with raindrops.
Her figure had always been exquisite, but now it held an added suppleness, a ripe fullness.
Her waist remained slender—easily encircled by one hand.
Now seated sideways, the thin fabric hugged her form, tracing a seamless arc from her back, down her waist, to the gentle swell of her hips—round as a full moon, yet naturally relaxed in repose.
When Dai Chengfeng pushed open the door, this was the scene that greeted him.
He paused mid-step, his eyes darkening.
In the candlelight, she resembled a meticulously carved jade statue—every inch of skin glowing with warmth. Yet the damp hair and sheer robe infused the image with vivid, living sensuality.
His Adam's apple bobbed faintly before he regained composure. Quietly closing the door behind him, he walked over and stood behind her.
"Let me," he murmured.
Liu Erlong stiffened almost imperceptibly as he took the cloth from her hands.
She didn't protest—only lowered her lashes slightly, allowing him to gently dry her hair.
His touch was feather-light, deliberate—as if handling something fragile and precious.
His long fingers wove through her strands, from roots to tips, leaving no lock untouched.
Occasionally, his warm fingertips brushed the nape of her neck or grazed her earlobe, sending tiny tremors rippling down her spine, raising goosebumps along her skin.
Neither spoke.
The room filled only with the soft rustle of cloth against hair, the occasional crackle of the candle flame, and their quiet, measured breaths.
In the mirror, their reflections overlapped—
He stood behind her, leaning slightly forward, utterly focused on tending to her hair;
She sat upright, eyes downcast, her blush deepening further.
This quiet tenderness softened Liu Erlong's heart.
She remembered the past few nights—his alternating gentleness and intensity, his scorching palms tracing her skin, his hot breath whispering against her ear, the way she'd gone from nervous resistance to gradual acceptance… and then, unconsciously, to eager response.
Instantly, heat flooded her face again, spreading down her neck and across her chest in a delicate pink hue.
Under the candlelight, it looked irresistibly tempting—like the freshest peach blossoms of early spring, dew-kissed and waiting to be plucked.
"Done," Dai Chengfeng said softly.
He set aside the cloth, picked up a sandalwood comb from the table, and began brushing her hair.
His motions remained gentle, the teeth gliding smoothly from crown to tip, again and again.
Liu Erlong watched his profile in the mirror. Candlelight cast soft shadows over his sharp features, his long lashes casting delicate fans onto his lower lids.
His lips were pressed together in quiet concentration, as if this task mattered more than anything else.
A warm current swelled in her chest, spreading through her limbs.
She parted her lips—wanting to say "thank you," or perhaps call his name—but the words caught in her throat.
In the end, she simply gazed at his reflection, her eyes shimmering like still water under moonlight.
When her hair was half-dry and flowing silkily over her shoulders, Dai Chengfeng set down the comb.
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