The heavy oak door of the Ji Clan's guest room shut behind Lin Hao with a muted thud, sealing him in the dim, perfumed silence. Outside, the sprawling clan courtyard bustled with the sounds of distant disciples sparring, but in here, a suffocating stillness pressed in.
He let out a long breath, shoulders slumping. His head still buzzed with half-muttered whispers from earlier that day—the students of the academy mocking him, laughing about how he was "that lucky useless husband" who had managed to cling to Ji Chuyan's side. Their sneers had lingered even as he walked away.
Just as he sat down on the edge of his narrow bed, a crisp chime echoed in his ears.
Ding!
System Notification: Host has been granted access to a live broadcast.
Content Source: Wife – Ji Chuyan.
View Mode: Compulsory.
Lin Hao's heart lurched. "Wait—live broadcast? What the hell do you mean by that—"
The air in front of him shimmered, and a translucent pane of light bloomed into existence, forming a floating screen. His stomach clenched as the vision cleared into focus.
Chapter 3: The Price of PowerThe heavy oak door of the Ji Clan's guest room shut behind Lin Hao with a muted thud, sealing him in a perfumed silence that pressed against his chest like a stone. Outside, the sprawling clan courtyard hummed with the distant clatter of sparring disciples—swords clashing, qi flaring in controlled bursts—but within these four walls, the air was thick, suffocating. Lin Hao let out a long, shuddering breath, his shoulders slumping as he sank onto the edge of his narrow bed. His mind buzzed with the half-muttered sneers from earlier that day at the academy: "That lucky useless husband," they'd called him, their laughter sharp as knives. "Clinging to Ji Chuyan's shadow like a leech."
He rubbed his temples, trying to drown out their voices, but the sting lingered, festering like a wound. Before he could sink deeper into the mire of his thoughts, a crisp chime cut through the silence.
Ding!
System Notification: Host has been granted access to a live broadcast. Content Source: Wife – Ji Chuyan. View Mode: Compulsory.
Lin Hao's heart lurched. "Live broadcast? What the hell—" His words caught in his throat as the air shimmered before him, a translucent pane of light blooming into existence. The floating screen solidified, its edges glowing faintly, and his stomach twisted as the image came into focus.
There she was. Ji Chuyan.
She sat gracefully on a silken mattress in one of the Ji Clan's lavish chambers, her long, raven-black hair cascading like a waterfall over her shoulders, catching the amber glow of hanging lanterns. Her pale blue training robe, thin from hours of cultivation, clung to her lithe frame, outlining the gentle curves of her breasts, the taut plane of her stomach, the delicate flare of her hips. Her skin, luminous as polished jade, shimmered with a faint sheen of sweat, making her seem almost ethereal, a vision of untouchable beauty. She sat in the lotus position, legs crossed neatly, her posture upright but softened by the exertion of her recent training, her chest rising and falling in steady, measured breaths.
But what sent a shiver crawling up Lin Hao's spine was the figure kneeling behind her. The vice-head of her alliance—a young man whose name escaped Lin Hao in the heat of the moment, known for his medical and support skills—rested his hands on Chuyan's shoulders. His fingers, long and calloused, splayed with professional familiarity, as if this were routine. Yet to Lin Hao, it felt anything but.
"Host, sit back and enjoy," the System's voice purred, dripping with amusement. "Educational content, you see. Your wife is receiving proper… assistance. Every motion, every touch—converted to experience for you. Don't you feel lucky?"
"Lucky?" Lin Hao hissed, his fists tightening on his knees, nails biting into his palms. He wanted to tear his eyes away, to will the screen to vanish, but it hung stubbornly in the air, unyielding.
The massage began simply. The vice-head's thumbs pressed into the tense muscles of Chuyan's shoulders, tracing slow, deliberate circles along her meridian lines. She tilted her chin upward slightly, exhaling as though a weight were melting away. Her lips, full and softly pink, parted to release a faint, quivering "Mnh…"—a sound so soft it was barely audible, yet the broadcast's crystal clarity caught it like a blade, slicing into Lin Hao's chest. Her fingers twitched against the crimson silk sheets, slender and trembling, before curling into the fabric, clutching it lightly as if to anchor herself.
At first, Lin Hao tried to stay detached. It's just a medicinal massage, he told himself, jaw clenched. Cultivators do this to ease meridian strain. It's nothing. But the screen refused to let him hide. Every detail was magnified—the faint flutter of her long lashes, the delicate flush creeping up her porcelain cheeks, the rise and fall of her chest as her robe clung to her curves. The fabric slipped slightly, revealing the smooth, pale line of her collarbone, where a bead of sweat traced a glistening path to the hollow of her throat.
Ding!
+5 EXP. Touch detected.
A burning flush crawled across Lin Hao's face. His humiliation wasn't just in watching—it was being measured, reduced to a cruel arithmetic of touches and points. "Damn you," he muttered, glaring at the flickering words, but the System ignored him.
The vice-head's hands glided lower, his palms flattening against the curve of Chuyan's waist, fingers splaying to press into the sensitive hollows just above her hips. Her reaction was immediate—a low, guttural "Hnn… ha…" that vibrated with a mix of relief and surrender, a sound that seemed to unravel from deep within her core. Her hands yanked at the sheets, the silk bunching into tight knots under her grip, her nails scraping faint creases across the fabric. Her legs, once neatly crossed, shifted restlessly, one knee bending as her thighs pressed together, the faint rustle of her robe against the mattress echoing in the broadcast.
Lin Hao's throat tightened, his fists clenching until his knuckles whitened. Each twist of the sheets, each quivering sound, felt like a wound reopened. The vice-head's fingers dug deeper, targeting a cluster of nerves where her meridians converged. Chuyan's spine arched, her head tilting back to expose the slender column of her throat, her hair spilling in a wild cascade across the sheets. Her breasts rose with each ragged breath, the thin robe accentuating their fullness, clinging to her sweat-slicked skin like a lover's touch. Another sound escaped her—a shaky, almost plaintive "Nnh… mnh…" that wavered between a gasp and a moan, raw and unguarded. Her lips trembled as she bit down on the lower one, trying to stifle the sound, but it slipped out again, a strange, quivering cry that pierced Lin Hao's heart.
Her hands clawed at the sheets with desperate fervor, the silk now a tangled mess, nearly tearing under the force of her grip. Her fingers trembled, nails digging into the fabric as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded. The robe slipped further, revealing the smooth curve of her upper thigh, where her skin glistened like liquid gold under the lantern light. The vice-head's hands moved upward, thumbs pressing into the base of her spine before fanning out across her shoulder blades. Each touch drew a new sound—a soft, trembling "Ahhn…" that broke into a high, quivering note, alien coming from a woman known for her icy grace. Her eyes, half-lidded and unfocused, gleamed with a haze of sensation, her lashes fluttering as the flush on her cheeks deepened, spreading down her neck.
Ding!
+5 EXP. +5 EXP. Meridian stimulation intensifying.
The massage deepened, the vice-head's palms gliding along her waistline, drawing quiet shivers from Chuyan's body. Her legs shifted again, one thigh sliding against the other, the robe riding up to reveal more of her glistening skin. Her breaths came faster, each one laced with faint, shuddering sounds—soft "Mmhs" and "Hns" that she tried to swallow but couldn't. Her fingers yanked at the sheets, the silk creasing and stretching, her nails leaving faint tears in the fabric. The intensity built, her body trembling under each precise press of the vice-head's fingers, until a louder, more desperate cry broke free—a sharp, quivering "Mnhh… please…" that hung in the air like a plea.
Her body arched fully, her chest lifting off the mattress, her hair a tangled halo around her flushed, radiant face. Her hands clutched the sheets so tightly they nearly tore from the mattress, her fingers trembling as they dug into the silk, tracing aimless patterns in their desperation. The word "please" echoed in Lin Hao's mind, its ambiguity a torment—was she begging for the massage to stop, or for something more? The uncertainty twisted his shame into a burning, jagged thing.
The System's voice purred, gleeful and cruel: "Such a performance, Host. Every sound, every clutch of the sheets—your strength grows. Aren't you grateful?"
Ding!
+5 EXP. +5 EXP. +5 EXP. Total: 300 EXP. Attribute Gained.
Chuyan's body sank back onto the mattress, her chest heaving as she panted, her hair a chaotic spill across the crimson silk. Her hands still clutched the sheets, though her grip had loosened, fingers trembling as they traced faint patterns across the fabric. The vice-head's hands slowed, his touch lighter now, as if giving her a moment to recover. But her breaths remained uneven, each one carrying the ghost of those strange, quivering noises—sounds that lingered in Lin Hao's ears, each one a wound and a spark of something darker.
The screen flickered, then went dark, leaving Lin Hao in the suffocating silence of the guest room. His chest heaved, his hands trembling where they lay against his sides. The System's final taunt rang in his mind: "You wanted strength, didn't you? This is the price. Every hero must start somewhere… even if it's crawling in the dirt."
He collapsed backward onto the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. His mind was a storm—rage, shame, disbelief, and beneath it all, a twisted resentment. Not toward Chuyan, not even toward the vice-head, but toward himself. Toward his own powerlessness. The academy's laughter echoed again: "Ji Chuyan's husband? A joke. Living off her shadow."
But as the silence pressed in, something shifted within him. The humiliation was a blade, yes, but blades could cut both ways. The System thought it could break him, thought it could bury him under shame. It was wrong.
Lin Hao sat up, his fists clenching tight, his breath steadying. "I'll endure this," he whispered, his voice hoarse but resolute. "Every wound, every humiliation—I'll make it fuel. One day, I'll tear your smug voice apart, System. One day, I'll stand over them all."
He rose from the bed, his silhouette sharp against the dim lantern light. The night pressed on, but within him, a grim ember glowed—a promise, a vow, that he would claw his way out of the dirt and forge his own strength, no matter the cost.