As the night banquet drew to a close, the candles in the hall flickered, casting a warm glow throughout Wang Yun's residence. Wang Yun emerged slowly from the inner chamber, his steps measured, a cryptic smile playing on his lips. He approached the hall where Lü Bu reclined among the seats, offering a deep bow and a courteous chuckle. "This old man had hoped to invite the general to stay the night, to share stories and deepen our bond. But with eyes and ears everywhere these days, even the best of intentions can be twisted into suspicion. Lingering too long might draw unwanted attention. What does the general think?"
Lü Bu's sword-like brows furrowed slightly. Though reluctant to leave, he knew Wang Yun spoke sense. His gaze darted toward the inner hall, the enchanting silhouette of Diao Chan still lingering in his mind, his throat tightening with desire. Suppressing the restlessness in his heart, he stood, adjusting his war robe, his voice low but tinged with urgency. "If that's the case, I urge Lord Situ to choose an auspicious day soon—don't keep me waiting too long." With that, he clasped his hands in gratitude, his reluctance evident, before turning to depart into the night.
Once Lü Bu's figure vanished into the darkness, Wang Yun turned back, his smile deepening. He stepped into the inner chamber and summoned Diao Chan. With a hearty laugh, he said, "Lü Bu is now fully ensnared in our scheme—like a fish on the hook. All we need is to whet his appetite a little more, and he'll be consumed with longing, unable to resist!" He paused, his eyes settling on Diao Chan, a fleeting pang of reluctance crossing his mind at the thought of giving her away—a thought that only stirred his own desires further. His tone then grew serious. "Tonight, you'll come to my chambers. Dong Zhuo's appetites are insatiable, and he may take you in all manner of ways, though he won't have you atop him—his shortcomings limit him. We must ensure you can stir his excitement and that everything works as planned without arousing his suspicion."
Wang Yun's mind wandered unbidden to the previous night's rehearsal with Diao Chan, a memory that curled through him like tendrils of warm smoke, stirring a quiet satisfaction in his chest. The intricate plan they had woven together—a tapestry of seduction and subterfuge—hinged on her performance, and he was determined to leave nothing to chance. Clearing his throat, he fixed his gaze on her, his voice steady yet laced with anticipation. "Let us try the ram's bladder once more," he suggested, his tone carrying the weight of their shared purpose. "We'll test different positions to ensure all unfolds seamlessly. Tomorrow, I shall invite that brute Dong Zhuo to the mansion for wine, and present you as the crown jewel of our scheme. Should this succeed, our grand design will be secured."
Diao Chan lowered her gaze demurely, her long lashes casting delicate shadows across her porcelain cheeks. Her acquiescence came softly, her voice a tender murmur that seemed to ripple through the air like a spring breeze caressing new blooms. "Chan'er will follow my lord's arrangements in all things," she whispered, her words imbued with a quiet resolve that belied the storm of emotions flickering beneath her serene exterior.
Wang Yun's fingers gently lifted her chin, tilting her face toward his discerning gaze. "Chan'er, you've done well tonight," he said softly, his voice a low murmur of approval. He took her delicate hand in his, noting the loosened collar of her gown, still slightly askew from Lü Bu's earlier fervor. As his eyes drifted to the soft curve of her cleavage, a flicker of intent crossed his expression. "Follow me, my dear," he murmured, guiding her toward the inner chamber with a steady hand.
Once inside, he untied her sash with deliberate care, the silken robes rustling softly as they slipped from her shoulders. The fabric cascaded to the floor like liquid moonlight, pooling at her feet and revealing a body so luminous it seemed to glow—her skin as pale and flawless as frost-kissed snow, catching the dim candlelight in a way that made her appear both ethereal and achingly tangible. Wang Yun's gaze lingered, his expression a poignant blend of solemnity and quiet admiration as he studied her shy, downturned face. He knew the challenges that awaited her tomorrow—Dong Zhuo, a man fat and unattractive, suspicious and impatient, yet possessed of a voracious appetite for her beauty. Diao Chan's features, delicate yet tinged with a tragic allure, resembled a secluded orchid unfurling its petals beneath a mournful moon, her beauty both a weapon and a burden in the dangerous game they played.
Wang Yun guided Diao Chan to the edge of the bed, seating her gently upon the silken sheets. He reached toward the bedside table, retrieving a ram's bladder from a lacquered box, its contents gleaming faintly in the dim candlelight. With a tender touch, he parted her thighs, the flickering glow casting delicate shadows across her exposed flower, its petals glistening with her natural moisture. Carefully, he opened her folds, her slick warmth already seeping from her core, and coated the bladder with her essence before slipping it inside her with practiced ease, the motion eliciting a soft gasp from her lips.
He then retrieved a large pillow, its brocade surface cool to the touch, and handed it to her. "When he seeks to claim you," he instructed, his voice steady yet tinged with a grave undertone, "place this beneath your hips to ease his access. And when you sense his readiness to enter, be prepared to burst the ram's bladder at the precise moment." Diao Chan nodded, her cheeks flushed with a mix of shyness and determination, and positioned the pillow beneath her hips, lifting them slightly in a subtle arch.
Wang Yun's gaze softened, though a flicker of resolve remained. "Let us practice to ensure all goes smoothly," he murmured. Diao Chan parted her thighs further, her hips tilted upward, the candlelight catching the faint shimmer of white, sticky liquid that oozed from the center of her flower, the bladder still securely nestled within. Even at his age, Wang Yun felt a stirring heat, his body responding despite his restraint, his arousal evident as he positioned himself between her legs. With careful intent, he probed gently, ensuring the placement would raise no suspicion, his movements measured and deliberate.
Diao Chan, a dancer by craft, possessed a lithe grace even in this intimate act—her core elastic yet tight, reminiscent of untouched innocence. After a few cautious thrusts, Wang Yun paused, his voice low and firm. "Clench now," he directed, "and tell me if you can feel the moment to burst it." Diao Chan's lashes fluttered as she complied, a shy nod accompanying the faint blush that deepened across her features.
Wang Yun gently steadied her as she rose to her feet, his hands firm yet careful in their guidance. "After he releases inside you," he instructed, his voice low and measured, "you must discreetly expel the bladder and dispose of it—your actions must remain a secret, lest he grow suspicious." Diao Chan nodded, her movements graceful as she lifted her arms to encircle Wang Yun's neck, pressing her lithe form against him. The warmth of her breasts molded softly against his chest, their yielding curves a beguiling contrast to the taut restraint in his frame. She tilted her face upward, capturing his lips in a tender, lingering kiss, the faint sweetness of her breath mingling with his. As Wang Yun closed his eyes, momentarily lost in the heady sensation, her other hand moved with silent precision, deftly retrieving the broken bladder and concealing it within her small, clenched fist.
She drew back slightly, her lips brushing his as she murmured, "Like this?" Her voice was a soft, teasing whisper, laced with a playful undertone that belied the gravity of their scheme. Wang Yun opened his eyes, a flicker of pride softening the stern lines of his gaze as he beheld her. "My clever Chan'er," he replied, his tone a careful blend of admiration and quiet resolve, tempered by the weight of their shared purpose.
Wang Yun gently dipped his fingers beneath her flower, their tips soon slick with her glistening fluids, a warm testament to her earlier arousal. He withdrew his hand and held it up to the flickering lamp, inspecting the mixture with a discerning eye—a faint red hue swirled within the creamy white, a delicate blend that drew a flicker of satisfaction across his stern features. With a measured nod, he retrieved another ram's bladder from the lacquered box on the bedside table and handed it to her. "Insert it yourself this time," he instructed softly, his voice calm yet firm, "exactly as I positioned the last."
Diao Chan's delicate fingers took the bladder, parting her thighs with a dancer's grace to reveal her glistening core in the candlelight. She inserted it carefully, her breath hitching softly—a sound that sent a jolt through Wang Yun. His weathered hands guided her hips with restrained desire, positioning her for their rehearsal.
He adjusted her into various poses with deliberate care, each shift unveiling a new facet of her beauty. First, on her knees, her agile dancer's body flowed like water, her spine arching in a sinuous curve that gleamed with a faint sheen of sweat, hips tilting with an effortless allure that stirred a primal heat in Wang Yun's chest. Then on her side, her lithe frame stretched elegantly, the soft swell of her hips and the gentle rise of her breasts accentuating her delicate grace, her every movement a silent melody that fanned his longing. Finally, laid back in a missionary pose, her starry eyes met his with quiet resolve, her luminous skin glowing like polished jade beneath the candlelight, her dancer's poise radiating even in stillness—an intoxicating vision that ignited his resolve to claim her one last time. Wang Yun pressed himself against her thighs, thrusting gently with a rhythm born of purpose and need. Her warm, slick walls clenched around him, drawing a low groan as he fought for control.
Despite his intent to prolong the moment, his endurance faltered. With a final thrust, a ragged groan escaped him, his release searing as he collapsed atop her, their sweat-slicked bodies melding together. Her soft breasts cushioned his heaving chest, her rapid heartbeat echoing his own in the aftermath.
As Wang Yun sought her lips, kissing her deeply, Diao Chan deftly captured the broken bladder in her hand, concealing it with a subtle grace. Wang Yun pulled back, a tumult of satisfaction, relief, and sorrow flickering across his weathered face. "Chan'er, you are ready," he murmured, his voice a low rumble, heavy with the weight of inevitability—if not now, then soon, as it must be. Tomorrow, he would offer her to Dong Zhuo, a pawn in their perilous game. For the last time, he grasped her breasts, his hands trembling with a blend of reverence and reluctance. He kissed them tenderly, his lips lingering as he sucked gently, a faint edge of jealousy and defiance tingeing his touch—a silent protest against Lü Bu's earlier gaze and the rough hands of Dong Zhuo that would claim her tomorrow.
The taste of Diao Chan lingered in his mouth, a bittersweet echo of her sweetness that stirred his senses even as his heart heaved with the weight of what lay ahead. With a heavy sigh, he ordered a bath drawn for her, the warm water to cleanse her for the trials to come, and a chest of her finest clothing prepared for the day ahead—a silent acknowledgment of the dangerous role she would play.