Li Fei eased the door shut — but even the faint click of the latch made Qin Zhihua's heart lurch.
She had already begun to understand.
Moonlight filtered through the paper windowpane, casting the room in a hazy, gauzy glow. The only sounds were the rapid beating of two hearts. Qin Zhihua's shy, uncertain gaze collided with Li Fei's — burning with heat, liquid with seduction — and she looked away at once, startled as a fawn.
"Zhihua, what are you so nervous about?"
Li Fei ran her tongue along the corner of her lips, her eyes half-lidded and languid.
"N-nothing… it's nothing…"
The graceful and composed Qin Zhihua — composed at all times, in all things — was rarely reduced to blushing shyness, but here she was: eyes darting, unable to hold still.
"Don't you want to share a bed with me?"
Li Fei put on an expression of wounded, pitiful reproach.
"No… that's not it…"
Qin Zhihua's voice was trembling, the tips of her ears burning red.
The top courtesan laughed softly to herself, unhurrying, and began to undress.
By chance, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror — the slender, delicate little girl she had once been was gone entirely, replaced by a black-haired, dark-eyed woman radiating an almost aggressive allure. The woman in the mirror had hair like spilled ink and lips like fresh blood; moonlight pooled across her skin until it glowed like white jade, outlining a tall, elegantly curved figure that seemed to breathe and pulse with life.
She slipped off the red dress, keeping only a close-fitting red inner robe, then pulled open the bedside cabinet drawer and produced two red candles. She waited until the candlelight began to dance and flicker in the pitch-black wells of her pupils — then lay on her side across the bed, propping her chin on one hand:
"Zhihua, how much longer do you plan to make me wait?"
Qin Zhihua bit her lip. She walked to the far side of the bed, carefully removed her shoes and stockings without making a sound, and then lay flat on her back with her eyes pressed tightly shut — as though bracing for something.
Li Fei lowered her gaze and traced the soft pad of one fingertip along the curve of Qin Zhihua's brow, her lashes, the slope of her nose — until her fingertip came to rest at the collar of her robe.
One gentle tug, and she could…
An instinctive, wordless resistance rose from somewhere deep inside Li Fei. Her brow furrowed. Her eyes flickered, uncertain.
What am I waiting for?
It's late. We're clearly drawn to each other. I've even lit the red candles. Isn't everything I've been longing for right here, within reach?
Is it because there's no candlelit dinner? No petal bath? No — that's not it… If I'd wanted all that fussy, elaborate ceremony, I should have taken Zhihua to a proper upscale inn from the start, instead of jumping at Ling'er's invitation without a second thought…
Li Fei searched her own heart — and quickly found the answer.
The kind of romance I want isn't a scripted performance, laid out step by step with rose petals and candlelight, where we both sit there stiff and politely awkward until we've completed the ritual.
I want something light. Something that has an edge of excitement to it. Otherwise, why choose Ling'er's bedroom at all?
The night is still long… long enough to find a different way to begin.
And so Li Fei laughed — suddenly, softly — and reached out to brush the beads of perspiration from Qin Zhihua's brow with one fingertip, leaning close to her ear:
"Zhihua, I'm hungry."
Qin Zhihua's eyes flew open in bewildered disbelief.
But Li Fei had already rolled out of bed. She grabbed one of Su Ling'er's gauzy skirts and pulled it on, stepped into a pair of sandals, and threw open the window.
The night breeze stirred Li Fei's long hair. She stood with her back to the moonlight, grinning, and extended a hand toward Qin Zhihua:
"Come on. Keep me company for a midnight snack."
...
Loxibrook was a beautiful city — even within the town proper, lush, abundant greenery pressed in from every direction.
Not far from the small, unhurried night market, a grove of trees grew along the bank of a quiet, dark pool. The water was clear enough to hold the reflection of the moon entire.
Li Fei sat at the pool's edge, bare feet slapping the surface of the water, sending ripples fanning outward in rings.
In one hand she clutched a fistful of skewers. Each time she finished one, she reared back and hurled the wooden stick into the trees with considerable force — and then, with evident delight, immediately repeated the exercise. It was an act of spectacularly poor civic virtue, and she showed no sign of stopping.
Qin Zhihua sat primly beside her, knees together, watching Li Fei with a slightly dazed expression.
Willful. Heedless. Utterly unpredictable. A walking collection of every flaw a well-bred young lady was supposed to avoid… Yet every single one of those flaws, laid bare so completely tonight, drew the rule-abiding, always-proper Qin Zhihua in like a moth to a flame. She genuinely could not understand how Li Fei could do this — climb out a window to go eat street food, of all things, in that situation — yet she felt not a shred of embarrassment or irritation at it. If anything, her nerves had vanished entirely. What remained was an inexplicable, aching sense of envy she couldn't quite name.
Qin Zhihua understood, deep down, that even freed from her family's constraints, she could never, in a thousand years, do any of this herself.
The rich, spiced aroma of grilled meat broke through her reverie. Li Fei held a skewer of pork tenderloin up to her lips:
"Open up. Say ah —"
Qin Zhihua bit off a piece — somewhat awkwardly — and then watched as Li Fei wound up her arm.
"Don't—"
The wooden stick was already gone, swallowed by the night. Qin Zhihua's heart gave a little leap. A small, guilty discomfort settled over her — the urge to go retrieve the stick herself was nearly overwhelming.
"It's fine! Give it a few days and it'll dissolve into the dirt. Nothing to worry about."
The top courtesan made her case with complete, unapologetic conviction.
"But…"
Qin Zhihua hesitated.
"Doing something a little naughty every now and then is perfectly fine."
Li Fei leaned in close and murmured into her ear: "Holding yourself to account every single moment of every day — doesn't that sound exhausting?"
"But… mmph…"
Qin Zhihua was still working out her objection when a warm, sweet sensation — carrying the faint taste of grilled meat — cut her off entirely.
Half a minute later, Li Fei tilted her head to one side, as though nothing whatsoever had happened, and asked:
"Zhihua, didn't you just disperse all your True Qi? How were you using Qinggong just now?"
Qin Zhihua — who had spent the better part of that half-minute not breathing — kept her head buried, voice barely above a whisper:
"The True Qi is gone, but the foundation remains… the body is unharmed…"
"So you're in perfect health, then?"
Li Fei's mouth curved. "Then how is it that Zhihua was sweating quite so much earlier this evening?"
Qin Zhihua's cheeks puffed out slightly. She shot Li Fei a reproachful sidelong glance.
Li Fei appeared entirely oblivious to that look of smoldering grievance. She shifted a little closer, smiling pleasantly. "Too warm? The pool water is lovely and cool, you know."
The ethereally beautiful woman — all classical elegance and otherworldly grace — bit her lip and glanced reluctantly at the water.
As a child, her nurse had drilled it into her relentlessly: a woman's feet must never be exposed in company. If an outsider were to see them, her reputation would be ruined.
"Don't worry. There's no one else here."
Li Fei kicked her feet with cheerful abandon, sending a spray of glittering droplets into the air, eyes curving into crescents.
At last, Qin Zhihua cast one furtive glance around them in every direction. Then, with careful, deliberate movements, she removed her shoes and stockings, and lowered two small, perfectly shaped, snow-pale feet with great delicacy into the water.
When the cool water closed over warm skin, Qin Zhihua bit hard on her lip to keep from making any unseemly sound.
"Feels good, doesn't it?"
Li Fei drew close and whispered it against her ear.
"It feels… very strange."
Qin Zhihua sat stiffly upright, her gaze wandering, constantly checking over both shoulders — a fawn come to drink at a stream, ready to bolt at the first hint of a footstep.
"Relax a little~"
Li Fei bumped her shoulder gently against Qin Zhihua's rigid one — and at the same time, quietly extended one foot beneath the water, skimming it lightly across the soft, sensitive arch of Qin Zhihua's sole. Qin Zhihua let out a startled cry, the upper half of her body freezing in place while her legs scrambled sideways to escape.
Knowing perfectly well how flustered her quarry was, the top courtesan only pressed her advantage. Her bare feet darted through the water like fish, chasing the retreating white swan this way and that — and when the white swan had nowhere left to flee, Li Fei let out a sharp, pained "ow!"
Qin Zhihua — whose blush had spread all the way to the tips of her ears — had sunk her teeth into Li Fei's shoulder.
"Why did you bite me?"
Li Fei put her hands on her hips with an expression of profound indignation — the wrongdoer loudly accusing the wronged.
"You scoundrel!"
Qin Zhihua snapped back in a low, flustered voice — like a cat finally goaded past its limit — and then immediately startled herself, clapping both hands over her mouth.
"Zhihua, that's the first time you've ever said something bad about me."
Li Fei turned to look at her. The smile in her eyes was warm and steady now — all trace of flirtation gone:
"The image of the great Miss Qin — shattered!"
Qin Zhihua's heart gave a small, trembling lurch.
In the moonlight, Li Fei let her smile fade. Slowly, she reached out and pressed one fingertip to the center of Qin Zhihua's brow — then drew it down the slope of her nose, grazing her lips, her voice soft and unhurried:
"From now on — you are simply Qin Zhihua. One of a kind. Irreplaceable."
Qin Zhihua stared at her, utterly lost, sinking into those eyes — brilliant as stars, yet soft as still water.
Her gaze flickered — and then she lunged forward, throwing her arms around Li Fei and pulling her close, sealing Li Fei's lips with her own before Li Fei could breathe another word.
"Mm—"
Caught completely off guard, Li Fei's eyes went wide. Her hand slipped — and with a resounding splash, both of them tumbled into the pool.
But Qin Zhihua, lost entirely to the moment, did not let go. She clung to Li Fei without the slightest intention of releasing her — though to be fair, some small, practical corner of her mind was still functioning, and she was making sure Li Fei could breathe. Technically. In the manner of rescue breathing.
It went without saying that the newly minted Witch, for all her terrifying enhancements, was no match for the swordswoman when it came to holding her breath — even with Qin Zhihua's True Qi entirely gone.
Several long minutes later, a very damp Li Fei finally resurfaced, eyes half-rolled back, gasping for precious air.
She sprawled across Qin Zhihua's lap, panting, and leveled an accusatory finger:
"You — you scoundrel!"
The words had barely left her mouth before she expelled a mouthful of foot-water in a magnificent spout, very much like a whale.
Qin Zhihua could hold back no longer. She pressed a hand over her mouth, her long black hair trembling with the force of her laughter.
For a long while, neither of them spoke. At last Qin Zhihua grew still, tilting her head back — two moons reflected in her eyes — savoring something she understood, instinctively, she would never experience again in quite the same way. Then she looked back down at Li Fei, and her gaze was soft and shimmering, full of light.
Li Fei held up a finger to intercept the lips descending toward her, and assumed an air of great dignity: "I'm full now. Let's go home."
Before Qin Zhihua could say a word, a weight lifted from her lap. She hurried to pull her shoes and stockings back on — and looked up to find Li Fei already ten-some meters away, running. Then Li Fei glanced back over her shoulder, that profile, that half-smile catching the moonlight.
Qin Zhihua stood transfixed — as though her soul had been stolen clean away — watching that retreating figure racing barefoot through the moonlight, sandals dangling from one hand, water droplets shaken loose from her hair sparkling in the air. Even when those droplets landed on her own face, she did not notice.
...
The red candles were lit again. Qin Zhihua had just retrieved the willow branch, intending to sweep the water from both their clothes and skin — when Li Fei snatched it from her hand and tossed it carelessly to the floor.
With a startled little cry from Qin Zhihua, Li Fei's expression broke into a wickedly delighted grin. In one smooth motion, she shoved the dripping-wet Qin Zhihua down onto the bed — and planted herself on top of her, sitting squarely across her waist.
Li Fei ran her tongue along her lips. She pinched the soft lobe of Qin Zhihua's ear between her ring finger and middle finger, rolling it gently — while the fingers of her other hand brushed a few stray strands of damp hair from Qin Zhihua's flushed cheek. Her gaze was warm enough to burn.
This time, the atmosphere was exactly right.
Qin Zhihua shifted restlessly beneath her, her eyes straying toward the willow branch on the floor, her voice taking on a soft, pleading note laced with an undeniable hint of something else entirely:
"At least let us clean up first…"
"It doesn't matter."
Li Fei's lips brushed the center of her brow, voice barely a breath:
"It's all right."
Her lips drifted down the bridge of Qin Zhihua's nose, pausing for the barest moment at its tip.
"You'll have to… take responsibility for me."
Li Fei sealed her lips with her own.
...
Sharing dreams through the night, sharing makeup in the dawn — side by side in the mirror, two flowers in full bloom. Each step through the inner chambers taken together, a perfect pair in all things — husband and wife in every way but name.
A hollow-eyed, pale-lipped Li Fei sat at the vanity. A luminous, radiant Qin Zhihua stood behind her, combing through her long hair with tender, devoted care.
Li Fei picked up a cup of water with a blank, mechanical stare and gulped it down in one long, continuous stream.
The bloated fullness in her belly told her she had drunk herself to her limit — yet her mouth still felt bone-dry.
Su Ling'er pushed open the window. The sky was barely beginning to lighten — but this was not the morning of the next day. This was the morning of the day after that.
If Li Fei's memory was correct, she had finally fallen asleep somewhere around sunset on the second day.
"I really do need to go to class today…"
Her voice came out scratchy and thin, faintly fragile.
She reached in a daze for the teakettle — and discovered it was completely empty.
"Eat something first."
Qin Zhihua had been awake for two full hours already. She looked at Li Fei with a helpless, concerned warmth. "I made soup for you."
"Lots of meat?"
At those words, Li Fei swallowed, and some small measure of life returned to her voice.
Her belly was still uncomfortably full of water — yet she was ravenous. She could have gone downstairs and bitten straight through a giant steamed pork bun, all the way to where the hot juices burst.
"Mm."
With Qin Zhihua supporting her, Li Fei dragged herself to the dining table and slumped into her seat.
Two tiny little imps came fluttering to the table, bearing a pot of congee and an earthenware crock of thick, fragrant, savory broth. They pressed their small foreheads to their mother's, looking terribly worried — as though they were afraid she had fallen ill.
"Don't fuss — I'm fine. I could easily go another hundred rounds."
Li Fei managed a weak, sickly smile. Her hand shook as she reached for the ladle and it slipped straight into the soup.
Qin Zhihua stepped forward immediately, ladled out a careful bowlful, blew on it until it had cooled, and held it to Li Fei's lips: "Here."
The broth was savory and rich, with a thread of subtle sweetness running through it. Li Fei's taste buds sang.
"More, more."
"It's still a little hot."
Qin Zhihua waved a hand toward her. "Ling'er, help me."
Su Ling'er had faint shadows under her eyes — she had clearly not slept well these past two days — yet she came without hesitation, picked up another bowl and ladle, blew on the soup with careful, patient breaths following the young mistress's example, and fed it to Li Fei spoonful by spoonful.
With both of them taking turns, the entire earthenware crock was emptied in short order. Li Fei wanted more — but she was on the verge of bursting.
She sagged against the back of her chair with a plaintive groan, and absently pulled up her System Panel.
[Li Fei's * (Lv5)]
Skill Description: Sky-high attack, tissue-paper defense. A glass cannon through and through.
[Sensitivity Aura (Lv3)]
Spell Effect: Increases target's sensitivity by 12%.
Duration: 20 minutes
Cooldown: 30 seconds
Mana Cost: 6
EXP to Next Level: 1/140
A new skill had appeared in the System Panel. And another skill had leveled up.
"Hm?"
Suddenly, Li Fei's brow furrowed. Something was off.
[Qin Zhihua's Soft-Shell Turtle Medicinal Broth]
[Description: Contains powdered Serpent Woman scales. If you know, you know.]
As the foremost professional in Loxibrook's hospitality industry, Li Fei was of course intimately acquainted with the uses of Serpent Woman scales.
In fact, anyone who had spent any significant time in Loxibrook would recognize the ingredient instantly — it was, without question, the city's single best-selling wellness product year after year.
On one hand, Serpent Woman scales nourished the blood and qi, with well-known benefits for the complexion and skin. On the other hand — Serpent Women were known to sustain their own intimate encounters over the course of several consecutive days and nights, and their scales, when prepared medicinally, dramatically enhanced one's endurance. Think of them as the female equivalent of oysters, but considerably more potent.
Among the Golden Kumquat Tavern's hostesses, the go-to jibe when teasing a sister was: "Next time I'll bring you a jin of Serpent Woman scales" — the implication being: you're hopeless. The tavern even had a genuine Serpent Woman on staff — a powerful Transcendent, by all accounts — whose scales were said to be many times more potent than anything commercially available. A steady stream of girls made private pilgrimages to her door in search of medicine.
But… why had she been given this?
Wasn't she supposed to be quite impressive?
Li Fei fixed Qin Zhihua with a deeply suspicious stare. "Zhihua — there's something in this soup… Serpent Woman scales?"
"Mm. For nourishing the blood and complexion."
The medically accomplished Qin Zhihua turned her head slightly to one side, with a hint of guilty evasion.
____
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