Seeing the joy maid complete the wedding ceremony, Liu Ma led the little maidservant to withdraw as well, though none dared to go far, all standing outside the door, awaiting further instructions.
After a while, a voice came from inside: “Clear the table.”
The little maidservant hurried in and tidied the table. Without waiting for further orders, Liu Ma led two maidservants inside, placing hot water in the bathing chamber. She then fetched another basin of water for Lin Fang to wash her hands and face.
“I’ll go bathe first,” Qi Biao said, rising and heading to the bathing chamber.
Lin Fang didn’t know what was wrong with herself—her face kept flushing so easily tonight. She dried her hands, touched her burning cheeks, and seeing that the room had been tidied, even the bed made, she said, “Liu Ma, take them to rest.”
“Yes,” everyone withdrew, and Liu Ma even closed the door behind her.
Lin Fang walked over and bolted the door, standing at the entrance for a long while, gazing at the newly decorated bridal chamber filled with festive colors. Just as she was about to sit back on the couch to read, she heard Qi Biao call from the bathing chamber, “Fang’er, where are my clothes?”
“Oh, I’ll get them for you.” Lin Fang felt inexplicably flustered—was this the beginning of serving her husband?
She walked to the large wardrobe, opened it, and saw inside, neatly arranged on either side, her own and Qi Biao’s clothes. Gathering the garments, Lin Fang walked to the bathing chamber and called inside, “I’ll leave them on the door for you.”
“Come in for a moment—help me pick up the towel. I accidentally flung it away and can’t reach it,” Qi Biao said from inside.
This guy—even while bathing, he could fling a towel away. Did he think he was practicing martial arts?
Lin Fang hesitated, her face reddening. “Alright then,” she said, pushing the door open. Inside, she saw Qi Biao sitting in the wooden tub amidst swirling steam, while the towel lay in a corner.
Lin Fang walked over, set the clothes down, picked up the towel, and handed it to Qi Biao. “Here. Hurry up—you drank so much wine. Be careful not to catch a cold.”
But instead of taking the towel, Qi Biao reached out, grabbed Lin Fang’s wrist with a deft motion, and pulled. Lin Fang flew forward as if weightless, tumbling straight into the tub.
“Ah—” Lin Fang’s hands landed on Qi Biao’s bare, firm chest. Even through her clothes, she could feel the heat radiating from his body.
Flustered, she tried to scramble up. Just as she steadied herself and attempted to step out of the tub, Qi Biao pulled her back. She fell against him once more, and then his lips sealed hers, while his hands roamed her body like mischievous claws.
“Damn these clothes,” Qi Biao muttered impatiently, finding Lin Fang’s garments particularly obstructive, especially when wet—they clung stubbornly, refusing to yield. With brute force, he tore them apart with a sharp rip, leaving Lin Fang’s dress in two halves.
Lin Fang felt a sudden chill as her modesty was exposed. She hurriedly covered her chest with her hands and, at this critical moment, blurted out something utterly unromantic: “Ah, the clothes are ruined!”
Qi Biao paid no heed. The sight of her partially concealed, heaving bosom sent his blood rushing to his head with a dizzying surge.
He had known Lin Fang since she was a tiny infant. At some point, the girl who had always looked at him with mocking eyes had taken up residence in his heart, never to leave. When he turned sixteen and came of age, Steward Qi had arranged for a woman to “educate” him, but despite her seductive efforts, he remained unmoved. Steward Qi then took him to a brothel for a live demonstration, but the sight of others kissing disgusted him. He only wanted to be with the woman he loved.
Now, that very woman was before him—her delicate brows, exquisite figure, and fragrant scent like a flame, igniting Qi Biao in an instant. His body ached with need, desperate for release. Yet, at the peak of passion, his earlier impatience faded.
This was his most beloved woman, the one he had dreamed of for so long. She was the most delectable delicacy—he wouldn’t wolf her down hastily. He wanted to savor every moment, to etch this bliss into his memory forever.
Reaching out, Qi Biao gently traced Lin Fang’s neck, slowly peeling the torn dress from her body.
Her jade-like form was flawless—full where it should be, slender where it ought to be, breathtakingly beautiful and irresistibly enticing. He felt breathless, as though he could never gaze upon her enough.
With reverence, he caressed her arms, then began kissing her—starting from the auspiciously plump earlobe, trailing downward. He lingered at the twin peaks of her chest before finally reaching the hidden valley below.
Having known each other for years, Lin Fang could sense every shift in Qi Biao’s emotions. The love surging in her heart made her want to reveal all her beauty to him.
No longer shy or evasive, she let Qi Biao’s lips ignite her body inch by inch. His calloused hands kneaded her softness, sending unfamiliar waves of pleasure that made her tremble.
She couldn’t suppress a moan, gasping his name in passion: “Yi-ge…”
She reached out, reciprocating by exploring his body, wanting to convey her longing—how empty she felt, how she yearned to press against him, to hold him tight, to merge with him completely.
Qi Biao was already unbearably swollen. Hearing her breathless call, he could hold back no longer. Guiding her to straddle his waist, he guided himself toward her entrance.
The tightness was suffocating, his blood pounding relentlessly. Barely inside, not even reaching the fabled barrier, he felt fireworks explode behind his eyes as his release surged forth uncontrollably.
“Yi-ge?” Lin Fang, prepared for the mix of pain and pleasure, opened her eyes in confusion. Why had the impending eruption suddenly fizzled out?
Soon, she realized what had happened—and suddenly, she wanted to laugh.
Qi Biao, the formidable “Black-Faced God” renowned for his literary and martial prowess—who would have thought he’d surrender without even entering the battlefield? Lin Fang was at a loss for words.
Over the years, Steward Qi had frequently “educated” Qi Biao on such matters. Qi Biao knew his performance today was… humiliating. Sheepishly, he muttered, “I… I was too eager.”
Thankfully, Qi Biao’s face was naturally dark—if he’d been fair-skinned, his blush would have been unmistakable.
“Pfft—” Lin Fang finally burst into laughter. She gave him a tender kiss and chided, “Finish your bath quickly. Don’t catch a cold—I’ll go first.” She made to leave.
“Let’s try again,” Qi Biao grabbed her.
Relaxed now, Lin Fang longed to rest in bed. But seeing Qi Biao’s expression, her heart softened. She draped an arm around his neck and kissed him. Men were prideful creatures, especially in such matters.
Their tongues entwined like clove blossoms, her soft peaks pressing against his chest, her mysterious valley teasing his most sensitive spot. Without further prompting, he hardened once more.
This time, he restrained himself, carefully controlling his passion as he sought her depths again. Slowly, he entered, then thrust sharply—both gasped in unison.
“Does it hurt?” Qi Biao kissed her tenderly.
“Not too much,” Lin Fang smiled radiantly.
In the water, the moment of her transition from maiden to woman wasn’t as painful as imagined. Instead, his firm fullness brought her profound satisfaction.
Her smile was like a hundred flowers blooming, brightening Qi Biao’s heart like spring. He began moving slowly.
The slick, unhindered sensation spurred him to greater intensity. But this time, he vowed to ensure his beloved experienced the utmost pleasure, adjusting his rhythm to her responses.
Faster and fiercer he moved, her moans growing louder until, with her cry and his groan, they peaked together.
“Fang’er, Fang’er…” Qi Biao’s heart overflowed with love. Unable to express it, he simply repeated her name, kissing her lips, her neck.
After reaching climax, Lin Fang’s cheeks were flushed as she coquettishly scolded him.
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