"It's only the hour of Wei now, Madam. You should rest for a few hours so you'll be refreshed by nightfall."
The words, spoken with amusement, reached Pei Ying's ears, making her blush to the roots of her hair. Even her palms grew slightly damp with sweat.
"I..."
Huo Tingshan gazed into her eyes, the curve of his lips deepening. "A gentleman's word is as unbreakable as a team of four horses—I believe you've said something similar before, Madam."
Pei Ying's throat felt dry. There were so many things she wanted to say—to ask him to wait, to make excuses, or even claim her monthly courses had come. But in the end, all she managed was a soft, "Mm."
Seeing her acquiescence, Huo Tingshan finally released her hand. "Go and rest, Madam."
Pei Ying hardly knew how she made it back to her chambers. By the time she regained her senses, she was already seated on the soft cushion in her room.
Exhausted from the journey and having slept poorly the night before, she felt utterly drained. Pressing her fingers to her temples, she succumbed to fatigue and lay down on the bed to rest.
She had only intended to nap for an hour, but with Xin Jin away and no one to wake her, she slept straight through until nightfall.
It was only the faint creak of the door opening that roused her from slumber.
No lamps were lit in the room, and moonlight spilled in through the open doorway. In that gentle glow, a tall, dark silhouette stretched into the chamber from outside.
The bed was placed deeper within, shielded by a painted folding screen with intricate carvings, its panels unfolding like a winding path that obscured the sleeping quarters behind it.
Pei Ying blinked awake, her mind still foggy with sleep. The darkness around her was perfect for drifting off again, so the beautiful woman nestled deeper into her pillow, ready to surrender to the lingering drowsiness.
"Click—" The soft strike of flint sounded several times before light finally filled the room.
The darkness receded as lamps were lit one by one, brightening the chamber gradually.
The glow crept toward the bed like an incoming tide. Still lying down, Pei Ying instinctively raised her arm, resting her forearm over her eyes to shield them from the intrusive brightness.
A low chuckle sounded. "You've slept for hours, Madam. Surely you've rested enough by now."
The figure on the bed remained motionless, as if she hadn't heard. Yet, hidden beneath her arm, Pei Ying's eyes flew open.
A gale-force wind seemed to tear through her, scattering the haze of sleep in an instant.
As clarity returned, her heartbeat quickened—thud, thud, thud—so loud she could hear each rapid pulse in her ears.
Her heart pounded like a war drum.
"Ah, it seems Madam is still asleep. Then I shall proceed directly to the main event, so we may retire together sooner."
Pei Ying had intended to feign sleep, hoping he would deem the night unsuitable. But she hadn't expected such a self-assured response.
She stiffened slightly before finally lowering her arm after a few breaths. "I was asleep just now," she murmured. "But I'm awake."
Huo Tingshan stood beside the bed, looking down at her.
The beautiful woman on the bed was a vision of elegance, her ink-black hair cascading like clouds, a few strands clinging to her fair cheeks. The contrast between black and white was striking, as if painted by a master's hand. Indeed, she had just woken—her delicate face bore a soft flush, like a flower bud on the verge of blooming. When her glistening eyes met his, the sight was utterly captivating.
Huo Tingshan's gaze darkened, like a beast finally shedding its civilized veneer. The restraint he usually wore faded bit by bit until it was torn away completely, leaving nothing behind.
Shrouded in his shadow, Pei Ying looked up and found his features indistinct—only those narrow, gleaming eyes stood out, flickering with a faint, predatory light.
The raw, undisguised hunger spilling from them made her heart stutter. Suddenly aware of her vulnerable position, she hurriedly pushed herself up. "General, have you eaten yet?"
Huo Tingshan: "I have."
Pei Ying lowered her voice. "Then I'll tell Xin Jin not to prepare a second meal."
The unspoken implication was clear—she hadn't eaten yet, and she wanted to.
"Very well." The man was surprisingly agreeable at the moment.
Since Pei Ying had been asleep earlier, the kitchen had kept her evening meal warm. Xin Jin only needed to make a quick trip before returning with the food.
The dishes were laid out on the low table—four dishes and a soup, two vegetarian and two meat, along with a bowl of millet rice.
As Pei Ying ate, Huo Tingshan sat nearby, resting his chin on his hand as he watched her. His gaze was akin to observing a rabbit nibbling grass, patiently waiting for it to grow plump before tossing it into the pot.
Pei Ying picked at her rice with her jade chopsticks, her movements far slower than usual—and growing even more sluggish as time passed.
After a long while, Huo Tingshan suddenly remarked, "Have you finished counting, Madam?"
Pei Ying paused, following his gaze to her bowl. The golden millet rice looked nearly untouched despite her having eaten for what felt like ages.
Her ears burned. "I wasn't counting."
Huo Tingshan nodded, his expression deceptively solemn. "No rush. Take your time. Though surely you won't spend the entire night tallying grains."
Pei Ying tightened her grip on her chopsticks and continued eating.
At the same glacial pace.
Another quarter-hour passed, bringing the total mealtime to half a shichen. Huo Tingshan reached out and pressed the back of his fingers to the dishes. As expected, they had gone cold.
He called Xin Jin in from outside and gestured to the table. "Take these and reheat them. After that, wait by the door. We may need you to warm them again."
Xin Jin: "Understood."
Pei Ying ducked her head, too embarrassed to meet the maid's eyes.
Once Xin Jin had taken the food away, Huo Tingshan studied Pei Ying, who sat stiffly on the cushion, looking as though she wished to vanish into thin air. He tapped the table lightly. "Madam, perhaps there's something you've failed to grasp. When we retire tonight depends not on me, but on you."
Pei Ying understood.
The sooner they began, the sooner it would end. A case of "early suffering, early relief."
She took a deep breath and met his gaze squarely. "I know."
Huo Tingshan sounded skeptical. "Do you?"
Pei Ying fell silent.
A short while later, Xin Jin returned with the reheated meal. Pei Ying resumed her painstakingly slow pace—proof that her earlier claim had been far from true.
But Huo Tingshan said nothing more. While she ate, he had Xin Jin bring tea and sipped it leisurely as he waited.
A simple evening meal stretched into over a shichen.
When she finally finished, Xin Jin cleared the table. Huo Tingshan rose from his seat. "Madam, it's late. Let us retire."
Pei Ying took a step back as he approached. "General, wait."
Huo Tingshan arched a brow. "What else is there, Madam? Whether it's matters for now, later, or once we're in bed, you may as well say them all at once."
Pei Ying ignored the teasing in his tone and maintained her composure. "This is important, General. I need to bathe."
Then, as an afterthought, she added softly, "Have you... bathed already?"
Huo Tingshan paused, not expecting Pei Ying to bring this up.
Pei Ying studied his expression, her initial shyness gradually turning into disbelief. "You haven’t bathed?"
A crease formed between Huo Tingshan’s brows. "Disgusted?"
Pei Ying frowned as well, unable to hold back. "When there’s no choice on the battlefield, fine. But now that we have the means, hygiene matters. How can you not bathe? Don’t tell me you used to—"
Huo Tingshan gave her a deep look, said nothing, and turned to leave her room.
Pei Ying stood frozen for a moment, an inexplicable chill creeping down her spine. For a fleeting second, she wondered if she shouldn’t have spoken so bluntly.
But if she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have been able to tolerate it.
"My lady, your clothes are ready."
Pei Ying snapped out of her thoughts.
As the governor of a province, the resources in this estate far surpassed those of the modestly renovated prefectural residence by the Dream Fulfillment Master. After all, this place had been stocked for decades, while the other had barely a year or two of accumulation.
Take the bathing area, for instance. Before, Pei Ying had only used wooden tubs. But here, half of the side chamber had been transformed into a bathing pool.
The pool was lined with white jade, fed by a hot spring that kept the water warm year-round. When Pei Ying first arrived at the governor’s estate, this private spring had been her greatest delight.
Yet now, the same spring that once brought her comfort felt like a simmering pot—as if she were being slowly stewed before being served to a predator.
Pei Ying let out a long sigh. She soaked for the bare minimum of two quarters of an hour before reluctantly rising.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to stay longer, but the hot spring made her dizzy if she lingered too much.
She wrapped herself in the thin robe draped nearby, then slipped into her undergarments before stepping out.
The moment she left the side chamber, she saw Huo Tingshan standing by the window, bathed in moonlight. His towering silhouette cast a shadow as imposing as a mountain range.
At the sound of her footsteps, he turned, his gaze locking onto her.
If earlier, when she had just woken, she resembled a budding flower, soft and dazed—
Now, after her bath, her fair skin flushed pink from the steam, glowing like a dewy peony in full bloom, breathtaking in its radiance.
Huo Tingshan strode toward her. His steps were long, his frame broad, and though her room was spacious, he closed the distance in an instant.
"General, you—"
Before she could finish, Pei Ying gasped as she was suddenly lifted off her feet. Instinctively, her hands clutched his shoulders, fingers brushing the firm muscles beneath the thin fabric of his inner robe.
Solid, coiled with untamed strength.
Her mind flashed to the image of the bandit she’d once seen—cut clean in half. The sheer force behind that strike could have only come from him.
Pei Ying shivered.
The next moment, her back met the softness of silk bedding. Her thoughts scattered as his calloused fingers tugged at the tie of her undergarments.
A single pull, and the knot she’d carefully tied came undone—along with the ribbon itself.
A small strip of fabric even dangled from his fingertips.
This man… had ruined yet another of her robes.
Pei Ying pressed her lips together, about to scold him, but when she met his dark, near-feral gaze, her breath hitched. It was like staring into the eyes of a beast baring its claws, or a wildfire raging across an open plain.
Sparks scattered in the wind, flames surging unchecked, devouring everything in their path.
The kiss came without warning—a scorching storm that invaded her mouth, relentless and all-consuming.
Dominant. Unyielding. As if even the softest whimper escaping her lips was something to be claimed.
This long-starved predator was far from satisfied. His claws unsheathed.
His rough palm slid up the delicate nape of her neck, fingers spreading to cradle her head, tilting it back to better plunder her lips.
Pei Ying couldn’t even whine. Trapped—her neck held, her waist gripped, her legs pinned—she could only submit to his unrestrained hunger.
Her dark eyes fluttered half-shut, the corners tinged red, lashes damp.
Somewhere along the way, the bed’s gauzy curtains had fallen, draping haphazardly over a tangle of discarded clothes.
A snapped underrobe ribbon, matching silk trousers, and a much larger black outer robe.
The room was alive with sound—no longer the governor’s estate, but a lush, untamed forest.
If one listened closely, they might hear the mournful cry of a bird, or the distant rush of a mountain stream, its waters never ceasing.
The window hadn’t been fully shut. A breeze slipped in, lifting the edge of the curtain.
And for a brief moment, the forest became real.
From outside, one could glimpse a towering figure looming over the bed. As the curtain fluttered, candlelight spilled in, tracing the hard ridges of the man’s scar-laden back.
Old wounds crisscrossed his skin, the most prominent stretching from his left shoulder to his right hip—a savage mark that only heightened the raw wildness of his body.
And at his side, a slender, milky-white leg peeked out, trembling slightly, toes curled tight.
At one point, those delicate digits clenched helplessly.
Outside, the moon hung high. A small white sparrow, hurrying home through the night, took a wrong turn.
It strayed into a dense thicket, branches and vines ensnaring its wings. The poor thing fluttered desperately, only to tangle further—until it lay exposed, soft belly upturned.
Pei Ying was down to her last garment, a loosely draped robe whose ties had long since come undone, barely covering the swell of her curves.
Head tilted back, her snow-pale throat quivered as she pressed her palms against his chest, ignoring the searing heat of his muscles. "Your—your stubble isn’t fully shaved…"
He had bathed, even used soap, but his beard was rough. Just like his calloused hands.
Coarse. Scratchy. Enough to make her skin tingle.
Everywhere his touch traveled, Pei Ying trembled uncontrollably, her eyes reddening as thick lashes grew damp, her gaze turning slightly unfocused.
She stared at the gauze canopy above—its delicate fabric unlike ordinary netting, adorned with subtle patterns that shimmered like rippling water under the lamplight, casting a faint, ethereal glow.
For a fleeting moment, Pei Ying imagined that shimmering light coalescing into a mirror, reflecting her own image—trapped beneath the claws of a beast.
"You forgot earlier. Next time, my lady will help me shave it clean." The man's voice was deep, rougher and huskier than usual.
Unable to push him away by his shoulders and irritated by the prickling at her neck, Pei Ying gave in to reckless defiance. Her slender fingers tangled in his hair, tugging sharply as if trying to rein him in.
For a heartbeat, it felt less like she was pulling his hair and more like gripping the reins of a wild beast's bridle.
If she pulled hard enough, perhaps she could halt this untamed creature.
Her resistance did have some effect—the predator feasting above her paused. Pei Ying wavered between relief and fear, but in the end, a flicker of triumph edged out her apprehension.
If only he would stop.
As for the aftermath… that was a problem for later.
But Pei Ying hadn’t expected the reprieve to last only a second.
Provoked, the beast descended upon her neck with renewed ferocity, leaving behind a trail of crimson marks.
The scrape of his stubble against her skin was a maddening mix of pain and pleasure. Instinctively, she kicked out—once, twice—her feet grazing his knees each time.
Huo Tingshan simply caught her ankle in one large hand.
He was a towering man, his palms and fingers broader than most, and as his grip closed around her calf, the plush fairness of her skin spilled slightly between his fingers.
Lifting his head, he pressed a kiss to her damp eyelid. "In my opinion, next July, instead of the common folk heading to the riverside temple for prayers, they ought to kneel right here before you, my lady. Begging for favorable weather—it might just prove more effective."
Pei Ying blinked, her muddled thoughts taking too long to process his words. When she finally did, her face burned with indignation. "Huo Tingshan!"
He withdrew his fingers, about to show her the evidence.
Realizing his intent, Pei Ying flared with frustration, abandoning his hair to claw at his arms and shoulders instead.
Her nails, left untrimmed for some time, left faint red trails across Huo Tingshan’s shoulders and collarbone.
Unfazed, he chuckled darkly, pinning her restless legs before driving into her with a sudden, forceful thrust.
Pei Ying’s pupils constricted sharply.
...
Xin Jin stood guard at a respectful distance from the main chamber’s entrance, dutifully keeping watch.
Time crawled by, the moon climbing higher into the night sky.
She stifled a yawn, chiding herself for growing soft.
Back in the magistrate’s residence, she had often pulled all-night vigils without complaint. But ever since serving under her mistress, who disliked such formalities, she’d grown accustomed to retiring early.
Now, standing watch for just one night left her weary.
Still…
Xin Jin tilted her head slightly, casting a glance toward the chamber.
The candles inside had dimmed, some likely extinguished by now. Yet despite the late hour, the sounds from within showed no sign of ceasing.
A flicker of concern crossed Xin Jin’s eyes.
Could her mistress endure this?
Perhaps tomorrow, she should have the kitchen prepare a nourishing lamb stew. But no—Pei Ying disliked lamb.
Xin Jin sighed in quiet exasperation.
Inside the chamber, the gauze curtains shrouded the daybed, obscuring the scene within.
Then, at one point, a woman’s hand emerged from the drapes—slender, elegant, with faintly blushed fingertips. Against her porcelain skin, the marks left by fervent kisses stood out starkly.
That delicate hand clutched the gauze tightly, knuckles whitening with strain.
A few breaths later, a larger, darker hand reached out, seizing hers like a shark claiming its prey, dragging it back into the depths.
Pei Ying lay sprawled across the quilt, its fabric stained with damp patches—some from tears, others from… different sources.
She felt herself dissolving, melting beneath the onslaught—like a battlefield of smoke and fire, or drowning in relentless tidal waves.
The currents swallowed her whole, the searing pleasure as terrifying as it was intoxicating, pulling her into fathomless depths.
Occasionally, overwhelmed, the beautiful woman shook her head with broken sobs, her cries fragmented and trembling, until even the last whimper was devoured by another.
Pei Ying lost all sense of time, certain no night had ever stretched so endlessly.
But at last, as though an entire epoch had passed, it ended.
The moment the storm subsided, Pei Ying shut her slightly swollen eyes, desperate for sleep.
The man atop her rose, and though she heard him moving about, she couldn’t muster the energy to care. Soon, footsteps approached again.
He lifted her left hand. Pei Ying’s lashes fluttered, but she didn’t open her eyes.
Something cool and smooth slid onto her finger, followed by a low command: "Don’t take this off again."
Pei Ying didn’t respond, too exhausted to move.
When he pinched her earlobe, she frowned and twisted away, finally relenting with a vague murmur just to be left alone.
As she teetered on the edge of sleep, one last thought drifted through her hazy mind:
Four more nights… How would she survive?
Xiong Mao had a habit of morning drills—like most military men, he adhered to daily training to maintain battlefield readiness.
On his way to the rear gardens today, he crossed paths with Sha Ying. He’d meant to exchange a quick greeting and continue alone, but Sha Ying sidled closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Xiong Mao, guess who I just saw?"
Xiong Mao: "Who?"
Sha Ying whispered, "The Grand General."
Xiong Mao rolled his eyes, his curiosity evaporating. "What’s so strange about that? The Grand General trains without fail every dawn. Even if slackers like you, Qin Yang, or Chen Yuan skip drills, he never would."
Sha Ying clicked his tongue. "No wonder they call you a blockhead. If it were nothing unusual, why would I mention it?"
Xiong Mao reconsidered. "Alright, what happened?"
Sha Ying pointed at his own neck. "I think I saw scratch marks on the Grand General’s skin."
Xiong Mao scoffed. "You must’ve been mistaken."
Sha Ying smirked. "My aim’s flawless at a hundred paces—I never miss a detail."
Xiong Mao retorted, "There are no concubines of the Grand General in the residence, so where would those scratches come from? Besides, you saw for yourself yesterday—after returning from Sanxiang County, the Grand General hasn’t left the estate."
Sha Ying hesitated. "I suppose you're right."
Xiong Mao scoffed at him. "It's autumn now, and mosquitoes are everywhere. Couldn’t the Grand General have scratched himself? You’re always jumping to wild conclusions instead of focusing on actual work."
Sha Ying: "..."
Meanwhile, the one responsible for the scratches slept straight until the sun was high in the sky. When Pei Ying finally awoke, her thoughts were muddled, and she stared blankly at the gauzy canopy for a long moment before her memories came flooding back.
The intense, heart-pounding scenes replayed vividly before her eyes.
Exhausted, Pei Ying closed her eyes briefly, raising a hand to rub her temples—only to feel a weight on her wrist.
A vibrant yellow jade bracelet now adorned her left wrist.
Pei Ying froze.
"Creak." The door swung open.
"My lady."
Pei Ying tensed.
