The autumn rain was blown by the wind, continuously sweeping against the moon window, making pattering sounds. Gradually, the rain stopped, and night shrouded the entire quiet courtyard.

The closed cyan gauze was suddenly opened by a slender hand. Fucang picked up the crow-blue robe from the floor and put it on, went barefoot to brew tea again. When he returned carrying the tea table, the dragon princess had also put on her robe. Her satin-like long hair was gathered on her shoulders. She lay prone on the bedding with her calves raised up, slowly picking at the cloud patterns on her sleeves.

She suddenly squinted at him very unfriendly, her soft voice ice-cold: “Too shameless.”

Taking advantage of having injuries on his body, she couldn’t push or struggle well. It was all because she was too soft-hearted. Strange—she had always been quite hard-hearted, but everything changed the moment she encountered him.

Fucang didn’t answer. He only poured a cup of tea and brought it to her lips. Xuan Yi disdainfully drank half a cup, then pushed away his hand. She had originally been quite spirited, but ended up in pain and exhausted from his malicious behavior. She couldn’t help but suppress a yawn with her sleeve, pulled open the quilt to burrow inside, unceremoniously sleeping right in the middle, and by the way, haughtily commanded him: “Close the bed curtains. I’m going to sleep.”

Fucang still didn’t speak. He drank a cup of tea by himself, lifted the gauze curtain and was about to get on the bed when she immediately pressed down firmly on the quilt: “The bed is mine.”

Don’t even think about coming up—go sleep on the cushion yourself!

Fucang looked at her, then obligingly stepped over her body to the inner side of the bed. In one motion, he threw open the quilt and drew her restlessly struggling body into his embrace. He lowered his head to examine closely her slightly reddened lips—he had bitten them somewhat. He slowly brushed her disheveled long hair behind her head, retrieved the gold ring that had fallen in the corner, caressed it for a while, then gently placed it on the nanmu wood cabinet beside the bed.

The body in his arms probably still worried about his injuries. Once close, she stopped struggling. Before long, she seemed boneless again, leaning dependently in his embrace like a cat.

The clamorous hatred that had lingered in his chest earlier had gradually faded. Regret gradually surfaced instead. He had originally only wanted to scold and reprimand her a bit, but due to impulse, it became uncontrollable. She was probably in severe pain, trembling all along, forcing herself to not make a sound.

Facing her, he always had those vicious aspects of himself brought out.

Xuan Yi pillowed on his arm, half asleep and half awake. Seeing his pitch-black long hair falling before her, she twisted up a strand and traced it like flowing water across his collarbone exposed at his loose collar. This subtle ticklish sweetness made Fucang’s heartbeat suddenly accelerate. He abruptly grasped her hand, intertwining their five fingers.

Her demeanor was as languid as her body. She suddenly called out to him softly: “Senior Brother Fucang, are the immortal apricot blossoms in the flower garden still blooming?”

Fucang had reached the point where he could follow her jumping train of thought without even thinking: “They’ve bloomed twice over these years. The next flowering will be several thousand years from now.”

It would take so long. A look of regret flowed through her eyes. The scenery there was really quite nice.

Fucang kissed her forehead gently: “There will be plenty of time to see them in the future. You’ll probably grow tired of seeing them.”

She looked at him curiously and clearly, as if asking why there would be plenty of time to see them. A trace of a smile appeared on his face, but he didn’t respond to her curiosity.

Xuan Yi didn’t pursue the question further. Her eyes turned toward the pearl earring hanging on his neck. There were some dried bloodstains on it. She immediately used her fingernail to pick them clean.

Fucang looked at her bright and enchanting face drawing close. His dark eyes were rarely somewhat hesitant. After pausing a while, he finally asked in a low voice: “…Does it still hurt?”

That alluring crimson color climbed up her neck once again. She narrowed her eyes, yet her tone was very indifferent: “How could the Zhuyin Clan feel pain?”

…What did this have to do with the Zhuyin Clan?

Fucang lifted the hem of her robe, originally only wanting to see if she was injured. The moment his palm touched her leg, she stiffened again, desperately hiding into the quilt. After blocking him for a long time, the oversized robe on her body suddenly loosened. He simply pressed her back and wouldn’t let her hide, completely ignoring her flailing legs. His fingertips touched her most unguarded and most tender place. She gripped his collar tightly, her toes continuing to struggle arduously with the quilt.

Did it still hurt? Fucang kissed her face in a manner that was both soothing and enticing. Her soft, delicate, slender body really shouldn’t have been treated so roughly and violently.

Her breathing gradually became rapid. Her brows furrowed slightly. A layer of misty moisture suddenly appeared in her eyes. No longer caring whether he had injuries or not, her two hands pushed forcefully against him.

The sensation on his fingers became soft and slick—so it wasn’t pain. Fucang lowered his head and licked her lips.

As if discovering that hiding into the quilt was useless, Xuan Yi again hid upward as she had at the beginning. He didn’t stop her. Gripping her willow-slender waist, he used his teeth to open her collar, dropping scattered kisses on her chest, going down along her ribs, almost lifting her up in his arms, his scorching breath spraying on her abdomen.

Xuan Yi suddenly embraced his head. She had long since grown dragon scales and shouldn’t feel pain, yet she truly and tangibly felt a burning slight pain on the skin he kissed. These threads and strands of ticklish pain made her soul overturn. She wanted him to stop, but instinctively seemed not to want him to stop. He made her so pleasured, awakening something hidden in her deepest depths—only he could do this.

Her bare legs had already hooked around his body, enchantingly hooking him toward herself. She had probably finally surrendered to her dragon nature’s instinct, involuntarily following his teasing movements, releasing from her breath a kind of charming sound she herself had never heard before. Then suddenly curling up, her hands tightly cupping his face, pressing her forehead against it, calling him: “Senior Brother Fucang.”

Fucang turned over and pressed down on her, lowering his head to kiss her deeply. Their bodies entangled together, their limbs also entangled together.

She was ready now. This time, don’t flee again.

She wanted more—give her more. Xuan Yi instinctively tightened her grip on his shoulders, unwilling to let him go, pursuing his lips that tried to leave. Finally, she was completely conquered by him in return. The profound teasing made the base of her tongue go numb. He was so heavy on her. He was forcefully and irresistibly invading her, just like his irresistible hurricane-like entanglement, once again pulling her into the hurricane—heaven and earth spinning, her soul and spirit inverted.

She released a sigh that was either a sob or surrender. She felt like she was about to shatter. A pleasure that nearly drove her mad seized her. Amid his intermittent kisses, following the violent rhythm he controlled, she trembled and shrank in waves.

Fucang gripped her waist and turned over to sit up, raised his head to kiss her trembling eyelashes once, speaking in a low voice words that only she could understand. The dark clouds scattered. The frost-colored moonlight illuminated the hazy cyan gauze. Her hair seemed to be glowing strand by strand. Her jade porcelain-like skin seemed to emit a faint snowy light. The cyan gauze continued to sway endlessly. The two robes had long since slipped to the floor again. She entwined around him as slender and soft as vines. Crystalline sweat fell on the bridge of his nose.

His words—Xuan Yi could no longer remember what she had answered. Profound, bone-deep, wild joy awaited her. Only he could give it. In heaven and on earth, only he could give it to her.

Fucang caught her arms and wrapped them around himself. His powerful arms tightly embraced her trembling, slender body.

His dragon princess—bloom for him.