Feng Miaojun snorted, unhesitatingly gathering her energy to counterattack while simultaneously guarding her dantian and activating the mark’s reverse suction.

The same scorching-cold dual attributes, the same surging power like a mighty river. The difference was that the contest between them resembled that of a lion and a young tiger—though the lion possessed immense strength, the tiger also bared its fierce claws and teeth, displaying greater agility in its movements and pounces.

He did not attempt to hide the surprise on his face. In a test of spiritual power, there was no room for deception. In less than a year of separation, Feng Miaojun already showed signs of standing as his equal. Moreover, in her first counterattack into his body, she divided her forces into more than thirty paths, evading the host’s pursuit, specifically targeting the most obscure meridians, with each path exhibiting a different intensity.

Precise, tricky, accurate, and vicious, demonstrating her incredible control over spiritual energy. This wasn’t merely a matter of profound cultivation—only someone with an extremely powerful divine will could accomplish this.

After a brief standoff, he uttered a curious sound, suddenly withdrawing his arm and darting around to her back, still embracing her waist with both hands.

This fellow was truly like sticky toffee. Furious, Feng Miaojun turned and struck his chest with her palm.

Her strength was formidable—if this blow landed solidly, it could split metal and stone, let alone a human body.

Yet he neither dodged nor avoided it, still stubbornly reaching for her slender waist, leaving his chest completely exposed, allowing her to easily inflict serious injury.

Feng Miaojun’s strike indeed landed squarely on his chest, but he neither coughed blood nor flew backward.

Because at the last moment, she had withdrawn her force, transforming it into a harmless push.

She still couldn’t bring herself to harm him.

He had already embraced her, and now pulled her back two steps with a spin, perfectly pinning her against a large pillar, leaving her no retreat.

This position felt somewhat familiar.

Feng Miaojun glared at him. He had already restored his original appearance, and observing those peach blossom eyes at such close range was truly dizzying. With just his face alone, he gained an immense advantage—no matter how audacious he was with women, it was difficult for them to truly become angry.

She poked his chest, her fingertips meeting a rock-hard sensation: “How dare you! I’ll chop off your head!”

He lowered his head, their breaths intertwining: “Didn’t Your Majesty bring me here to favor me?”

As he spoke, faint cracking sounds came from his body, and his frame grew larger—taller, broader at the shoulders, wider at the chest.

This was the physique Feng Miaojun knew well.

Yu Linlang was more slender and thin than him, and it must have been uncomfortable for him to use bone-contracting techniques to disguise himself.

The hair on her arms stood on end as she snapped irritably: “I just wanted a quiet place to talk. Step back, I have something to tell you.”

“Just talk?” He sighed softly, his voice as faint as a mosquito’s whine, “After An’an uses me to anger Fu Lingchuan completely, she plans to cast me aside. How heartless.”

He had seen through it—her taking him out was merely to pour oil on Fu Lingchuan’s fire. Feng Miaojun felt a chill in her heart, but he continued: “I never do business at a loss; now I need to collect some compensation.” With that, he pressed against her with his body, his hands busy, somehow undoing her waistband and deftly slipping in from the lower hem, bypassing her undergarments to touch her smooth, delicate skin.

When his large palm suddenly pressed against her abdomen, she instinctively gasped, both hands pushing at his arms. Yun Ya seized the opportunity to lower his head, capturing her lips, while his other hand secured her small face, preventing her from evading.

“Stop… mmph…” This kiss was far more intense than the one in East Qing Pavilion. She opened her mouth to scold him but was silenced, only able to make muffled sounds, feeling as if she would be swallowed whole.

Yun Ya had been aroused by her earlier teasing; the kiss in East Qing Pavilion was merely an appetizer to him. Her taste was too exquisite, now with a hint of jasmine fragrance added, making every cell in his body filled with longing.

Sucking and tasting like this still couldn’t assuage the loneliness of their half-year separation. His hands remained active, moving upward to find the right spot, stroking and squeezing, before he suddenly exclaimed in surprise: “They’ve grown so large?” Tsk tsk, two years ago they were flat as plains, last year they had grown considerably, but he hadn’t had the chance to properly measure…

The delicate body beneath him trembled.

Feng Miaojun finally managed to avoid his lips, momentarily short of breath, and slapped him twice forcefully: “Get off! Didn’t you complain my mouth was too big!” The way he gnawed at her, it was as if he were a dog and she a plump white bun.

Women truly hold grudges. “Just right for me to kiss.”

“If we’re putting on a show, are you trying to provoke Fu Lingchuan into losing his composure?” His voice was low, audible only to each other. “Those standing outside the door—they’re not your people, are they?” Court ladies were guarding outside, more than three of them; with his acute hearing, he could even hear their breathing.

She bit her lip: “No.”

She hadn’t brought Chen Dachang along—how embarrassing.

“Then let them listen well.” With that, he lowered his head again, but this time his target wasn’t her mouth but her small earlobe.

A tickling sensation swept over her, making her shudder and instinctively try to push him away again, but this time she couldn’t move him.

This scene was like returning to the Wei military tent of the past—the setting and actions were almost identical as if the long three years hadn’t slipped through their fingers.

But things had changed, people had changed.

Feng Miaojun let out a soft moan, her body softening under his passion, her small hands slowly caressing his exquisite collarbone before embracing his neck.

She never admitted that she had always missed him, and missed the soul-stirring pleasure he gave her.

The name Yun Ya had been engraved in the depths of her heart long, long ago, never allowing her to forget for a single day.

This had nothing to do with Fu Lingchuan or her plans. Now, she was merely finding an excuse.

Her half-hearted resistance set his blood boiling. Yet he still exercised extreme restraint, not tearing off all her clothes. Through her haze, Feng Miaojun maintained a thread of clarity, clutching her collar and shaking her head: “No, we can’t!”

“Don’t be afraid.” He comforted her between kisses, “This time, I won’t truly take you.”

“Really?” She squirmed uneasily, avoiding his hands, “Swear an oath for me to hear!”

Does he have to swear even for this? Yun Ya was startled. He had always detested making oaths, but in this urgent moment, he had no choice but to make a poisonous vow—an especially poisonous one.

His oath inexplicably reassured her, and she finally lowered her hands and closed her eyes, presenting an image of surrendering to his plucking. The next instant, her body lightened as he lifted her from the pillar and pressed her against the door.

The solid wooden door creaked at his roughness. He finally removed the barriers and lowered his head, burying himself in the exposed jade-like snow-white delicacy, like devouring freshly steamed buns—white and plump, soft and tender, smooth and supple yet far superior.

He gnawed without restraint, so the court ladies guarding outside, separated by just a door, heard strange and ambiguous sounds from within, along with their noble Queen’s irrepressible moans.

Those sounds began to like the crisp chirping of orioles, with a hint of clear laughter, but gradually turned sweet and sticky, as honey simmered for a long time, thick and undissolvable. And then—