As the buttons were undone one by one, moonlight flowed down the open lapel, condensing into silver frost on Xu Zhuohua's collarbone.
The moment the inner garment slipped off her shoulder, the bodice suddenly caught Cheng Muyun's eye—scarlet silk wrapped around snow-white skin, with delicate buttons fastened around her slender waist, like a red plum blossom blooming in the snow.
Xu Zhuohua shifted impatiently.
"Don't move." His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper rubbing against silk, and his thumb caressed the throbbing pulse on the side of her neck.
Wherever her fingertips touched, they ignited a prairie fire, winding down from her earlobe to her collarbone, along her delicate butterfly-shaped shoulder blades.
As his burning palms covered her lower back, squeezing that soft, delicate flesh through the fabric, a night owl's cry suddenly swept through the curtains, pushing the already enchanting atmosphere to an even more scorching temperature.
As Cheng Muyun slowly bent down, his tie fell and brushed against Xu Zhuohua's burning cheeks, the scent of cedar mixed with his hot breath completely enveloping her.
Warm lips finally pressed against the side of his neck, first with a light, fleeting kiss, then his nimble tongue followed the throbbing pulse, gently licking and sucking like a silkworm eating leaves.
Xu Zhuohua unconsciously tilted her neck back, her swan-like graceful curve taut and straight.
Cheng Muyun's kisses were like clusters of flames, igniting every nerve in her body, causing her blood to boil instantly and her breathing to become rapid and disordered.
As the sucking intensified, the man suddenly used his canines to gently bite the reddened skin, the suction carrying an almost uncontrollable desire.
"Hiss—it hurts—" Xu Zhuohua trembled slightly in pain, her hands instinctively clutching Cheng Muyun's clothes.
That soft cry, tinged with sobs, struck Cheng Muyun like a heavy hammer. He suddenly loosened his teeth, and when he looked up, his eyes still brimming with unquenched lust.
He stared at the conspicuous red mark on Xu Zhuohua's neck, his Adam's apple bobbing violently, his mind filled with a complex mix of possessiveness and heartache.
"Sorry, you should rest."
Cheng Muyun helped Xu Zhuohua put on a silk nightgown, not even having time to button it up, before pressing her down onto the bed.
Xu Zhuohua was wrapped up like a rice dumpling, her face flushed an unnatural red. "You can continue."
Upon hearing this, Cheng Muyun swallowed hard, then stared intently at Xu Zhuohua.
He lowered his head and kissed his smooth forehead, saying, "You should rest now."
After saying that, Cheng Muyun turned and left the room, leaving Xu Zhuohua lying on the bed with a blank expression.
How can you resist eating something that's practically delivered to your door?
When a man refrains from eating, it's not because he doesn't like to eat, but because he's been fed by someone else outside.
Xu Zhuohua felt a pang of jealousy when she thought of Luo Yunqiao.
No matter how good their relationship was, a man is still a man, and Xu Zhuohua dared not say that Cheng Muyun would be an exception.
She had been mentally prepared, but the cold shoulder came so quickly that Xu Zhuohua was having a hard time accepting it.
Before she knew it, Xu Zhuohua had fallen asleep.
In the thick darkness, Xu Zhuohua was nestled in the softness of the quilt, her consciousness still hovering on the edge of a dream.
In a hazy state, a hand gently shook her shoulder through the thin blanket, once, twice, like the light rain of early spring tapping on the window, disturbing her peace.
Frustrated, she rolled over onto her side in bed, burying her face in the cedar-scented pillow, muttering that she wanted to shut out the annoying disturbance.
But the shaking did not stop; instead, it carried an irresistible force.
Xu Zhuohua finally managed to break free of her confusion and struggled to open her eyelids.
Outside the window, the darkness was as thick as ink that could not be dissolved, and a thin layer of mist condensed on the glass, making the night seem even deeper.
The room was pitch black, with only a sliver of moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting cold, white shadows on the floor.
She could barely make out a figure standing by the bed, thin and dressed in dark clothes, like the outline of a watercolor painting.
With a soft "click," the bedside lamp suddenly turned on, its warm yellow light piercing the darkness.
Xu Zhuohua instinctively raised her hand to shield her eyes, and through the light filtering through her fingers, Xu's mother's face gradually became clearer.
"Aunt Xu?"
Xu Ma gently shook Xu Zhuohua's arm, "Young Madam, Aunt Luo has come to invite someone. There's a stalemate downstairs, and the warlord wants you to go down there."
Xu Zhuohua was still not fully awake. "What Aunt Luo?"
Xu Ma said, "The young marshal's aunt Luo has sent someone to invite him to the other courtyard."
Xu Zhuohua then realized that Aunt Luo was referring to Luo Yunqiao.
She had gotten some information from outside that Luo Yunqiao didn't live at the Cheng Mansion, and that Cheng Muyun only went to the villa when necessary.
Why invite Cheng Muyun back today? Isn't this just a way to give Xu Zhuohua, the empress, a hard time?
This is blatant bullying.
However, Xu Zhuohua did not immediately jump up.
She thought about it and realized that if Cheng Muyun were willing to marry her, he would have left long ago and there would be no need for someone to invite her.
So the current situation is definitely a stalemate between Cheng Muyun and Cheng Yuguang.
Should I go down and generously advise Cheng Muyun?
Xu Zhuohua was not happy at all. Cheng Muyun's heart was with her, and she was happy. Why would she send Cheng Muyun to another courtyard and leave herself alone in an empty room? She was not happy.
The lamplight cast a shadow on Xu Ma's deeply lined face. Her knuckles turned white as she twisted her apron, and her Adam's apple bobbed but no sound came out.
Xu Zhuohua tilted her head and rested it on the pillow, her fingernails unconsciously digging into the silk quilt. Suddenly, she chuckled and said, "Aunt Xu, what does the warlord want me to do down here?"
The last syllable trailed off with a disdainful tone, like a fine needle piercing the stagnant air in the room.
Xu Zhuohua gazed at the tassels hanging from the top of the tent, as if she could see Cheng Yuguang sitting upright in a grand chair, his gaze behind his gold-rimmed glasses like a blunt knife.
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