From then on, Qingying slept in Meng Zhao's bed every night.

Meng Zhao would hug her every night, and their behavior became more and more intimate, as if they were an ordinary couple.

But Qingying knew that she was just a concubine of humble status, how could she be called a couple with the noble Meng Zhao.

She didn't dare to imagine these unreal things, and just thought that the intimacy that Meng Zhao occasionally showed was just a momentary impulse.

Every morning, during breakfast, Qingying didn't have to stand and serve Meng Zhao.

Meng Zhao specifically ordered Qingying to eat at the same table with him, and he could always find various reasons to make Qingying obey.

Qingying didn't dare to disobey the order, so she had to sit down and eat obediently.

Qingying found that Meng Zhao liked to kiss her more and more.

For several days in a row, she was woken up by a man's kiss.

After a lingering kiss, the two of them could not avoid doing something romantic.

Early in the morning, every time they did that, Qingying was particularly nervous because she was afraid of being discovered by Meng Wu or the maids who came to serve her. She was so nervous that she kept her lower body retracted throughout the whole process, tightly wrapping the man's thick penis, and refused to relax at all.

Meng Zhao was so painful and pleasurable when she was wrapped around him, sweating profusely and panting like a cow. He rushed and rammed wildly inside her, causing her body to shake as if it was about to fall apart.

The trembling pleasure surged violently, and Qingying wanted to scream but didn't dare to. She could only cover her mouth tightly with her palm to block all the moans in her throat.

Qingying thought that she was just a concubine who served Meng Zhao in his daily life and relieved his physiological needs.

She thought so, so she labeled herself like this.

She never thought that one day, it would be Meng Zhao who would take care of her.

*

On this day, Qingying looked a little nervous and listless.

Meng Zhao thought that she didn't sleep well last night, so he thought about torturing her less in bed in the future and let her go to bed early.

That night.

The candlelight flickered, and everything was silent.

Meng Zhao leaned against the bed railing to read a book, and the flickering candlelight was projected on his high nose bridge, making the lines of his profile more three-dimensional.

Usually, when Meng Zhao read for a while, Qingying would urge him to go to bed.

Tonight, Meng Zhao had been reading for almost half an hour, but Qingying didn't say anything to urge him.

Meng Zhao was surprised. He put down the book and looked around, looking for Qingying.

Suddenly he found that there was a bulge on the couch that had been vacant for a long time, and a girl was lying on it.

Qingying frowned and slept very uncomfortably. From time to time, one or two low moans

of pain escaped from her tightly pursed red lips. "Um..." Qingying bit her lip on the couch and let out a painful groan.

Meng Zhao's face tightened and he asked worriedly: "Qingying, what's wrong with you?"

Qingying, who was sleeping in a daze, suddenly remembered that she forgot to make the bed for Meng Zhao.

She heard Meng Zhao calling her and thought Meng Zhao asked her to get up and make the bed.

She endured the pain in her lower abdomen, got down from the ground with difficulty, and walked slowly to the bed.

Qingying grabbed the corner of the quilt and

shook it. She frowned and said weakly: "I hope the eldest master will forgive me. I have my period and can't warm your bed tonight." As Qingying spoke, she suddenly bent down, covered her abdomen and groaned.

Meng Zhao has lived for more than 20 years, so he naturally knows something about women's menstruation.

He saw Qingying covering her stomach all the time, and knew that she had a stomachache.

He immediately stretched out his arms, hugged her, and carried her to the bed.

"Does your stomach hurt? Let me rub it for you."

Meng Zhao lifted Qingying's clothes, put his big palm on her flat abdomen, and rubbed it gently.

Meng Zhao is a man, so his body temperature is higher. His big palms are warm and dry, and the force of kneading is moderate. After half a minute, a warm feeling gradually rises in Qingying's lower abdomen, and the pain seems to be not so strong.

Feeling better, Qingying lifted the quilt and tried to get up.

Meng Zhao held her down: "Where are you going?"

Qingying explained softly: "My Lord, menstrual fluid is dirty and has ominous meanings. I will sleep on the soft couch and cannot dirty your bed."

Meng Zhao's face was calm and he did not care much. He hugged Qingying and held her in his arms, tucked the corners of the quilt to cover her petite body, "Change it if it gets dirty, it's no big deal. The wooden couch is cold and hard, and the quilt is thin. It's not comfortable for you to sleep there. You will have a stomachache later and you will suffer."