A faint smile tugged at his lips as he continued, “I can obtain nearly anything in this world. What gift would my beauty like?”
Hong Ning shook her head. “What is yours is mine. There’s no need to take it now—just leave it there. I’ll take it when I need it.”
Duan Fei was momentarily stunned.
He raised an eyebrow. “Such bold words. Honest, too. Aren’t you afraid I might not like hearing them?”
Before she could respond, he suddenly pulled her into his arms and turned over, bringing her down with him.
Suddenly feeling the weight pressing down on her, Hong Ning instinctively tensed, a flicker of resistance rising in her chest. But the moment she realized what she was doing, she stopped herself and averted her gaze.
“You now…”
Duan Fei was unsurprised. He motioned toward the window. “It’s late. Time to rest.”
Hong Ning remained composed. “The couch is too cold.”
Was she merely playing coy, or was she truly nervous?
A man as experienced as Duan Fei could easily tell the difference.
“Your first time?”
Hong Ning said nothing.
For a man well-versed in romance, handling an inexperienced girl was effortless.
Duan Fei, of course, took it lightly.
He chuckled and lowered his face to her ear, his voice gentle. “Don’t be afraid. It only takes once.”
His kiss didn’t land directly on her lips but on her forehead instead.
Strangely, there was even a trace of tenderness in it.
It wasn’t something she had particularly anticipated, but neither was it something she found entirely repellent.
A truly charming man knew exactly how to ease a woman's defenses.
It wasn’t as difficult to accept as she had imagined.
Hong Ning closed her eyes.
Since she didn’t know what else to do, she might as well let things happen naturally.
In truth, she had never clung to the ideal of "a devoted partner"—wasn’t this just how life worked in this era?
Marriage, children, and then an ordinary lifetime passing by.
It wasn’t a bad way to live.
But that person should never have been Yang Zhen.
Looking at his face would only remind her of someone else, bringing an inevitable sense of guilt.
With Duan Fei, those problems didn’t exist.
His kisses moved slowly downward, tracing her hairline to her temples.
A playful peck landed on the tip of her nose before finally reaching her lips.
Physical intimacy between two strangers—one of the fastest ways to close the distance between them.
By now, his movements were no longer as cautious as before.
As if they were already lovers, there was an added touch of passion.
His fingers slid through her hair, plucking the delicate hairpin free and toying with her dark locks.
A rush of warmth against her ear made Hong Ning tremble involuntarily.
His hands moved downward, expertly loosening her sash and slipping off her blue robes.
His lips traced down to her collarbone, a soft touch that sent a tingling sensation through her body.
Hong Ning's eyes flew open as though struck by lightning.
Almost at the same moment, Duan Fei pulled away and rose.
“I forgot—you just recovered from an illness. Rest well for a few more days first.”
Hong Ning was startled.
Though she didn’t understand why he had changed his mind, she couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of relief.
Duan Fei took his time watching her reaction before reaching down, grabbing her discarded blue robes, and casually tossing them to the floor.
Then, he picked up one of his own garments from a nearby rack and handed it to her.
“Don’t wear those anymore. I don’t like Daoist robes.”
His voice carried a teasing laziness.
“A beauty should be dressed gracefully, charming and lovely. In a few days, I’ll take you into the city to have some proper clothes made. We’ll get you some fine jewelry and a few boxes of rouge as well.”
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