For a moment, the chamber was utterly still—only the faint whisper of wind drifted through the window.
After a long pause, Bibi Dong finally composed herself. Her voice remained steady as she spoke:
"I am aware. If there is nothing else urgent, you may withdraw."
"Yes, this humble servant takes his leave."
Yue Guan's respectful reply faded with the receding sound of his footsteps.
Only after his steps vanished completely did Bibi Dong turn slowly from the door.
Her expression had returned to calm—but deep in her eyes, that tangled emotion still lingered, unspoken.
Dai Chengfeng rose from the bed and walked to her side, gently taking her hand in his.
Her fingers were cool; he enclosed them in his own, warming them slowly.
"Teacher," he murmured softly.
Bibi Dong lifted her gaze to him. She didn't speak—only tilted her face upward slightly and closed her eyes.
Dai Chengfeng lowered his head and kissed her once more.
This kiss was gentler than before—soothing, tender, like a quiet promise.
Bibi Dong rose onto her toes, returning the kiss with quiet surrender.
When they finally parted, both were breathing unevenly.
Gently, Bibi Dong pushed him away, smoothed her disheveled hair, and said in a low voice:
"I still have official matters to attend to. You… go sit over there for a while."
Dai Chengfeng nodded obediently and returned to the edge of the bed, watching as she walked toward the grand desk.
Papers and scrolls were piled atop it—documents she hadn't yet finished reviewing that day.
She settled into the ornate chair, lit the candelabra on the desk, and the warm golden light bathed her exquisite profile.
Picking up a file, she began reading with focused intensity.
In that moment, she was once again the formidable Pope—the woman who ruled with iron will. The one who had just melted in his arms seemed like a dream.
But Dai Chengfeng knew it hadn't been a dream.
He stood, walked behind her, and placed his hands lightly on her shoulders.
Bibi Dong stiffened briefly—but didn't stop him.
Dai Chengfeng began massaging her shoulders and neck with practiced pressure.
"Mm…"
An involuntary sigh escaped her lips as her tense muscles gradually relaxed.
Though he'd done this many times before, she still marveled at how skilled this "insolent disciple" truly was.
His pressure was perfect, his touch precise—each movement easing the fatigue that had built up over the day.
"You've been working too hard lately, Teacher," he murmured as he worked.
Bibi Dong didn't answer. She simply closed her eyes, allowing herself to sink into the comfort of his touch.
His hands were warm, his fingertips calloused just enough to send pleasant shivers across her skin.
But the peace didn't last.
Just as Bibi Dong fully relaxed into the massage, Dai Chengfeng's hands grew… less innocent.
His motions still resembled therapeutic kneading—but his palms drifted slowly downward, from her shoulders to her back, then to the sides of her waist.
His fingertips brushed her sensitive skin with feather-light provocation, leaving trails of heat in their wake.
Bibi Dong tensed again—not from exhaustion this time, but from something far more dangerous.
She bit her lip, refusing to protest, keeping her eyes shut tightly as if pretending nothing was happening.
Consider it payment for the massage, she told herself, trying to justify it.
But Dai Chengfeng clearly wanted more.
His hands grew bolder—sliding upward from her waist, creeping toward her front.
Bibi Dong felt his palm press gently through the fabric of her Pope's robe—then give a soft, deliberate squeeze.
"You—!"
She finally snapped her eyes open, twisting to glare at him—her cheeks instantly flushed crimson.
Dai Chengfeng looked utterly innocent, though his hands never stopped. "I'm helping you relax, Teacher."
"Is this relaxation?"
Her voice trembled with equal parts shame and irritation. She grabbed his wandering hand, trying to pull it away.
But Dai Chengfeng only tightened his grip around hers—and with his free hand, began unfastening the buttons of her robe.
One. Two…
His pace was leisurely, yet unwavering—leaving no room for refusal.
"Dai Chengfeng!"
She hissed his name, trying to stand—but he wrapped an arm around her from behind, pinning her firmly in the chair.
"Don't move, Teacher," he whispered against her ear, warm breath ghosting over her sensitive skin. "It'll be over soon."
Over soon? What will be over?!
Furious and flustered, she tried to struggle—but she was no match for his strength.
His arm held her like iron, immovable.
And his other hand had already undone every button, sliding the heavy robe off her shoulders.
Cool air kissed her exposed skin, making her shiver involuntarily. Beneath the robe, she wore only a thin inner garment—now disheveled, revealing smooth expanses of pale skin and the delicate curve of her collarbone.
Dai Chengfeng's gaze darkened, heat flaring in his eyes.
His hand traced her bare shoulder, fingertips gliding slowly over her silken skin…
"Enough…"
Bibi Dong's voice was already breathless. She seized his wrist, shoved him away firmly, and quickly pulled the robe back up, hastily rebuttoning it.
Dai Chengfeng didn't resist. He simply stepped back, watching with amusement as she fumbled to compose herself.
Once dressed, she turned to glare at him—cheeks still flushed, eyes shimmering with moisture. But instead of intimidation, the look only radiated a helpless, intoxicating allure.
"Go sit over there," she ordered, forcing sternness into her voice—though the slight tremor betrayed her. "Let me finish these documents first."
Seeing her feigned composure, Dai Chengfeng's smile only deepened.
He knew when to stop. He'd teased her enough for one night.
So he nodded dutifully and returned to the bed without another word.
Bibi Dong watched him, surprised by his sudden obedience.
After confirming he wouldn't cause further trouble, she took a steadying breath and refocused on her paperwork.
But this time, her concentration was shot.
Images of what had just happened kept flashing in her mind, making it impossible to focus.
Time passed in silence—only the soft crackle of candle flame and the scratch of pen on paper filled the room.
Dai Chengfeng sat quietly on the bed, watching her.
Eventually, Bibi Dong set down her pen and closed the final file.
She rubbed her sore neck and exhaled softly in relief.
Immediately, Dai Chengfeng stood and approached, seamlessly taking over the massage.
"Done?" he asked quietly.
"Mm."
She leaned back, eyes closed, voice laced with weary contentment.
His hands moved from her neck to her shoulders, kneading with soothing pressure. After a moment, as if remembering something, he said:
"Oh—by the way, Teacher… I have a piece of clothing I'd like you to try on."
Bibi Dong opened her eyes, puzzled. "Clothing?"
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