Soon, Zhu Zhuqing's figure vanished beyond the courtyard gate. Dai Chengfeng glanced at the sky, estimating the hour—
Then turned and walked out of the Spirit Hall.
The Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan's private residence was quiet and secluded.
Aside from a few maidservants occasionally passing through, the place was utterly still.
Dai Chengfeng arrived quickly at the courtyard gate—it stood slightly ajar.
He pushed it open gently and stepped inside.
A clean pebble path wound through the garden, flanked by flowers and shrubs glistening with morning dew. The air carried a faint, refreshing scent of grass and leaves.
The main house was shuttered tight, silent within.
He approached the window, pressed an ear to the frame—and heard only slow, even breathing.
Still asleep.
With a soft click of the latch, he eased the door open. A warm wave of delicate feminine fragrance—subtle, sweet, intimate—greeted him.
Inside, the room was dim; heavy curtains blocked most of the light, allowing only thin golden slivers to slice through the quiet gloom.
His gaze fell on the bed in the inner chamber.
Liu Erlong lay on her side, the silk quilt pulled only to her waist.
She wore a satin sleep dress—likely kicked off in her sleep from the heat. The hem had ridden up, revealing a stretch of smooth, supple thigh.
The gown was pale crimson, soft and form-fitting, tracing every breathtaking curve of her mature body.
Her shoulders were rounded and elegant, collarbones sharply defined. Below them, even in repose, rose full, proud swells that rose and fell gently with each breath.
Her waist, though draped in loose fabric, clearly tapered to a slender cinch—before flaring dramatically into hips as lush and resilient as a ripe peach, their generous shape pressing against the thin material with quiet vitality.
Her long legs were crossed, calves taut and straight, ankles delicate.
Her ten toes were like pearls—plump, perfectly shaped, nails gleaming with healthy pink luster.
Her long hair spilled across the pillow, tousled and wild, strands clinging to the damp skin of her neck and cheeks.
Dai Chengfeng approached the bed and stood there for a moment, watching her silently.
Then he leaned down—brushing his lips against hers in the lightest, quickest kiss.
A mere touch—like a dragonfly skimming water.
Soft, warm, carrying her unique scent and a whisper of indescribable sweetness.
But the moment he lifted his head—her phoenix-like eyes snapped open.
No drowsy haze. Only sharp, primal alertness—like a slumbering she-dragon roused from her den.
Then, recognizing him, the fierceness melted like a receding tide, replaced by fond exasperation and tenderness.
"You…"
Her voice was husky from sleep, yet still rich with that magnetic warmth unique to her.
Dai Chengfeng hadn't expected her to wake so suddenly—or so clearly.
He straightened, showing no embarrassment at being caught. Instead, he smiled naturally and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Did I wake you? You were sleeping so deeply—I only meant to look and leave."
Liu Erlong huffed softly and pushed herself upright.
The silk quilt slid further down. Her sleep dress already had a loose neckline—and this movement sent one delicate strap slipping off her shoulder, exposing a broad expanse of flawless, snow-white skin.
"Sneaking in just to 'look'?"
She arched a brow, tone unreadable—but her eyes lingered pointedly on his lips.
Dai Chengfeng met her gaze openly, his own sweeping appreciatively over her bared shoulder and that dazzling stretch of bare skin—before finally locking eyes with her.
"I did," he admitted easily. "But since you're awake… consider it a pleasant surprise."
"A pleasant surprise?"
Liu Erlong tilted her head back against the headboard, the motion accentuating her magnificent curves even more.
The soft fabric clung to her—tracing the high swell of her bust, the dramatic dip of her waist, the lush, powerful lines of her hips and thighs. Every contour radiated the full, vibrant beauty of a woman in her prime—robust, alive, utterly unlike the fragile bloom of youth.
"Seeing you well-rested… energized…"
Dai Chengfeng smiled, his eyes never leaving her.
Liu Erlong, surprisingly, felt a flicker of shyness under his unwavering gaze. She tugged the fallen quilt over her legs—hiding the tempting view below, yet making the upper half of her body appear even more striking.
"Flatterer," she murmured. "You came so early—what do you want?"
"Must I have a reason to see you?"
Dai Chengfeng reached out and, with effortless familiarity, guided the slipped shoulder strap back into place.
Liu Erlong trembled almost imperceptibly—but didn't pull away. She simply watched his profile, so close now.
Once the strap was settled, his fingers didn't withdraw. Instead, they traced the delicate band, gliding lightly over her rounded shoulder as if smoothing an invisible wrinkle.
The touch was feather-light—yet burned like fire.
"Done with your greeting now?"
Her voice dropped lower, eyes drifting to his fingertips.
"Not quite."
Dai Chengfeng's gaze shifted to the neckline of her sleep dress.
Tossed in her sleep, the fabric had twisted slightly—opening the collar just enough to reveal more of that creamy expanse and the tantalizing shadow between.
He extended a finger, hooked the crooked edge of the neckline, and gently tugged it back into alignment.
This gesture was far more intimate than the last.
His fingertip nearly grazed the soft, full curve beneath.
Liu Erlong's breath hitched—just for an instant—and the rise of her chest seemed to deepen.
"Dai Chengfeng…"
"Hmm?"
He answered absently, still focused on adjusting the fabric.
"You're—"
Before she could finish, she felt his finger—now tracing the neckline—somehow loop around the thin tie at the side of her gown.
The knot was loose to begin with. With the faintest tug, it unraveled silently.
"This seems more… proper," Dai Chengfeng murmured, voice deeper now, eyes fixed on the small gap that widened as the tie came undone.
The pale crimson silk, freed from its restraint, slid another fraction down her shoulder—barely clinging to the edge of that breathtaking swell.
Liu Erlong didn't move. She only lifted her eyes, slanting him a sidelong glance.
There was little real anger in it. In fact, she subtly relaxed her posture—sinking deeper into the soft pillows. The slight shift caused the precarious fabric to slip down yet another millimeter.
That tiny motion was permission—silent, unmistakable.
It sent a ripple of unspoken desire through the quiet room.
Dai Chengfeng's eyes darkened.
No longer satisfied with fleeting touches, he placed his palm—hot, deliberate—on her bare shoulder.
Slowly, his hand followed the elegant line of her collarbone, thumb brushing the delicate ridge, then gliding over smooth, flat skin—until his fingers hovered at the trembling edge of the slipping gown.
Each subtle movement drew a faint shiver from her.
At last, his fingers grasped the fallen crimson fabric—not to pull it back up, but to gently, deliberately, sweep it outward…
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