Zhang Yemiao woke to find Wang Qi already gone. He’d left a note: he’d gone to fulfill the deal’s conditions with the creature inside that bead.

Alone now, she wasn’t as scared as before. After all, since she and Wang Qi had done… that… she felt oddly secure.

Of course, this insecurity felt childish. Wang Qi wasn’t the type to be tied down by physical relations—wait! She wasn’t trying to bind him that way either.

Sharing just her age and race shouldn’t risk his life. So Zhang Yemiao guessed the deal’s condition was merely embarrassing, not difficult.

Would Wang Qi kill innocents?

He probably wouldn’t. But even if he did… so what?

She knew it was hypocritical. If anyone else killed innocents, she’d despise them—maybe even play vigilante. But if it was Wang Qi? Dying together under a righteous sword didn’t seem so bad…

Stop it! She thumped her head against the bedpost, silencing the chaos.

Anyway, Wang Qi had left… Zhang Yemiao scanned the messy room, full of their traces. Time to clean.

She swept, mopped, piled up the dirt.

“If only there was a fully automatic washing machine.”

This world had water magic like the “Washing Art,” and Divine Arts like “Purity.” But Zhang Yemiao knew neither.

Fully automatic wasn’t realistic—no electricity. Magic could power it, but she had no talent. At level two, her mana was pitiful, less than her stamina.

So she had to… Zhang Yemiao’s mind formed a plan. Materials appeared in her hands.

After hours of work… she realized she could’ve just washed the clothes by now. But as a modern person, she believed in one-time solutions to spark creativity.

The basic frame was done. Next—a circular cage. On Earth, it’d be a hamster wheel. But scaled up, for fast animals to run inside.

But Zhang Yemiao couldn’t catch such beasts yet. She’d wait for Wang Qi—he was strong after bathing in dragon’s blood, useful for hunting.

For now, manual cranking.

Her hand-crank washing machine was complete.

After a whole day’s work, the clothes were clean. But no way to dry them… Then she remembered her forge. Unused for over a month, she’d forgotten.

This was her real trade.

She lit the forge. Once hot, she crafted a drying rack, hung the clothes. Then she resumed blacksmithing, long neglected…

By dawn, Zhang Yemiao extinguished the fire. The clothes were dry. She gathered them, collapsed on bed, and fell asleep.

When she opened her eyes again, it was night.

Wang Qi still hadn’t returned.

She felt lonely. Not that she had nothing to do without him… well, with him, they mostly did one thing.

But she was already anxious. Travel took days here—normal. Yet after just two days without Wang Qi, she was struggling.

She thought she’d grown stronger. But now, she felt weaker.

Missing him terribly, she sneaked into Wang Qi’s room. Oddly, though he often visited hers—especially these past days, thanks to her bed’s stamina perks—she’d never entered his.

Feeling guilty, but she considered herself his girlfriend. In this world, commoners didn’t register marriages. Calling them spouses wasn’t wrong, right?

Not a good reason to snoop… but she wanted to see!

The blonde girl tiptoed inside.

His room was bare, unchanged since built. No personal touch. She opened the wardrobe: only clothes she’d made for him.

A wooden table held a plate and cup—utterly simple. Zhang Yemiao realized: were they actually poor?

She built the house, sold crafts in town. Food mostly came from Wang Qi’s hunts… Yeah, pretty poor.

Whatever. They weren’t good at managing money anyway. Didn’t matter.

Shaking off useless thoughts, she pounced on Wang Qi’s bed.

Rolling around, she imagined smelling his scent… but there was none. What did Wang Qi even smell like?

Actually, she’d tasted plenty of that special liquid lately.

Her small frame needed tricks to keep up with him. Her bed’s stamina boost helped… but it favored him more! Her base stats were low, so the boost was minimal.

It was just her imagination—her brain tricking her. But thinking this was Wang Qi’s bed, where he slept, brought comfort…

Blushing, she nuzzled his pillow.

Zhang Yemiao thought she must be broken. In those adult manga, she’d be the girl with heart-shaped eyes, going crazy without daily… you know.

They used to be so proper. Now this. She shouldn’t have let Wang Qi have his way. But if she didn’t secure him early… Li Pingtian left with no intention to give up. If she didn’t claim Wang Qi first, becoming a loser would be disastrous.

She touched her golden hair. If not for the blonde loser trope, she wouldn’t be like this…

Wriggling like a caterpillar on his bed, she felt no shame. Love-struck couples did embarrassing things with straight faces.

Though she was once a man, recent male dominance had broken her down in bed. Shame was gone; blushing was the worst.

But wriggling wasn’t enough. Biting her lip, she hugged the pillow with one arm and explored her body with the other…

Meanwhile, Wang Qi was on the run again. He always was. He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong, but lately, he ran too much.

“Hey! Are you even capable, meow?” The cat-eared woman on his shoulder had a weird speech quirk. Mature figure, but arrogant despite being carried. “If not, drop me. You can escape.”

Bad situation, but Wang Qi was furious. “Damn it! If you hadn’t exposed me, would this happen? We’re colleagues—you went all out!”

He’d sneaked into a noble’s house to steal something, only to meet a fellow thief in the shadows—this catgirl now on his shoulder.

She failed her theft, got caught, and exposed him too. Bastard.

“If you lied, I’ll make you regret it!” Wang Qi pushed his limits. Glancing back at pursuing soldiers, “Time for my trump card.”

Blood surged. The catgirl noticed white steam rising from Wang Qi’s skin.

“Divine Art: Godspeed!”

Normally, he needed level four for other Divine Arts. But bathed in Swift Dragon King’s blood, he could tap into its innate power at great cost.

Speed surged. Wang Qi shook off the soldiers, racing home nonstop.

Zhang Yemiao had just showered and dressed when the door opened.

She smiled brightly—then froze. Wang Qi entered, carrying a catgirl.

Her smile stiffened.

Wang Qi froze.

“Yemiao, let me explain!” Wang Qi panicked.

“Meow?” The catgirl tilted her head. “Why are you copying my speech, meow?”

Wang Qi dumped her like luggage. But cats land on their feet—the famous buttered-cat perpetual motion theory in action…

The catgirl landed safely.

She glared at Wang Qi. “What was that, meow! Dangerous, meow!”

Wang Qi ignored her, eyes on Zhang Yemiao. He braced for the Great Longsword.

Zhang Yemiao just smiled, a hint of sadness in her eyes. But she didn’t draw her sword. Instead, she reached out and hugged Wang Qi.

Wang Qi bent slightly so she didn’t have to tiptoe.

At his ear, she whispered, “Explain later… let me hold you first.”