The Fox Maiden’s voice trembled slightly as she knelt astride Lenna’s waist.

Unconsciously, their positions had shifted into a servant-overstepping-her-bounds posture. Yet Lingling, though dominant in stance, radiated timidity—no hint of aggression in her posture.

“Where did you get this?”

Lenna unscrewed the cap, fanned the scent toward her nose, and frowned.

“Poor quality. All inferior herbs. Even the crucial medicinal catalyst…” She paused. “This smell feels familiar…”

A complete prescription flashed in her mind, alongside the image of a hardworking little fox maiden convulsing as she filled a heart-shaped bottle to the brim.

*Ohhh—* Lenna drew out the syllable. No wonder the bath took so long. She’d been brewing “special treats.”

Lingling’s face flushed crimson.

She hadn’t planned to admit this was her homemade stamina potion. She’d hoped the young mistress would be pleased—and spare her. Instead, she’d been seen through instantly.

*So embarrassing…*

“So you brought me this… for what purpose?”

Lenna took a small sip. The taste was faintly fishy, balanced by sweet-sour notes. With loran leaves to neutralize the aftertaste, it might actually be pleasant.

As for its effects…

Her pink lips glistened under the lamplight like polished gloss—utterly delectable.

“The young mistress always rewards Lingling best at night,” the fox maiden mumbled, covering her face. Her fluffy ears curled inward like shy mimosa leaves.

“So you staged all this… hoping I’d let you off?”

Lenna drained the bottle in one gulp, tossed it aside, and locked eyes with Lingling. A fire ignited in her gaze, burning hotter by the second. *Haaah—*

Scorching breath washed over the fox maiden’s face.

The sheer force of Lenna’s feminine aura made Lingling—a naive newcomer to society—tremble anew.

Foxfolk revered strength above all.

Or rather…

All beastkin did. The weak submitted to the strong; the strong yielded to the stronger. But the ferocity radiating from Lenna now? Lingling had never felt its like. Not even days ago, when an enraged Lenna had beaten her over trivial matters.

*Something’s changed about the young mistress…* Lingling wondered silently.

Her body moved instinctively, pressing closer to Lenna. It was primal—a blood-deep impulse to submit to overwhelming power.

If not for their genders…

Lingling might have bared herself right then, lifting her tail high to bear Lenna a litter of hungry kits, continuing their bloodline.

The tension thickened.

Lenna cradled the petite fox maiden, stroking her enormous, silk-smooth tail—a luxurious contrast to her small frame.

*This would make a fine pillow.*

Pile it high like a wall. Lie back. Let your nose sink into that soft, dense fur until your spine arches and a blissful sneeze escapes—

*“Ah-CHOO!”*

Lenna couldn’t hold it back.

“Young mistress, are you catching a cold?!”

Lingling’s ears twitched. She leaned closer, her pointed chin brushing Lenna’s cheek. Delicate white down on her ears—like kapok fluff—tickled Lenna’s skin.

This was her way of caring.

Like a mother would.

She wrapped her arms around Lenna’s head, pressing forehead to forehead to check her temperature. Then her golden tail—strong yet gentle—slid over Lenna’s abdomen like a living blanket.

“This should keep you warm.”

A childlike voice drifted down from above.

Lenna hadn’t slept this peacefully in years…

*Mother…*

It had been so long…

…

A deep, dreamless sleep.

Lenna drifted between memories: rebirth, her mother’s embrace, a family dinner with steaming dishes…

Then the scene shifted. Falmouth Manor. Her life as a villainous noblewoman.

That silent night—fleeing the burning mansion, falling from grace, becoming ordinary.

She woke.

Eyes opened, clear and calm.

Lingling clung to her arm, sleeping soundly.

The fox tail’s warmth had enveloped them all night. Lenna’s belly felt cozy, gurgling softly like a bottle of Monaburg’s infamous sea urchin liquor.

“Sleep well? Dream of rats nibbling your toes?”

Lenna propped herself up, watching the half-awake fox maiden.

“The young mistress’s… pouches… were heavy…” Lingling rubbed her eyes, murmuring dreamily. “Lingling woke to pee, but got pinned under a pair of big pouches… then fell asleep again.”

She bit her lip, staring mournfully at Lenna’s ample chest. Her expression looked dangerously close to despair.

“So… may Lingling go pee now…?”

She’d held it for ages. Yet she didn’t rush off.

Instead, she pressed her milk-white thighs together, stood rigidly, fists clenched on her nightgown hem—waiting for permission.

*What bizarre game is this?*

Lenna’s eye twitched as she glimpsed forbidden territory beneath the hem. “Of course! Go—*now*!”

She wasn’t *that* depraved. Not even for foxfolk anatomy research.

“Mhm! Mhm!”

Lingling returned, blissful after relieving herself. She stripped off her nightgown right before Lenna’s eyes, then gathered her scattered maid uniform.

Lenna hadn’t planned to stare… but the view was right there.

*Hey—it’s not like I’m taking advantage. She only shows me. Could anyone else see this?!*

Lenna finally witnessed the foxfolk’s unique dressing method.

Lingling lifted her skirt, hugged her massive tail, and tugged the zipper at the back. The tail unfurled like an umbrella, effortlessly blocking Lenna’s curious gaze.

*So the dress has a tail hole…*

Lenna had always assumed tails emerged from beneath the hem. “Wait—what about underwear? Do those have holes too?”

“My tail grows at the base of my spine,” Lingling explained, lifting her skirt slightly. She revealed sheer white stockings and tiny string-tied panties—hinting at soft curves and a delicate crevice. But that wasn’t her point.

“Look here, young mistress.”

Where tail met spine, just above the pelvis, the connection looked utterly seamless.

“One tail rarely interferes with daily life.”

“Can you grow more tails?”

Lenna’s eyes lit up, catching the implication.

“Yes,” Lingling nodded. “Mother said each career rank upgrade grants a new tail. Up to nine.”

Exactly matching the highest ninth-rank tier.

But one tail was already cumbersome. How would Lingling’s slender frame handle eight more?

“Before leaving the valley for training,” Lingling added brightly, “I often saw elders with nine tails. They were so kind—they always gave me winter supplies.”

She meant to reassure Lenna that nine tails were common.

But Lenna’s mind had already latched onto something else…

“That valley of yours—where is it?”