The warm orange lamplight bathed every corner of the living room—and the girl within it.

Luo Qingchuan froze for a moment, lost in thought.

The hem of Chen Yanyu’s shirt had lifted slightly, revealing a flash of brilliant white beneath, edged with delicate lace trim like a tiny, exquisite curtain.

Luo Qingchuan’s right hand rested near her waist. With just a flick of his index finger, he could slowly, inch by inch, peel that curtain away.

Her skin glowed fairer than snow; her body soft and supple. Silvery hair spilled in a shimmering cascade. Cheeks flushed with shyness, eyelashes trembling slightly, she closed her eyes before him—lips naturally crimson, brows elegantly arched. Her willowy waist twisted gently in his arms like an evening breeze skimming a lakeshore; her long legs curled shyly into a graceful arc.

Chen Yanyu was breathtakingly beautiful—so much so that even Luo Qingchuan’s famed composure shattered in an instant.

She was a celestial spirit, a dragoness, blazing white thunder dancing through storm clouds. To mortals, she was divine.

Yet now, that divinity was being gently trespassed upon.

Without permission, the boy’s fingers drifted upward, tracing the delicate curves of her trembling form.

Chen Yanyu bit her lower lip hard, refusing—and fearing—to make a sound, lest she break the fragile silence.

Her loosened collar revealed a soft hint of pale pink beneath her collarbone.

He found his destination.

“Mmm…” Her body shuddered violently. A suppressed whimper escaped her lips; shame flushed her face crimson.

*So gentle…* Dazed, Chen Yanyu opened her hazy golden eyes—pupils swirling with dizzying circles. She wanted to look at Luo Qingchuan… but dared not. A single forlorn tear glistened at the corner of her eye, delicate as morning dew sliding off a lotus leaf.

*Click.*

His left arm cradled her waist; his right deftly unbuttoned the top of her blouse.

Gently parting the fabric revealed snow-white skin beneath the clouds.

And underneath…

Nothing.

Her trembling hand suddenly seized his.

Though innocent and unfamiliar with such things, Chen Yanyu instinctively knew—he was crossing a line.

*Groping…* She understood.

“Carry me,” she whispered, rosy lips trembling like a plaintive oriole’s chirp, “to bed… I’ll give it to you then.”

Her mind flickered to TV drama tropes:

Embrace…

Sheets…

Rolling…

Then?

*Leave the rest to him…*

A faint heat bloomed in her thighs.

Luo Qingchuan swept her up—one arm under her back, the other beneath her knees—and carried her to the bedroom bed.

She pressed her long legs tightly together, hiding the hazy glimpse beneath.

He grabbed the thin blanket and draped it over her swiftly.

His breath was light. Very light.

Uncontrolled, it would’ve been a beast’s ragged gasp.

So he kept it soft as a summer breeze over water.

“Sleep,” he murmured. “I won’t stay.”

Guilt washed over him.

He’d nearly become a demon defiling a deity.

But the deity was too kind—even demons hesitated to harm her.

*If it weren’t Chen Yanyu… if it weren’t her first day in this world…*

*Or maybe this demon had already been struck down once by a sword-wielding immortal.*

“…” Chen Yanyu yanked the blanket over her flushed face with a rustle. “I just… was too tired to move! That’s all!” she mumbled.

“Mm.” Luo Qingchuan chuckled softly. “I know. But you said you’d give me… what?”

A tiny spasm rippled under the blanket.

“Come closer and I’ll tell you.”

He leaned in.

A pink-white fist shot out—

“I’ll punch you!”

*Thump.* Lightly on his forehead.

He caught her trembling wrist and tucked it back beneath the covers. Crouching by the bed, he whispered, “Next time, be harsher with a bad guy like me. Don’t soften so easily.”

“Next time I won’t give you the chance, hmpf! Go! This young lady is sleeping!”

He smiled, turned, closed the door softly, and switched off the light.

In the quiet dark, Chen Yanyu peeked out, eyes glistening toward the door.

After his footsteps faded and the TV clicked off, she buried herself deeper, squeezed her eyes shut, and hastily re-buttoned her blouse. Fingering the button, sleep refused to come.

Later, she crept out, pushed the door open—bedroom dark.

Luo Qingchuan slept on the sofa, head tilted, face etched with fatigue.

“Are you cold?” she asked.

Silence.

Remembering the tender tension of moments before, she tiptoed back, gathered the small blanket in her slender arms, and sat beside him. She draped it gently over them both, rested her head on his shoulder, and let a faint smile bloom.

This gesture always brought her warmth. Safety. Sweetness.

The cool night held them close.

… … …

Until dawn.

Sunlight streamed through parted curtains. The blanket lay rumpled across the sofa.

“Waaah, Luo Qingchuan! It hurts! You’re hurting me!”

“Shh…” He sighed, voice gentle but weary. “Don’t wiggle. Sit still. If you twist your waist, I can’t adjust.”

“O-okay…” Chen Yanyu whimpered, facing away, tears trembling in her voice. “It still hurts… what do I do? Waaah…” Her body jerked helplessly, stiff with pain.

“You’re too sensitive. Just grit your teeth—it’ll pass.” His hands pressed her trembling shoulders, moving toward her slender neck.

“No no no! It stings! Try another way!” She seized his wrists behind her, resisting fiercely.

Luo Qingchuan sighed deeply. *Su Yingsnow’s waiting. She texted not to be late.*

“Chen Yanyu… why were you sleeping on the sofa at midnight? In such a bad pose…” He facepalmed.

“Why would a dragon even get a stiff neck?!”

*Damn. How absurd. Who could’ve predicted this?!*

Chen Yanyu sat rigidly upright, head lolling softly sideways. Sunlight caught her silvery hair, cascading like scattered starlight; fine strands trembled, catching delicate rays.

“I… I don’t know,” she murmured. Porcelain cheeks flushed, voice clear yet pitifully sweet—like wind chimes on a summer breeze.