Ghost Emperor walked to the bedside, sat down, patted the space beside her, and said, “Sit.”

Whose room is this anyway—yours or mine? So casually familiar? Zhong Cheng couldn’t help but think.

Unfortunately, now was no time for that.

(Scared.jpg)

Though deeply reluctant to stay near the Ghost Emperor, Zhong Cheng knew escape was impossible. He resigned himself.

He walked over and sat beside her.

“Husband, you’ve been so naughty—sneaking off and leaving this wife stranded at the bus station. How should I punish you?”

“Don’t kill me…”

“Relax. This wife won’t kill you. How else would I absorb your yang energy?”

“So am I your husband… or just your emergency snack?”

“Take a guess.”

Staring at the Ghost Emperor’s cold, unreadable smile, Zhong Cheng felt utterly lost. *I can’t guess! Please spare me!*

(Anxious.jpg)

Suddenly, the Ghost Emperor’s nostrils flared. She caught a strange scent and glanced at the trash can beside the computer desk.

“What’s in there? It smells odd.”

“Ahem—probably just spoiled leftovers. Nothing to worry about!” Zhong Cheng said awkwardly. He sprang up, tied the garbage bag tight to stop the smell, then opened the window.

Curtains fluttered. A breeze swept in, clearing the air quickly.

What a blunder—forgetting to deal with that.

That first night back home during National Day holiday… a virgin after long abstinence, suddenly free. Pent-up urges surged beyond control.

So he gave in. Totally natural, right? Be honest with yourselves.

But he forgot to clean up—nearly exposing a “state secret.”

Thankfully, the Ghost Emperor didn’t recognize the smell or press further. Otherwise… *extremely* awkward.

Zhong Cheng returned to sit beside her, spine straight, expression perfectly obedient.

(Being a good boy.jpg)

Like a scolded kid awaiting punishment—only acting sweet might soften the blow.

“Husband, you still haven’t said how you should be punished,” the Ghost Emperor said.

“If it were up to me? No punishment at all! I’ve already learned my lesson!” Zhong Cheng said earnestly.

“And you think that’s possible?”

“Yes!”

The Ghost Emperor reached out, gently pinched his chin. He froze. Face to face, breaths mingling—heart pounding.

Like first love.

This familiar gesture. This familiar scene. Her familiar scent. This familiar tension…

Zhong Cheng knew what came next. Jaw set. No resistance. No struggle. A martyr’s resolve.

Like a soldier charging through gunfire—*flinch? I lose.*

The Ghost Emperor parted her delicate lips and took a soft sip~

Zhong Cheng collapsed onto the bed with a thud, pale-faced, eyes rolling back.

Visibly thinner.

Even after multiple times, it still felt awful—muscles spasming, body helpless, head buzzing, dizzy beyond words.

All regained stamina vanished. Barely a sliver of health left. A weak minion could finish him off.

“No second chances. Next time, others will pay too.”

*Heh.* “The monk may flee, but the temple remains. Bao Hua Village has many villagers… including your grandparents. What do you think this wife would do if you ran?”

Her smile turned icy—a blatant threat.

Zhong Cheng trembled on the bed, shivering uncontrollably like a seizure victim. Speaking was nearly impossible.

He suddenly understood the elderly: every movement a struggle, bones brittle, gums tender. No feasting like before. Just frustration.

The Ghost Emperor leaned down again, face inches from his.

Her graceful figure fully visible—but Zhong Cheng was too terrified to notice.

*She wouldn’t take another sip… would she? I’d die. I’d really die.*

Thankfully, no.

She exhaled a wisp of yang energy into him. Strength flickered back.

Barely alive. *Phew~*

Zhong Cheng glared fiercely, trying to intimidate the predator with sheer will.

Like savanna prey: stay calm, never turn your back. Stare down the threat. Escape with dignity. Prove you fought.

Predictably, his glare did nothing.

Instead, a faint smile curved her lips—playful, enchanting.

That beauty mark by her mouth looked strangely alluring.

She didn’t move. Hands braced on the bed, pinning him beneath her.

Trapped. Helpless.

Wait—was this basically a “bed pin”?

Zhong Cheng, wall-pinned on his own bed by the Ghost Emperor?

Felt… not bad.

Her exquisite features up close: jade-bright eyes, raven hair like twilight, full chest tempting a touch.

(He didn’t dare. Not cowardice—just not suicidal. “Don’t seek death, and you won’t die.” Timeless wisdom.)

Thoughts wandered anyway.

His room. Door shut. Quiet. Two people on a bed. Intimate pose. Charged air.

Wouldn’t *something* happening be… normal?

Maybe restored stamina made him bold.

Alone with a beautiful female ghost—even straight guys’ imaginations would run wild.

Not me being weird from being single too long. You’d think the same. Right? Type “1”. No spies.

She seemed oblivious to the pose’s devastating effect—shattering male rationality without a touch.

Total “lose their minds” mental strike.

“Husband, why keep staring at this wife?”

“Because you’re beautiful,” Zhong Cheng answered honestly.

A pleased, mischievous smile curved her lips.

Making his heart itch.