After arriving at the hotel room,

Zhou Jiuyu’s first move was to slip off Nan Mengling’s little white shoes. He then took her small feet—wrapped snugly in cotton white socks—into his hands, expression utterly unchanged.

“You walked all day. Must be tired. Seeing how pitiful you look today, this young master will graciously massage your feet.”

As he spoke, he gently massaged her feet through the socks for a moment. Then he peeled the socks away, exposing her bare, smooth soles to the air, and resumed the massage.

And if his fingers *accidentally* brushed her calves… or—oops—not so accidentally drifted past her knees toward her thighs? Perfectly reasonable.

“Thank you, young master.”

Nan Mengling didn’t refuse. She simply watched him massage her feet, even when his hands wandered where they shouldn’t.

Unnoticed, she quietly pulled out her smartphone. Following Zhou Jiuyu’s earlier instructions, she clumsily traced characters stroke by stroke with the handwriting input, searching… until her shoulders relaxed slightly.

As if the internet had gifted her sudden courage.

But then her confident gaze dimmed. Her eyes sharpened as she read the screen… hesitated… and finally looked up at Zhou Jiuyu.

“I looked up ‘cuckold.’ Just like you said—it describes someone who gets off watching their cherished partner be used by others. But it also said the root of this pathology… is deep insecurity. Feeling unable to satisfy their partner emotionally or physically, so they let others do it… and derive twisted psychological and physical gratification from it.”

Zhou Jiuyu’s hands, still idly kneading her foot, stilled for a heartbeat. “What are you getting at?”

Nan Mengling lowered her head, voice barely a whisper. “Is… is Master like that? Did his insecurity birth this sickness?”

Seeing Zhou Jiuyu’s faint frown, she rushed on: “Logically, I know—Master wanted others to defile my body, trample my dignity… did unspeakable things to my mother. Even if she was unkind to me… I… I can’t sever it. I know I shouldn’t pity him… but I just… can’t cut it off.”

Her voice faded to silence.

Even knowing all the truth, her heart clung to lingering threads—impossible to sever.

Like a father who’s kind yet gambles you away. He’s still your father. You keep hoping one talk will make him quit…

You know he’ll likely gamble again, but until you’re truly broken, you cling to that sliver of hope.

Until utter disillusionment arrives, only remnants remain.

“So you still want to save your master?” Zhou Jiuyu arched a brow.

Nan Mengling shook her head slowly, fingers brushing the White Moon Longsword leaning nearby. “I mean… if you ordered me now to point this sword at Master’s throat… I… my hands would shake. The blade would waver. No—I definitely couldn’t strike.”

Her heart held fractured remnants. She wasn’t foolish enough to sympathize with scum like the Sword God… yet her hand refused. Just… couldn’t sever it.

“Don’t overthink it,” Zhou Jiuyu said lightly, shaking his head. “‘Severing’ him? Even as a despicable pervert, he’s the Sword God—peak of worldly swordsmanship, rivaling a Ninth Tier esper. You barely handled your Seventh Tier senior brother. ‘Severing’ him? You wouldn’t stand a chance.” He shifted tone casually. “Go shower. Even an immortal fairy gets sticky in the rain. Wash clean, smooth… then change into that black stocking and camisole set. You’ll warm the bed for me tonight.”

*He’d only known her a day. She’d been raised by the Sword God for over ten years. How could one night unravel her knots? No rush. Time would sharpen this silly girl.*

“…Yes, young master.”

Nan Mengling’s face was quiet. Clutching her clothes, she entered the bathroom. Her eyes seemed calm as moonlight—yet not true moonlight. Reflected light on a rippling lake… shimmering restlessly, never still.

Soon, soft pitter-patter of water filled the room. Through the steam-fogged glass (she’d forgotten the curtain), her silhouette emerged—curvaceous, hypnotic.

Zhou Jiuyu smirked, ready to enjoy the tantalizing scene… when his gaze snagged on her phone, screen glowing on the table: browser open.

*Not snooping. Just… visible.*

He glanced sideways. Search history:

[What does “cuckold” mean?]

[What if I want the young master to defile me?]

[How to seduce a man?]

[Do black stockings allure men?]

[What if my crush is a foot fetishist?]

[Why does young master massage my feet/legs?]

Zhou Jiuyu: “???”

*This perverted maid! Plotting against me?! So scheming—utterly scheming!!*

After a silent groan, his face smoothed. Confirming she was still showering, he cast an illusion over himself. From his shoulder bag, he pulled DVDs found earlier that afternoon in Nan Mengling’s old house. Labels: [Master], [Husband].

“Project.”

He summoned the footage mid-air, frowning through it all.

Same contrast as the photos.

[Husband] tapes: mundane, impatient nights between her parents.

[Master] tapes? Far wilder… leashing, exhibitionism, violence, group acts, BDSM training…

“Country folk really know how to play…”

*Good thing I didn’t show her these. Would’ve turned this little perverted maid into a full-blown obsessed woman.*

“But this last tape… no label?”

Curious, he projected it.

Started like the rest—Sword God and her mother in master-servant roleplay. Then—abnormality.

Zhou Jiuyu’s pupils tightened.

Previous tapes made his eye twitch. This one knotted his brow deep.

He watched without skipping…

—when the shower water stopped.

His heart froze. He lunged to dismiss the projection—

The bathroom door opened.

His breath caught.

He jolted awake, sitting bolt upright, head whipping around.

No alluring figure in black stockings and camisole.

Only the room brightening with dawn light.

Outside the window—morning sky.

He was awake.