Arriving at the shopping district again, Zhou Jiuyu stepped out of the car, still holding Nan Mengling’s hand.

He used his ability to wipe the bloodstains from her clothes. Nan Mengling watched, fell silent for a moment, then spoke:

“If Young Master can do this… why are we buying clothes?”

“Don’t you want new ones?”

“With your power, conjuring ten outfits should be easy, right?”

“…Whoa. When did you get so sharp?”

Zhou Jiuyu blinked in genuine surprise—he’d never considered using his ability this way.

Honestly, food, clothes, even shelter… he could manifest anything instantly.

But daily habit made him overlook such convenience.

Still, shopping was about the mood—the joy of strolling, the thrill of buying.

“I’ve always been smart,” Nan Mengling said, wiping her nose with a hint of pride.

After all, the Young Master rarely praised her… Wait—had he *ever*? Was this the first time?

A flicker of disappointment crossed her mind.

“But since we’re here… let’s buy a few outfits,” Zhou Jiuyu coughed, playing along.

“Okay,” she murmured softly, gripping his hand and following obediently.

Last time was late at night—just a rushed trip for essentials. Now, with dusk just settling, they wandered leisurely through the mall.

She gazed curiously at everything still new to her: giant plush toys, glittering arcades, rows of accessory shops. Finally… her eyes landed on couples walking hand-in-hand ahead.

“Young Master, Baidu says holding hands usually means you’re a couple… so what about us?” Her eyes clear, she lifted their clasped hands, watching him.

“*Usually* couples,” Zhou Jiuyu smiled back. “But since you said *usually*… couldn’t we be father and daughter? Perfectly reasonable, right?”

*Little brat. Read some dating tips and think you can hook me?*

“Daddy?” Nan Mengling tilted her head, voice sweetly obedient. “Should I call you that now, Young Master?”

Zhou Jiuyu’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His calm faltered.

“And when I climb into your bed tonight… should I call you Daddy then too?” she asked earnestly.

“You can say it in bed. Not now,” he coughed.

“Then… what *is* our relationship? Not father-daughter, not lovers… so we shouldn’t be holding hands, Young Master.” Her gaze held his, unwavering. “Mengling isn’t a girl who takes this lightly.”

He flicked her forehead. “Pushing your luck again? Master and servant! You foolish maid!”

“But Young Master… can *I* be the master?” she ventured softly.

“*You* as master? Just say you want punishment!” His palm landed firmly on her rounded backside. The white skirt fabric crumpled.

Her legs snapped together. Trembling slightly, she clung to his hand, biting her lip through several deep breaths before steadying herself.

Her cheeks flushed crimson. Head bowed, she dared not tease further.

*An accident in public… mortified… absolutely mortified!*

“What about a bed-warming maid, Young Master? For you… Mengling can make a small sacrifice.” She bit her lip, lifting her chin stubbornly.

The sword hilt had always been cold. She was tired of it. She craved warmth.

Rewrapping its cloth daily was tedious… What if it rusted?

“Your ‘small sacrifice’ costs me billions! I warn you, little pervert—keep your schemes off this Young Master’s virtue!” Zhou Jiuyu glared, but seeing her wounded, hopeful eyes…

…He wavered.

After a pause, he cleared his throat. “Bed-warming maid? No. But I’ll upgrade you: personal maid.”

“But… isn’t that the same? We’re already *personal*, Young Master?”

She puffed her chest slightly, blinking in innocent confusion.

Zhou Jiuyu fought not to glance down. *Strike… soft, fragrant, distracting.*

He turned away, bit his lip, then cupped her chin. Pressing his lips to hers—a firm, deliberate kiss—he pulled back, licked his lips, and murmured:

“That’s the difference.”

He’d surrendered. How could anyone resist? Day after day, this sweet, fair, foolish girl tempted him with innocent charm.

“…”

Nan Mengling froze for ten full seconds. Then her eyes lit up—brighter than ever.

She rose on tiptoe and kissed him back fiercely, eyes crinkling shut. One kiss wasn’t enough; she went for another, as if determined to swell his lips.

Zhou Jiuyu faltered. *So soft… so sweet…* Each kiss came with a gentle bump of her pillowy chest. Her lips tasted like honey. Upholding “male virtue” felt impossible.

Just as he noticed curious glances from passersby and prepared to warn her… she pulled away herself. Head lowered, hand gripping his, she stopped.

Watching her walk with a faint, unsteady sway, his eye twitched.

*She didn’t stop to avoid social death… but to avoid total social death.*

“Enough. Time for the real task—clothes.”

He wiped his mouth discreetly, schooled his expression, and led her inside.

After playing a 3D life-sized “Miracle Warm Warm” and buying nearly ten outfits, Zhou Jiuyu finally felt satisfied.

But Nan Mengling looked dejected.

In the fitting room, she’d tried to kiss him—only to hear: “Today’s trial pass for personal maid has expired. Renewal available tomorrow.” *Unforgivable! Straight-up fraud!*

“Clothes done. Now… proper underwear.” Zhou Jiuyu guided her to the lingerie store. “What era is this? Still wearing dudou and xieku?”

Her undergarments were all silk pieces crafted by the Sword Hall’s seamstress: a plain white dudou (a traditional chest-wrap tied with strings), and matching xieku—plain white shorts, though cut boxy like modern briefs.

“Oh.” She followed indifferently at first, even hoping to tempt him again.

But seeing the lacy lingerie on plastic mannequins, her mouth fell open, eyes widened, face burning crimson.

“Y-Young Master… th-this is utterly shameless! It’s practically naked!”