Holding the sword manual, Nan Mengling stepped into the gravity room—and stayed the entire day.

That night, Zhou Jiuyu knocked softly on the door, peeking in with quiet concern.

Inside the silent gravity chamber, Nan Mengling practiced each move relentlessly, her muscles absorbing every technique. The crushing hundred-fold gravity accelerated her mastery of the unfamiliar forms.

The thick manual was now open to the one-tenth mark.

“Train well,” Zhou Jiuyu murmured. “Once you’ve memorized every move, I’ll grant one excessive request—within reason, of course.”

No one enjoys dull repetition. A promised reward was the only thing that kept hope alive.

At his words, Nan Mengling’s eyes lit up. She threw herself into memorizing the techniques with renewed focus.

And so the relentless training continued…

Day one…

Day two…

Day three…

…Day seven.

On the seventh night, Nan Mengling finally deactivated the gravity field. Sword in hand, she returned to the room and immediately borrowed a lighter from Zhou Jiuyu.

“You’re sure about burning it?” he asked.

She nodded. He passed her the lighter.

Smoke curled above the ashtray as flames consumed the manual to ash. Only then did she speak:

“Young Master, every move is now carved into my body—I’ve mastered them all… I’m going to shower. You’d better be ready.”

She gave him a subtle, knowing smile and slipped into the bathroom.

The soft rustle of water filled the room. Zhou Jiuyu’s calm shattered instantly.

What “excessive request” would she make?

Unable to resist, he checked her phone. This silly maid always turned to the internet when confused.

But her recent history was sparse—mostly old searches like *“How to seduce a man until he’s obsessed.”*

Then he saw it: anime history. Romance titles. One stood out—*Tsuki ga Kirei* (*As the Moon, So Beautiful*).

Watched the night before they visited Little Sword God Mountain.

Zhou Jiuyu fell silent.

That night under the stars… she had truly confessed. He’d played dense.

But how could he miss it? She’d been painfully direct—biting his fingers, wanting his lips, wanting *him*. “Like” had been smeared across his face.

And him?

For her, he was the light beyond the walls of deception she’d escaped.

For him? He craved the dream world not for power—but for *her*. The silly maid. Nan Mengling.

Two worlds apart.

Yet he’d stolen her heart, touched her skin, kissed her lips… and still hungered for more. *Hypocrite?*

*Clang—*

Nan Mengling emerged from the bathroom.

A sheer black lace-trimmed slip dress clung to her frame. Thigh-high stockings hugged her legs. Jet-black hair spilled down her bare back. The fabric was translucent—fair skin, a delicate navel above faint abs, matching black lace beneath.

*Damn. This silly maid’s dressed to provoke.*

*Screw the guilt. It’s a dream. When else can you indulge?*

“Young Master…”

Her stockinged feet padded across the carpet. She settled onto his lap, face to face.

Post-shower warmth. Milky-soft skin. His senses flared.

The pure, inexperienced boy in him faltered—but when he tried to pull back, her grip held firm. Trapped.

Her voice, clear yet honeyed: “You promised. No running.”

“What’s your request? I won’t run,” he said, resolve hardening.

“Tonight… I want to be the Young Master’s master.”

“???”

How could she say something so outrageous with zero emotion?!

“No.” Dignity demanded refusal.

“I’m informing you, not asking,” she said flatly—and shoved him onto the bed.

“Rebelling, silly maid?” he glared.

She didn’t flinch. “You’re not stronger than me. Accept reality, Young Master… *I* control your body now.”

His eyes widened. *She’s right.*

“Call me ‘Master’,” she whispered against his ear, smiling, “and I’ll go easier on you~”

…And so the night—

Wait. The night wasn’t over.

Ten minutes later, Nan Mengling sat in a W-position, utterly desolate.

Nothing happened. If she’d actually taken his virginity? Worth the shame. She’d have smiled.

But no. After seven sleepless days of training… she hadn’t even lasted *one minute*.

Humiliation! Absolute humiliation!

Zhou Jiuyu, seeing tears welling in her eyes, softened. He gently ruffled her hair.

“It’s okay. One minute’s still impressive.”

He’d braced for ruin—but his pants never came off. *She* collapsed first.

Truth was… this silly maid suffered from a condition most men wouldn’t admit: premature exhaustion.

“But… it wasn’t even *one* minute… Young Master… I… waaah…”

His words shattered her last restraint. Tears spilled freely.

*Damn that calming tea. Damn that master. Just wait… I’ll climb that mountain with my sword and beat the crap out of you!*