Feng Qingyun froze in Long Yin’s arms, clutching the egg in his hands. His mind flickered with a dozen possible images, each more shocking than the last, until he was left completely numb with horror at what might have happened.
Where the egg had come out from was certainly one problem.
But the bigger problem was… how had he even gotten pregnant in the first place?!
He was clearly just a blood rose, how could he possibly…
Then, like a cruel reminder, the vivid memory of those bright, freshly-bloomed roses he’d seen while examining his true form rose to the surface of his mind.
For a long moment, Feng Qingyun was silent.
Countless unspeakable scenes flashed by in his mind’s eye. Even though, in his current state of memory loss, he couldn’t quite piece together the exact details, he could still guess the general outline of what must have happened.
While seeing Feng Qingyun’s face alternate between pale and crimson, Long Yin immediately guessed what he was imagining, and couldn’t help laughing out loud.
His Little Rose, doubting whether he had really laid an egg or not, was so adorably flustered that Long Yin’s chest practically ached with the urge to bite him.
For once, his conscience stirred. Deciding not to tease him any further, Long Yin leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips.
The kiss was soft and hot, brushing against him before Feng Qingyun’s mind caught up. The moment he realized what was happening, he jolted as if struck by lightning, pressing a hand to Long Yin’s cheek in indignation.
“W…what are you doing?!”
Long Yin gazed at him without blinking and said with total righteousness, “Kissing my wife. What else?”
Feng Qingyun froze, then his entire face went scarlet.
He simply couldn’t accept it. How… how on earth had he ended up with this man?!
That bastard, that shameless scoundrel, had once defeated him with a single sword stroke in front of the Heavenly Gate, mocked him for centuries for not blooming, and publicly insulted Mu Hanyang at every opportunity…
Though, well, that last part wasn’t exactly a crime.
Even in his current amnesiac state, Feng Qingyun remembered that by the time his memories stopped, he had already been utterly disillusioned with Mu Hanyang.
But both love and hate… neither was easily erased, even by a drug that wiped memory.
His disgust toward Mu Hanyang ran so deep that it alone was enough to withstand any medicine. Even without his memories, he would never return to that former infatuation.
And perhaps, buried deep within his subconscious, some part of him still remembered what had driven someone, the someone in front of him, to be precise, to madness back then.
The day only a wall had separated them from Mu Hanyang left a lasting impression in his subconscious, something he’d never forgotten. Even though Long Yin had since promised never again to lose control out of jealousy, Feng Qingyun remained as cautious as a snake-bitten man avoiding every rope, never daring to so much as mention Mu Hanyang before him.
That kind of lingering fear had sunk into his very bones.
And now, it looked like not even amnesia could erase it.
But to the current, memoryless Feng Qingyun, none of that existed. His subconscious warnings were muted, and so, faced with the impossible sight of his supposed enemy holding him close, he couldn’t comprehend it.
Just a moment ago, he’d been writing a farewell letter to Mu Hanyang.
And now, he was somehow entangled with his archrival, a man whose every move screamed indecency and unrestrained danger.
So… What the hell did I ever see in him?!
Feng Qingyun gripped the egg tightly, glaring at the man before him in disbelief.
Long Yin’s laughter deepened. He slid an arm around Feng Qingyun’s waist and leaned closer deliberately, watching as his beautiful prey tensed, pressed his lips together, and instinctively backed away.
The instant that handsome face came within arm’s reach, Feng Qingyun’s heart skipped a beat. Whatever the reason, from the moment he had first fallen for Mu Hanyang, Feng Qingyun had understood something clearly.
He was drawn to men.
Among demons, most cared about the beauty of form rather than gender.
But Feng Qingyun had been raised among humans, so his tastes had followed suit… But unfortunately for him, what he liked most, whether he admitted it or not, were men who were steady, handsome, and mature.
And by any measure, in all his few centuries of life, Long Yin was the most devastatingly beautiful man he had ever seen.
Even at his most foolish, most lovesick over Mu Hanyang moment, he could never honestly claim that Mu Hanyang was better-looking than Long Yin.
And now, with Long Yin smiling at him from only inches away, eyes gleaming with wicked amusement, it was impossible not to feel something, if only for a second.
Meanwhile, the egg nestled between them seemed to sense the tension. It rolled once toward Long Yin, then back toward Feng Qingyun, like a child caught between bickering parents watching them flirt.
Long Yin chuckled and lifted a hand, cupping the back of Feng Qingyun’s head.
Feng Qingyun’s entire body went rigid, mind blanking out, but his body, it seemed, remembered. Without conscious thought, his hand came up to cover the egg, shielding its “eyes” as if by instinct.
And then Long Yin drew him in, kissing him easily and without resistance.
“…!”
The jolt that ran through Feng Qingyun’s body nearly melted his knees. For a heartbeat, all thought vanished.
“Mmh…”
Their tongues tangled, heat spreading like wildfire. His body reacted before his mind did, his tongue meeting Long Yin’s as if it had always belonged there.
A soft sound escaped his throat as the egg wobbled in his palm.
The kiss deepened. Feng Qingyun’s defenses fell, his sense of time unraveled, until at last, beneath the haze, something elsestirred inside the egg he was holding.
A faint pulse of energy, foreign yet familiar, pressed against his senses.
It took several seconds before Feng Qingyun realized it: beneath the layers of Long Yin’s demonic Qi and his own rose-scented one…There was a third presence.
Feng Qingyun froze as his mind snapped back into clarity. And then he understood.
That egg wasn’t his.
“You… you bastard!!”
Feng Qingyun shoved Long Yin away, fury blazing in his eyes as he said: “You… you damned bastard!”
The poor, educated little gentleman could hardly even curse properly. He wanted to say “You’re bullying me,” but somehow, those words sounded too intimate on his tongue.
So all he managed was a strangled, “You bastard!” before falling silent again and glaring at Long Yin, his cheeks burning, lips still glistening from the kiss, caught between indignation and a strange, mortifying allure.
As for Long Yin, of course, he knew exactly what was going through his mind. So he smiled lazily, pulled him close again, and with deliberate mischief, grabbed the egg from Feng Qingyun’s palm and rolled it against his lower abdomen.
“How am I a bastard, hmm?” he murmured, eyes alight. “The Palace Master abandons our poor little family, and now he’s accusing me instead?”
The teasing intimacy in his tone was almost unbearable. Even without his memories, Feng Qingyun flushed to the tips of his ears, somehow understanding perfectly what Long Yin meant.
“Forgot already?” Long Yin continued with a grin. With his hand still against Feng Qingyun’s abdomen, he whispered suggestively, “You bore it from right here, Little Palace Master. Don’t tell me you plan to deny it?”
If that were the memory-intact Feng Qingyun, he’d probably have laughed coldly and sneered something like: “Even if you tilled the field day and night, you’d still be all show and no harvest! Just a flashy, useless piece of meat!”
But after losing his memory, Feng Qingyun retained only fragments of his past life, so most of what he remembered about “marital affairs” was bitter. What little sweetness there had been, he’d convinced himself into forgetting, so he had never experienced that kind of teasing, sticky intimacy before.
And yet Long Yin insisted on describing everything to him in vivid, almost painterly details…
“Back then, the Little Palace Master was the one clinging to me,” he said, voice rich with amusement. “Kept begging to see my true form, insisted on using my horns to grind your rose petals. We hadn’t even gotten halfway when you suddenly laid the egg…”
At that, Feng Qingyun didn’t need his memories to realize he was being shamelessly teased. His whole face went scarlet, and he snatched up whatever was at hand to throw at Long Yin’s head.
“Shut up! What nonsense are you spouting? Even if I had laid an egg, how could it have been in my true form?!”
“Alright, alright, my fault, I’ll stop teasing,” Long Yin said, ducking and laughing as he caught Feng Qingyun’s wrist, steadying the egg in his hand. “Careful not to drop the child. Otherwise, once you get your memories back, you’ll scold me again.”
Feng Qingyun was so furious, he nearly stuffed the egg straight into Long Yin’s mouth. Grabbing the man by his collar, he glared down and snapped, “You’d better tell me the truth right now! What’s really going on?!”
But Long Yin only laughed harder, a bright, shameless laughter that lit up his face. Then, with deliberate gentleness, he wrapped an arm around Feng Qingyun’s waist and began recounting the whole story.
He spoke of the egg’s origins, but conveniently left out Zhong Yulan’s part in it, as well as the truth about Feng Qingyun’s original destiny, the one that was supposed to bind him to the Heavenly Dao.
Long Yin had always been a master storyteller. When he chose to omit a fragment of truth and instead amplify another, he could do it so flawlessly that no one could ever tell.
And sure enough, when he finished spinning his tale, Feng Qingyun was stunned into silence, just as expected.
To hear that such a tiny egg had gone through oceans of blood and hatred, that its parents had torn off their own scales at death’s door just to grant it freedom… A wave of indescribable emotion rose in Feng Qingyun’s chest.
He cupped the egg in his hands and murmured, “What’s its name?”
“Beichen,” Long Yin replied.
“‘Beichen…” Feng Qingyun whispered, tasting the name. “Like the North Star, steadfast in its place, with all others circling it.” Then, tenderly, he smiled. “Little Beichen… may your life be happy and free.”
The egg wobbled toward his palm, nuzzling him as if it understood.
Feng Qingyun, despite appearances, was never truly cold or aloof. Beneath the calm surface, his nature was gentle to the bone and soft, like jade warmed in the hand.
And at that moment, his gentleness radiated through every gesture.
Long Yin held him close, eyes lowered to admire that serene and loving face. Desire stirred hotly in his chest, swelling until it escaped his control, and the words slipped out before he could stop them.
“…You simply didn’t drink enough.”
Feng Qingyun blinked, confused.
“Didn’t drink enough of what?”
Mengpo soup, Long Yin thought. If only he’d managed to coax all three bottles into him, by now, Feng Qingyun might have forgotten Mu Hanyang entirely. He’d have reverted to that newborn, hazy state of just having taken human form, clinging trustingly to the first person he saw.
Then Feng Qingyun wouldn’t remember destiny or choice, or any of the sorrow tied to Mu Hanyang.
All he’d have to do was cradle that silly little egg and be a small rose watered daily by his husband’s blood and affection.
But those darker, possessive thoughts, his yearning to lock Feng Qingyun away forever, never made it past his lips.
“…Nothing,” Long Yin said finally, smiling faintly as he leaned in and brushed a kiss against Feng Qingyun’s mouth. “This is fine as it is.”
The moment their lips met, Feng Qingyun stiffened again, but this time, he didn’t push him away. After the earlier kiss, some part of him had subconsciously begun to accept their relationship.
But still, there was something else he couldn’t quite accept. So when the kiss ended, he stared at Long Yin with a searching, suspicious look. But Feng Qingyun stared and stared, and the longer he looked, the more frustrated he became.
Long Yin chuckled, leaning forward to peck the corner of his lips. “What now?” he asked.
Feng Qingyun turned his head sharply but couldn’t dodge in time. With a frown, he glared back. “Did you… Save my life? And I agreed to be your Dao companion to repay that debt?”
It was the only explanation his dazed, amnesiac mind could come up with for why he’d ever end up with this man.
Long Yin burst into laughter again. But after a while, he lifted a hand to the back of Feng Qingyun’s head, tilted his chin up, and looked into his eyes.
“What, you don’t even remember who this Lord is, Little Rose?”
Feng Qingyun’s first impulse was to retort that the so-called Demon Lord was hardly acting the part.
But before he could speak, Long Yin’s eyes changed, and his pupils narrowed into golden vertical slits.
The sight hit Feng Qingyun like a thunderclap.
A deep, instinctive terror crawled up his spine and seized his whole body, sitting rigid in Long Yin’s arms and staring wide-eyed at him in disbelief.
“Now do you remember?” Long Yin asked softly, one hand braced against his waist as he tilted his head. “My little Miss Yu.”
He… No… He was!
Feng Qingyun’s breath caught as he stared at him, stunned beyond words. It was nothing like the time before, when dreams had gradually revealed the truth that Long Yin was, in fact, his Dragon God.
This time, the truth was forced upon him without warning, crashing into Feng Qingyun all at once. Memories flooded his mind, and he could barely process them.
“You’re…” Feng Qingyun clutched Long Yin’s robes, dazed, his voice trembling like a dreamer’s whisper. “The Dragon God…”
“The Dragon God, what?” Long Yin smiled, pressing their foreheads together, deliberately letting those dragon eyes gleam bright and teasing.
Feng Qingyun’s fingers went white where they gripped his collar. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, but finally, he managed to admit weakly: “My… Dragon God…”
Long Yin’s smile deepened. “Good.”
Then he kissed him again.
This time, there was no resistance at all. The kiss was deep and languid, easily consuming both Feng Qingyun’s breath and his thoughts. Soft, indistinct sounds filled the air between them. Even after the kiss ended, Feng Qingyun remained dazed, unable to shake off the shock.
How could Long Yin be the Dragon God…?!
How could a dream become real?!
And if Long Yin truly was his Dragon God, didn’t that mean the illusion he’d seen back then wasn’t just for him alone? Didn’t that mean the one who’d once tried to marry him, then destroyed him with his own hands, was…
The name hovered on his lips.
But before he could speak it, Long Yin, almost as if he’d read his thoughts, lifted a peeled grape to his lips, feeding him with that same possessive ease that tolerated no mention of Mu Hanyang.
The fruit burst sweetly across Feng Qingyun’s tongue, shocking his senses with its richness. But he still hadn’t fully processed the enormity of what he’d learned.
Compared to that revelation, his relationship with Long Yin almost felt trivial.
But just then, a faint tremor stirred in his hands. He looked down at the egg, seizing on the distraction like a lifeline.
“…What’s wrong with it?”
The egg wobbled gently, rubbing against his palm like a kitten begging for milk.
“It’s hungry,” Long Yin said, glancing at it. “Time for feeding.”
He could have phrased it plainly, but of course, he didn’t. The ambiguity in his tone was unmistakable, and Feng Qingyun knew perfectly well the man was flirting again, his ears turning red.
“I meant spiritual energy,” Long Yin added with a lazy smile. “What did you think?” Taking Feng Qingyun’s hand, he guided it to rest atop the egg, continuing: “Release less than a tenth of your Qi and stop when you feel the shell grow warm.”
Feng Qingyun’s pulse quickened, but he did as told, letting his Qi flow gently into the shell.
The egg glowed faintly, a warm light pulsing against his palm.
And for a moment, neither spoke.
Outside, something that almost sounded like the chirp of an insect drifted in through the window, though that was impossible. There were no insects in Fengdu.
Still, the air felt oddly peaceful.
It was the kind of quiet warmth Feng Qingyun had only ever dreamed of, so tender it made his heart and cheeks burn. And as people tend to do in moments of happiness, his mind wandered. When it did, his control slipped.
He’d barely let out a fraction too much energy, not even past a tenth, before the egg suddenly puffed up and spat his Qi right back at him, coating his face in a soft, shimmering mist.
Feng Qingyun blinked, utterly bewildered. “What… was that?”
“You overfed it,” Long Yin said after a pause, expression perfectly serious. “It spat up.”
In that context, the meaning of “spat up” was more than clear.
Feng Qingyun glared at him, but one look into those glowing dragon eyes and all his anger fizzled away. Long Yin took the egg from his hands, turning it over as though examining it with grave attention. After a moment, he nodded sagely, saying, “Looks like it needs nectar to grow.”
Feng Qingyun froze. Then, slowly, incredulously, he lifted his eyes to him, asking: “…Whose nectar?”
And as expected, Long Yinli looked at him and opened his mouth in nonsense, only to say: “It’s mother’s, of course.”
Long Yin’s words might have sounded stupid, but he still opened his mouth and continued to weave a trap Feng Qingyun never saw coming. “It’s such a small egg,” he said, “it doesn’t even understand its own name. Of course, it’s still difficult for him to properly absorb demonic Qi. Previously, we used to put some nectar in water and let the egg soak in it. It absorbed as much as it could, but in the end, it became angry and frustrated, and since then, it started acting up every time we tried to feed it.”
While saying that, he covered the egg’s invisible “ears” with his palm, acting like he was afraid the egg might get sad to hear its parents worry about it. But by the end of his nonsense gibberish, Long Yin directly stuffed the poor egg into the storage ring, looking very much like a good father who was afraid that his child might get depressed because of the outside world.
However, the innocent Feng Qingyun listened to his words, and his reason started to fall. “We could cover it in spiritual mist,” he tried to argue back. “Why use my nectar at all? You must be talking nonsense…”
“How can this Lord talk nonsense?” Long Yin coaxed him with a smile, “Spiritual mist evaporates in less than an hour, and the little boy can’t eat it at all. He has to soak in nectar for a long time to be completely fed. It’s what we did so far, but we just arrived in Fengdu today… Our trip was urgent, and this Lord forgot to store some food for it.”
Speaking of that, Long Yin paused and smiled, finally arriving at what he wanted to say from the beginning: “So now I have to bother our Little Rose to take out your primordial body, and let the child soak in some nectar.”
“…”
“!”
Looking at that face, even without any memories, Feng Qingyun’s eyes still widened. Reason told him that the Demon Lord was planning something, and common sense told him that what he heard was wrong, but there was really nothing left in his head… He also didn’t remember seeing his flowers bloom, so he couldn’t even distinguish whether what Long Yin said about his nectar was true.
“Little Palace Master, this egg has no relatives in this world…” Long Yin was worthy of being a demon, his honey tongue able to coax even the immortals in Heaven. “Do you want to let it starve?” he continued. “This Lord is afraid I can’t bear it, and I’m afraid you won’t be able to bear it either after you recover your memory. We’re responsible for it, but what if you get angry at this Lord for letting our child die like this?”
The night outside the window showed no sign of whitening, and people were always easily deceived at night. Feng Qingyun clenched his palm slightly and almost heard the sound of his reason collapsing for a moment.
Yes… The poor little thing had already been through a lot… How could he starve his child because of a little bit of shame?!
Although it was a lot of shame for a flower demon to give his nectar to people…
But memory already deceived him, and the love that could not be hidden at the bottom of his heart was hard to ignore. And it wasn’t people either… It was showing his stamens in front of his own Dao companion, not some random stranger on the street…
And it was also not to act shamefully, but to feed his poor child.
Therefore, Feng Qingyun hypnotically convinced himself. Finally, in the obscure eyes of the Dragon God, he gently bit his lower lip, and then closed his eyes and let go of his body.
The roses, which were originally only glimpsed inside him, suddenly appeared in front of his eyes, but what made Feng Qingyun feel desperate was that his vines did not go towards the egg child inside the storage ring, but instead… they reacted instinctively to Long Yin.
The branches full of thorns instantly wrapped around Long Yin’s neck, pressing intimately against his cheek. Feng Qingyun’s heart jumped suddenly, afraid that his thorns would pierce that person’s neck, so he raised his hand to stop it, only to see Long Yin’s smile.
“…!”
With that, Feng Qingyun’s whole body turned stiff. In what was left of his memories, there was no impression of him blooming. At that moment, for him, it was almost like a new organ had appeared out of thin air, forcing an unprecedented feeling along his spine, and leaving him breathless.
But his main vine was still attached to that infuriating man’s face… After a shocked pause, Feng Qingyun’s mood turned aggrieved, lifting his hand to rip his own vines apart. Seeing that, Long Yin suddenly twisted a rose bud, complaining with a tone that was only half true: “It looks like my Little Rose still doesn’t like this Lord’s fingers. What you said before, that you loved to grind against whatever, as long as it was mine… were you coaxing this Lord?”
Feng Qingyun failed to react for a long time before he realized what that man was saying, and his face immediately exploded. To his mind, it felt extremely incredible… what nonsense was that?!
How could he even say it out loud?!
Feng Qingyun no longer believed that he was actually in love with a man like that!
However, seeing him so desperate to keep his mouth shut and not answer his question, Long Yin raised his eyebrows, picked up the cup of water on the table, and grabbed the largest rose blossom.
Then he tilted his wrist slightly in front of Feng Qingyun and slowly poured water on the stamen.
Feng Qingyun’s pupils suddenly shrank: “!?”
The water flowed down and soaked the flower, smashing the petals that were curling up and turning the stamen inside pitifully soft.
The indescribable stimulation from the impact climbed to the brain in an instant. Feng Qingyun had never experienced something like that, so his whole body suddenly froze in Long Yin’s arms. He could only watch as his nectar was being diluted with water, flowing down and dripping into his lower abdomen.
The honey gradually soaked the fabric around his waist, making the originally thin robes he was wearing wet all of a sudden. The fabric suddenly turned translucent, clinging softly to his waist and abdomen and revealing a small piece of the waistline that attracted people.
But what was most embarrassing was that, while his flowers were being bullied like that, with their stamens almost washed away by the current, more roses still scrambled to lean up to Long Yin’s shoulders, seemingly begging for his attention.
Even when mistreated like that, the flowers only trembled slightly, shook gently for a moment, and then climbed even more desperately onto people’s wrists to go up.
Seeing that, Feng Qingyun was immediately both annoyed and angry. He wanted to raise his hand and pull his incompetent main vine down, but because of the stimulation, he couldn’t even grab anything for a moment.
So he could only stare. Stare as his flowers were thoroughly soaked, stare at his nectar mixed with the slippery water flowing down the bloody rose petals, almost accumulating into a pool of spring water between his thighs.
Feng Qingyun suppressed his instinct to sob and finally managed to grab the cup in Long Yin’s hand, pushing it aside. But just as he thought everything was over, his so-called Dao companion turned his head, grabbed his soaked flower, and kissed it.
“…Woo!”
Unprepared, a sensation that was strangely familiar, swallowed him, as Feng Qingyun suddenly shook, his brain exploding with a bang. He felt like a fish pressed on a cutting board; the only thing he could do was wait to be slaughtered, in a state of gradual suffocation.
He didn’t know how long it took, but the Demon Lord finally raised his head. Long Yin got a bargain and should have behaved well, but if that were true, he wouldn’t have been the Demon Emperor. Therefore, he licked the corners of his mouth, intentionally scolding Feng Qingyun: “Why is there so little honey today?”
He was the one who watered the flowers, so of course, there wouldn’t have been much nectar left to begin with. Feng Qingyun was wronged for no reason, but still, he didn’t respond at all. He had been bullied for a long time, and now, the corners of his eyes were red, not capable of understanding what Long Yin said at all.
“Didn’t the Little Palace Master say he would repay this Lord with wine made from your nectar after flowering?” Seeing that he didn’t say anything, Long Yin hugged him and continued to laugh in his ear, “This little honey can’t even make half a glass of wine. Come on? Is this the attitude my Little Rose has when repaying people?”
Feng Qingyun’s mind finally returned to his body. Hearing those teasing words, he raised his eyes in shock and incredulity, unable to believe that he could say something so shameful at all.
He even understood that he had been fooled by Long Yin again.
The egg didn’t need to feed on his nectar… Obviously, it was the shameless dragon who wanted it for himself, so he lured him to let go!
And now, it was impossible to take it back. Feng Qingyun regretted it so much that his intestines turned blue, too weak to even hide his flowers. What’s more, he was ashamed to admit, although it was painfully obvious, but… He also liked it very much!
Long Yin saw him staring with red eyes while gritting his teeth. He immediately smiled, then took Feng Qingyun’s hand and slowly pressed it against the stamens that were soaked in water beads.
Feng Qingyun suddenly trembled, and his angry eyebrows were instantly stained with a little incredulity. His fingers were rough and covered in cocoons from sword practice. While pressed on his own stamens, the ripples they caused were indescribable. His ears suddenly turned red, as indescribable shame mixed with inexplicable stimulation suddenly opened in his heart.
“How does it feel to touch your own stamens? Umm?” Long Yin pressed the back of his delicate and fair hand and smiled in a low voice, “Why are you shaking so much?”
Feng Qingyun gasped, and his eyes were full of water, almost shaky. “I…I don’t want to…” he struggled to withdraw his hand, but his whole body was so soft that he leaned into Long Yin’s arms, long forgetting how he even got himself into the trap to begin with.
The man forcibly pushed his wrist, pressing his fingers inside the poor rose.
“Don’t…” Feng Qingyun had never been stimulated like that, and his eyes were red with shame. No matter how hard he wanted to swear at the moment, he finally relaxed his mouth, simply begging: “Let go, let me go…”
“Why didn’t you let me go?” Long Yin smiled softly and whispered in his ear, “When you poured cup after cup of Mengpo soup for this Lord, would you have listened if I told you to stop?”
…When did that happen?! Didn’t you say you drank it voluntarily after losing a bet?!
When it came to Long Yin, Feng Qingyun could no longer figure out what was true and what was false. In his heart, he scolded the man like the dog he was, but he didn’t dare to show a word on his face. He could only hold his pitiful flower and say softly, “I… I don’t remember…”
But the hooligan didn’t eat his excuse at all. Hearing his words, Long Yin said, “Oh,” then continued slowly, “If you don’t remember, does it mean it never happened?”
Feng Qingyun scolded his ancestors for 18 generations in his heart, and his face became a little pale. Looking as if he had just been fished out of the water, he stared at him and asked in a voice that was almost trembling with tears: “What on earth…?!”
“It’s very simple what I want.” Long Yin pressed his fingers deeper inside and whispered into his earlobe, “The Little Palace Master said before that he would invite this Lord to drink his wine to repay the kindness of helping you bloom.”
“At present, the Little Palace Master should knead the nectar out by himself.”
“If you don’t want to…” Long Yin paused for a moment. After looking around the room, his gaze settled on the exquisite writing brush that was resting on the table, in Feng Qingyun’s horror. In the end, Long Yin smiled and said, “Then this Lord would have to do it myself.”
T.N: Jesus, I can’t with all these innuendos. Grinding flowers, rubbing stamens, forcing your partner to milk his nectar in front of you :))
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