Fan Zhuo turned back to glance at the white rabbit standing where she’d been, her face full of confusion and disappointment, and his heart softened.
He walked back, and under the white rabbit’s surprised gaze, opened his arms and gently embraced her.
Beneath the maid outfit, her body was softer and fuller than he could have imagined.
Beneath the taut fabric, those breathtaking curves pressed tightly against his chest, leaving nothing to the imagination.
Fan Zhuo felt his brain buzz, and a certain part of his body reacted in a way that was anything but Holy and Chaste…
“My lord…” The white rabbit’s body stiffened, then relaxed, pressing her cheek to Fan Zhuo’s shoulder, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Fan Zhuo said nothing, only hugging her tightly for a few seconds, then quickly letting go.
“Get some rest early.”
He left these words behind, lingered no longer, tidied his slightly messy collar, and “bent over” as he walked out of the room.
In the end, the white rabbit’s intent to help him “warm up” had more or less been fulfilled.
The corridor of Section C was as dim and quiet as always, with only the faint glow of emergency lights on the walls stretching Fan Zhuo’s shadow long.
Most of Section C’s guards had been forcibly reassigned to Section B by Lucien, so at night, only the occasional patrol circled through.
Fan Zhuo had timed it just right; at this hour, it was just enough for him to slip into the room.
His footsteps echoed in the empty passage, each step sounding as though it landed on his own wildly beating heart.
Holy and Chaste?
No, only battle can prove the truth!
His mind was filled with that line from Ye Ying: “I want your… first time.”
This sounded… Why did he feel like a villain forcibly taking a village girl?
But then, thinking that the “villain” was someone of Ye Ying’s level of beauty, perhaps being the “village girl” wasn’t such a loss after all.
Lost in these stray thoughts, the Alloy Door to Room C-05 was already in sight.
Fan Zhuo took a deep breath, steadying his slightly erratic breathing.
He didn’t knock. Instead, he pressed his palm gently to the cold metal of the door.
“I’m here.”
He spoke softly through the spiritual link in his mind.
“Fufu…… I’ve been waiting for you for so long.”
Ye Ying’s voice, lazy yet tinged with anticipation, echoed directly in his mind.
“Ka-cha——”
As Fan Zhuo swiped his card, the runic chains on the Alloy Door unlatched, and the heavy door slid open soundlessly.
The scene beyond the door made Fan Zhuo’s breath catch in his throat.
It was still the same antique Chashitsu as before, yet somehow completely different.
The lighting was extremely dim, with only a few simple lanterns in the corners casting ambiguous, orange halos.
A strange fragrance lingered in the air, like some rare blossom, mingling with that unique, enchanting scent that seemed to linger around Ye Ying herself.
And in the very center of the room, where the tea table used to stand, there was now a giant Fox Fur Carpet spread across the floor.
Ye Ying was kneeling right in the middle of that carpet.
“Gulp…”
Fan Zhuo swallowed hard, looking at Ye Ying on that pure white carpet.
She wasn’t wearing that elaborate kimono from before, but a thin, nearly transparent white silk nightdress.
The sash was loosely tied, revealing glimpses of the breathtaking curves and her snow-white, delicate skin beneath.
Her waterfall-like black hair tumbled loosely behind her, making a sharp contrast with the snow-white tails and the pristine nightdress.
As Fan Zhuo entered, she slowly lifted her head, her amber eyes burning like twin flames in the dim light, staring straight at him.
“Come in, little priest.” Her voice was husky, laced with seduction.
Fan Zhuo felt his throat go dry as he stepped into the room, the Alloy Door behind him closing slowly, sealing him off from the outside world.
“Take off your outer robe.” There was a hint of command in Ye Ying’s voice.
Fan Zhuo paused, but did as she asked.
He undid the buttons of his cleric’s uniform, taking off the white coat that symbolized Holy and Chaste, folded it neatly, and set it aside.
Left only in his close-fitting shirt, under Ye Ying’s predatory gaze, he felt like a lamb stripped bare of its wool.
“Come here.” Ye Ying crooked her finger at him.
Fan Zhuo walked step by step to stand in front of her.
Ye Ying looked up, studying him.
That gaze was as if she were admiring a flawless work of art that was about to become her own.
“Sit down.”
Fan Zhuo obeyed, kneeling before her.
The distance between them was so small, they could feel each other’s breath.
Ye Ying reached out, her slender fingers tracing lightly across his cheek, finally resting on his lips.
Her fingertips were slightly cool, and carried an almost imperceptible, faint tremble.
“Little one, you seem… nervous?” She laughed softly, the teasing glint in her amber eyes a poor cover for the waves in her own heart.
After living for centuries, this was her first time doing such a thing—the first time she had revealed all of herself, with nothing held back, to a man.
Fan Zhuo said nothing, only feeling as if his heartbeat might leap from his throat.
“Don’t be afraid…” Ye Ying’s voice grew tender, as she leaned in, her warm breath brushing his ear, “Big sister will… be very gentle…”
As her words faded, the Nine-Tailed Fox tails behind her unfurled and intertwined, wrapping the two of them in a cocoon and forming a pure white world that belonged to them alone, cut off from the rest of the world.
The lantern light was shut out, and in the darkness, every sense was heightened…
Fan Zhuo breathed in the scent of her hair, heard the hurried, uneven beat of her heart so close to his own.
Then, he felt his consciousness gently, yet forcefully, pulled by her power—falling into a boundless snowfield.
This was Ye Ying’s spiritual world.
The cold wind howled, snowflakes danced, and the world was silent but for a solitary Ice Crystal Palace standing at the center of the snowfield.
This was the heart she had sealed away for a hundred years.
Fan Zhuo’s consciousness became a ball of gentle light, and he could feel the chill and loneliness of this endless snow.
The holy power in his body became a warm golden stream, beginning to flow across the frozen plain.
Where snowflakes touched the stream, they melted into water.
Where the stream flowed, ice and snow dissolved, and tender green shoots of grass pierced up through the frozen earth.
“You are…the first…”
From the depths of the snowfield, a violent, chaotic demonic power erupted like a volcano!
It was the grudge she had bottled up for a hundred years.
The black demonic power transformed into countless ferocious ghosts, roaring as they charged toward Fan Zhuo’s gentle golden stream.
Fan Zhuo’s consciousness felt as if it were being torn apart in agony.
But he did not retreat… not until Ye Ying’s frozen snowfield was completely thawed.
And in its place, there was a vibrant Sakura Valley in full bloom.
Ye Ying.
In the center of the valley, beneath a giant sakura tree, Fan Zhuo’s consciousness saw a little girl, curled up and trembling.
He walked over and gently embraced her.