A Continuation Of Lasting Effects. Hope You All Enjoyed This One.
For a week, your life existed in a strange, fractured rhythm, a pendulum swinging between two extremes you hadn’t known existed. You became a creature of waiting, of anticipation, of a specific kind of readiness that hummed beneath your skin every time your phone buzzed. The reality of your new arrangement with Sohyun was far grittier, far more transactional than the glossy romantic fantasy you’d harbored for years, yet you found yourself unable to refuse it.
She didn’t call. She didn’t text to ask how your day was. On campus, she was a ghost to you—a beautiful, untouchable entity gliding through the corridors with her clique. You’d catch glimpses of her in the cafeteria, her head thrown back in laughter at something Xinyu said, or in the library, leaning over a textbook with Yooyeon, her expression serious and intellectual. In those moments, you were nothing. You were just another student in the background, invisible. If you walked past her, she didn’t even blink. It was as if the intense, sweaty connection you shared in the dark of her apartment or yours simply evaporated under the fluorescent lights of the university.
But then the night would fall, and the dynamic would shift.
It was always unannounced. A sharp, impatient knock on your door at eleven PM, or one in the morning. You’d open it to find her there, sometimes still in her day clothes, sometimes changed into something looser, easier to remove. She never greeted you with a smile; she greeted you with a look of hunger, a need that stripped away the social niceties.
"Stressed," she’d say, pushing past you into the small entryway of your apartment, a bottle of soju or cheap wine in her hand. That was the code. It was the only explanation you ever got.
She would drink, just enough to take the edge off, turning her sharp intellect into something hazier, more tactile. And then she would turn to you. Those encounters were blurs of skin and heat—her straddling you on your couch, her fingers gripping your shoulders, her mouth demanding yours. She used you to chase away the pressure of her classes, the expectations of her family, the weight of being the smart, beautiful senior everyone looked up to. You were her outlet, her release valve. When she was done, when the tension had been fucked out of her system, she would redress, her demeanor shifting instantly back to cool detachment.
"Thanks," she would mutter, already heading for the door. "I'll see myself out."
And then she was gone, leaving you alone in the quiet of your apartment, the scent of her perfume lingering on your pillows, a lingering ache in your chest that had nothing to do with the physical exertion.
You realized, with a sinking feeling that settled in your gut like a stone, that this was exactly what you’d signed up for. It wasn’t a romance. It wasn’t even really a friendship. It was a Friends with Benefits situation in the truest, most cynical sense of the word. She benefited from the stress relief; you benefited from the scrapes of affection she threw your way, the moments when she let you see the cracks in her armor.
You told yourself it was enough. You told yourself that being this close to her, even in this fragmented way, was more than you’d ever dared to hope for back in high school. But as the days dragged on, the silence between the knock on the door became louder. The way she ignored you on campus started to sting. You’d watch her laughing with Nakyoung over iced coffees, looking so effortlessly charismatic, so distant, and wonder if she ever thought about you when you weren't inside her.
Then, the visits stopped.
It had been seven days. A week of silence. No late-night knocks. No texts. You’d walked past her in the quad on Tuesday; she’d been deep in conversation with a professor, nodding earnestly, not sparing you a single glance. You’d started to settle back into the monotony of your own life, the strange, adrenaline-fueled routine fading into a memory. Maybe she was done with you. Maybe she’d found someone else, or maybe the stress had lifted enough that she didn't need a distraction anymore.
The thought left you hollow, but you tried to accept it. It was bound to happen eventually.
It was a Friday night, the rain drumming a relentless rhythm against your window, filling your small apartment with a grey, melancholy light. You were sitting on the couch, staring at a paused movie on your laptop, nursing a lukewarm beer, when the buzzer rang.
The sound was so unexpected, so jarring in the quiet, that you jumped. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a Pavlovian response. You glanced at the clock. It was late. Too late for a social call.
You moved to the intercom, your finger hovering over the button. "Hello?"
"It's… open up. Please."
The voice wasn't Sohyun's. It was lower, slightly huskier, and unmistakably familiar. You frowned, your brow furrowing. You knew that voice. You’d heard it echoing across lecture halls, laughing at tables you couldn't sit at.
You buzzed the door open, waiting with a growing sense of confusion. Heavy footsteps thundered up the stairs—not Sohyun's light, quick tread, but something heavier, more purposeful. Then, a sharp knock on your door.
You unlocked it and pulled it open.
The first thing you saw was a pair of long legs, ending in expensive-looking boots scuffed with mud. Your eyes traveled up, past a soaked trench coat, to a face that was usually composed and regal, but was currently scrunched up in a mixture of annoyance and exertion.
Xinyu.
The "Goddess" of the campus. Tall, imposing, with features so sharp and elegant they looked carved from marble. But right now, she looked like she was struggling under a significant weight. You realized, with a start, that she was half-carrying, half-dragging someone slumped against her side.
Sohyun.
Your breath caught in your throat. Sohyun was a mess. Her hair, usually so sleek and perfect, was a tangled curtain obscuring half her face. Her clothes—a silk blouse and a skirt that looked far too thin for the rainy weather—were damp and clinging to her. Her eyes were closed, her head lolling dangerously against Xinyu’s shoulder. She was muttering something, a low, repetitive string of syllables that you couldn't quite make out.
Xinyu grunted, shifting her grip. "Are you going to help me, or are you just going to stand there ogling?"
"Sorry!" you stammered, stepping forward quickly. You reached out and took Sohyun's other arm, draping it over your shoulder. The smell of alcohol hit you instantly—sharp, pungent, mixed with the scent of rain and expensive perfume. "Is she okay?"
"She's drunk," Xinyu snapped, though her tone lacked real malice. It sounded more like exhaustion. "F wasted. She insisted on going to some shitty dive bar in Hongdae, and now I'm stuck playing nurse. Move her."
Together, you maneuvered Sohyun through the doorway. She was dead weight, her legs barely moving, her body completely limp. It was a surreal experience, touching Xinyu at all, even indirectly—the brushing of shoulders, the coordinated effort to lift Sohyun. Xinyu was taller than you, strong, her presence commanding even while she was sweaty and annoyed.
You guided Sohyun to the couch. "Easy," you murmured, trying to lower her gently. Sohyun groaned as she hit the cushions, her head rolling back. Her eyes fluttered open for a fraction of a second, glassy and unfocused. She looked right at you, but there was no recognition in her gaze. Just a vague, swimming confusion.
"Your… name…" she slurred, before her eyes slid shut again.
Xinyu straightened up, pressing a hand to her lower back and letting out a long, dramatic exhale. "Fuck, she is heavy," she complained, running a hand through her own hair, which was frizzy from the rain. "How does someone that tiny weigh so much? It’s like dragging a sack of bricks."
She looked around your apartment, her gaze critical, taking in the small living space, the paused movie on the laptop, the empty beer bottle on the table. The contrast between her usual polished environment and your modest, student-apartment reality was stark.
Then, she seemed to realize something. She paused, her posture stiffening slightly. She looked back at you, really looking at you for the first time. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I haven't even introduced myself. That was rude." She extended a hand, her expression shifting from annoyed to something more polite, almost formal. "I'm Xinyu. Nice to meet you."
You stared at her hand for a second, slightly bewildered by the sudden whiplash in the conversation. You wiped your palm on your jeans—not that it mattered, given she was drenched anyway—and took her hand. Her grip was firm, her skin cool from the rain.
"Nice to meet you too… I guess," you replied, feeling a bit lame.
Xinyu let out a short, dry laugh. "Yeah. 'I guess' covers it." She didn't let go of your hand immediately, her eyes studying your face with an intensity that made you want to squirm. She had sharp, intelligent eyes, the kind that missed nothing. "You're the one from the party, right? The freshman she's been… hanging out with?"
"Uh, yeah," you said, not sure how much Sohyun had told her. You certainly didn't think Sohyun advertised your arrangement to her inner circle.
"Right." Xinyu dropped your hand and walked over to your armchair. Without asking, she sank into it, letting her head fall back against the cushion. She closed her eyes, letting out a sound that was half-groan, half-sigh. "God, I'm bloody tired. I swear, if I ever have to listen to Nakyoung talk about her diet plan again while Sohyun does shots, I’m going to scream."
You watched her, unsure of what to do. This was Xinyu. The girl who had headlines in the campus newspaper for winning debate nationals three years in a row. The girl who walked around with an entourage. And she was currently sprawled out in your second-hand armchair, looking like she'd just run a marathon.
"Yo… A-are You okay?" you asked, feeling stupid as soon as the words left your mouth.
She cracked one eye open, giving you a withering look. "Do I look okay? I've been dragging her drunk ass around for two hours. She refused to get in a taxi, she refused to tell me where she lived, and then she started mumbling your name and your address like a broken GPS. It was either bring her here or leave her to drown in a gutter on the side of the road."
She sat up slightly, wincing. "And I just realized I barged in. Sorry about that. I just wanted to drop her off and get out of this rain."
"No, it's fine," you said quickly, moving toward the small kitchenette. "Really. Do you… do you want some water? Or anything else?"
"Water," she said decisively. "Please."
You opened the fridge, the cool air washing over you for a second. You grabbed a bottle of filtered water—the nice stuff you bought for yourself, hoping Sohyun might drink it someday if she ever deigned to visit sober. You twisted the cap off and walked it over to her.
Xinyu took it, her fingers brushing yours. "Thanks," she said, bringing the bottle to her lips and drinking deeply. You watched her throat move, the elegant lines of her neck. It was strange to see her like this—unguarded, human. Usually, she seemed untouchable, a paragon of campus success.
She lowered the bottle, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked over at the couch, where Sohyun was sprawled on her back, one arm dangling off the edge, snoring softly.
"She's going to have a massive headache tomorrow," Xinyu commented, her voice quieter now. "She's been stressed lately. More than usual. That debate tournament is coming up, and she's obsessing."
You nodded, leaning against the counter. "Yeah. She mentioned something about that."
Xinyu turned her gaze back to you. The scrutiny was back. "You know," she began, her tone shifting, becoming more conversational, almost probing. "I've known Sohyun since freshman year. We go way back. And I have never seen her act the way she has this past week."
You stiffened slightly. "How do you mean?"
"She disappears," Xinyu said, gesturing vaguely with the water bottle. "She ghosts us. No texts, no calls. And then she shows up the next day looking… well, like she got exactly what she needed. Disheveled. Glow-y." She paused, letting the implication hang in the air. "It's not like her to be so… reckless. She's usually so controlled. Everything is a calculation with her."
You didn't know what to say to that. You picked at a loose thread on your jeans, avoiding her eyes. "She's just busy. I guess."
"Busy," Xinyu repeated, testing the word. She let out a short, humorless laugh. "Sure. Busy." She took another sip of water, her eyes never leaving your face. Then, she dropped the bomb.
"So, did you two fuck each other or something? Cause ain't no way Sohyun could've remembered some guy's name and address, let alone a freshman's, without something."
The bluntness of it made you choke on your own spit. You coughed, your face heating up instantly. "What?"
Xinyu didn't flinch. She just watched you struggle, a faint smirk playing on her lips. It wasn't a mocking smirk, more like an amused, knowing one. "Oh, come on. Don't play coy. You know what I mean. Sohyun doesn't do 'friends' outside the circle. She certainly doesn't do 'random acquaintances' who live in studio apartments off-campus. For her to know exactly where you are, and to come here when she's like that…" She nodded at the sleeping girl on the couch. "There's a reason."
You looked at Sohyun, then back at Xinyu. The lie died on your tongue. There was no point denying it to someone this sharp.
"We…" You started, then stopped, clearing your throat. "Yeah. We're… I mean, we've been hanging out."
Xinyu raised an eyebrow. "Hanging out. Is that what they call it these days?" She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. The movement caused her coat to fall open slightly, revealing a fitted top underneath. "Look, I'm not judging. God knows Sohyun needs to get laid. She's wound up so tight she's going to snap. It's just…" She tilted her head, studying you. "Surprising. That's all."
"Why?" you asked, feeling a spark of defensiveness. "Why is it surprising?"
"Because you're not her type," Xinyu said, bluntly.
You blinked. "Oh."
"Not that you aren't cute," she added, as if that softened the blow. "You are. In a puppy-dog kind of way. But Sohyun usually goes for guys who challenge her. Guys who are arrogant, who think they're smarter than her, who fight back. She likes the debate. The struggle." She glanced at the couch again. "You seem… nice. That's the problem. Nice is boring to her. Usually."
You felt a strange pang in your chest. It was the validation of your own worst fears. The transactional nature of your relationship, the way she ignored you in public—it all made sense under Xinyu's analysis. You were a convenience. A "nice" distraction. You weren't a challenge; you were a solution.
"But," Xinyu continued, her voice dragging out the word, "she came here. Tonight. When she was at her lowest. When she was wasted and vulnerable. She could've called any of us. She could've called Yooyeon, or Nakyoung. We would've picked her up in a second. But she mumbled your name."
She looked back at you, her gaze losing some of its sharpness, becoming more curious. "So, you must be doing something right. Or maybe," she paused, a thoughtful expression crossing her face, "maybe she's changing her mind about what her type is."
You didn't know how to respond to that. You looked at Sohyun again, really looked at her. She was pale, her breathing shallow. The commanding, confident woman who rode you with such authority just a week ago seemed miles away. She looked small. Fragile.
"Is she going to be okay?" you asked softly.
Xinyu sighed, the sound heavy. "Yeah. She just needs sleep. And about a gallon of water." She finished her own water and stood up, placing the empty bottle on your table. "I should get going. I have a study group at eight AM and I smell like a wet dog."
"Thanks for bringing her," you said sincerely. "Really."
"Yeah, yeah." Xinyu buttoned her coat, checking her phone. She paused at the door, her hand on the handle. She turned back to you one last time.
"Listen," she said, her voice lower. "Sohyun… she's complicated. She has walls up higher than the campus library. Don't take it personally if she's an asshole. She doesn't mean to be. Usually." She gave you a wry smile. "Just… take care of her tonight, okay? And maybe… don't let her pretend she doesn't know you tomorrow when she's sober."
With that, she opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. "By the way," she added, poking her head back in. "Your apartment is cozy. It's got… character."
"Thanks," you said.
"See you around, Freshman." And with a final, enigmatic nod, she was gone.
You closed the door behind her, the lock clicking into place with a finality that echoed in the sudden quiet. You stood there for a moment, listening to the rain outside, the silence inside. Your apartment felt different now. It had been invaded by the "real" world, by the people Sohyun actually belonged to.
You walked over to the couch. Sohyun hadn't moved. You sat down on the edge of the coffee table, facing her. Watching her sleep like this felt more intimate than anything you'd done with her sexually. This wasn't the persona she put on for you, or the mask she wore for the world. This was just Sohyun. Unconscious. Vulnerable.
You reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her forehead. Her skin was cool to the touch.
"You really are a handful, aren't you?" you whispered to the empty room.
Xinyu's words rattled around in your head. "Nice is boring to her." "She mumbled your name." "Don't let her pretend she doesn't know you tomorrow."
You looked at the clock. It was past two AM. You were tired, your own head starting to throb from the unexpected drama of the night. But you couldn't just leave her on the couch. She’d be stiff and miserable in the morning.
You stood up and gently maneuvered her, lifting her upper body. She groaned again, murmuring something unintelligible, but didn't wake. It was a struggle, but you managed to get her arms around your shoulders and half-carry her to your bed. You laid her down gently, pulling the duvet over her. You took off her boots, setting them neatly by the side of the bed.
She curled up instantly, burrowing into the pillow. You stood there for a moment, looking down at her. The bed still smelled faintly of your laundry detergent, but now there was the smell of her too—rain and alcohol and that distinct floral scent.
You grabbed a spare pillow and a blanket from the closet and headed back to the living room. The couch was lumpy, but it would do. You lay down, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the rain and the soft, rhythmic sound of Sohyun breathing from the other room.
Tomorrow would be awkward. You knew that. She’d wake up, realize where she was, likely be horrified that her friend had delivered her to your door like a package. She’d put her walls back up. She’d probably ignore you on campus again.
But as you closed your eyes, a strange thought settled over you. Xinyu was right. Sohyun had a choice. And she’d chosen you. Even in her drunken haze, she’d chosen your apartment over her friends.
You didn't know what it meant. You didn't know if it changed anything. But for the first time since this strange, fractured relationship began, you felt like maybe, just maybe, there was a crack in the glass. A real one. And you weren't ready to give up on finding out what lay on the other side just yet.
Morning light sliced through the thin gaps in your blinds, harsh and unforgiving, rousing you from a sleep that had been more like a series of long blinks than actual rest. Your neck was a stiff, knotted column of pain from sleeping on the couch, and your mouth tasted like stale air. You sat up, groaning as your spine popped in protest. The apartment was quiet, save for the low hum of the refrigerator and the faint, rhythmic breathing coming from the bedroom.
Sohyun was still in there.
The events of the night before flooded back—Xinyu’s sharp gaze, the weight of Sohyun against your shoulder, the smell of rain and expensive perfume saturating your small living space. It felt surreal, like a fever dream that had spilled over into reality. You rubbed your face, trying to scrub away the grogginess. You needed coffee. You needed a lot of coffee.
You shuffled to the kitchenette, the floorboards cold under your bare feet. You were filling the kettle when a sharp knock rattled the doorframe. It wasn't the hesitant buzz of the intercom, but a solid, authoritative knock. You knew who it was before you even reached for the handle.
You pulled the door open to find Xinyu standing there, looking remarkably put-together considering the state she was in last night. She held a tray carrier with two iced coffees and a paper bag that smelled of sugar and burnt beans. She was wearing a large, oversized trench coat over a hoodie, her hair tied back in a sleek, no-nonsense ponytail.
"Morning, sunshine," she said, breezing past you without waiting for an invitation. "I brought supplies. I figured you’d be operating on about three percent brain function right now."
"Thanks," you managed, closing the door behind her. "You weren't wrong."
"I usually aren't." She set the coffee down on your small table and leaned against the counter, eyeing the closed bedroom door. "Sleeping Beauty still dead to the world?"
"Yeah. Haven't checked in a bit, but she hasn't moved."
Xinyu nodded, crossing her arms. "Good. Let her sleep. God knows she needs it." She popped the lid off one of the coffees and took a sip, her eyes scanning your apartment again with that same critical curiosity from last night. "So," she started, her tone casual but laced with an undercurrent of interrogation. "You survived the night. She didn't choke on her own vomit. You didn't try anything creepy. I'd say that's a win for you."
You felt a flush creep up your neck. "I wasn't going to try anything. She was wasted, Xinyu."
"I know, I know." She waved a hand dismissively. "Just messing with you. You're too earnest for that. It’s almost nauseating." She cracked a faint smile, taking the sting out of the words. "But seriously. Sohyun doesn't do this. She doesn't do the 'damsel in distress' routine. She doesn't let people see her messy."
"Well, she was pretty messy last night," you noted, leaning back against the opposite counter. The kettle began to whistle, and you turned it off, the sudden silence amplifying the proximity between you.
"That's the thing," Xinyu said, her voice dropping an octave. "For her to end up here, with you… she trusts you. Or she's desperate. Maybe both." She studied you over the rim of her cup. "She’s been talking about you, you know. Vague stuff. 'That freshman.' 'The quiet one.' I didn't put it together until I saw her practically drooling on your shoulder last night."
You looked down at your coffee, stirring it with a straw to avoid her gaze. "She talks about me?"
"In her own way. She complains about you. How you look at her. How you're always there." Xinyu swirled her cup. "It’s funny. She pretends it annoys her, but I think she likes it. She likes that you're… constant. The rest of us, we're all climbing over each other to be the best, the smartest, the loudest. You’re just there. Static. It probably grounds her."
The compliment, if it was one, felt heavy. You opened your mouth to respond, but a sound from the bedroom cut you off. A low, miserable groan, followed by the unmistakable retch of someone waking up with their stomach in revolt.
"Speak of the devil," Xinyu sighed, setting her coffee down. "Showtime."
You were already moving, bypassing Xinyu and heading for the bedroom. You pushed the door open to find Sohyun sitting up in your bed, her hand over her mouth, her skin the color of parchment paper. Her hair was a wild halo around her head, and her eyes were squeezed shut in pain.
"Sohyun?"
She heard you, or maybe she just sensed the movement. She bolted.
She scrambled out of the bed, nearly tripping over her own boots, and stumbled toward the ensuite bathroom attached to your room. You followed right behind her. She made it to the toilet just in time, collapsing to her knees and heaving.
It was visceral and ugly. The sound echoed in the small tile space, sharp and wet. You didn't hesitate; you stepped in, grabbing her hair and holding it back from her face with one hand while you rubbed her back with the other. Her shoulders shook under your touch, her body wracked by the force of her illness.
"Fuck… I'm sorry," she gasped between retches, her voice raspy and broken. "I drank… too much."
"It's all good," you murmured, keeping your voice low and steady. "Just let it all out. You're okay."
You didn't look away. It wasn't pretty, but there was something strangely intimate about it, about being the one person here to see her at her absolute lowest and not flinch. She continued for a moment, long agonizing seconds where she purged the toxins from the night before. You kept circling her back, feeling the knob of her spine, the heat radiating off her skin.
Xinyu appeared in the doorway, leaning against the jam, her arms crossed over her chest. She watched the scene with a mixture of disgust and amusement, rolling her eyes so hard you thought they might get stuck.
"Don't you fucking dare pass out again, alright?" Xinyu said, her voice cutting through the sound of Sohyun's hacking. "You are fucking heavy to carry. I’m not doing that twice in one weekend."
Sohyun let out a weak, breathless laugh, resting her forehead against the cool porcelain of the toilet seat. "Fine… fine…" She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "I think… I think I'm done."
She sat back on her heels, turning to look at you. Her eyes were red-rimmed and watery, her makeup smudged, but she was still undeniably Sohyun. She looked at your hand on her shoulder, then up at your face. For a second, the arrogant senior was gone, replaced by something softer, something grateful.
"Thanks," she whispered.
"You need water," you said. "And a toothbrush. I can find an extra one."
"Please," she groaned, trying to stand up. Her legs wobbled, and you caught her arm, steadying her.
"Easy does it," you said, guiding her back toward the bed. "Sit. I'll be right back."
You left her sitting on the edge of the mattress, looking like a wilted flower, and went back into the kitchen where Xinyu was already waiting. She had opened the paper bag and was pulling out a couple of pastry boxes.
"She alive?" Xinyu asked, taking a bite of a donut.
"Barely. She's toughing it out."
Xinyu chewed thoughtfully, watching you fill a glass of water from the filter. "You're good at that," she observed.
"Good at what?"
"Taking care of her. Most guys would be freaking out, or they'd be turned off by the whole… puke thing." She gestured vaguely toward the bathroom. "You just… jumped in. Like it was nothing."
"It's not nothing," you said, grabbing a spare toothbrush from the cabinet. "She needed help."
"Yeah, well." Xinyu dusted sugar off her fingers. "Don't get used to it. She's usually a nightmare when she's hungover. She gets snappy. She says mean things she doesn't mean." She fixed you with a sharp look. "Don't take it personally if she bites your head off in ten minutes."
"Noted."
You took the water and the toothbrush back to Sohyun. She accepted them with a mumbled thanks, disappearing into the bathroom to brush her teeth and splash water on her face. When she emerged, she looked marginally more human. She had washed her face, removing the smudged makeup, leaving her skin bare and pale. She had re-tied her hair into a loose knot.
She sat back down on the bed, looking around the room. Her eyes landed on you, then flicked to the doorway where Xinyu was lingering.
"Am I… interrupting?" Sohyun asked, her voice still rough but regaining a bit of its usual edge.
"Nope," Xinyu said, breezing into the room and perching on the edge of your dresser. "Just enjoying the show. It's not every day I see Campus Queen Sohyun looking like a drowned rat."
Sohyun shot her a glare, but it lacked her usual venom. "Shut up, Xinyu. If you didn't want to deal with it, you shouldn't have dragged me here."
"I dragged you here because you were begging for it," Xinyu countered smoothly. "You were like a broken record. 'Take me to him. Take me to him.' It was pathetic."
You felt your ears heat up. You looked at Sohyun, trying to gauge her reaction. She didn't deny it. She just looked down at her hands, picking at a loose thread on the blanket.
"I was drunk," she muttered.
"You were honest," Xinyu corrected. "There's a difference."
The room fell into a heavy silence. The tension in the air was thick, a three-way knot of secrets and hangovers and unspoken things. Sohyun shifted on the bed, clearly uncomfortable. She wasn't used to being the one on the back foot, the one being exposed.
"So," Xinyu said, clapping her hands together and breaking the moment. "Should I leave or something? Let you two lovebirds have your awkward post-drink cuddle?"
Sohyun looked up, her expression clearing. She let out a short, dry laugh. "Hey, don't be like that. Spend some time with him too, you know. He's a great guy."
She looked at you when she said it, her eyes locking onto yours. There was a sincerity there that you hadn't expected. It wasn't a performance for Xinyu. She meant it.
Xinyu rolled her eyes, but a small smile played on her lips. "Yeah, yeah. I can tell. He brought me coffee." She looked at you. "Alright. I'll stay. But only if you feed me. I'm starving."
You felt a wave of relief. You didn't want to be alone with Sohyun yet—not while she was like this. Having Xinyu there acted as a buffer, a bridge between your worlds.
"I can order delivery," you offered. "Fried chicken? Tteokbokki?"
Sohyun's stomach visibly lurched at the mention of spicy food, but Xinyu nodded enthusiastically. "Yes. And grilled meat. Lots of it. We need to soak up the alcohol."
You spent the next twenty minutes scrolling through delivery apps on your phone while Sohyun slowly rehydrated and Xinyu paced around the small apartment, commenting on your lack of decoration and your "cozy" vibe. It felt domestic in a way you never could have imagined. You, a freshman, sitting in your apartment with two of the most senior, admired girls on campus, waiting for fried chicken.
You stood up to go check the hallway for the delivery driver, but as you neared the front door, you heard Xinyu’s voice from the balcony. You hadn't even realized she’d stepped out there.
You moved closer, intending to tell her the food was here, but her tone stopped you cold. It wasn't the bored, sarcastic drawl she used with you. It was low, vibrating with a fury that made the hair on your arms stand up.
"You fucking bitch," she hissed into the phone. "How long are you gonna fucking cheat on me? Do you think I'm stupid?"
You froze. You shouldn't be listening. This was private. But you couldn't move.
"I saw the messages, Han. Don't lie to me. You think just because she's that rival from Seoul Uni, you can just—" She cut off with a growl of frustration. "You're pathetic. You're actually pathetic. I'm done. I am so fucking done."
She ended the call with a violent tap of her thumb. You heard the clatter of the phone hitting the railing of the balcony. You hesitated for a second, debating retreating, pretending you hadn't heard a thing. But then you heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by the distinct click of a lighter.
You walked out onto the balcony.
Xinyu was standing with her back to you, one hand braced on the railing, the other bringing a sleek, white device to her lips. An electronic cigarette. She inhaled deeply, holding the vapor in her chest before exhaling a thick, sweet-smelling cloud into the damp morning air.
"A-are you sure that's healthy?" you asked, your voice sounding loud in the quiet morning.
She didn't jump. She didn't even turn around. She just took another drag, her shoulders tense. "Don't bother me right now," she snapped, her voice tight. "I'm fucking stressed out."
You stood there for a moment, watching the way the mist curled around her silhouette. You thought about what she had said—Han. You knew the name. He was a senior too, a guy in the business school who always seemed to have everything together. Apparently not.
"Well," you said slowly, stepping up beside her but keeping a respectful distance. "The food is here. I guess we should eat."
Xinyu lowered the device, turning to look at you. Her eyes were rimmed with red, whether from anger or lack of sleep you couldn't tell. She looked at you for a long moment, really looked at you, as if seeing you for the first time. Then, her expression cracked. The anger melted away, replaced by a weary, fragile amusement.
"You heard," she stated. It wasn't a question.
"Heard," you confirmed softly.
"Great." She sighed, dropping the vape into her small purse. "Now you know my tragic backstory. I'm dating a lying piece of shit who thinks with his dick."
"He sounds like an idiot," you said bluntly.
Xinyu let out a short, surprised laugh. "He is. The biggest kind." She pushed off the railing, smoothing down her coat. "But enough about that asshole. You said chicken? Let's go eat."
You walked back inside together, the air between you shifting. She didn't seem like the untouchable "Goddess" anymore. She just seemed like a girl who had been kicked in the teeth.
In the living room, Sohyun had moved from the bed to the couch. She was sitting cross-legged, scrolling through your TV list, looking for something to watch. She looked up as you and Xinyu entered with the bags of food. Her eyes darted between the two of you, narrowing slightly at Xinyu's flushed face and your close proximity.
"What took so long?" Sohyun asked, her tone sharp. "Did you get lost?"
"Just catching up," Xinyu said breezily, dropping onto the couch opposite Sohyun. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it."
You began unpacking the food—boxes of golden fried chicken, sizzling tteokbokki thick with rice cakes and fish cakes, and a platter of grilled pork belly. The smell instantly filled the room, rich and savory, cutting through the lingering scent of stale alcohol. Sohyun perked up immediately, her stomach apparently forgiving her for the earlier abuse.
"Oh my god," she groaned, reaching for a piece of chicken. "I need this."
You sat down on the floor, leaning back against the couch near Sohyun's legs. Xinyu sat on the other side, grabbing a pair of metal chopsticks. For a while, the only sounds were the clinking of chopsticks and the hum of the TV. You put on a random action movie, something with explosions and car chases that required zero brainpower.
As you ate, the atmosphere began to thaw. The tension from the morning, from Xinyu's phone call, from Sohyun's hangover, began to dissolve into the rhythm of food and comfort.
Then, Xinyu spoke. She set her chopsticks down with a sharp snap.
"So," she said, her voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of steel. "Han cheated on me."
Sohyun froze, a piece of pork halfway to her mouth. She slowly lowered it, her eyes widening. "What?"
"You heard me. With that slut from Seoul Uni. The one he debated against last month." Xinyu grabbed a can of soda, cracking it open. "He thinks I don't know. He thinks I'm oblivious."
Sohyun's face transformed instantly. The grogginess, the hunger, the reserve—it all vanished, replaced by a cold, lethal fury. "That fucker," she whispered. "That absolute piece of shit."
"He doesn't deserve you," Sohyun said, her voice rising. "He never did. I told you, Xinyu. I told you he was arrogant."
"I know," Xinyu sighed, rubbing her temples. "I know. I just… wanted it to work. You know? For once, I wanted to be the one who had the stupid, normal relationship."
You sat quietly, chewing on a piece of tteokbokki. You felt like an intruder, witnessing a private moment between best friends. You shifted slightly, trying to make yourself smaller, less noticeable.
Sohyun seemed to sense your retreat. She looked down at you, then back at Xinyu. Her eyes narrowed again, this time with a different kind of intensity. She watched the way Xinyu was leaning toward you, the way she had confided in you just minutes ago on the balcony.
"You okay?" Sohyun asked Xinyu, but her eyes flicked to you.
"I will be," Xinyu said. She looked at you, a sly, thoughtful look entering her eyes. She picked up her chopsticks again, tapping them against her lip. "Actually. I'm feeling a bit better now."
"Good," Sohyun said, tearing into a chicken wing with a little too much force. "Because he's trash. Forget him."
"I will," Xinyu agreed. She turned her gaze fully onto you. It was heavy, loaded. "Hey. You. Move up here."
You blinked, pointing to yourself. "Me?"
"Yes, you. Come sit on the couch. My neck hurts looking down at you."
You hesitated, glancing at Sohyun. Sohyun was staring at Xinyu, her expression unreadable, but you could feel the waves of tension rolling off her. She didn't say anything, though. She just watched.
You stood up and moved to the cushion between Xinyu and the armrest. It was a tight fit. Xinyu immediately shifted, closing the distance. She didn't leave an inch of space between you. Her thigh pressed against yours, warm and firm.
"See?" Xinyu said, leaning back and draping her arm casually along the back of the couch behind you. Her fingers brushed your shoulder. "Much better."
You stiffened slightly. You were acutely aware of her scent—sharp and floral, different from Sohyun's. You were acutely aware of Sohyun sitting on your other side, her presence like a furnace.
"Xinyu," Sohyun warned, her voice low.
"What?" Xinyu asked innocently, though her eyes glinted with mischief. "I'm just getting comfortable. We're having a bonding moment, aren't we?" She looked at you, tilting her head so her face was inches from yours. "Right?"
"Uh, sure?" you managed.
Xinyu smiled. It wasn't her usual sarcastic smirk. It was something softer, something dangerous. She leaned her head onto your shoulder, her hair tickling your neck. You froze. Your heart hammered against your ribs. This was Xinyu. The Ice Queen. The girl you had admired from afar for months. And she was currently using you as a pillow.
She shifted slightly, nuzzling into your shirt. "You're warm," she murmured. "It's nice."
You didn't know what to do with your hands. You kept them in your lap, gripping your knees like a lifeline.
"Am I not pretty?" Xinyu asked suddenly.
The question came out of nowhere, soft and vulnerable. She lifted her head slightly, turning her face up toward yours. Her eyes were searching, looking for cracks in your composure.
You glanced at Sohyun. She had stopped eating. She was watching the two of you with a look that was a mix of shock and something else. Something dark and possessive. Her jaw was clenched tight.
"What?" you asked, confused. "What do you mean?"
Xinyu's gaze never left yours. "Han. He cheated on me. Was I not pretty enough? Was I not… enough?"
The question broke your heart a little. It was such a human question, stripped of all her arrogance and armor.
You looked at her—at the sharp elegance of her jawline, the high cheekbones, the intelligence burning in her eyes even now. "What do you mean," you said, your voice firm. "You are pretty. You're gorgeous. That guy… your boyfriend… he must be dumb to cheat on someone like you."
You said it with total conviction. Because it was true.
Xinyu’s breath hitched—a tiny, sharp intake of air. Her eyes widened slightly, and a faint blush dusted her cheeks. She hadn't expected such a direct, unguarded response. She chuckled, a low, rich sound that vibrated against your shoulder.
"You're sweet," she whispered. "Too sweet."
She didn't move away. If anything, she pressed closer. Her hand, which had been resting on the back of the couch, slid down. Her fingers traced the line of your shoulder blade, slow and deliberate. It was a teasing touch. A testing touch.
You felt a jolt of electricity run through you. This was wrong. Sohyun was right there. Sohyun, the girl you had been obsessed with for years, the girl who was currently sitting three feet away, watching her best friend feel you up.
You risked a glance at Sohyun.
She was staring straight ahead at the TV screen, but she wasn't watching it. Her hand was gripping her soda can so hard her knuckles were white. She looked… furious. But underneath the fury, you saw something else. She looked neglected.
She looked at the way Xinyu was leaning into you, the way your shoulders were touching, the way Xinyu was looking at you with those hungry, appreciative eyes. Sohyun, who was used to being the center of attention, the one in control, was suddenly on the outside looking in.
And you saw it—the curiosity. The strange, dangerous spark in her eyes. She wasn't just angry that Xinyu was invading her space. She was interested. She was watching to see what you would do. She was watching to see if you would push Xinyu away, or if you would lean into it.
Xinyu’s fingers moved higher, brushing the back of your neck. She leaned in closer, her lips grazing the shell of your ear.
"I think you're lying," she whispered, her voice hot and teasing. "I think you've had a crush on me for months. Just like you have on Sohyun."
The air left the room. Your heart stopped.
Xinyu pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, a smirk playing on her lips. She knew. Of course she knew. She saw everything. She saw the way you looked at both of them on campus, the way you lingered near their table in the library.
"Am I wrong?" she challenged softly.
You couldn't speak. You couldn't breathe. You were trapped between the two most important women in your world, and the ground was shifting beneath your feet.
From your other side, Sohyun shifted. She turned on the couch, pulling one leg up underneath her. She looked at Xinyu, then at you. The anger was gone, replaced by a cool, calculated gaze.
"He's not lying," Sohyun said, her voice smooth and low. "He's nice. He wouldn't lie."
Xinyu laughed, the sound vibrating through your arm. "Nice. There's that word again." She looked at Sohyun, a challenge in her eyes. "Maybe nice isn't what I need right now, Sohyun. Maybe I need someone who looks at me like I'm the only person in the room. Like he looks at you."
Sohyun’s eyes darkened. She leaned forward, invading your space from the other side. Her hand came out, resting on your knee. It was a possessive gesture. A warning.
"He looks at you because you're throwing yourself at him," Sohyun countered, her voice sharp. "He's a guy, Xinyu. We're tactile creatures. Don't read too much into it."
"Am I throwing myself at him?" Xinyu mused, her fingers tracing the hem of your collar. "Or am I just appreciating what's right in front of me? Something you've been taking for granted for weeks, I might add."
The tension in the room was no longer just awkward. It was thick. It was sexual. It was a charged, volatile current flowing between the three of you. You felt like a piece of meat being claimed by two predators, but God help you, you didn't want to leave.
Sohyun’s hand tightened on your knee. She looked at Xinyu, and for a second, you saw something pass between them. An understanding. A dare.
"You're playing a dangerous game, Xinyu," Sohyun said quietly.
"I'm just getting started," Xinyu replied.
She turned back to you, her eyes dropping to your lips. "So, tell me the truth. If I kissed you right now… what would you do?"
Your pulse hammered in your throat. You looked at Sohyun, terrified, expecting her to explode. But she didn't. She just watched, her own lips parting slightly, her breathing hitching in a way that had nothing to do with hangover nausea.
She was waiting. She was waiting to see if you would betray her. Or maybe… maybe she was waiting to see if you would handle this.
You swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper. "I… I wouldn't stop you."
Xinyu’s smile widened, triumphant and hungry. She leaned in, slow and deliberate, giving you every chance to pull away. You could feel Sohyun’s gaze burning a hole in the side of your face, her hand a heavy weight on your leg.
"Good answer," Xinyu breathed.
And then, the door buzzer rang.
The sound was so jarring, so loud in the heavy silence, that you all jumped. Xinyu pulled back, the spell broken. Sohyun snatched her hand back from your knee as if she’d been burned.
"What the hell is that?" Sohyun snapped, her voice regaining its usual bite.
"Probably… the delivery guy forgot something?" you guessed, your heart still racing a mile a minute.
You stood up, your legs shaky. "I'll get it."
As you walked to the door, you could feel the eyes of both women on your back. The air behind you was electric, charged with unanswered questions and dangerous possibilities. You grabbed the handle, taking a deep breath to compose yourself before opening the door.
Whatever was happening between the three of you, it was far from over. And as you stepped into the hallway to deal with the mundane reality of a missing soda, you knew that your life had just shifted onto a trajectory you never could have predicted. The line between friend, crush, and something else entirely had been blurred. And Sohyun, for the first time, wasn't the only one holding the eraser.
The buzz from the intercom wasn't the delivery driver. It was the sound of your life imploding.
You pressed the button, the static crackling through the speaker. "Hello?"
"Open the fucking door," a voice snarled, distorted by the cheap speaker but unmistakable. It was Han.
You froze. Your stomach, already queasy from the rich food and the lingering hangover tension, dropped into your shoes. Han. Xinyu’s ex. The guy who had been cheating on her with the rival from Seoul Uni. He was the last person on earth who should be here.
"Just a second," you stammered, your finger hovering over the 'deny' button. But before you could press it, the heavy thud of a fist pounding against the wood from the hallway vibrated through the floor. He was already in the building. Someone must have let him in, or he’d tailgated a resident.
You opened the door.
Han looked worse than he sounded. His usually polished, business-casual appearance was disheveled—his shirt untucked, his hair a mess, and his eyes bloodshot and wild. He smelled like cheap whiskey and stale cigarettes. He shoved past you the moment the latch clicked, his shoulder slamming into your chest with enough force to knock you back a step.
"Where is she?" Han shouted, his voice bouncing off the walls of your small living room. "Xinyu! Get the fuck out here!"
The atmosphere in the room, previously charged with a thick, sexual anticipation, curdled instantly into something sharp and violent. Sohyun was on her feet in a heartbeat, moving with a predatory grace that made the hair on your arms stand up. Xinyu stood up more slowly, her face draining of color, then flushing a dark, angry red.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Xinyu demanded, her voice shaking not with fear, but with rage. "You have some nerve showing your face after—"
"Shut up!" Han screamed, cutting her off. He paced the center of the room, gesturing wildly. "I saw you. I saw you leaving the club with him. With this guy?" He pointed a trembling finger at you, his lip curling in disgust. "This nobody freshman? You left me to go fuck this loser?"
He was spiraling. You could see it in the way his eyes darted around the room, looking for something to break. He wasn't here to talk. He was here to lash out, to punish Xinyu for injuring his ego.
"Get out, Han," Sohyun said, stepping between Han and Xinyu. Her voice was ice cold, but you saw the way her hands were clenched into fists at her sides. "You’re drunk. You’re making a scene."
"I'm making a scene?" Han laughed, a high, ugly sound. "My girlfriend runs off in the middle of the night to fuck a kid, and I'm making a scene?" He lunged forward, grabbing Sohyun’s arm to shove her aside. "Move, bitch. I'm taking Xinyu home."
Sohyun stumbled but recovered instantly, slapping his hand away. "Don't touch me."
"Or what?" Han turned his fury on her. He was bigger than both of them, a solid wall of muscle and rage. "You think you're tough? You think you're better than me?"
He shoved Sohyun again, harder this time. She fell back onto the couch, breathless.
"Hey!" you shouted, stepping forward. You didn't think. You just moved. "Don't touch her."
Han spun around, his eyes locking onto yours. They were filled with a terrifying, jealous insanity. "Stay out of this, you little punk. This doesn't concern you."
"She told you to leave," you said, surprised by the steadiness of your own voice. "You need to go."
Han’s face twisted. He lunged at you.
It happened fast. Han was a football player back in high school, and he moved with the momentum of a freight train. He tackled you, driving you backward into the hallway wall. The air left your lungs in a rush as your back slammed against the drywall. Pictures rattled on the hooks.
"You think you can take my girl?" Han spat, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt. He slammed you against the wall again, your head cracking against the plaster. Stars exploded in your vision. "I'll fucking kill you."
"Get off him!" Xinyu screamed.
You could hear Sohyun shouting too, but your focus was narrowed down to the face in front of you. Han’s fist was drawn back, ready to connect with your jaw. You brought your arms up to block your face, bracing for the impact.
But the blow never came.
Sohyun threw herself at Han’s back, wrapping her arms around his neck in a chokehold, trying to drag him off you. "Get off him! Han, stop it!"
Han roared, bucking his hips violently. He shook Sohyun off like she was a fly. She stumbled backward, crashing into the side table and sending a lamp crashing to the floor.
"Sohyun!" you cried out.
That moment of distraction was all Han needed. He grabbed a handful of your hair, twisting your head to the side, and slammed his fist into your ribs.
Pain exploded, sharp and blinding. You gasped, your knees buckling. You slid down the wall, clutching your side.
"Stop it! Please stop!" Xinyu was crying now, tears streaming down her face. She rushed forward, grabbing Han’s arm and trying to pull him away from you. "Han, you're hurting him! Stop!"
He rounded on her, his eyes wild. He didn't see Xinyu. He saw a target. He saw the reason he was humiliated.
"You fucking slut," he hissed.
He backhanded her.
The sound was wet and heavy. Xinyu’s head snapped to the side, her body whipping around with the force of the blow. She crumpled to the floor, silent, her hand coming up to her swelling cheek.
The room went dead silent.
For a second, you couldn't process what you were seeing. Then, the red haze descended. It didn't matter that he was bigger. It didn't matter that he could break you in half. He had hit her.
You surged up from the floor, ignoring the screaming protest from your ribs. You tackled Han around the waist, driving him into the kitchenette counter. The impact knocked the breath out of him, and you heard the wind rush out of his lungs.
You weren't a fighter. You had no technique. You just threw yourself at him, fueled by adrenaline and pure, unfiltered rage. You grabbed his shoulders, shoving him back, but he recovered quickly. He shoved you hard, sending you staggering backward into the sharp corner of the open dishwasher door. It caught you right in the thigh, tearing a line of fire through your muscle, but you barely felt it.
Han came at you again, his hands going for your throat. You ducked, dodging a clumsy right hook, and tackled him again. This time, you both went down. You hit the floor hard, Han on top of you, his hands closing around your throat.
His grip was iron-tight. You clawed at his wrists, gasping for air, your vision starting to spot. He was heavy, crushing the breath out of you. You bucked your hips, trying to dislodge him, but he was too heavy.
You were going to pass out. You were going to die here, on your living room floor, while the two girls you loved watched.
Then, something heavy collided with Han’s side.
So hyun had launched herself at him again, but this time she wasn't trying to pull him off. She was attacking him. She was clawing at his face, her fingernails raking deep gouges down his cheek.
"Get off him!" she screamed, her voice raw.
Han howled in pain, letting go of your throat to bat her away. You sucked in a ragged, desperate breath, choking on the air. You saw Han raising his hand to hit Sohyun, his face contorted in fury.
"Hey!"
This shout wasn't from a woman.
It was Xinyu.
She was standing by the kitchen counter, clutching one of your cast-iron skillets in both hands. Her face was pale, her lip bleeding, but her eyes were blazing with a cold, terrifying resolve.
"Get the fuck out of my apartment," Xinyu said, her voice low and trembling. "Or I swear to god, I will split your skull open."
Han looked at her, then at the skillet. He hesitated, the adrenaline fading just enough for logic to seep back in. He touched the scratches on his cheek, his fingers coming away bloody. He looked at the three of you—Sohyun on the floor, her chest heaving; you coughing and wheezing on the ground; Xinyu standing over him like an avenging angel with a weapon.
"Fucking psychos," Han spat, wiping his bloody face on his sleeve. He scrambled to his feet, backing toward the door. "You're all crazy. Every single one of you."
He kicked the doorframe on his way out, sending a final shower of dust raining down, and then he was gone. The heavy slam of the front door echoed like a gunshot.
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. You lay on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, your chest burning. You could hear Sohyun crying softly, a sound you had never heard her make before. It was broken, terrified.
You sat up slowly, your body protesting every movement. Your ribs throbbed with every breath, a sharp, hot pain. Your head was swimming. You looked over at Sohyun.
She was sitting against the wall, her knees pulled up to her chest, rocking back and forth. She was looking at her hands, shaking violently. She looked… small.
"Sohyun?" you rasped. You started to crawl toward her, needing to be near her, needing to know she was okay.
She flinched when you reached out to touch her arm. She flinched like she was scared of you.
You froze. The rejection hit you harder than Han's fist. "Sohyun… it's me. It's over."
She looked up then, and the look in her eyes shattered you. It wasn't just fear. It was horror. She was looking at your bruises, the scrapes on your knuckles, the way you were wheezing. She was looking at the damage she had been powerless to prevent.
"I… I couldn't…" she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "I tried to stop him. I tried. But I couldn't. I was too weak."
"Sohyun, no," you said, reaching for her again. This time she let you pull her into your arms. She buried her face in your neck, and you could feel her hot tears soaking into your shirt. "You distracted him. You saved me. If you hadn't jumped on him when you did…"
"I was useless," she sobbed. "He could have killed you. And I just… I just watched."
"Hey."
Xinyu’s voice cut through Sohyun’s breakdown. It was steady, firm.
Xinyu knelt beside you two. She dropped the skillet on the floor with a heavy clang and reached out, gently taking Sohyun’s face in her hands.
"Look at me," Xinyu commanded.
Sohyun looked up, her eyes red and swollen.
"You're not weak," Xinyu said, her voice fierce. "You're the strongest person I know. But you were scared. That's allowed. We were all scared."
Xinyu turned her attention to you. Her eyes scanned your face, lingering on the bruise forming on your jaw and the scrapes on your neck. Her expression softened, the hard edge melting away into a devastating tenderness.
"You," she whispered. She touched your cheek, her fingers light as a feather. "You idiot. You stood up to him."
"He was going to hurt you," you said simply.
Xinyu let out a shaky breath. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead against yours. For a moment, you just breathed together, the shared adrenaline fading into something else.
"Let me see," she said, pulling back to inspect you. "Lift your arms."
You obliged, wincing as she probed your ribs. Her touch was clinical but careful.
"Just bruised, I think," she murmured. "Nothing feels broken." Her hands moved down to your leg, where you had slammed into the dishwasher. You were bleeding there, a thin line of blood welling up through the tear in your pants. "You're going to need stitches for this one."
"I'll be fine," you said. "I'm just glad he's gone."
Xinyu didn't smile. She stood up abruptly. " Bathroom. Now. We need to clean this up."
She helped you stand, supporting your weight as you hobbled toward the bathroom. Sohyun remained on the floor, watching you go. She hadn't moved. She hadn't stopped shaking.
In the bathroom, Xinyu sat you down on the edge of the tub and rummaged through your cabinet. She found the first aid kit—a small plastic box with bandaids and antiseptic.
"This is going to sting," she warned, tearing open an alcohol wipe.
She cleaned the cut on your leg with efficient movements. Her hands were steady, but you could see the tremor in her shoulders. She was still coming down from the adrenaline.
"You were amazing," you said softly, watching her face. "With the skillet. You saved us."
"I should have done it sooner," she said, not looking at you. "I shouldn't have let it get that far."
"It's not your fault he's crazy."
Xinyu finished bandaging your leg and moved to your face. She cleaned the scrape on your cheek, her thumb brushing gently over your jawbone. Her touch lingered, tracing the line of your bone.
"You were so brave," she whispered. She looked into your eyes, and the raw admiration there made your chest tight. "I've never seen anything like that. No one has ever… no one has ever fought for me like that."
She leaned in closer. Her body was pressed against your legs, her warmth seeping into you. You could smell her perfume, mixed with the metallic tang of fear and the lingering scent of your apartment.
"Xinyu…" you started.
She cut you off by pressing her lips to yours.
It wasn't like the kiss with Sohyun. It wasn't slow or exploring. It was desperate. It was a thank you and an apology and a confession all at once. Her lips were soft and demanding, tasting slightly of salt from her tears. She kissed you like she was trying to memorize the shape of your mouth, like she needed to anchor herself to you.
You melted into it, ignoring the pain in your ribs. Your hand came up to cup the back of her neck, tangling in her ponytail. She sighed against your mouth, a low, vibrating sound that went straight to your core.
She pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against yours again. Her eyes were wet, but they were burning with an intensity that made your breath hitch.
"I was so scared," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I was so scared he was going to hurt you. And I felt… I felt so safe when you stepped in front of me. Like nothing in the world could touch me."
She grabbed your hand, guiding it. She placed your palm flat against her chest, right over her heart. You could feel it hammering against her ribs, a frantic, bird-like rhythm.
"Feel that?" she asked. "That's what you do to me."
You looked at her, really looked at her. The swelling bruise on her cheek where Han had hit her made your blood boil all over again, but it also made you want to wrap her up and hide her from the world.
"You're safe now," you said. "I won't let him near you again."
Xinyu let out a shaky laugh. She kissed you again, quick and hard. Then she grabbed your hand and pulled it downward.
She guided your hand between her thighs, pressing your palm against the heat radiating through her jeans. The air in the bathroom instantly grew thick, heavy with a sudden, electric tension.
"Do you feel that?" she whispered, her eyes locking onto yours. "I'm so wet right now. It's sick, isn't it? Adrenaline makes me crazy."
You swallowed hard, your fingers twitching against the denim. You could feel the heat of her, the undeniable pressure of her body responding to the danger, to the violence, to you. It was a primal, raw reaction.
"Xinyu," you breathed. "Sohyun is outside."
"I know," Xinyu said, not moving your hand. If anything, she pressed it tighter against herself. "Let her watch."
You looked past Xinyu, toward the open bathroom door.
Sohyun was standing there.
She had gotten up from the floor. She was leaning against the doorframe, her arms wrapped around herself. She looked pale, her eyes wide and fixed on the two of you.
She looked at where your hand was, pressed between Xinyu's legs. She looked at the way Xinyu was leaning into you, the possessive, hungry way she was holding your gaze.
Sohyun’s reaction wasn't what you expected. She didn't look angry. She didn't look disgusted.
She looked terrified.
She looked like she was realizing that while she had been paralyzed by fear, Xinyu had been taking everything she wanted. While Sohyun was frozen, Xinyu had been staking her claim.
"Are you… are you okay?" Sohyun asked, her voice barely a whisper. She was talking to you, but her eyes were glued to your hand on Xinyu.
You gently pulled your hand away from Xinyu, though it pained you to do so. You turned fully toward Sohyun.
"I'm fine," you said, giving her a reassuring smile. You winced as the motion pulled at your bruised ribs. "Nothing permanent. I'll live."
Sohyun stared at you. She looked at the bruises blooming on your skin, the bandage on your leg, the way your shirt was torn at the collar. And she saw the way Xinyu was touching you, the way she had just kissed you.
She saw that she might be losing you.
It was written all over her face—a dawning, horrific realization. She had taken you for granted. She had used your devotion, your obsession, as a safety net, assuming you would always be there waiting in the wings. But now, standing in the wreckage of your apartment, seeing you through Xinyu's eyes, she saw what she had almost let slip through her fingers.
She saw that you weren't just a quiet freshman. You were the person who had almost died protecting her best friend. You were the person who made Xinyu feel safe.
Xinyu turned to look at Sohyun. There was no malice in her expression, just a quiet, possessive triumph. She wrapped her arm around your waist, resting her head on your uninjured shoulder.
"He's amazing, isn't he?" Xinyu said softly.
Sohyun didn't answer. She just took a step into the room. Then another. She walked until she was standing right in front of you. She reached out, her hand hovering in the air for a moment before she gently touched the bruise on your jaw.
Her fingers were cold, trembling.
"I was so scared," Sohyun whispered, echoing Xinyu’s words but with an entirely different weight. "I was so scared that he was going to kill you. That I was going to watch you die."
She looked up at you, her eyes swimming with tears. "I've never been that scared in my life. I felt… helpless. And I hate feeling helpless."
She leaned in, her forehead resting against yours, just inches from where Xinyu was still resting. For a moment, the three of you were tangled together, a web of trauma and adrenaline and shifting loyalties.
"You're not going to lose me," you whispered, looking at Sohyun, then at Xinyu. "I'm right here."
Sohyun pulled back slightly. She looked at Xinyu, a silent plea passing between them. Xinyu sighed, but she loosened her grip on you, shifting slightly to the side to make room.
Sohyun stepped into that space. She didn't kiss you. Instead, she wrapped her arms around your neck and buried her face in your shoulder, holding you so tight it hurt your ribs, but you didn't care. You held her back, one hand on her waist, the other reaching out blindly until you found Xinyu’s hand. You grabbed it, squeezing tight.
Xinyu squeezed back.
The three of you stood there in the tiny bathroom, the smell of antiseptic and fear hanging in the air, but something else was blooming underneath it. Something dangerous and new.
"We need to call the police," Xinyu said eventually, her voice muffled against your shoulder. "We can't let him get away with this."
"Not tonight," Sohyun said, her voice muffled against your other shoulder. "I just… I just want to stay here. I just want to be with you."
You felt a tremor run through both of them. You closed your eyes, leaning your head back against the wall, exhausted and hurting, but feeling more alive than you ever had in your life. The lines were blurred. The rules had changed.
And you knew, with a certainty that settled deep in your bones, that nothing would ever be the same again.
The hot water beat against your back, a stinging cascade that did little to wash away the grime of the evening but succeeded admirably in making you aware of every single bruise blooming across your skin. You leaned your forehead against the cool tile of the shower wall, hissing as the spray hit the raw scrape on your thigh. The adrenaline had finally faded, leaving behind a hollow, aching exhaustion. Your knuckles were swollen, the skin split, and your ribs felt like they’d been put through a trash compactor.
You turned off the water and stepped out, dripping onto the bathmat. The mirror was fogged up, but you didn't need to see your reflection to know you looked like hell. You dried off roughly, the friction of the towel sending sharp little sparks of pain through your nervous system. It was grounding. You were alive. Han was gone. That was the metric that mattered now.
When you walked back into the living room, the silence was heavy, but it wasn't the oppressive silence of before. It was fragile. Xinyu was sitting on the edge of your couch, her long legs crossed, staring at her hands. Sohyun was by the window, looking out at the dark street, her silhouette stiff and unmoving. They looked like statues in a museum dedicated to ruined evenings.
Xinyu looked up first. Her eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, were rimmed with red. She didn't smile, but the tension in her shoulders dropped a fraction when she saw you.
"Hey," she said, her voice raspy.
"Hey," you replied, wincing as you adjusted your waistband. "You two okay?"
"We're alive," Sohyun said, not turning around. Her voice was distant, brittle. "Thanks to you."
There was a heavy pause. You stood there, feeling awkward and massive in your small apartment, looming over them like a damaged guard dog.
"I don't want to go back to the dorms tonight," Xinyu said suddenly. She looked up at you, her gaze direct and pleading. "I can't… I can't be alone right now. And I don't want to be around other people. Just here."
"Me neither," Sohyun added, turning from the window. Her face was pale, but her eyes were burning with an intensity that made your stomach flip. "I’m staying."
You looked between them. The logical part of your brain, the part that wasn't currently swimming in endorphins and pain, screamed that this was a terrible idea. Three people in a tiny one-room apartment? After the night you’d just had? It was a recipe for disaster.
But looking at them—seeing the fear still lingering in the lines of their bodies, the way they held themselves like they expected the door to burst open again—you couldn't say no. You were just a freshman. You were the guy who fixed things, who carried the boxes, who took the hits. You weren't the guy who told Xinyu or Sohyun 'no'.
"Okay," you said, rubbing the back of your neck. "You can take the bed. I'll crash out here on the couch."
Sohyun opened her mouth, a protest forming on her lips. She looked at the narrow, lumpy couch, then at your bruised ribs, her brow furrowing. "You're hurt. You shouldn't be on that spring-loaded piece of shit. We can all—"
"It's fine," you cut her off gently. You couldn't handle sharing a bed with both of them tonight. Not after the bathroom. Not after seeing the look in Sohyun’s eyes when she watched Xinyu kiss you. The air was too thick with unspoken things. "I need the space to stretch out anyway. Trust me, I’ll sleep better here."
Sohyun hesitated, her jaw working silently. She wanted to push, but she didn't. She just nodded, looking at the floor. "Okay. If you say so."
They gathered their things—minimal, since they’d arrived with nothing but the clothes on their backs—and disappeared into your bedroom. You heard the door click shut, and you let out a breath you felt like you’d been holding for hours.
You collapsed onto the couch. The springs groaned under your weight, digging into your side exactly where Han had punched you. You stared up at the ceiling, counting the water stains. It was uncomfortable, but you were right. You needed this distance. You needed to let your heart rate slow down, to let the images of Han’s face, of Sohyun’s terror, of Xinyu swinging that skillet, fade into the background.
You closed your eyes, drifting in that grey space between wakefulness and sleep, where the pain was just a dull hum.
rustle of fabric. A scent—jasmine and stale rain.
You were pulled from the fog by a dip in the cushions beside your legs. Your eyes snapped open, adjusting to the dark room. The streetlights outside cast long, faint shadows across the floor.
"Xinyu?" you whispered, sitting up slightly.
She was there, kneeling on the floor beside the couch. She had changed out of her torn clothes and was wearing one of your oversized t-shirts, the fabric swallowing her petite frame. Her hair was loose, a dark curtain around her face.
"Shh," she whispered, placing a hand on your knee. Her touch was hot, electric. "Go back to sleep."
"What are you doing out here?" you asked, your voice rough. "Sohyun is—"
"Asleep," Xinyu cut you off, crawling up onto the couch. She moved with a slow, deliberate grace, straddling your legs. "She's out cold. She cried herself to sleep in five minutes flat."
She leaned forward, her weight settling on your thighs. You could feel the heat radiating from her body, soaking through the thin blanket you'd pulled over yourself. She was so close you could see the faint bruise on her cheekbone, a dark purple mark against her pale skin.
"I couldn't sleep," she murmured, her voice dropping an octave, turning into something husky and dangerous. "I kept hearing him. I kept feeling him." She took your hand and guided it to her chest, right over her heart. It was hammering, a frantic rhythm against your palm. "But then I thought about you. About what you did."
"Xinyu, we shouldn't," you said, your breath hitching. You glanced frantically at the closed bedroom door. "Sohyun is right there. If she hears—"
"She won't," Xinyu said, her eyes locking onto yours. They were dark, dilated with a hunger that terrified you. "I need this. I need to know I'm alive. I need to know you're real."
She leaned down and kissed you.
It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was a collision. Her lips crashed against yours, tasting of mint and desperation. You tried to pull back, your brain screaming about Sohyyun, about the door, about the sheer insanity of the situation, but your body betrayed you. Your hands found her waist, fingers digging into the soft skin above her hipbones.
"Xinyu, wait," you gasped against her mouth. "She wouldn't… she wouldn't want this."
She pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, her lips swollen and wet. "She doesn't have to know," she whispered, the words sending a jolt of guilty arousal straight to your groin. "Don't worry about her. Worry about me. Worry about us."
She captured your lips again, and this time, you melted. The resistance in your chest shattered, replaced by a raw, overwhelming need. You were hurt, you were exhausted, but she was here, and she was choosing you. Her tongue pushed into your mouth, dominating, exploring, claiming you.
Xinyu sat up, breaking the kiss but keeping her body pressed flush against yours. She grabbed the hem of your t-shirt she was wearing and pulled it over her head in one fluid motion.
The air left your lungs. She was naked beneath it. The moonlight caught the curve of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips. She was stunning, a work of art carved from ivory and shadow. Her skin was flawless, save for the fading marks of the day's violence.
She reached down, her fingers nimble as she undid the drawstring of your sweatpants. You lifted your hips to help her, unable to look away from her face. She was watching you with a predatory intensity, her eyes raking over your bruised chest like she was memorizing the map of your pain.
She tugged your pants and boxers down just enough to free your cock. It sprang free, hard and throbbing in the cool air.
"Fuck," she breathed, wrapping her long fingers around the shaft. "Look at you. You're so fucking hard for me."
She stroked you slowly, her grip firm and sure. Her thumb brushed over the sensitive head, spreading the bead of pre-cum that had gathered there. The sensation was electric, shooting sparks up your spine. You groaned, your head falling back against the armrest.
"Xinyu, please," you rasped. You didn't even know what you were begging for. For her to stop? For her to never stop?
"I've wanted this for so long," she admitted, her voice a sultry murmur. "Watching you watch her. It drove me crazy. But tonight… tonight you're mine."
She lowered her head, her dark hair cascading down like a curtain to create a private world between you and the cushions of the couch. You felt her breath, hot and damp, against the head of your cock before her tongue swiped out.
She licked you from base to tip, a long, slow drag that had your toes curling. She took her time, exploring every inch, tracing the thick veins that bulged along the shaft. She wasn't rushing. She was savoring it.
Then, without warning, she took you into her mouth.
The heat was incredible. Her mouth was wet and tight, her tongue swirling around the underside of your shaft as she bobbed her head. You gasped, your hands flying to her hair, tangling in the silky strands. She took you deep, deeper than you expected, her throat relaxing to accommodate your size.
You watched her, fascinated and horrified by the sight. Her cheeks were hollowed out, her lips stretched wide around your girth. She looked beautiful like this—vulgar and elegant all at once. She moaned around your cock, the vibration humming through your pelvis, making your hips buck involuntarily.
"Jesus, Xinyu," you hissed. "That feels… fuck."
She pulled back with a wet pop, saliva glistening on her chin and connecting her lips to your tip in a thin, broken string. She looked up at you, her eyes glassy and wild.
"You like that?" she asked, stroking you with her hand, slick with her spit. "You like me choking on your big fucking dick?"
"Yes," you groaned, unable to lie. "It's so good."
"Good," she said, a dark smirk playing on her lips. "Because I'm not done."
She dove back down, sucking harder this time, her head bobbing with a frantic rhythm. She was messy, letting the spit dribble down your shaft, using it to lubricate her hand as she twisted it in tandem with her mouth. The sounds were obscene—slurping, gagging, wet sucking noises that filled the quiet apartment.
You could feel the pressure building in your balls, a tight, heavy coil. You were getting close, too fast. The adrenaline, the danger, the sheer taboo nature of what was happening—it was all too much.
"Wait," you gasped, gently tugging on her hair. "I'm gonna… if you keep doing that…"
She pulled off, panting, her chest heaving. "Not yet. I want you to come inside me."
She moved up your body, straddling your waist. Your cock slapped against her stomach, leaving a wet smear on her skin. She grabbed your wrists, pinning them to the couch on either side of your head.
"I'm going to fuck you now," she declared, her voice leaving no room for argument. "And you're going to take it."
She reached between her legs, positioning your cock at her entrance. You could feel the heat radiating from her core, could feel how wet she was. She was soaked, her juices coating your tip as she rubbed it against her slit.
"Look at me," she commanded.
You looked up into her eyes. She bit her lower lip, her brow furrowing in concentration as she slowly lowered herself onto you.
The stretch was incredible. She was tight, tighter than you would have imagined, her walls gripping you like a velvet vise. She took you inch by inch, her body shuddering as she adjusted to your size. You watched your cock disappear inside her, her lips parting to swallow you whole.
"Fuck, you're big," she breathed, her head falling back. She bottomed out, her hips resting against yours, completely full.
She stilled for a moment, her inner muscles fluttering around you, pulsing and squeezing. The sensation was almost too much to bear. You groaned, your hands gripping her thighs, feeling the muscle tense beneath your fingers.
"Xinyu," you whispered. "You feel amazing."
"Ready?" she asked, looking down at you with a wicked grin.
"Ride me."
She didn't need to be told twice. She began to move.
She started with a slow, grinding rhythm, rolling her hips in circles. The friction was exquisite, rubbing against every sensitive nerve ending. She bit her lip again, suppressing a moan, her eyes locked onto yours.
"Like this?" she teased, her voice breathy. "You like watching me ride your cock?"
"Yes," you choked out. "God, yes."
She picked up the pace. Her movements became wilder, more erratic. She was riding you in earnest now, slamming her hips down onto yours. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the room—thwack, thwack, thwack—a primal, rhythmic beat.
Her breasts bounced with every thrust, jiggling with the momentum. You reached up, cupping them, feeling their weight in your hands. Her nipples were hard points against your palms. She leaned into your touch, arching her back, thrusting her chest out.
"Harder," she demanded, her voice rising in pitch. "Touch me harder."
You sat up as much as you could, wrapping one arm around her waist to pull her closer, burying your face in her neck. You tasted the salt on her skin, smelled the scent of her arousal mixed with the lingering smell of your apartment. You bit down on her shoulder, leaving a mark.
She cried out, her hips bucking wildly. "Yes! Fucking mark me. I'm yours tonight."
The dirty talk was pouring out of her, a stream of filth that seemed to shock you as much as it turned you on. She was usually so composed, so controlled. Seeing her like this—wild, uninhibited, sweating and cursing as she fucked you on a ratty couch—was a revelation.
"You're so fucking tight," you groaned into her ear. "You take my cock so well."
"I love it," she panted. "I love how you stretch me. You fill me up so fucking good."
She shifted her angle, and suddenly she was hitting that spot inside her, the one that made her toes curl. She let out a loud, uninhibited moan, her head falling back, her black hair sticking to her sweaty face.
"Right there," she gasped. "Don't stop. Don't you dare stop."
You grabbed her hips, guiding her, helping her slam down onto you. You were meeting her thrusts now, arching your hips up to drive deeper into her. The friction was intense, a burning heat that spread from your groin out to your fingertips.
The couch was squeaking loudly beneath you, a rhythmic squeak-squeak-squeak that seemed deafening in the quiet apartment. You glanced nervously at the bedroom door, terrified that Sohyun would wake up and walk in.
"She wouldn't know," Xinyu whispered, catching your gaze. She saw the fear in your eyes and smirked, a look of pure, unadulterated lust. "Let her hear. Let her know what she's missing."
She tightened her walls around you, squeezing hard. The sensation ripped a groan from your throat.
"I'm getting close," you warned. "Xinyu, I can't hold it."
"Me too," she panted. "Come with me. Fill me up."
She reached down between her legs, her fingers finding her clit. She rubbed it frantically, her movements desperate and clumsy. The visual was almost enough to send you over the edge right there—this stunning, high-status debater, sweat-soaked and naked, riding your cock like her life depended on it.
"Come for me," you commanded, your voice rough.
She let out a scream, muffled by her biting down on her own lip. Her whole body seized up, her back arching into a perfect bow. You felt her pussy spasm around you, pulsing rhythmically, milking your cock.
That was it.
The dam broke. Your hips jerked upward, driving yourself deep inside her one last time. You exploded, your vision whiting out as you emptied yourself into her. You could feel the spurts of cum painting her insides, hot and thick. The release was intense, shattering, leaving you gasping for air.
Xinyu collapsed against you, her body limp and trembling. You held her close, your chests heaving together, your hearts racing in sync. The room smelled of sex—sweat, cum, and the metallic tang of adrenaline.
For a long time, neither of you spoke. You just listened to the sound of your breathing slowing down, returning to normal. The guilt began to creep back in, cold and insidious, but you pushed it away. For now, you just wanted to hold her.
Xinyu stirred, lifting her head to look at you. She was disheveled, her lips swollen, her eyes glassy. She looked beautiful.
"Okay?" you whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.
She smiled, a genuine, soft smile that reached her eyes. "Yeah. I'm okay."
She leaned in and kissed you, a soft, lingering kiss that was miles away from the desperate mashing of lips from earlier.
"We should get cleaned up," she murmured against your lips.
"Yeah," you agreed. "Before Sohyun wakes up."
Xinyu pulled back, a mischievous glint returning to her eyes. "Let her wonder," she said, climbing off your lap.
She stood up, your cum dripping down her inner thigh, gleaming in the moonlight. She didn't even try to hide it. She looked down at you, naked and vulnerable on the couch, and winked.
"Thanks for the rescue, hero," she whispered, grabbing her t-shirt from the floor.
She pulled it on, covering her body, but the image of her standing there, marked by you, was burned into your brain. As she turned and slipped silently back toward the bedroom, you knew that everything had changed.
You lay back on the couch, the ache in your ribs returning with a vengeance. But as you closed your eyes, you couldn't bring yourself to regret it. You were bruised, you were exhausted, and you were probably in deep trouble. But for the first time in your life, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.
(Xinyu X Tzuyu X Shuhua X Nien X Male Reader) Wordcount: 15045 words
(Author's note: Thanks for @jmuns-kpop and @azelfty for hosting this prompt. Because of amazing feedback from other writers and my own enjoyment while writing this, a second part will be guaranteed, even if it takes hal a year.)
You sit in the shaded audience hall of your seaside estate in Xiamen. The morning sun slants through carved wooden screens. Before you lies a low rosewood table covered in scrolls and bamboo slips. Tax reports from the newly settled villages around Tainan, manifests of rice and silk arriving from the harbor, petitions from local Fujianese merchants begging for lower duties on Taiwan goods. Your brush moves without a pause, marking approvals and corrections in black ink. The air smells of sandalwood incense and distant salt.
Outside the open doors, the training ground rings with disciplining shouts. Your Green Standard troops drill in neat squares, spears thrusting in unison, bows drawn and released with sharp twangs, officers barking corrections. The red-and-gold banner with your coiled dragon, wave, and crossed sword-anchor symbol snaps overhead in the sea breeze. You glance up now and then to watch the formations shift, satisfied with the crispness after months of Penghu blood and sweat.
A young servant boy - barely sixteen, one of the new household additions - bursts through the side door, sandals slapping against stone. He drops to his knees so quickly his forehead nearly kisses the floor.
“General!”
His voice cracks with haste.
“Lady Xinyu bids you come at once to her chambers. She says the matter is urgent and cannot wait.”
You set the brush down. The ink bead trembles on the tip, then falls. Urgent from Xinyu is never trivial. You rise, robe whispering against the mat.
The boy scrambles ahead. You stride through the middle courtyards, past lotus ponds where carp glide beneath lily pads, past the private theater where musicians sometimes play at dusk, then through the moon gate into the women’s quarters. The garden here is quieter, jasmine heavy in the air, silk lanterns swaying gently even though it is still daylight.
Xinyu’s pavilion stands at the center. It’s the largest and most ornate. Red-lacquered pillars, silk curtains the color of ripe persimmons, carved peonies climbing the screens. Already a small crowd has gathered on the stone path outside. Maids in plain blue ao stand with lowered eyes. Your chief steward hovers nearby, hands clasped behind his back. And then there are the three of them.
Tzuyu waits closest to the door. Her posture is perfect, hands folded inside wide pale blue sleeves. Her long hair is pinned with a single jade hairpin shaped like an orchid. The silk of her robe catches the light so it shimmers like water. She meets your gaze for only a heartbeat before looking down again. She looks elegant, composed, yet you know the quick pulse at her throat betrays her.
Shuhua stands a step behind, arms crossed loosely under her chest so the vibrant green silk pulls taut across her figure. A small smirk plays at the corner of her mouth, but her eyes are sharp and watchful. She has added a thin silver chain with a tiny shell pendant around her neck. Something she brought from the island.
Nien casually leans against a pillar, in soft peach silk, sleeves rolled to her elbows as though she was in the middle of some light chore when the summons came. She twirls a jasmine blossom between her fingers, but the playful tilt of her head does not hide the way her gaze flicks between you and the closed doors of Xinyu’s chamber.
The steward bows low as you approach.
“General.”
You nod once. The crowd parts. You push the curtain aside and step into Xinyu’s receiving room.
The space is warm, perfumed with aloeswood and a faint trace of medicinal herbs. Xinyu sits on the low platform bed, back straight despite the slight curve already visible beneath her loose rose-pink robe. Her hands rest in her lap with her fingers laced. She looks up at you and, for the first time in weeks, there is no carefully schooled calm on her face. Only quiet, radiant certainty. Behind you the three concubines enter in single file, silent, each taking a place along the wall. Tzuyu to your left, Shuhua to your right, Nien nearer the door. The maids withdraw, letting the heavy curtain fall.
Xinyu draws a slow breath.
“My lord, this morning the physician confirmed it. I carry your child.”
The words drop into the room like a stone into still water. You feel the shift in the air at once. The way Tzuyu’s breath catches, the way Shuhua’s smirk vanishes, the way Nien’s fingers still on the jasmine blossom until the petals bruise. Xinyu’s gaze moves past you to the three younger women. Her expression is gentle, almost kind, but there is steel beneath it.
“The household will rejoice.”
She continues softly.
“But the child will need brothers and sisters to strengthen our line. I trust my lord will see to that duty… in due time.”
She looks back at you, eyes shining.
The evening arrives with the slow fade of sunset over the harbor, turning the sea into molten gold. Lanterns are lit along every path and pavilion, their warm glow pushing back the creeping darkness. In the grand banquet hall, long tables are set with lacquered trays. Steamed abalone glistening in ginger soy, crisp-skinned duck glazed with honey, platters of fresh crab from the morning boats, bowls of fragrant rice studded with lotus seeds, and delicate sweets shaped like peaches, symbols of longevity and fertility.
You sit at the head of the main table, Xinyu to your immediate left. Her rose-pink robe has been changed for one of deeper crimson silk. The wide sleeves are embroidered with subtle phoenixes that rise as she gestures. She looks radiant, the faint curve of her belly hidden but somehow announced by the way she carries herself. To your right sit the three concubines in careful order: Tzuyu closest, then Shuhua, then Nien. Tzuyu’s pale blue silk falls in perfect folds, her movements careful. Shuhua’s vibrant green catches the lantern light every time she leans forward. Nien’s soft peach seems almost to glow against her skin. They sit with the practiced grace of women who know they are watched.
A handful of guests fill the other seats. Two wealthy Fujianese merchants who supply your ships, a minor magistrate from the nearby prefecture, and Lady Wei, the wife of a coastal garrison commander. She’s sharp eyed, silver haired, and already deep in conversation with Xinyu about midwives and auspicious birth dates.
The congratulations begin almost immediately. Cups are raised again and again.
“To the General and Lady Xinyu. May the child be strong, wise, and bring endless prosperity!”
Xinyu inclines her head with perfect modesty, accepting each toast with a small smile. The women cluster around her, asking about cravings (none yet, but she jokes about sudden desires for Taiwanese mangoes), sharing remedies, laughing softly over old birthing tales. For this evening, at least, the household orbits her.
Your own conversations pull in a different direction. The merchant across from you leans in, voice low beneath the music of the pipa and erhu players in the corner.
“General, the new trade route from Tainan is open, but the pirate remnants still lurk near Penghu. If we could station another squadron-”
You nod, swirling wine in your cup.
“I’ve already drafted the request to Admiral Shi Lang. Two more junks with swivel guns should suffice. The Emperor wants steady rice flowing north before winter.”
The magistrate chimes in about tax exemptions for settlers willing to farm the interior. You listen, respond, commit details to memory. Politics and business weave through every sip and every bite.
Then the musicians shift tempo. A livelier melody rises. Strings get plucked in quick, playful runs. Nien sets her chopsticks down. Without a word she stands, smooth as water, and steps into the open space between tables. No one seems surprised. In households like yours, especially after a victory feast or good news, a concubine dancing is not unusual. It is entertainment, a display of grace, a way to honor the host. Nien moves as though the music has simply pulled her in.
Her peach silk flutters as she turns, arms lifting in slow arcs, wrists flicking like willow branches in wind. She spins once, twice. The hem rises just enough to show the delicate curve of her calves, then sinks low, one knee bending, head tilting back so her dark hair spills like ink. The lanterns catch every motion, turning her into flickering light and shadow.
You glance at her again and again. Her form is elegant and fluid, unmistakably inviting. The way her hips sway, the intended pause when she extends a hand toward the musicians as if offering herself to the melody…it is artful and practiced, but tonight it feels personal. Her eyes find yours once, twice, three times. Each meeting lasts only a heartbeat, yet in that look there is no coyness. It is direct. Hungry. A silent question.
You look away, toward Xinyu. She watches Nien with calm amusement, one hand resting lightly on her belly. Lady Wei says something. Xinyu laughs softly, then replies. There is no tightness in her shoulders, no flicker of irritation. The pregnancy has shifted something fundamental. Xinyu is no longer merely first among equals. She is the mother of the heir, the uncontested center. The three foreign concubines, beautiful as they are, suddenly seem less threatening. Almost decorative. The dance ends to polite applause. Nien returns to her seat, cheeks faintly flushed, breathing a little quicker. She does not look at you again, but you feel the weight of her earlier gaze lingering.
The evening stretches. More dishes arrive. lotus root stir-fried with pork, clear broth with fish maw, and more wine is poured. Guests begin to excuse themselves one by one. Lady Wei departs with effusive promises to send her best midwife. The merchants bow and leave with assurances of loyalty. The magistrate lingers longest, finishing a quiet discussion about harbor patrols.
Xinyu rises at last, graceful despite the hour.
“My lord, I will retire. The child demands rest.”
You stand and offer your arm. She takes it briefly, presses your hand once, then slips away toward her pavilion, maids trailing like shadows.
The hall empties slowly. Servants clear trays. Musicians pack their instruments. Only the last merchant remains, the one who spoke of pirates earlier. You walk him to the outer doors, sealing the final details of tomorrow’s orders. He bows deeply and then vanishes into the night.
Silence falls over your estate. You turn left toward the moon gate that leads to the inner garden. Halfway down the shadowed corridor, you round the corner.
Shuhua stands there. She leans against a red-lacquered pillar, arms folded loosely under her chest, the green silk of her robe catching the faint lantern light from the garden beyond. Her chin lifts when she sees you. She doesn’t say anything at first, but her face is in conflict with herself. A mischievous smile tugs at the corner of her lips, but her eyes are full of determination.
Shuhua straightens from the pillar as you approach, her arms unfolding slowly. The moon light catches the silver shell pendant at her throat, making it twinkle a little.
“My lord, I dislike seeing you walk these corridors alone at night. Must be tiring, carrying the weight of the household on your shoulders.”
You stop a few paces away.
“It’s a familiar burden.”
She tilts her head, studying you.
“The banquet was long. Everyone fawning over Lady Xinyu and her precious news. You barely touched your wine.”
“I had business to attend.”
A small laugh escapes her.
“Always business.”
She pushes off the pillar and takes one step closer.
“Did you like Nien’s dance at least? She moves like she’s trying to remind everyone she exists.”
You don’t answer immediately. Shuhua’s eyes narrow, pleased by your silence.
“She’s sweet.”
You say at last.
“Sweet.”
Shuhua echoes, rolling the word like it tastes sour.
“How boring. You must be starving for something with bite.”
The air between you thickens. She closes the last distance, stopping so close you can smell the faint jasmine oil she favors. Something she brought from the island, stubborn and defiant against the mainland scents of the estate.
“Walk with me.”
Not a question.
She turns without waiting, green silk whispering as she moves down the moonlit path toward her pavilion. You follow. The garden is quiet. Only the distant lap of waves against the harbor and the occasional rustle of leaves break the silence. At her door she pauses, glancing back over her shoulder.
“You’re still here. Good boy.”
You raise an eyebrow at her attitude, but it’s not unfamiliar anymore.
Inside, the room is smaller than Xinyu’s but brighter. The lanterns hang low, casting warm pools of light across silk screens painted with crashing waves and distant islands. A low bed dominates the center, piled with embroidered cushions and a thin quilt the color of young bamboo.
Shuhua doesn’t hesitate. She turns, places both hands flat on your chest, and shoves. You fall back onto the bed, the mattress yielding under your weight. Before you can sit up she’s on you, straddling your hips, knees bracketing your thighs. Her robe parts at the front just enough to show the smooth line of her collarbone and the dip of her breasts beneath thin silk.
“You didn’t look at me all evening. Every time Nien spun, your eyes were on her. But you’re mine now.”
Her breath is warm against your skin. You slide your hands up her thighs, feeling the heat of her through the fabric. She shivers once, then presses harder into your lap.
“Not slow tonight. Never slow with me. You know that.”
She starts with kisses. Quick, hungry ones across your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. Then she finds your neck. Her teeth graze just enough to sting before she sucks a mark there. Her hips roll in a slow, heavy grind, pressing her heat against the growing hardness beneath your robes. Your hands move higher, cupping the firm curve of her ass through the thin silk. The fabric is slippery, barely a barrier. You squeeze. She gasps softly against your throat, then bites down again, sharper this time.
“Good. Touch me like you mean it.”
One hand leaves your neck. She reaches between your bodies, deft fingers working the ties of your trousers open. Cool air hits your skin for only a second before her palm wraps around your cock.
“Look at you.”
She whispers, lips still at your ear, voice dropping lower.
“Already so hard for your bratty little island princess. You pretend to be so composed in that hall, but here? Here you’re just a man who wants to fuck me raw.”
She continues to stroke your cock with slow, teasing up-and-downs, then squeezes at the base.
“Say it.”
Her demand is soft, almost sweet.
“Tell me you want this. Tell me you’re going to ruin me tonight while your perfect wife sleeps with your heir safe inside her.”
Her hips rock forward again, grinding her clothed heat along your length. The friction is maddening. You grip her ass harder, pulling her down so she feels every inch of your dick pressing up against her. Shuhua laughs and leans in to kiss you properly this time, all teeth and hunger, no gentleness at all.
You flip her, rolling so Shuhua is suddenly beneath you. Her back hits the quilt with a soft thud. Her green silk robe fans out around her like a bed of grass, dark hair spilling across the embroidered cushions. She gasps once, surprised by your switch, then immediately tries to mask it with that familiar smirk. You brace yourself on one forearm beside her head, caging her in. Your free hand pins her wrists above her head.
“You’re being unusually annoying tonight.”
Shuhua blinks up at you, eyes wide and innocent for half a heartbeat before the mask cracks. She flutters her lashes.
“Me? Annyoing? I don’t know what you mean, my lord. I’m just… keeping you company after such a long day.”
You don’t smile. You don’t need to. You can see the calculation behind her wide-eyed act, the way her thighs shift restlessly beneath you. You don’t particularly care about the quiet tension that simmers between her and Xinyu. Petty jealousies, veiled barbs in the garden, the way the three concubines sometimes glance at your wife like she’s stolen something they never quite had. As long as they keep it away from you, let them claw at each other all they want. But tonight? Tonight she didn’t even give you the chance to choose whose pavilion you’d visit. She ambushed you in the corridor, dragged you here without a word of invitation or permission. You can put two and two together.
You lean closer, lips brushing the shell of her ear.
“I don’t care what games you play with Xinyu. But when it comes to me? Be a good woman. Look pretty. Stay quiet.”
Shuhua’s breath hitches. Then she laughs, clearly defiant, the sound vibrating against your chest.
“Quiet?”
She whispers back.
“That’s no fun. That’s what Tzuyu does. You like it when I talk back. Admit it.”
You don’t answer with words. Instead, you shift your weight, turning her over so she’s on her stomach beneath you. She lets out a startled huff, palms pressing into the quilt as she tries to push up. You plant a hand between her shoulder blades, applying pressure. Your other hand finds the hem of her robe. You drag it up, bunching the silk at her waist until her lower half is completely bare to the lamplight. The curve of her ass, the smooth dip of her spine, the faint sheen of arousal already glistening between her thighs…it’s all exposed. You settle behind her, knees bracketing her hips. Your cock, still hard from her earlier teasing, nudges against her entrance. You lean down, chest pressing along her back, mouth at her ear again.
“The only thing you need to know tonight is how to take my cock.”
Shuhua opens her mouth, probably to fire off another bratty retort. But you don’t give her the chance. You push in with one steady thrust. She chokes on whatever words were coming, body arching sharply beneath you. A raw, broken sound escapes her - half moan, half gasp - as you sink deep, stretching her open in one go. Her walls clench wildly around your length, hot and slick and greedy despite her earlier bravado. You don’t pause. You pull back almost to the tip, then drive in again, harder this time, hips snapping forward. The wet slap of skin on skin fills the pavilion, louder than the distant waves outside. Shuhua’s fingers claw at the quilt. Her cheek presses into the cushion, mouth open, breaths coming in short, ragged bursts. Every thrust rocks her forward, every withdrawal drags a whimper from her throat. You keep the rhythm steady, just like she would if she were on top: deep, punishing, no gentleness. One hand slides up to grip her hip, holding her exactly where you want her. The other tangles in her hair so she can’t hide her face. She tries to speak again, but it dissolves into a moan when you angle your hips and hit that spot inside her that makes her whole body tremble. You lean down once more, lips grazing the nape of her neck.
“Quiet.”
You remind her.
“Pretty and quiet.”
She shudders beneath you, walls clenching hard around your cock. But she doesn’t talk back. At least not yet.
You keep the rhythm harsh, each thrust slamming deep, hips colliding with the soft curve of her ass in sharp, punishing slaps that echo through the small pavilion. The bed frame creaks under the force. The quilt bunches beneath her fists. Shuhua’s earlier pretense of quiet vanishes entirely. Instead, she moans. Loud, unrestrained, throatier than you’ve ever heard from her. The sounds spill out raw, carrying through the thin silk screens and into the garden beyond.
She wants the whole estate to hear. Every cry is pitched just right, high enough to pierce the night, drawn out enough to linger. It’s not pleasure alone, it’s performance. A declaration.
“This is me. This is who he’s choosing tonight. This could be the one who carries his next child.”
Your hand shoots forward, clamping over her mouth. Your palm seals tight against her lips, fingers pressing her cheek into the cushion.
“Quiet.”
Shuhua’s eyes flash. She doesn’t obey. Instead, she bites down hard enough to sting, teeth sinking into the meat of your palm. You hiss through your teeth but don’t pull away. She twists her head just enough to speak around your fingers, voice muffled but dripping with bratty triumph.
“Mmph-make me.”
She manages, the words fractured by another loud, broken moan as you drive in particularly deep.
That’s enough. You decide she doesn’t get to keep that smug little voice tonight. You pull your hand free only to slide it down, fingers wrapping around the slender column of her throat. Not choking…yet. Just firm enough to feel her pulse hammering against your palm. You give a light squeeze, then another, timing them with your thrusts. Each press makes her cough, short, startled gasps that cut off her moans mid-note. Her walls spasm around your cock in response, slick and clenching like she can’t decide whether to fight or surrender.
You pound harder. Relentless. No pause, no mercy. The wet slap of skin on skin grows louder and faster. Your hips snap forward with bruising force, burying yourself to the hilt every time, grinding against her cervix until her whole body jolts. Shuhua’s moans fracture completely, reduced to choked whimpers, then to breathless little ah-ah-ah sounds that can’t quite form words anymore. Her nails rake the quilt. Her back arches sharply, trying to take you deeper even as her lungs fight for air. You feel the heat coiling low in your gut, the telltale tightening. Your rhythm stutters for half a second as you chase the edge. Shuhua feels it too. Her body knows exactly what’s coming. She tries to speak again, voice wrecked and trembling, forcing innocence into the words even as her hips push back desperately against you.
“Please… fill me.”
She whispers, soft and sweet like she’s begging for a favor.
“Inside… please, my lord…”
You see straight through it. The wide eyes, the trembling lower lip, the way she clenches around you like she’s trying to milk you dry...She wants your seed. Wants the chance to swell like Xinyu, to claim the one thing your wife already has secured. After tonight’s attitude - the corridor ambush, the loud moans meant to taunt the entire household - you’re not in the mood to reward her.
No. When the pressure builds to breaking, you pull out quickly enough. Shuhua lets out a sharp, disappointed whine, cut short as you stroke yourself twice and spill across her ass. Thick ropes of cum paint her skin in hot streaks, dripping down the curve of her cheeks and pooling in the small of her back. She trembles beneath you, thighs shaking, breath ragged.
You release her throat. She coughs once, twice, then goes still.
For a long moment there’s only the sound of both of you breathing. Shuhua doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Her face is half-buried in the cushion, hair tangled, cheeks flushed dark. The disappointment is plain in the way her shoulders slump, the way her hips twitch once like she’s still hoping you’ll push back in. But she doesn’t dare say it. She doesn’t dare ask why you didn’t finish inside her. She just lies there - marked, used, unsatisfied - while the night outside stays quiet, as if the rest of the estate never heard a thing.
Eight days later, the morning sun filters softly through the carved wooden screens of the garden pavilion. The air carries the fresh scent of sea breeze mixed with jasmine from the nearby bushes. Servants move quietly, setting out steaming bowls of congee topped with pickled vegetables, fresh steamed buns, salted fish, and fragrant tea brewed with Taiwanese herbs. Xinyu is absent this morning. A maid quietly mentioned that the lady woke with mild nausea and chose to rest in her chambers. No one questions it. Pregnancy has its demands.
You sit at the head of the low table. To your right, in their usual order: Tzuyu closest, then Shuhua, then Nien. All three wear light morning robes.
The conversation flows easily, as it always does at these meals. Nien chatters about a new shipment of mangoes that arrived from the island yesterday.
“They’re so sweet this season, my lord. Much better than the ones we get here in Xiamen.”
Shuhua laughs and teases her gently.
“You say that every time a ship docks. One would think you’ve never tasted mainland fruit before.”
Tzuyu adds a soft comment about the weather and how the garden lotus flowers are beginning to bloom. She serves you a perfectly steamed bun with her usual grace, placing it on your plate without drawing attention to herself.
You eat steadily, nodding at their words, but your mind keeps drifting back to last night.
Tzuyu’s pavilion. The way her long legs wrapped around you, her quiet gasps turning into soft cries as you filled her twice. Two creampies that left her belly slightly swollen with your seed by the time you left her bed. The memory is still vivid: her elegant face flushed, eyes half-lidded with satisfaction, whispering your title like a prayer while her body trembled around you.
You glance at her now. Tzuyu catches your eye for a brief moment, a faint blush coloring her cheeks before she looks down at her bowl. You wonder silently what would happen if Xinyu gives birth to a daughter… while Tzuyu, after last night, carries your son. The first male heir coming from one of the Taiwanese concubines instead of the principal wife. The shift in power, the whispers among the servants, the way the household balance would tilt…You picture Xinyu’s face. That carefully controlled expression cracking into agitation and quiet fury. The drama that would ripple through the inner quarters, the three girls suddenly competing even harder. The thought amuses you. A low chuckle escapes your lips before you can stop it.
At that exact moment, Shuhua is in the middle of telling a light, exaggerated story about one of the kitchen maids mistaking a crab for a sea monster during yesterday’s market trip. Her delivery is sharp and funny, the timing perfect. Everyone at the table turns toward you, assuming your laugh was for Shuhua’s tale.
Nien giggles.
“See? Even the General finds it amusing!”
Tzuyu smiles softly, though her eyes flicker with a hint of curiosity. Shuhua’s back straightens instantly. Her shoulders square with visible triumph, a small, satisfied smirk tugging at her lips. She usually doesn’t get open favor when all three of you are together. You keep things balanced to prevent open jealousy. But this morning, that chuckle lands squarely on her. She sits a little taller, her emerald robe shifting as she leans forward just enough to emphasize her figure.
“Thank you, my lord. I’m glad my silly story could brighten the morning.”
You don’t correct them. Instead, you take another sip of tea. Shuhua’s eyes sparkle with quiet victory, while Tzuyu lowers her gaze again, fingers tightening slightly around her chopsticks. Nien watches the exchange with open curiosity, popping a piece of fruit into her mouth. Conversation picks up once more around the table. You glance at Tzuyu one more time. She meets your eyes again, before looking away. The breakfast continues with the gentle clinking of porcelain. Nien is now telling a lively story about a mischievous monkey she once saw near the harbor in Tainan as a child, while Shuhua occasionally interjects with teasing remarks. Tzuyu eats quietly.
You set down your chopsticks and reach for the tray of letters next to you which is holding several folded papers sealed with wax or tied with silk threads. You take the tray and begin sorting through them one by one while the girls continue eating and talking around you. The first is a routine report from one of your merchants in Fuzhou: dull matters of silk prices and shipping delays. You scan it quickly and set it aside. The second is a polite note from the local magistrate, thanking you for the recent favor regarding harbor patrols. Nothing urgent. You unfold the third letter. The paper is fine, the handwriting elegant and careful. The seal belongs to a respected Han family from the Tainan region. Tzuyu’s parents, a merchant-official clan that had aligned itself with the Qing after the conquest. They address you with the proper respect due to a victorious general.
“Honored General,
We are overjoyed to hear of the great blessing that has been granted to your household - a child on the way. May Heaven continue to smile upon you and grant your line strength and prosperity for generations.”
“News travels fast.”
You murmur with an amused scoff. The three concubines glance up at you almost simultaneously. Tzuyu’s chopsticks pause mid-air. She must recognize her family’s seal Shuhua’s eyes narrow with interest. Nien tilts her head.
You continue reading. The tone shifts from polite congratulations to something more direct, as expected from ambitious parents who see their daughter as a bridge to greater favor.
“We humbly pray that you will also bestow the same blessing upon our daughter Tzuyu. She is dutiful, graceful, and eager to serve you fully. A son from her would bring even greater glory to your household and secure the bonds between our families. We entrust her completely to your wisdom and care.”
You lower the letter. Your eyes lift and meet Tzuyu’s across the table. She is watching you now, a faint flush creeping up her neck, probably able to guess what the letter of her parents includes. You remember last night vividly: the way she clung to you, the two thick loads you pumped deep inside her, her quiet moans as her body accepted every drop. The thought flickers through your mind again: what if Xinyu bears only a daughter… while Tzuyu is already carrying your son from last night? The potential drama makes the corner of your mouth twitch.
You set the letter down without further comment and pick up the fourth one. This one carries the official seal of Admiral Shi Lang’s command. The handwriting is brisk. You unfold it and scan the contents. It is an order.
“General,
Pirate remnants loyal to the old Zheng cause have grown bold again near Penghu and the southern Taiwan coast. They have raided three merchant junks in the past month and threaten the new settlement routes. You are commanded to take your squadron of ships and two hundred Green Standard troops to suppress these bandits. Depart within ten days. Stabilize the sea lanes and ensure safe passage for imperial trade.”
You read the key lines in silence, then fold the letter neatly and place it on the tray. You take another sip of tea, mind already turning to preparations. Ships to ready, troops to muster, supplies to organize. A campaign of several weeks, perhaps two or three months if the pirates prove slippery.
The morning sun climbs higher as breakfast ends. You leave the garden pavilion with the weight of the military order already pressing on your mind. Preparations for the campaign will take most of your upcoming days.
A few hours later, in a shaded pavilion overlooking the lotus pond, Xinyu sits across from Lady Wei, the wife of the coastal garrison commander who had attended the dinner the night she announced her pregnancy. They play a quiet game of Weiqi on a low rosewood board. Xinyu moves a white stone with elegant precision.
“Your defense is as sharp as ever, Lady Wei.”
The older woman chuckles, placing a black stone to surround a small group.
“One must stay vigilant, especially when new life is growing. How are you feeling this morning? The nausea has passed?”
“A little better. The physician says it is normal in the early months.”
Lady Wei nods knowingly, then adds with a light smile:
“A strong son will make all the discomfort worthwhile. The household will feel more secure once the heir is born.”
Xinyu’s fingers pause over the next stone. The word “son” lingers in the air. She had said the same thing to you many times. She is certain it is a boy. Yet the comment makes her think. She knows you have been spending your nights with the three Taiwanese concubines ever since the pregnancy was confirmed. It is expected, of course. A man of your status cannot be left wanting, and she herself had told you to seek siblings for the child. Still, the reality stings more than she cares to admit. Every morning she notices the faint marks on your neck, the way the girls glance at you with fresh satisfaction. What if one of them is already carrying? What if she gives you only a daughter while one of those island girls produces a son? Her position as principal wife is secure in name, but influence in the household is something else entirely. As the game continues, Xinyu turns the stones over in her mind. She should actively support one of the concubines in front of you. Better to guide the choice than let the competition spiral out of control. Tzuyu is quiet and reserved, but Xinyu suspects it might be a clever front. The girl could be far more calculating than she appears. Shuhua is too wild, too unpredictable. Her sharp tongue and bold nature would make her dangerous if she gained real power. Nien, though… Nien seems the safest. Cute, playful, loveable. She doesn’t scheme openly for status or influence. She simply enjoys attention and seems content with whatever affection she receives. A son from Nien would be easy to manage.
Just as Xinyu settles on that thought, she glances toward the main path and sees you walking toward the outer gates, already dressed for the day’s duties. Dark robe with a military sash, boots ready for the harbor. She excuses herself gracefully.
“Please continue without me for a moment, Lady Wei. I must speak with my husband before he leaves.”
Xinyu rises and walks over to you with slow steps, her crimson robe flowing around her still modest belly. You stop when you see her.
“Xinyu. Are you feeling better this morning?”
She smiles softly, placing a hand lightly over her abdomen.
“Much better, my lord. The boy is behaving himself today.”
You nod, eyes flicking to her hand.
“Good. Take care of yourself…and him.”
Xinyu hesitates only a moment, then speaks with careful subtlety.
“The girls have been attentive lately. Especially Nien. She has such a gentle, cheerful way about her. It brightens the household.”
You acknowledge the comment with a small hum, already thinking about the campaign preparations. Xinyu continues, making it a touch more obvious.
“She would make a fine companion for your nights while I rest. Playful and easy to please. I think you would enjoy her company more often.”
You raise an eyebrow, finally catching the suggestion.
“Nien?”
Xinyu meets your gaze.
“Yes. She seems the least likely to cause unnecessary trouble. A good choice for now.”
You study her for a beat, then nod once.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
She smiles again, satisfied that the seed has been planted.
“Go safely with your preparations today. The household will be waiting for your return.”
You bid her farewell and continue toward the gates. Once you are out of sight, Xinyu stands still for a moment, then turns to a waiting maid. She knows your weaknesses well. You can be firm with troops and merchants, but when it comes to the four women in your life, you sometimes let things flow too easily without seeing the undercurrents.
“Call for Nien. Tell her I have a small errand for her in the Xiamen market. She should fetch some fresh Taiwanese mangoes and herbs for my tea. Make sure she leaves soon.”
The maid bows and hurries off.
The midday sun beats down on the bustling Xiamen docks, turning the sea into a glittering expanse of blue. You stand on the raised deck of one of your junks, overseeing the final preparations for the upcoming campaign. Sailors and soldiers swarm the ships, loading barrels of fresh water, crates of dried provisions, bundles of arrows, and extra matchlock muskets. Officers shout orders while carpenters hammer reinforcements onto the hulls. The air smells of salt, tar, fish, and sweat.
You gesture to one of your lieutenants, pointing at a list on a bamboo scroll.
“Double the rice stores. We may be out for two months if the pirates scatter into the smaller islands.”
While the man nods and hurries off, your eyes drift across the crowded waterfront market that sprawls along the docks. Merchants hawk goods straight from newly arrived ships: bolts of silk, crates of tea, Taiwanese fruits, and baskets of wriggling seafood. Fishermen call out their morning catches, their voices blending into the lively chaos.
Then you spot her. Nien moves through the crowd with a small group of maids trailing behind. She wears a simple but pretty peach-colored robe suitable for an outing with subtle floral embroidery that catches the sunlight. Her dark hair is loosely pinned with a few fresh flowers, and her face glows with genuine delight as she examines a stand piled high with ripe mangoes and exotic herbs. She laughs at something one of the maids says, her smile bright and carefree, completely at ease in the noisy market.
You watch her for a moment from your higher vantage point. She looks beautiful, youthful, playful, radiating that innocent charm that always seems to lighten the mood. For a few heartbeats you simply enjoy the sight, the way she tilts her head, the gentle sway of her robe as she reaches for a piece of fruit. Then you remember Xinyu’s words from earlier.
“…Nien. She seems the least likely to cause unnecessary trouble. A good choice for now.”
You hesitate, fingers tightening around the railing. It is broad daylight. You are in the middle of important preparations. Usually, you do not ask for such things so directly, especially not outside the privacy of the estate. And Nien… she is always so bright and cheerful, almost too pure for the kind of raw hunger stirring in you right now. Taking her in some semi-private corner of the market feels almost sinful. Like treating her like a common dockside whore instead of one of your cherished concubines. But the order to depart in ten days hangs over you. The campaign will keep you away for weeks, maybe months. And Xinyu herself planted the suggestion.
You descend the gangplank and stride into the crowded market, your military sash and commanding presence causing people to part instinctively. Merchants bow quickly as you pass. Your eyes stay fixed on Nien. She is standing at a merchant’s stall, happily bargaining over a bundle of fresh Taiwanese herbs when you approach from behind. One of her maids notices you first and quickly bows. Nien turns, and her face lights up with a bright, surprised smile.
“My lord! A wonderful coincidence!”
You nod, suddenly unsure how to steer the conversation. The usual elegance of the inner quarters feels far away in this noisy, public place. Nien tilts her head, still smiling that sunny, innocent smile.
“The mangoes are especially sweet today. Would you like me to pick some for the journey?”
You look at her. At the way her eyes sparkle, the soft curve of her lips, the way her robe clings lightly to her figure in the sea breeze. Xinyu’s suggestion echoes again in your ear. For a moment the contrast hits you hard. She looks so cheerful and lovable standing here among the common people. It almost feels wrong to pull her away for something so base in the middle of the day.
Yet the hunger wins. You step closer, voice dropping so only she can hear.
“Nien… come with me for a moment.”
She blinks, still smiling, though a flicker of curiosity enters her eyes.
“Of course, my lord. Where to?”
You glance around quickly. The market is crowded, but you know this waterfront well. There is a large merchant warehouse belonging to one of your loyal suppliers just a short walk away. The upper floor has private rooms used for business negotiations, and the owner would never dare question your presence.
You gesture subtly in that direction.
“Follow me. Quietly.”
Nien hands the bundle of herbs to one of her maids with a quick instruction to continue shopping, then falls into step beside you. As you lead her through the crowd toward the warehouse, the sinful contrast lingers in your mind. She chatters lightly about the market finds, completely unaware of what you have in mind, while you feel the growing heat of anticipation. The warehouse door looms ahead. A quick word to the guard at the entrance, and he bows, clearing the way without a single question. The heavy warehouse door slides shut behind you with a solid thud, cutting off the noisy clamor of the market and the sharp smell of fish and salt air. In the sudden quiet, the only thing left is Nien. Her soft, feminine scent hits you immediately. Warm skin, faint jasmine from her hair, and that sweet, light perfume she always wears, mixed with the faint tropical sweetness of the mangoes she had been handling. It floods your senses and triggers a rush of memories. Her giggles in the dark, the way her body arches so willingly beneath you, the soft little sounds she makes when you’re gentle with her.
Your lust surges hard and fast, climbing with every step you take deeper into the dim corridor. You never make it to the private room upstairs. Two steps in, you lightly shove her against a tall stack of wooden crates and barrels. Nien’s back meets the wood with a soft gasp. Her eyes widen in surprise. The playful sparkle is replaced by genuine shock.
“My lord…?”
She stutters, voice small.
“Are you alright?”
You don’t answer with words at first. Your mouth is already on her neck, lips pressing hot against that sensitive spot just below her ear. The one you know makes her knees weak. You kiss, then suck gently, tasting her skin. Nien melts instantly. A shaky breath escapes her. Her hands come up to clutch at your robe, but she still tries to hold onto some dignity.
“W-wait… my lord.”
She whispers, voice trembling even as her head tilts to give you better access.
“Shouldn’t we… go somewhere more private? My chambers… or at least upstairs…”
“I can’t wait another second.”
One hand already roams over her body through the thin peach silk. You cup her breast, squeeze her waist, slide down to grip her hip.
“I’m sorry, Nien. I hate doing this to you like this… like you’re some commoner’s whore in the middle of the docks.”
Nien gasps sharply at your words, her body shivering against yours. Then, to your surprise, a tiny, cute laugh bubbles out of her. Nervous but genuine. She pulls back just enough to look up at you, cheeks flushed pink.
“Do you… want me to act the part?”
You blink, stepping back half a pace in surprise. Nien lets out another soft laugh, shy but playful, covering her mouth with her fingers for a moment.
“I love how careful and loving you always are with me.”
She admits quietly.
“It makes me feel special. But… whenever I hear Shuhua moaning so loudly through the estate, or when I walk past Xinyu’s chambers and hear her begging for more… I can’t help but wonder how it feels to be treated rough sometimes.”
You stare at her, caught off guard by the confession.
“I only treat you this way because of how you look and act. You’re always so cheerful and loving… like a beautiful flower that should be handled gently. Shuhua is just exaggerating when she-”
Nien shakes her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips.
“You really don’t believe the three of us talk about these things? Shuhua brags about it all the time.”
She closes the small distance you created, stepping right up to you again. Her small hands reach down and slowly start undoing the ties of your pants, fingers deft and steady despite the blush on her cheeks.
“You can treat me however you want, my lord. Even if that means I’m just an object for you to release your lust into. I’d… appreciate being treated like that from time to time as well.”
Her fingers finish loosening your pants and slip inside, wrapping gently around your already hard cock. The innocent, cheerful Nien is still there in her bright smile, but now there’s a new spark of curiosity and desire in her gaze. A quiet invitation to be rougher, dirtier, to use her the way you use Shuhua.
“So… what will you do with me, my lord?”
She asks sweetly, almost innocently, while her hand works your length.
“Here, against the crates… like I’m just your little dockside toy?”
The contrast between her cute voice and the filthy offer makes your blood burn even hotter. Your hands tighten on her waist, the raw need from moments ago now completely unleashed. You spin Nien around without warning and shove her forward against the stack of wooden crates. You’re careful not to be too rough at first, just enough force to pin her in place, her palms flattening against the rough wood as she braces herself. Nien lets out a sharp little gasp, her body jolting. A moment later she pushes her ass back against you instinctively, grinding softly, silently asking for more. Your hands roam over her body from behind, sliding up her waist, cupping her breasts through the thin peach silk, then moving down to grip her hips again.
She tries to speak. Her voice is a little awkward as she attempts something filthy.
“I… I’m your little… dockside toy now.”
She stammers a little, the words sounding almost cute despite her effort.
“Use me… however you want…”
You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips.
“You don’t have to try so hard.”
You murmur against her ear, one hand already pushing her robe up. You bunch the silk around her waist until her lower body is completely exposed. Nien whimpers softly.
“I’m sorry… I’ll learn. I want to pleasure you as good as I can. I really do.”
You line yourself up and push into her in one thrust. Her pussy is soaked. She’s hot, slick, and surprisingly tight around your cock. Nien moans immediately, a sweet, surprised sound that echoes softly in the dim corridor.
“Oh… my lord…”
She pushes back against you again. You start fucking her from behind, slow and deep at first, letting her adjust. But the hunger from earlier is too strong. You gradually lean into it, picking up speed, pounding harder with each thrust. The wet slap of skin against skin fills the narrow space between the crates. Nien does her best to keep up. Her hands grip the edge of the crate stack tightly, knuckles whitening. She’s never taken you this roughly before, and it shows. Her body trembles as she tries to get used to the intensity. Still, she keeps trying to talk, her voice breaking with every hard snap of your hips.
“You… ah!… you feel so big like this…H-hurry… before anyone sees us…”
There’s no real worry in her tone. If anything, the idea of getting caught seems to excite her. Her pussy clenches tighter around you with every teasing word, and her moans grow a little louder, a little sweeter. You grip her hips harder and thrust deeper, the pace turning rougher. Nien’s legs shake. She bites her lip, trying to stifle another moan, but it slips out anyway.
“I… I can take it…Please… don’t hold back… I want to be good for you…”
Her walls spasm around your cock as you pound into her, the contrast between her usual bright, cheerful self and the way she’s bent over crates in a warehouse only making you fuck her harder. Nien’s breathing turns ragged. She’s clearly still adjusting to the rough treatment, but she’s doing everything she can to please you, pushing her ass back to meet your thrusts, moaning softly with every deep stroke, even trying to keep up her awkward dirty talk between gasps.
You grip Nien harder and start fucking her with real roughness. Your hips snap forward with sharp, punishing thrusts, driving deep into her soaked pussy again and again. The wooden crates creak under the force. One of your hands slides up her back, tangles roughly in her dark hair, and tugs her head back. Several of the pretty flowers she had pinned in earlier tumble to the dusty floor.
“Ahh-!”
A loud, broken moan rips out of her, much louder than before. Her body jolts with every hard thrust, but instead of tensing up, she starts pushing back to meet you, her hips rolling greedily. The awkwardness from moments ago has completely vanished. Now her words spill out naturally, filthy and eager, each one making your cock throb harder inside her.
“Yes-! Fuck me harder, my lord…! Use your little dockside whore… I don’t care if someone walks in right now-I’ll still take every inch of your cock!”
You pound into her faster, the wet sounds of her pussy echoing in the narrow corridor. Nien keeps going, her voice growing bolder with every thrust.
“Take my sweetness away… ruin me…! Fuck the cheerfulness out of your cute little flower… Make me your dirty toy every single day… Please-use me like this whenever you want… I’ll spread my legs for you anywhere!”
You’re genuinely surprised by how loud she’s getting…and how much she’s talking. Shuhua has always been the loudest by far while Tzuyu is the quietest, usually only soft gasps and whispered pleas. Xinyu and Nien normally fall somewhere in the middle, depending on their mood. But right now? Nien has clearly surpassed Xinyu. Her moans are high, sweet, and shameless, filling the warehouse corridor without restraint. If she keeps this up, she might even challenge Shuhua for the top spot. The thought sends another surge of heat through you. You yank her hair a little harder, slamming into her with deep strokes. Nien’s legs shake violently, but she doesn’t try to quiet down. Instead, she cries out even louder.
“Harder-! Please, my lord… I can take it… I want you to break me… Fill me up right here where anyone could see… I don’t care-just use me!”
Her pussy clenches rhythmically around your cock, slick and hot, clearly loving the rough treatment. Every dirty word that leaves her mouth turns you on more, the contrast between her usual bright, innocent personality and the filthy things she’s begging for right now driving you wild. Nien’s voice cracks into another loud moan as you pound her without mercy.
“Do you like hearing your sweet Nien talk like this…? I’ll be louder for you… I’ll scream if you want… Just don’t stop-!”
You can feel her getting closer, her walls clenching around you with every rough thrust. Her cheerful, lovable demeanor has cracked wide open, revealing a hungry, surprisingly vocal side you never expected. She’s still pushing back against you desperately, flowers scattered on the floor around her feet, robe bunched uselessly at her waist, moaning and babbling dirty promises without any shame left.
But the rough pace suddenly changes the moment Nien reaches her peak. Her walls clamp down hard around your cock, fluttering and pulsing in strong, irregular waves. A loud, trembling moan tears from her throat. Then it softens, breaking apart into the familiar sweet sighs and delicate gasps you’re used to hearing from her.
“Ah… ahh… my lord…”
She whimpers, voice turning small and breathy again. For a few heartbeats she sounds exactly like the same old Nien - cute, sweet, almost innocent - as if the filthy words from moments ago had never left her lips. Your body reacts on instinct. You slow down immediately, thrusts turning gentler, almost protective. Something inside you refuses to keep pounding such a sweet, soft girl against dirty crates in a random warehouse. Your hips roll slowly, carefully, letting her ride out the aftershocks while you stay buried deep inside her.
Nien’s breathing gradually steadies. Her head rests against the wooden crate, eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed a pretty pink. Then, to your surprise, her soft voice returns. Still gentle, still sweet, but now carrying a new, shy request.
“…Please… give me your cum. I want it inside… Fill me up, my lord…”
You blink, caught off guard. Nien has never asked for your seed like this before. The words sound almost too filthy coming from her usual bright, cheerful tone. You wonder if she picked that up from listening to Shuhua’s loud bragging sessions through the walls. You aren’t pounding her anymore, just slow, gentle thrusts, keeping her full while you process the contrast. Her innocent voice begging for something so dirty makes your head spin even harder than the rough fucking did.
“I want to feel it… deep inside me… Please cum for me…”
That sweet, lovable tone combined with her filthy plea finally pushes you over the edge. Your orgasm hits hard. You groan low against her neck and spill deep into her waiting pussy, thick ropes of cum flooding her warmth. Nien gasps and moans sweetly as she feels every pulse, her walls shaking again around you as if trying to milk out every drop.
“Thank you…Thank you for using me…”
Your lust slowly drains away, leaving your body heavy. You slump forward slightly, pressing her gently between your chest and the stack of crates. She’s trapped there, unable to move, your cock still buried inside her cum-filled cunt as it slowly softens.
For a long moment neither of you speaks. Then Nien lets out a shy little laugh.
“I… I enjoyed that very much. I don’t want to ask you to be so rough with me all the time… but whenever you’re in the mood for it… you can have me like this. Anytime.”
You lean down and press a soft kiss to her naked shoulder. The robe had slipped down earlier when you were tugging at it. Her skin is warm and slightly damp with sweat. Your eyes drift to the floor. A few scattered flowers lie among the dust. You make a mental note to buy her new ones on the way back to the estate later today. Her favorites.
You stay locked together like that for a while longer, your body shielding hers, cock still nestled inside her. Then Nien’s usual bright energy slowly returns. Even with you still buried deep inside her, her mind seems to drift far away from sex. She starts chattering again in that cheerful, playful voice you know so well.
“After you come back from your duties today… do you think we could play a game together? Maybe Weiqi in the garden pavilion? Or that new card game the merchants brought from the south? I’ve been practicing!”
You can tell she’s genuinely excited. Not about more sex, but simply about spending time with you. Her tone is light and happy, as if the intense moment against the crates had already become a fond memory rather than the main focus. You smile against her shoulder.
“I’ll make sure I have some time before dinner.”
Nien lets out a delighted little hum, her body relaxing even more against you.
A month has passed. The campaign against the pirate remnants has been grueling. Weeks of chasing shadows across the Taiwan Strait, stormy seas, and tense night raids on hidden coves near Penghu. Your squadron has sunk three pirate junks and scattered the rest, but the work is far from over.
Three days ago, while your ships were resupplying at a small harbor on the western coast of Taiwan, a messenger arrived from Nien’s family. Somehow, they had learned of your presence and extended a formal invitation. You and a small retinue were welcome to stay at their modest but respectable estate near Tainan for the remainder of the campaign. It would give your men safer anchorage and better provisions while you coordinated with local Qing officials. You hesitated for several reasons. Staying with the family of one of your concubines carried political weight. It could be seen as favoritism. It might also encourage the very competition you preferred to keep balanced. But refusing the offer outright would have been a grave insult to a family that had already lost much influence after the conquest. So, you accepted with measured gratitude.
Now you stand in the guest quarters of their estate, quickly cleaning yourself after another long week at sea. Servants bring fresh hot water and clean robes. You wash the salt from your skin, change into a simple but dignified dark silk robe, and make your way to the main hall for dinner. The hall is warmly lit with lanterns and candles. A long lacquered table is set with an impressive spread of fresh seafood, braised pork, fragrant rice, pickled vegetables, and delicate soups. Nien’s father, a scholarly looking man in his late forties named Master Lin, rises to greet you with a deep, respectful bow. His wife, Madam Lin, stands beside him, elegant in a muted green robe, her expression warm.
“General.”
Master Lin gestures for you to take the seat of honor.
“We are deeply honored by your presence. Please, make yourself comfortable. This humble home is yours for as long as you need it.”
You bow slightly in return and take your seat.
“I must thank you again for your generous hospitality. Your offer has made the campaign far more bearable. My men and I are grateful.”
Master Lin is tactful and measured as the meal begins. He speaks of the weather, the recent trade routes, and the stability the Qing has brought to the region. He never directly mentions Nien or any expectations. Yet you can read between the lines. This invitation is strategic. By hosting you, he strengthens his family’s ties to a powerful general and hopes his daughter will rise in your household. Still, he remains polite and respectful.
His wife is different. Madam Lin smiles sweetly as she serves you a choice piece of fish.
“Our Nien has always been such a bright and loving child.”
Her eyes flicker toward you.
“She brings such joy wherever she goes. We pray every day that she continues to bring that same joy… and perhaps even greater blessings… to your esteemed household.”
The hint is gentle but unmistakable. She doesn’t say the words “get her pregnant,” but the meaning is clear. They hope Nien will soon follow Xinyu’s example and give you another child…ideally a son.
You nod politely, murmuring thanks, but inside you feel the weight of the conversation. Eating with Nien’s parents is proving almost as exhausting as fighting pirates. Every smile, every carefully worded comment feels like navigating hidden reefs. As Madam Lin continues praising Nien’s sweetness, her gentle nature, and her “pure heart,” your mind drifts unavoidably to memories that make you feel strangely guilty. The warehouse a month ago. Nien bent over those crates, moaning filthily while you fucked her raw in broad daylight. The way she begged you to ruin her sweetness, to use her like a toy. The flowers scattered on the dirty floor.
And then the night just two days before your departure from Xiamen…You had gone to her chambers expecting another gentle, sweet night. At first it was exactly that - soft kisses, her bright laughter, her body warm and welcoming beneath you. But then, to your surprise, Nien had gently pushed you onto your back. For the first time ever, she climbed on top of you, straddled your hips, and slowly sank down onto your cock. She rode you with shy determination, her small hands on your chest, her hair falling around her face as she moved. Her moans had been softer than in the warehouse, but there was a new hunger in her eyes. She had whispered things she had never said before, asking if she was pleasing you, if you liked the way she took control for once. You can still picture the way her breasts bounced gently with each roll of her hips, the cute, concentrated expression on her face as she tried to ride you to completion.
Now, sitting here at her parents’ table while her mother praises that same “sweet, innocent” daughter, the contrast hits you hard. You feel almost like you’ve corrupted something pure. The cheerful, lovable Nien who chatters about games and flowers is the same girl who begged you to treat her like a dockside whore and then sweetly asked for your cum while riding you.
Madam Lin’s voice pulls you back.
“…and we are certain that with your guidance, our daughter will continue to grow and flourish in every way.”
You raise your cup in a polite toast, hiding your thoughts behind a calm expression.
The dinner continues. The food is excellent, but the conversation is a careful dance. Master Lin steers topics toward safer waters like local governance, the pirate situation, and your recent victories. Madam Lin occasionally slips in another gentle hint about family, legacy, and the blessings of many children. You eat and respond with politeness, all while vivid memories of Nien, both the innocent and the surprisingly eager versions, linger at the edge of your mind.
Your ships slipped into Xiamen harbor just before midnight, the sails heavy with salt and victory. It took nearly two more hours to organize the docking, unloading wounded men, securing captured pirate banners and weapons, assigning guards, and sending preliminary reports to Admiral Shi Lang. By the time you finally mounted your horse and rode toward the estate, the moon was high and the streets of Xiamen were quiet.
As you approach the main gates, you notice something unusual. Despite the late hour, lanterns are lit along every path and courtyard. Warm golden light spills from windows and pavilions. The entire estate is awake. The moment the heavy gates swing open and you step into the main courtyard, you are greeted exactly as expected. Nearly the entire household has gathered. Servants line the sides holding lanterns. Your steward stands at the front with a deep bow. And in the center, waiting for you, are the four women who rule your inner world.
Xinyu stands slightly ahead of the others, her crimson robe flowing around her noticeably larger belly. Three months have transformed her. The gentle curve has become a full, rounded swell that she carries with quiet pride. Her hair is neatly pinned, and though fatigue shadows her eyes, she holds herself with the dignity of the principal wife. Behind her stand the three concubines in a neat row. Tzuyu on the left, elegant in pale blue silk, posture perfect as always. Shuhua in the middle, vibrant green robes hugging her figure, a small smirk already playing on her lips. Nien on the right, soft peach silk glowing in the lantern light, her bright smile lighting up her face the moment she sees you.
As one, they all bow deeply.
“Welcome home, General.”
Xinyu says first.
“Welcome home, my lord.”
The three concubines echo, their voices blending together.
You return the greeting with a nod.
“It is good to be back.”
You step closer to Xinyu, eyes dropping instinctively to her swollen belly. You reach out and gently touch her arm.
“Are you doing alright? You shouldn’t have stayed up so late or woken the entire household just to welcome me. You need rest, especially now.”
Xinyu meets your gaze. There is clear love in her eyes, soft and genuine, even beneath the exhaustion.
“It is my duty as your wife.”
She replies simply.
“And… I wanted to see you return safely.”
You nod, then turn to address everyone.
“Go back to sleep. All of you. The night is late and tomorrow will be busy enough.”
The servants and steward immediately begin to scatter with bows and quiet murmurs of:
“Yes, General.”
Xinyu starts to turn with you as you guide her gently toward her chambers, one hand resting lightly at the small of her back to support her. Before you’ve taken more than a few steps, Xinyu pauses and glances back at the retreating maids.
“Prepare some warm food for the General. Light congee, steamed buns, and tea. Bring it to my chambers.”
The maids bow and hurry off to obey.
The three concubines remain standing for a moment longer, watching as you lead Xinyu away. You can feel their eyes on your back. None of them speak, but the air is thick with unspoken anticipation. They know you have just returned after three long months. They know the nights ahead will be filled with competition once again.
You continue walking with Xinyu, the lanterns along the path lighting your way toward her pavilion. Her steps are slower now, weighted by the growing child inside her. She leans into your touch, the love in her eyes still visible even in the dim light.
You reach the entrance to Xinyu’s chambers. The heavy silk curtains sway gently in the night breeze. Xinyu looks up at you, one hand resting protectively over her rounded belly.
“Will you stay with me tonight, my lord?”
She asks softly, though she already knows the answer may not be simple. You look down at your salt stained robes and travel worn appearance, then gently shake your head.
“I do not dare enter your halls in this state. I smell of the sea and weeks of campaign. Let me bathe first. I promise I will return afterward.”
Xinyu studies you for a moment, then a small, teasing smile curves her lips.
“Very well, my lord. But do not take too long. A wife can only be patient for so long… especially when her husband has been away for three months.”
You give her a nod and a faint smile before turning toward the private bathing courtyard.
The bathing pool is one of the few luxuries you allow yourself. Set in a secluded corner of the inner garden, surrounded by high screens and flowering jasmine vines, it is fed by heated water carried in by servants. Lanterns hang from the wooden beams overhead, casting a warm, golden glow over the rippling surface.
You sink into the pool with a low sigh of relief. The water feels impossibly soft and clean compared to the harsh, salty waves you have lived in for months. Heat seeps into your tired muscles as you lean back against the smooth stone edge, closing your eyes for a moment. The night is quiet except for the gentle lap of water and the distant chirping of insects.
Then, from the corner of your eye, you catch a shadow moving near the edge of the lantern light. Your body reacts instantly. Your hand shoots out toward the knife you had placed beside your folded clothes on the low bench behind you.
Before your fingers can close around the hilt, the shadow steps fully into the light.
It is Tzuyu.
She stands at the edge of the pool, wearing a simple but elegant white inner robe that clings lightly to her figure. Her long hair is loosely tied, a few strands framing her face. She looks slightly more confident than usual. Shoulders straighter, chin lifted just a fraction higher. The change is subtle, but you notice it immediately.
You relax your hand and let it fall back into the water.
Tzuyu has always been quiet and reserved, but right now you cannot help wondering if she has schemed something while you were away. The letter from her parents three months ago still lingers in your memory. The polite but clear urging to get their daughter pregnant. If Tzuyu takes after them at all, she might be here with similar intentions. Yet, just like Xinyu, you can never quite tell with her. Is this quiet confidence a calculated move, or simply her natural grace?
She hesitates at the edge of the pool, fingers lightly twisting the sash of her robe. You watch her in silence, already expecting what is coming. Tzuyu finally meets your gaze.
“My lord… would you allow me the honor of your company?”
She takes one graceful step closer.
“After all, a man of your status should not have to wash himself alone.”
She stands there, waiting, the lantern light casting a gentle glow on her skin and making her eyes shine with quiet expectation. You lean back against the smooth stone edge of the pool, the warm water lapping gently at your chest.
“You don’t have to be so formal when we’re alone, Tzuyu.”
Tzuyu lowers her gaze for a moment, a faint blush touching her cheeks.
“I’m sorry, my lord.”
Then, after a small pause, she adds, almost shyly:
“Since we are alone… it should be fine if I join you in the water.”
You don’t answer right away. You simply watch her. Tzuyu takes your silence as invitation. She reaches for the sash of her white inner robe. With slow, teasing movements she unties it, letting the fabric part. Your breath catches as she begins to undress right there on the other side of the pool. The robe slides off her shoulders first, revealing the elegant line of her collarbones and the gentle swell of her breasts. She continues, letting the silk glide down her body like water, exposing the smooth curve of her waist, the flare of her hips, and the long, graceful length of her legs. Finally, the robe pools at her feet, leaving her completely naked.
You have never seen Tzuyu like this before. Fully bare, standing at a distance where you can take in every inch of her at once. In the dim lantern light of her chambers, it was always darker, closer, more intimate. Here, under the warm glow of the lanterns, she looks almost unreal: tall, slender, perfectly proportioned, with smooth pale skin and long black hair cascading down her back. Her breasts are full and firm, nipples already slightly hardened by the night air. Her waist is narrow, hips gently curved, and between her thighs you can see the delicate line of her pussy.
Tzuyu seems a little shy under your undivided stare. She shifts her weight slightly, one hand instinctively moving to cover herself before she catches the motion and lowers it again. But there’s also a quiet pleasure in her eyes, as if she enjoys the way you’re looking at her. She steps slowly into the pool. The water ripples around her ankles, then her calves, then her thighs as she wades toward you. When she finally stands directly in front of you, the water reaching just below her breasts, she hesitates for only a heartbeat. Then she leans in carefully, giving you time to pull away if you wish.
Her lips meet yours in a soft, tentative kiss. You respond naturally. Your hands rise from the water and find her naked body, roaming slowly over her wet skin, tracing the curve of her waist, sliding up to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples. She trembles slightly under your touch.
When she finally draws away just enough to look at you, you are too relaxed after the long campaign to take charge. You simply watch her, hands still resting on her hips under the water. Tzuyu’s cheeks are faintly pink. She moves closer, carefully straddling your lap beneath the surface. You feel the heat of her body even through the warm water. Your now hard cock presses against her tight, flat tummy as she settles on top of you.
You let out a low chuckle.
“You said you’d wash me.”
Your voice is rough with amusement and growing desire.
“Not pleasure me.”
Tzuyu’s blush deepens, but she doesn’t look away.
“Can’t I do both?”
The warm water laps gently around your bodies. Lantern light flickers across her wet skin. She is beautiful, elegant, and clearly offering herself to you after three long months apart. You lean back against the edge of the pool, the warm water lapping at your shoulders, and give her a slow smile.
“I’m sure you can do both.”
Tzuyu’s lips curve into a gentle, pleased smile.
“Then I will try my best, my lord.”
Her hand slips beneath the water. You feel her slender fingers wrap around your hard cock, stroking you slowly from base to tip. The sensation is smooth and teasing in the warm water.
“I’ll start with this.”
You rest your arms along the stone edge and watch her. Tzuyu’s naked upper body is beautiful in the lantern light. The elegant curve of her shoulders, the full swell of her breasts with water droplets sliding down them, the graceful line of her neck…She keeps her eyes on you as she strokes, her touch growing a little firmer, a little more confident with every pass.
After a few moments, Tzuyu rises slightly on her knees. She positions herself over you, one hand still guiding your cock. Then she slowly lowers herself. You watch her face closely. Pleasure washes over her features the moment the head of your cock parts her folds. Her lips part in a soft gasp. Her brows furrow slightly as she sinks down. Her eyes flutter half-closed, and a quiet, trembling moan escapes her. It’s clear she has been just as eager for this as you have been for her. Three long months apart have left her hungry too.
You feel every inch as her tight, silky pussy lips glide down your length, enveloping you slowly, warmly and completely. She is wetter than the pool water, her inner walls clinging to you with familiar perfection.
Tzuyu is not like Shuhua. She prefers it slower, especially when she’s on top. She begins to move with graceful rolls of her hips, grinding down deeply, then lifting and bouncing in a smooth, controlled rhythm. Her hands rest on your chest for balance as she rides you, doing her best to make your head roll back with every motion.
For several long minutes she works you like this: slow, deep grinds mixed with gentle bounces, her breasts swaying softly with the movement. The water ripples around your joined bodies in steady waves. Tzuyu’s breathing grows heavier, her quiet moans filling the night air. Then she leans down, pressing her wet breasts against your chest. Her lips brush your ear.
“My lord…”
She breathes, still moving on you.
“I think… I am with child.”
The words hit you like a quiet thunderclap. She continues riding you slowly as she speaks, her voice trembling with both pleasure and nervousness.
“All the signs are there. The missed courses, the tenderness, the way my body feels different… but I haven’t told anyone yet. Not even the physician. I wanted you to know first.”
Tzuyu pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, still gently rolling her hips, your cock buried deep inside her. She searches your face, waiting for your reaction while her body keeps moving on you with that same graceful, needy rhythm.
The night is quiet as Nien stands just outside the kitchen courtyard, hands clasped in front of her peach-colored robe. She had been waiting patiently for several minutes when the two maids finally emerge, carrying a lacquered tray with warm congee, steamed buns, pickled vegetables, and a pot of fragrant tea. Exactly what Xinyu had ordered for you.
Nien steps forward with a bright, innocent smile.
“Let me take that to the General.”
She offers sweetly.
“He must be very tired after such a long journey. I would be happy to bring it to him.”
The maids exchange a quick glance, but they know better than to refuse one of the master’s concubines. They hand over the tray without argument.
“Thank you.”
Nien says cheerfully, balancing the tray carefully as she turns and heads toward the private bathing courtyard. She knows exactly where you are. The lanterns glowing softly in that direction are impossible to miss.
The garden paths are dimly lit, the night air cool and filled with the scent of jasmine. Nien walks quickly but gracefully, her mind already imagining the your tired smile when she arrives with food. She rounds a corner near the moon gate…
… and nearly collides with Shuhua.
Both women stop short. The tray wobbles dangerously in Nien’s hands. A few drops of tea splash over the edge. Shuhua startles, stepping back with a sharp intake of breath, her vibrant green robe swirling around her legs.
“Nien!”
Shuhua hisses.
“Shuhua!”
Nien replies, steadying the tray with both hands. Her usual bright tone carries a hint of surprise and wariness.
For a moment they simply stare at each other in the half dark. They don’t hate each other - there has never been open hostility between any of the three concubines - but Nien has always found Shuhua suspicious, and Shuhua clearly feels the same about the overly cheerful youngest.
Shuhua crosses her arms, one eyebrow raised.
“Going to the bathing courtyard? With food? How thoughtful of you.”
Nien tilts her head, still smiling but with a sharper edge.
“Xinyu asked me to bring it. The General needs to eat after his long journey. Why are you heading in that direction so late?”
Shuhua lets out a short, scoffing laugh.
“Don’t play innocent. You’re trying to get to him first.”
“And you aren’t?”
Nien shoots back, voice still light but now clearly defensive.
“You’ve been waiting for him to return just as much as I have. Don’t pretend you were just taking a midnight stroll.”
Shuhua steps closer.
“At least I’m honest about wanting his attention. You act all sweet and harmless, but we both know why you’re really bringing him food at this hour.”
Nien’s cheeks flush, but she doesn’t back down.
“And you act all bold and fiery, but you’re doing the exact same thing. We’re both trying to gain his favor tonight. There’s no point in denying it.”
A tense silence stretches between them. The tray remains steady in Nien’s hands, but the air crackles with mutual suspicion.
Finally, Shuhua lets out a sigh and rolls her eyes.
“Fine. We both want to see him. There’s no use fighting over it right now.”
Nien nods, her bright smile returning, though it’s a little tighter than usual.
“Exactly. So… shall we go together?”
Shuhua hesitates for half a second, then gives a small, reluctant nod.
“Together. But don’t think this means I’m sharing nicely.”
The two women fall into step side by side, heading toward the glowing lanterns of the bathing courtyard. Nien carefully balances the tray while Shuhua walks with her usual confident stride. The rivalry simmers just beneath the surface, but for now, they have reached an uneasy truce. As they approach the entrance to the private bathing area, both can see the warm light spilling out and hear the faint sound of water rippling.
Nien and Shuhua step quietly into the bathing courtyard together, the tray of food balanced carefully in Nien’s hands. They both stop dead in their tracks the moment they see what is happening in the pool. Tzuyu is in your lap, facing you, her long bare back and elegant shoulders glowing in the lantern light. Her hips move in slow, graceful rolls as she rides you. The water ripples gently around your joined bodies. From behind, they can see the elegant line of her spine, the way her muscles flex and shift with every movement, and the subtle bounce of her long black hair.
Tzuyu lets out a soft, needy moan.
“More… please, my lord…”
Shuhua’s expression instantly darkens. Her jaw tightens and her eyes flash with fury. She crosses her arms tightly over her chest, practically vibrating with irritation.
“Tzuyu is such a slut.”
She hisses under her breath, loud enough for Nien to hear. Nien bites her tongue hard to stop herself from snapping back that Shuhua is easily the biggest slut in the entire household. Instead, she feels a quiet wave of sadness wash over her. She isn’t really angry, just disappointed. She had hoped to have you to herself tonight, even if only for a little while. Now she will only get a third of your attention.
While Shuhua is still fuming, Nien sets the tray of food down on a nearby stone bench without a word. She doesn’t want to fall behind. Shuhua makes the decision first. Without saying anything else, she starts pulling off her robe, letting it drop carelessly to the ground. Her naked body is revealed in the lantern light: bold curves, smooth skin, and an unmistakable air of confidence. Nien quickly follows her example. She unties her peach robe and shrugs it off, stepping out of the silk puddle at her feet. Her own body is softer and more delicate than Shuhua’s, but no less beautiful.
Both women move toward the pool together. They step carefully into the warm water, the liquid rising around their legs, then their thighs, then their hips. The ripples they create spread outward, disturbing the calm surface.
Tzuyu is still riding you slowly when the sound of their movement reaches her. She doesn’t stop, but her head turns slightly, eyes widening as she notices the two new arrivals. Shuhua and Nien wade closer until they are only a few steps away from where Tzuyu sits impaled on your cock. The air in the bathing courtyard grows thick with tension, jealousy, and unspoken competition. Tzuyu’s hips continue their gentle, graceful motion as she looks at the other two women, a faint blush on her cheeks. Shuhua stops with her hands on her hips, water lapping at her waist, and stares directly at you with a challenging glint in her eyes. Nien stands beside her, quieter, her expression a mix of envy and shy hope as she watches Tzuyu’s flawless back and the way her body moves on you.
You notice the movement at the edge of the pool and lift your gaze. Nien and Shuhua stand there, both completely naked, the warm lantern light dancing across their wet skin. Shuhua’s body is bold and curvaceous, perky breasts and strong hips cutting through the surface. Nien’s figure is softer, more delicate, her skin glowing with that same innocent charm she always carries.
The moment you see them, your cock twitches hard inside Tzuyu. Tzuyu feels it immediately. Her walls flutter around you in response, and she lets out a tiny, surprised gasp, her hips stuttering for a second before she continues her slow ride.
You can’t help it. An amused chuckle escapes your throat.
Tzuyu’s cheeks flush deeper as she realizes the other two are watching her ride you so openly. Shuhua’s usual confident smirk falters for half a heartbeat, replaced by a flicker of awkwardness. Nien’s bright eyes widen, her hands instinctively moving to cover her chest before she catches herself and lowers them again. They’ve never seen each other fully naked like this. The usual private intimacy of the bedchambers has suddenly become very public. None of them quite know how to act now that they are all together in the same pool. You feel a brief moment of uncertainty yourself. Three naked, beautiful concubines surrounding you after three long months away is almost overwhelming.
You motion with your head.
“Shuhua. Left side.”
You turn slightly and gesture to the other side.
“Nien. Right.”
Shuhua moves first, wading through the water with that bold stride until she’s pressed against your left side. Nien follows more shyly, slipping into the water on your right until her soft body brushes against you. The moment they settle, Tzuyu - clearly not willing to lose her place on your cock - starts putting in more effort. Her hips roll deeper, grinding down harder, her tight pussy squeezing around you with renewed determination. Her breathing grows heavier as she rides you more purposefully. You reach out with your left hand and grope Shuhua’s perky tits, squeezing the firm flesh and rolling her nipple between your fingers. Shuhua lets out a sharp, pleased breath and arches into your touch. At the same time, you pull Nien closer with your right arm, tilting her chin up so you can claim her mouth in a deep, hungry kiss. She melts into it instantly, her soft lips parting for you, a tiny whimper vibrating against your tongue. While you kiss Nien and fondle Shuhua, Tzuyu continues riding you steadily, her long legs flexing under the water as she works herself on your cock.
In the back of your mind, the news Tzuyu whispered earlier still burns. The possibility that she is already carrying your child. The thought sends another throb through your length, making Tzuyu moan softly.
You hope Xinyu doesn’t mind you indulging a little tonight. After three months away, and with her own belly growing heavier by the day, she might even understand. For now, you focus on the three women surrounding you. Shuhua presses her breasts more firmly into your groping hand, her usual bratty energy already starting to surface again. Nien kisses you back sweetly, her smaller hand resting shyly on your chest. Tzuyu keeps riding you with quiet determination, clearly trying to remind everyone that she was here first.
The warm water laps around all four of you as the night air grows thicker with tension and desire.
The morning sun beats down on the training ground, turning the dirt courtyard into a haze of dust and heat. You move through the forms, wooden practice sword clashing against your partner’s in sharp, rhythmic strikes. Sweat runs down your bare chest and back, soaking the waistband of your trousers. Your breathing is heavy, muscles burning after weeks of pushing yourself hard since returning from the campaign. You parry a strong overhead blow, then counter with a low sweep that forces your opponent to jump back. The soldiers watching from the sidelines murmur in approval.
Just as you reset your stance for another exchange, you catch sight of a servant hurrying across the edge of the training ground. The man is moving quickly, his face tense. You raise your hand and step back, lowering your sword.
“Enough for now.”
You tell your practice partner, who bows and retreats. You wipe sweat from your brow with the back of your arm and motion the servant closer. He approaches, bowing deeply the moment he’s within speaking distance.
“General, Lady Xinyu… she has gone into labour.”
You straighten immediately, chest still heaving from the exertion. Sweat continues to trickle down your temples, but the fatigue in your muscles is forgotten in an instant.
“When?”
“Just now, my lord. The midwife and her maids are with her. Lady Xinyu asked that you be informed right away.”
You nod once, already turning toward the inner quarters.
“Prepare hot water and clean cloths if they haven’t already.”
You order as you start walking.
“And send word to the physician if he isn’t there yet.”
The servant bows again and hurries off to carry out your commands.
You stride across the courtyard, practice sword still in hand, sweat cooling on your skin in the morning breeze. The training ground and your soldiers fade behind you as your focus narrows entirely to Xinyu’s pavilion. Your mind races with a mix of anticipation and concern. Xinyu’s belly had grown significantly. The child - the one she has been so certain is a son - is finally coming.
As you pass through the moon gate into the women’s quarters, you can already hear faint activity ahead: maids moving quickly, low voices, and the occasional strained sound that might be Xinyu.
The three concubines are nowhere in sight yet, but you know they will learn of this soon enough. The news will spread through the household like wildfire.
You reach the entrance to Xinyu’s chambers. The heavy silk curtains have been pulled back, and several maids hover nervously just outside.
One of them bows deeply when she sees you.
“General… Lady Xinyu is in her bed. The pains have started strongly. The midwife says it is progressing well, but it may take some time.”
You hand your practice sword to the nearest servant without a word and step inside.
The room is warm, scented with medicinal herbs and incense meant to ease the birth. Xinyu lies propped up on the large bed, her face flushed and damp with sweat. Her crimson robe is loosened and pushed up, her swollen belly clearly visible and tight with another contraction. She grips the sheets tightly, breathing through the pain with determined focus.
When she sees you enter, her eyes soften despite the discomfort.
“My lord…You came quickly.”
You move to her side, taking her hand in yours. Her fingers are surprisingly strong as they squeeze yours during the next wave of pain. The midwife, an experienced older woman, kneels nearby, quietly giving instructions to the assisting maids.
Xinyu looks up at you, her free hand resting protectively on her belly.
“It is time. Our child is coming.”
Outside the chamber, you can already hear hurried footsteps, the news spreading fast through the estate. The three concubines will likely arrive soon, drawn by the commotion and the weight of what this birth could mean for all of them.
You stay beside Xinyu, holding her hand as another contraction builds.
So, I just graduated. The reason for my absence was my undergrad thesis that kept me from really pursuing most hobbies. Though now I'm on my sort-of break before enrolling into another form of schooling. It feels good to be back!
5,191 words of Zhou Xinyu. Enjoy!
It was the end of summer, and the rain had begun to fall. Driving from city to city, town to town, watching each sign telling me hello and goodbye in the span of almost a blink. Perhaps the snacks we’ve eaten should’ve done the trick, but I can’t help but think that I should’ve gotten another helping of coffee. It didn’t help that I was driving a car almost just as old as we were, though maybe I should be glad it had a digital player, and not a dial one, to at least keep us company while I drove back.
Headlights on the road, I gave a glance at the dashboard, 00:15. We need to sleep now, I thought, yet that idea clashed with the idea that no, we need to make it by sunrise. Ignoring whether or not my passenger was only asleep, she must feel so lucky. I just sighed and tried to hum the song in my head, only to realize it was a slower ballad, and now it sounded like a lullaby.
I tried to remember what I had seen in the guidebook, remembering there was supposed to be a traveler's inn a few kilometers ahead. How much, hell if I knew.
I just sighed, maybe I could quietly pull over and sleep, though I didn’t want us to be a horror film victim, too. I was already lectured about not catching “get-there-itis” behind the wheel. I just muttered, thinking about how far I needed to drive, and went, “fuck.”
“Don’t you want to rest a bit?” Xinyu quipped.
“Hm?!” I replied.
“Pull over and take a nap,” she ordered, repeating herself much clearer now.
“In a bit, there’s an inn up ahead.”
“Are you sure it’s safe for us?” she asked.
I didn’t answer, but I understood her reservations because I shared them. I am sure I saw it a few times in the yellow guidebook, as for the budget inn part, we didn’t have any more money left from our stipend.
“Yes, it should be.”
It better be. She sighed as she opened the dash compartment and tried to read the map in the dark. Having stuck it out in a small field down south, a few northerner university students, tending to a small control field with a mentor, sounded stupid on paper. Yet, a government stipend was all that was needed to push this little journey to the south. Now, at the end of those 90, now 92, days, it was only me and Xinyu left to drive the rental back.
A relieved sigh and restrained elation overcame us when a weak neon sign appeared ahead. It clearly said “roadside inn.”
Everything else was procedural after that, I reversed the car in. Before Xinyu and I made our way in, we both agreed it looked pretty rundown, but then again the choice was: a creaky, dusty bed, or ending up in a ditch. Settling down wasn’t an issue at all, save for the madamé at the front desk staring at us for a second or two, backpacks and duffle bags in hand, before telling us water only comes by 7, and handing us a key whose tag we could barely read.
Opening the door, I just looked at Xinyu, a bit dejected. It was exactly what we paid for; a cheap, little room a few meters in size, slightly peeled walls, tall but with a weak fluorescent light, a stove and old cabinet, a bathroom with only a sink, a fan, and a hard bed only big enough for both of us.
“Well, we can’t complain now,” she shrugged.
“Just think about going to sleep,” I replied, dropping my things inside the cabinet. Xinyu followed. It was procedural, a haze, and took us only a few minutes to change, letting her wash up before we decided on our side of the bed. I decided to shower, but it took me a while to get the water going.
I did, however, feel a silent tension, a slight rocking of the boat, and uneasy eyes that quickly tried to rationalize and compose themselves. Maybe it was just the light novels or rumors getting to me, chuckling on the sink before I just washed my face and all that before I carefully got onto the bed. Xinyu had already turned off the lights, and I had stoked the small stove in the corner to keep us warm, using it as some crude nightlight. Hopefully, at least. A fair glow came from the fire that colored the room orange. It was better than pitch darkness in our last change of clothes.
“You’re not gonna tell them about this right?” I asked as I tried to read the map. She was blocking most of the light as we both sat up against the outer wall. It was just a bit colder than the fan.
“Huh, why would I?” Xinyu wondered, or maybe it was just me.
“Never mind, I mean, we’re classmates, it shouldn’t be a problem,” I deflected, trying to get myself out of the situation. Focus on the mag.
“Well, don’t make it awkward!” Xinyu snapped back, almost laughing at me.
“I’m not, it’s just you know, not a setup that usually happens. Not in our group at least.”
She slammed the hardcover and looked at me, puzzled. Fuck. “What?!”
“What?” I asked, folding my magazine, she had put her book down on the floor by now.
“I mean, let’s not lie,” Xinyu started, her eyes looking around for a bit, “You heard some of our classmates right?” before letting out a small giggle.
She leaned closer, and knowing I was one of the late sleepers, I knew what she meant.
“Yeah, they were doing it in the outhouse,” I flatly replied. I mean, I already had an inkling of the couple she was talking about. Though knowing the girl was one of Xinyu’s friends, she may have told her more intimate details. I could tell my passenger was one part curious and excited.
“I…I don’t know,” she began to stutter, then asked, “Isn’t it kind of thrilling?”
“I don’t know about him, they seemed shy the next morning. We all knew. I’m just glad our professor never noticed,” I replied, trying my best to hide my feelings. It sounded exciting because it sounded straight out of a rumor.
“Have you ever asked him about it?” Xinyu pressed on. I could notice she was inching closer.
“Yeah,” I broke and cackled a smile, “It was simple, sure, but you’re right to say it was thrilling.”
“Well? Tell me,” Xinyu prodded, noticeably growing more playful. I could just about scratch my head and not mix up the details of it. So I began, at least from what I remembered.
Xinyu and I weren’t that close, blockmates sure, but not at that deep end of what I consider friendship. Of course, no adversaries either, maybe a few group projects here and there, where her goofiness can shine through. I always thought that the campus, as privileged as we were to go inside every time, was not exactly a place to find love from your classmates. Yet here we were talking about somebody else's sex lives.
Xinyu could only be so shocked once I ended my retelling of it. Her mouth was just slightly open, though she had let out a few giggles and gasps, but she did let me finish talking. She was much closer now—and beside me.
“They did a lot more than I thought,” she remarked.
“Yeah, talk about doing more than..,” I replied, thinking quickly, “you know, a porno,” I was just guessing her friend's bluff. Given that the boys and girls had separate quarters, it seemed bound to happen. Giggling about it a bit, I could just about hear Xinyu turn to me, while her gaze scrambled across the room, and then she began leaning closer. I was backing by the bit, sensing her apprehension, I shut my eyes the same and leaned, closing the distance, and our lips met.
It was a simple kiss, yes, not more than a few seconds, nothing too dramatic or malicious—yet her gaze stayed fixed—Xinyu wanted more.
Talking was awkward. I leaned towards her for another kiss, half-expecting her to stop me. Instead, she put her left hand on my neck, sliding and slightly pulling me towards her again. It was more intimate, longer this time, a smack rang out once, twice, before Xinyu slowly pushed me away.
“Wait, you’re okay, right?” she asked.
“Okay, with what?” I asked Xinyu, “Shouldn’t I be asking that?” and well, yes. I was okay with it.
“This,” she replied, “You’re not going to tell anybody, right?”
I think, I just think, that Xinyu knew it would spread like a grass fire if I told this out. She probably knew I was thinking the same. We both had scrambled minds. Certainly uncertain.
I just nodded, “I won’t.”
She pressed herself forward, another smooch quickly followed by another, before I could feel her shifting to get herself right on my lap. It wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be, perhaps it was her pheromones talking to me. To be fair, she always smelled good, and I thought I smelled like a bath, so it couldn’t be me. A kiss was all it took for more to follow, and so it did. It was not too fast, smooching, yes, but I can’t tell if we were both good kissers or just lucky to be average. Hands on her waist, there was no rushing, frizzled touches, hasty undressing, yet perhaps it was more so our sense of prudence taking over for that last one, being our last change of clothes. Yet I just knew with how Xinyu had her hands around me, on my shoulder and my neck, that she didn’t want a change of pace just yet. I knew that this torrid kissing, warming herself up, just had to lead somewhere, and with her right on top of me, she was beginning to grind ever so slowly.
Sliding my hand to her legs, I slowly slid them inward, and bit by bit, forward. Xinyu stopped, she was staring at me. I asked her.
“You want to go through with this?”
She just nodded, “Isn’t it a little late to ask that?” and giggled, another peck, “Keep going.”
Following her, we kept at it. Xinyu’s grind started to move a little faster, urging me on with how hot her breathing was becoming. Taking my left hand around her waist, sliding it toward her ass, fingers slowly dug in on her flesh. Slowly tilting her head and kissing me deeper, she was tight, and I responded in kind and gave her my tongue. Yet a faux tongue was ready between her legs, fingers cupping her pussy, warmth, teasing her. Hearing her hitch at the sudden contact, but not stop as I continued, slowly using two fingers to feel her, up and down, up and down.
The entire time, she never moved her hands downward, perhaps she liked making out more than doing the same to me. Xinyu’s kisses, from simple, playful pecks, to making out, a messy affair where both of our tongues fight to keep in control of ourselves. Short of undressing ourselves, I decided to push my chances further, and sliding my hands in to grope her ass. Just a little more, a little warmer, a little wetter, I thought, before I would do the same to the front. It took a while, but her voice shook a bit when she asked.
“Why won’t you just finger me?”
I didn’t respond, perhaps thinking of some one-liner that just wouldn’t come out. I had a slender woman sitting on my lap, waiting for me to do something beyond second base.
“How about this then?” Xinyu followed. Her left hand moved downward while she pressed her lips to mine. Mirroring my hand, her fingers wrapped around my crotch, quickly getting the shape of my shaft through my pajamas. Breaking off a little, I could just a little “oh,” leave her.
That was the permission I needed. Our lips came together again, I took my hand out from behind her and switched, yet somehow fumbled to find the hem of her panties. Slowly beckoning me on with the way her fingers slid and stroked my cock even under the layers, trying to make it a solid shape for herself. Trying to find a moment where she stopped moving, I slid my hand in, but not under her panties where it would be hard to do anything. I had more in mind.
Xinyu was warm. A wet spot had formed over her panties from the circles I was drawing on her. A layer past that, there was a moistness that had formed over her panties, just a little more, I thought. Pressing my fingers down, I traced her folds where they would be, her responding as I struck her clit more times than she’d like, slightly moving backward. Hearing her let out a quiet moan as I kept rubbing further through the fabric.
Sensing some boldness in the air, Xinyu tried to put her left hand in my boxer, though I grabbed her by the wrist with my right hand. I was fine, she was a bit shocked, did I suddenly get cold feet? I don’t know what came over me, but I was more than fine getting hard from hearing her alone. Not yet, Xinyu, not yet.
“I-I’m okay,” I blurted out, trying to string something while I had my hands between her legs, using my fingers to send my message. It was her moment, not mine, “Just let me.”
Xinyu just smiled, withdrawing her hand, but not before grabbing my cock through the cloth this time, sighing before saying, “You know, I started wondering about this when..,” squeezing my shaft and turning into a whisper, “I saw you doing it one night.”
I was in shock, turning red, and Xinyu knew it, but by now she knew how to shut me up. If that was the case, we continued making out, slowly I tried to move her panties to the side just to gain an entry, but almost always missed. She was a little more frisky now, I was at a position of disadvantage, yet I could pin her down, but she had me pinned down with her lips. She was moaning as we made out, tongues together, while the other pair of lips was just waiting for my fingers to push through. She then stopped for a second to plunge her hand right between her legs too, sliding her panties to the side for me, telling me as she pulled her lips away, “Put it in.”
Xinyu was wet enough, and I wasn’t just going with one, so two fingers went in. My fingers weren’t as long as hers, but her sudden moan and pull meant I must’ve hit something good. Not stopping, I prodded further to my amusement, and she shuddered a bit. I awkwardly tried to get a grip as her fingers scrambled while beginning to move inside. Though trying to finger her with her panties was quite limiting. I tried what I could, and well, it just seemed to work. Not long after, our lips were back together while she began to move to my fingers, timing playing my fingers jammed between her lips as the others also slammed with hers.
Xinyu was whispering when she pulled her lips away, but not to me, to herself. I was unable to make it out, but I couldn’t even think as her breath would hitch and latch onto my lips again.
By now, we had melted out of our tenseness. Yet when Xinyu kissed me first, it was different from the same woman whose tongue I was against now. She quickly did away with formalities, and now, my fingers are wet.
“Go deeper.”
Eh? It wasn’t even that long after I started, nor was there much for me to give with my fingers. Yet she wanted deeper? Fine. Perhaps she was trusting me too much.
I stuck them as deep as I could, hooking my fingers inside forward as my pinky began to strain. Keeping our lips together, I could hear Xinyu hitch her breath and pull me closer, hearing a squeal as she seemed to melt right onto my fingers. She was holding on much closer now, with her lips picking up the pace as she kept moving her hips. Listening to her and waiting for the occasional command. Through the muted moaning, shuddering, squealing, and squelching, we both knew we could hear, I was leading her.
I pulled my fingers out for a second. They were wet. I jammed them back in and her breath hitched, catching onto my lips again as I continued rolling my fingers in a hook, feeling the warmth of her slowly flowing down, then dripping between my fingers. I tried to think of anything to say but just nothing, only the warmth of Xinyu’s guts right at my fingertips filled me. Her moans kept my warmth going, yet I wanted her, but I needed to wait.
“You okay?” I asked as I felt Xinyu shaking ever so often. I couldn’t lie to myself. I was mirroring her too. With bated breaths and shaking fingertips, we both knew what would come next and at the same time, didn’t. I don’t know what she wanted to do next, but the pace we were in wasn’t so bad, moving a little fast, but otherwise just evidence of our youth. Impatient yes, with her tongue pushing at my lips, my hands occupied with her neck and her pussy, fingering away until she just broke.
“I want to ride you already.”
I almost swallowed my tongue. I didn’t know if I nodded or not, but I did meet Xinyu with a peck on the lips, and like ink on a signature, it was automatic.
She got off, fingers on both my underwear and pajamas as she pulled it off. My cock sprang out followed a weak giggle from Xinyu as she pulled my clothes off my foot, throwing them over her pile. I wasn’t paying enough attention, absent-minded from the ruffling of the sheets, and never noticed hers join them too.
Hands on my shoulders, Xinyu—more like Chang’e—hovered over me, fully naked.
I swallowed, I could hear her huff and ask, “Been a while?”
“A while.” I nodded slightly.
It was both running in our heads. We were printing the same telex message among ourselves in our twenty-three year old heads. Reading along the lines of relax, relax, relax—you’re young, it’s just casual—was it?
Placing her hands on my shoulder, Xinyu met me with a kiss, only noticing her warmth around my shaft as she began to stroke it. Pushing her tongue onto my lips as her long fingers tugged at my twitching cock, was she going to push herself down this soon? I had my answer as she gestured at me to open my legs, I complied with what she wanted. Holding out breaths as she stared me down, giving me a peck on my lips as if to distract me from her descent. It was hot. Both of us flinched as I penetrated her, a drawn-out exhale coming from her that slowly pitched up into a moan when it got past the tip. Our heads filled with warm, unadulterated sexual embrace as our hands searched for something to hold on to.
I had to control myself. It’s been far too long, and this wasn’t me doing it solo anymore. This was Xinyu on top of me. I don’t know for sure, but with how her face was contorted in a manner no pocketbook smut or porno magazine could capture. A slight tremor in her grip, on my thigh and then on my shoulder, and for the first time, she opened her eyes to look at me. She didn’t need to talk.
Having set herself down, she slowly began to move. Closing her eyes again and letting her carnal instinct take over for her as her hips began to roll. Up and down, up and down, she went. I was twitching because she was just that tight. Now, what the hell was I supposed to do to not finish early? Recite the hóng bǎoshū? Perhaps. I began to lay kisses on her collarbone, slowly tracing down to the top of her tits, she moaned and clutched at my nape, feeling her gaze down at me as she finally broke the silence.
“Fuck, you feel so good.”
Perhaps it was the other way around—she felt better. It was a boyhood dream come true. Zhou Xinyu, for all her height, had her legs open and sitting on my cock, her pinkish folds enveloping it with her top half in my embrace for my lips to kiss. I could feel the goddess that she was beginning to turn hot as moans began in crescendo, although to my dismay, sitting straight meant her red lips were quite far yet I could sense she looked on approvingly.
Taking my lips off her chest for a second, I met her gaze. Xinyu was drunk with how good it felt, her hands having not changed places since she had sat down, clearly enjoying herself for only I to witness. Stopping just for a bit to kiss me deeply before she continued riding. In just a while, she had a constant, labored breath between moans, both of us sometimes sharing a smile, then a kiss, amidst the pleasure as we tried to keep ourselves quiet. Though keeping hush was difficult when it struck her spot just right, her eyebrows furrowed as an instinctive moan left her. She stopped for a bit.
“I don’t think I’ve gotten this close this quick before,” Xinyu sighed, then chuckled as she blurted, “Your size does help.”
I just rolled my eyes. Here comes the ego fuel, I thought. Though she caught on quickly to my disbelief, “A lot more than I expected.”
She must’ve thought feigning underestimation might do the trick. I would’ve said the same thing about her, yet found my stream of consciousness slipping as she proved me right anyway. I needed a second to appreciate the sight; her pretty face contorted in pleasure, small tits, flat tummy, hips moving, rolling. Pacing herself almost at a shallow hop, riding halfway up, followed by the faint sound of a squelching beginning every time she put her weight down.
Though, by this point, my legs were just about to betray me, having folded slightly upward for a while to cradle a tall woman slamming down on them was taking its toll. I wasn’t going to interrupt Xinyu now, not so close, but I was inviting a broken arrow and a cramped leg if I didn’t. So I moved us to the edge of the bed, with my feet flat on the floor—and a sigh of relief from me—with our top halves pretty much in the same manner. Though now there was the bonus of being able to lean forward so I can finally suck on her nipples, it did take some adjusting, and even more when I noticed I was already straining.
Xinyu groaned with how deep I was. Essentially cradled in my grip, hand on her hip and arm up her back as she inched herself closer to an orgasm. It was just a slight lean but it took every ounce of effort for me to not cum then and there. The whole image of us fucking and the feel of her on me. When she would stop to catch her breath and kiss, she was messy but beautiful, even more so now. I was minding her wetness as it trickled down my balls. Suddenly, her grip tightened as she switched her pace up, biting her lip as she squealed, looking up to see her head thrown back while she shook some. Grabbing her ass while her legs squeezed at my sides, with her squeal rolling into a moan, then tired huffs. I thought she’d take longer. Did she just cum?
“You came?” I asked. Xinyu nodded
“You’re not tired yet?”
She couldn’t lie with her huffing and nodded.
We switched. For the first time since we started, I could see the slight sheen of sweat all over Xinyu in the few seconds she stood and threw herself to the bed. I suppose this was a better method of keeping ourselves warm. Now it was my turn to stand up and kneel on the bed, greeted with a sight as she lay down with her legs open for me. I was a curious kid, touching her with my fingers again like earlier. She was warm, very warm, one finger in, hypnotized until I thought, “I should put my cock in.”
Placing my hands on her hips, I slightly lifted her. It caught her somewhat off guard, eyes locked as her expression shifted, mouth hung open, annoyed, then pleasured. I slid back, her eyes looking upward, then rolling them back as I arched her back. She shut her eyes and craned her neck as I thrust a second time, deeper, trying and failing to catch her moaning. Repeatedly, I gave it to her that way, appreciating how easy it was for me to slide so deep in such a tight hole. Her hands moved quite a bit, though she settled on tradition, hands low on my waist while I kept a grip on her. Though for a few times, she had an arm holding onto the covers behind her, or looking at how I was fucking her, moaning at almost every thrust. Xinyu was a singer, yes, a trained one at that, and she sang the loudest when my entire length was in. I tried to keep a neutral expression, thinking “Don’t finish early”—it was all about Xinyu—and she wasn’t even asking me to go any faster.
She did, however, always requested “harder” right before letting out a hushed long moan and rattling under me. Meanwhile, I was mentally reciting Party passages to distract myself a bit from hearing her slosh and contract under me, her medium-length hair already a mess from moving around quite a bit. I was getting close right then, yet talk about living out fantasies.
Yet, by that point, I could feel my knees beginning to get sore from kneeling for, how long has it been, two, three minutes? It felt like forever. Xinyu then pressed her hand on my stomach. All stop, aye, ma’am.
“Have you cum already?” she asked. I shook my head, tired, to which she ordered, “Sit down.”
I thanked my lucky stars that I felt like masturbating before I showered, so, how’s that for a foresight? I thought, but I smirked, and so did she as we switched, though now I leaned a bit so her face was closer, and kissed me just before sliding me back inside. That was more like it.
Now, everything about Xinyu was long, her arms embraced me as she began to ride. Though in honesty, it felt more like a pummeling. She knew I was close, so when she stopped, she leaned down and kissed harder, tongues out in a frenzy. Yet when she wasn’t, she whispered all sorts of good things between her noise. Less than a minute now, we guessed as I began to twitch, no amount of recitation of everything I remembered was going to save me now, nor was my earlier delay, that trick was about to run its course.
Hearing her goad me with my eyes as she stared into me, together with missing the warmth of her lips, and of course the intimacy of us. This was her consummation, and the only thing left was carnality.
“You’re close?” Xinyu asked. I couldn’t say anything. I was just nodding now.
“Me too,” she huffed. Giving me that non-verbal look, a slightly raised eyebrow. It was a question, I let out a sly smile, and so did she. I would let her overrun me. She leaned her head down, we kissed, deeply, not nervously like a while ago. It was a consenting kiss—we were gonna cum together.
Hand up her back, I slid it down her hip as her movements became more controlled now, if not a bit faster, but still amateur. She was much closer than I thought, her moans were beginning to betray her as well. Our expressions were shared now, as we had let go of pretense, I had given her part of the fun but knew that this was the orgasm we were waiting for.
Xinyu’s arms held me closer, I saw her move her mouth just before putting her lips on mine, I couldn’t tell what she was trying to say. The moment I pulled back, she had her eyes closed, only opening for a second before continuing, moaning even when our lips and tongues were together. She was louder now, her arm and pussy's embrace on my shaft grew tighter, shuddering as I tried to hold on to something. Then, her right arm flew to my thigh, breaking away as she let out a long, low moan as her orgasm came onto her. She shook—and I blew—with my lips barely able to get on her neck as I felt the first twitches unload. It was intense, hot, painting her walls with my cum. Her moans passing my weaker ones, all before shutting herself up by biting her lip. She shrieked as I shut my eyes and felt my strength drain into her, our fingers clawing, her trembling legs pinning me down we came down from ourselves.
We held each other as we caught our breath. Now we were tired. A long kiss goodnight followed, and she assured me she was going to be okay.
Once again, it was a blur after that. We cleaned up after ourselves, repeating our procedures, and not feeling like changing the sheets, just decided to crash on the bed again. Though now the same bed was stained with a young couple’s juices, much to the truth of the madamé at the front desk. I thought about grabbing some food from whatever we had left in a futile bid to get our energy back. It wasn't until Xinyu, leaning on my shoulder, dropped her book in my lap that we decided it was lights out. I shut the stove door to at least plunge the room into some semblance of darkness and came beside Xinyu.
She, after confusing me for a bit, grabbed my right arm and pulled me into a cuddle. I was quite shocked, but a kiss on the back of her head was all I could do. I was sleepy, too lazy to talk by then.
Xinyu then asked.
“Want to go eat together next week? Oh, and,” she pulled my arm just a bit closer, “You’re not going to tell anybody, right?”
“You know,” another kiss on her hair, pulling her closer, “They’ll know, sooner or later,” I replied.
