The early morning sun filtered faintly through the translucent jade curtains that lined the windows of the cultivation chamber, its light casting a warm, golden hue upon the ornate floor tiles. The room was scented with a subtle blend of crushed lotus petals and a lingering trace of last night's incense—used to both heighten spiritual perception and mask more carnal undertones.
Li Yao sat quietly on the wide jade bed at the center of the chamber, her knees drawn to her chest, her gaze lost in the intricately carved ceiling above. Her hair, long and disheveled, spilled across her shoulders like ink flowing across snow. The bedsheets beneath her were rumpled and stained with traces of passion, the fragrance of dual cultivation still subtly hanging in the air like a guilty whisper.
The atmosphere was quiet—too quiet.
