The furnace within him still blazed, the Sweat-Drinking Dragon Scripture cycling restlessly, refusing to let his body cool. Every breath came heavy, every vein alive with restless heat. Wei Kunshan had left him spent, yet the flame only roared higher—as if his body demanded more to fuel the dragon's breath now spiraling through his meridians.
Unable to restrain himself, Shi Yang found his feet carrying him across the quiet pavilion halls until he stopped before a certain door. He raised a hand, knocked once, then twice, and his voice came low, hoarse with leftover desire.
"Han Jie… it's me. Open the door."
The latch clicked, and the door eased open. Han Jie stood there, smiling faintly, her eyes gleaming like she had been expecting this. "I was just about to go see you," she murmured.
Shi Yang's gaze swept down her form, and for a heartbeat, he forgot to breathe. She was clad in crimson and gold, the silken strips of fabric binding her chest crossing over pale skin, leaving her stomach bare and gleaming under the lamplight. A veil of the same scarlet hue covered her mouth and nose, only making her eyes all the more captivating.
Chains of gold traced from her hips down to the black silk panel that fell between her thighs, embroidered with intricate patterns that swayed with each subtle movement. Bangles shimmered at her wrists and thighs, their weight glinting with temptation.
Shi Yang smiled, hunger flashing in his eyes. "I can tell," he said huskily.
He stepped forward, one hand lifting to cup her chin, tilting her face upward. Before she could tease him with words, he caught her lips through the thin veil, pressing against her with a heat that brooked no restraint. She gasped softly into the kiss as he guided her back into the room, the door shutting behind them with a muted thud.
The lamplight inside danced across her body as his hands trailed lower, greedy to feel the warmth beneath the ornaments, to taste the sweat that already shimmered faintly along her skin.
—
Wei Kunshan pushed open the door to her quarters. A chill swept past her as she stepped inside, the lanterns unlit, leaving the chamber swallowed in pitch black.
Her bare feet pressed into something slick. Warm. Wet. She didn't flinch, didn't even pause—merely continued forward with the same unhurried grace, the faint chime of her ornaments echoing in the dark.
It wasn't until her toes brushed against the ridge of a cheekbone that she looked down. A face—her face—stared back at her from the floor, pale and bloodless, throat opened ear to ear. The corpse wore a white hanfu, stained crimson where the life had spilled out. The resemblance was uncanny, like a discarded skin she no longer needed.
With a flick of her wrist, she uncorked a small vial and poured its contents over the body. The stench of burning flesh filled the chamber as the corpse hissed and melted away into a puddle of bubbling black.
She did not look back.
Her steps carried her to the standing mirror in the corner of the room, its surface rippling faintly as though stirred by an unseen hand. Her gaze hardened, and in that instant, her pupils bled crimson, glowing like two smoldering coals. She lifted a hand and pressed it to the glass.
The mirror bent inward like pliant plastic, and she walked through.
On the other side, shadows closed in. A chamber without windows, where incense smoke coiled thick and suffocating. She shifted as she emerged, her body changing—no longer Wei Kunshan the drunken wanderer. Instead, she wore her true form:
a figure draped in midnight-black robes adorned with skeletal motifs, her pale skin stark against the darkness, crimson eyes glowing with an unearthly light. A silver headdress crowned her head, intricate and menacing, while her long black hair flowed like a river of ink, adorned with red ribbons that danced with each movement.
She knelt before a low altar, pulling out a small effigy of straw and cloth. One by one, she set the ingredients: a strand of Shi Yang's hair, bound tight around the doll's head; a droplet of her own blood, staining the chest with a vivid scarlet; and last, a smear of the white seed he had spilled inside her.
Her crimson eyes glimmered with wicked satisfaction as she whispered an incantation, her voice a low, resonant hum that stirred the smoke. Threading fine sinews into a cord, she looped the doll with deft fingers, tying it until it hung as a necklace, the weight of it pulsing against her chest like a living thing.
When she stood again, the voodoo effigy dangled against her chest, its presence faintly pulsing with borrowed life.
She swept out of the chamber, her bare feet whispering against the stone floor. Torches guttered as she passed, the long tunnels of the catacombs stretching endlessly before her. Step by step, she ascended until she emerged into her manor—an ancient place of brocade halls and shadowed windows.
A servant waited, bowing low.
"Prepare three mid-grade spirit stones," she commanded, voice muffled beneath her veil but sharp as a blade. "And a map to the wild water vein. Deliver them to the Floating Dreamer's Pavilion in Yuefen, room 259. With a letter."
Her eyes narrowed in amusement, the crimson glow fading to a playful spark.
"Write: Hopefully you'll buy me drinks again in the future~."
The servant bowed deeper and hurried away, leaving her alone in the hall. She touched the doll at her chest, the faint trace of Shi Yang's essence thrumming against her heart.
Her lips curved behind the veil.
"Nascent Soul, is it? Let's see if you can survive long enough to amuse me."