Shanghai's neon skyline flickered through Wei Jun's grimy apartment window.
The glow cast jagged shadows on peeling wallpaper.
At 30, Wei hunched over his laptop, its dim screen his only companion.
Empty noodle cups littered the floor, their stale scent mixing with unwashed laundry.
His fingers stalled on a meaningless spreadsheet, another night wasted in a dead-end accounting job.
Wei was a ghost in his own life. A virgin by cowardice, not choice, he'd buried his youth in books, his twenties in work.
Colleagues mocked him as "the monk," their laughter slicing deep.
He'd watched others live—love, lust, lose—while he drowned in regrets.
His secret browser tabs, filled with forbidden moans, were his only escape.
They weren't enough.
Those pixelated women mocked his solitude.
His heart pounded with unvoiced desires, urges he'd never dared act on.
He craved a world without shame, where he could seize what he wanted.
But reality kept him chained, invisible, unremarkable.
His phone buzzed, breaking the silence. A curt message from his mother:
"Call your father. He's sick again."
Wei's jaw clenched.
His estranged parents—his drunkard father, his overworked seamstress mother—had abandoned him to loneliness years ago.
He hadn't called in months, and the thought tightened the ache in his chest.
He shoved back from the desk. The chair creaked under his slight frame. At 5'7", with messy hair and smudged glasses, Wei was forgettable.
But inside, he burned with longing. He imagined a life of fearless desire, free from judgment.
Rain hit the window, a sudden downpour. Wei grabbed his jacket, driven by a restless urge.
He stumbled into Shanghai's chaotic streets. Neon lights blurred through the wet haze.
He wandered past bars where couples laughed, alleys where shadows moved suggestively.
A woman's moan drifted from a shadowed corner. Wei froze, his pulse quickening.
The sound was raw, unashamed, a siren call to his caged desires.
He edged closer, rain soaking his jacket. Two figures pressed against a brick wall, her skirt hiked, his hands greedy.
Wei's cock stirred, a heavy twelve-inch secret he'd never used. He imagined joining them, fearless, taking what he craved. Shame stopped him, a cold hand on his heart.
He turned away, rain stinging his face. The city's pulse mocked his cowardice.
Clubs throbbed with music, doors leaking gasps and giggles.
Wei's mind raced with fantasies—orgies, stolen lovers, bodies shared without guilt.
His colleagues bragged of such nights, their stories of gangbangs and bar girls slicing deeper than their taunts.
He'd always been the outsider, watching, never touching.
His steps faltered, regret a weight in his gut.
A neon sign flickered:
" Paradise Lounge. "
Wei lingered, drawn to its promise.
Through a cracked window, he glimpsed bodies moving, a tangle of limbs under red lights.
A woman rode a man, her moans loud, others watching, joining.
His cock throbbed, straining against his jeans. He could walk in, shed his fear, claim that world.
But his feet stayed rooted, his heart a traitor.
He stepped into the street, mind fogged with want.
Tires screeched, headlights flared. A delivery truck slammed into him, pain exploding in his chest.
His body hit the pavement, rain mixing with blood.
The city's neon faded, voices distant.
Wei's last thought was a plea: A world where I'm free. Darkness took him, heavy and warm.
A sultry voice pierced the void. "Wei Jun, your life was wasted desire."
A figure emerged—Liyue, a goddess with crimson lips and eyes like molten jade.
Her silk robe clung to curves that screamed sin, barely concealing her flesh.
"You begged for a world without shame," she purred, stepping closer.
Her scent—jasmine and heat—stirred his core. Wei's heart pounded, his fear gone, replaced by hunger.
"What's the cost?" he asked, voice steady.
Liyue's laugh was a velvet stroke, teasing his senses.
"No cost, mortal. The Scarlet Dynasty awaits, where pleasure rules."
Her fingers grazed his chest, nails sparking fire through his phantom skin.
His cock twitched, alive, a beast unchained.
"I'm done hiding," Wei growled, stepping toward her.
Her eyes gleamed, approving his fire.
"You'll be a noble's son," Liyue whispered, her breath hot on his neck.
"Fuck, dominate, seize power." Her hand slid lower, brushing his bulge, a tease that set him ablaze.
Red light flared with her snap, burning through him.
His body remade—muscles carved, skin flawless, his twelve-inch cock heavier, a weapon of conquest.
Visions flooded his mind:
Crimson lanterns,
Jade palaces,
Moans echoing,
A mother's sultry whisper,
Sisters giggling in orgies,
An empress daring him to join her betrayals.
Liyue's robe slipped, revealing a glimpse of smooth thigh.
"The Scarlet Dynasty bows to desire," she said, lips close.
Wei saw it—bodies writhing in silk pavilions, nobles fucking in public, voyeurs feeding on NTR games.
His sisters, offered to courts, moaned under strangers.
A prostitute's cunning eyes promised loyalty and schemes.
His mother's thighs parted for emperors, her moans a lesson in power.
Wei's new body pulsed, eager to claim it all.
"You could be their king," Liyue purred, her fingers lingering near his cock.
"No shame, only power."
Wei's eyes locked on hers, bold, unyielding.
"I'll take it," he said, voice low, a vow.
The visions sharpened—gangbangs under lanterns, harem betrayals, his cock a legend.
He saw himself leading, dominating, fearless.
Liyue's smile widened, wicked and proud. "Good," she whispered, lips brushing his ear.
The void trembled, red light surging.
Wei felt his new form, strong, hung, ready.
"Seize the Scarlet Dynasty," Liyue commanded, her voice a sultry blade.
His mind burned with jade palaces, sweat-slick bodies, and power won through lust. A mother's forbidden touch, sisters begging him to join their orgies, an empress's NTR challenge. The darkness cracked, scarlet fire swallowing him.
Wei fell, reborn, into a world of unbound desire.