The third floor didn't feel like the second.
Downstairs and even on the level of their VIP room, Plum Rain Pavilion was built for noise—laughter that rolled, cups that clinked, music that coaxed men into spending what they shouldn't. The stairs to the third floor softened all of it. Each step swallowed sound until even Guo Dalu's booming chuckles became a distant smear of warmth.
Here, the lanterns were fewer and placed like deliberate stars. The corridor was narrower. The silk screens were thicker. The air smelled less like wine and more like clean incense—something meant to settle the heart and keep the mind from racing.
Lianhua guided Shen Yan by the arm as if she owned his pace.
She walked close, her chest brushing his sleeve now and then, not coy—simply confident, the way a cat brushes against your ankle and dares you to pretend it didn't happen.
They passed two doors where shadows flickered behind paper. A low sigh. A laugh quickly muffled.
At the back, where the corridor bent and the lanternlight dimmed, Lianhua stopped.
"This one," she murmured.
The door wasn't marked. No name plaque. No painted symbol to advertise what kind of pleasure waited inside. Just clean wood and a latch that looked new.
Lianhua knocked once, soft.
Then she slid the door open and ushered him in.
Shen Yan felt the chill before he saw its source.
It kissed his skin like winter sneaking beneath a collar. The candle flames in the room burned steady, yet the air held that wrong, sharp coolness—clean and cruel, like metal left out overnight.
A girl stood near the bed.
Pretty, yes—pretty in a way that made men remember to breathe. But it wasn't the Pavilion's manufactured pretty. She wore no heavy perfume, no glittering hair ornaments meant to shout wealth. Her dress was simple, pale, a shade that made her look even more fragile than she already did.
Her lips were faintly colorless.
And her eyes… her eyes were too calm for someone who should have been panicking.
Lu Ruyin bowed, the movement careful. "Third Young Master Shen."
Her voice was steady, but the words came out like they'd been cooled first.
Lianhua closed the door behind them and smiled as if this was a casual introduction at a banquet. "Young Master Shen," she said lightly, "this is Sister Lu Ruyin."
Ruyin's cheeks flushed. It looked almost painful on her pallor.
"She…" Lianhua glanced at Ruyin, amusement warming her eyes, "…admires you."
Ruyin's fingers tightened in her sleeves as if she wanted to hide inside them.
Shen Yan let his fan remain tucked away. No mask. No performance.
He looked at Ruyin properly.
The chill wasn't just in the room—it leaked from her skin like she was made of snow and trying to pretend she was human. Her lashes trembled faintly. The small rise and fall of her breath was too shallow. Every so often, her shoulders would twitch like she'd swallowed cold water.
Yin poison.
Not a mild one. Not the kind that simply made a girl faint and look pitiful for an hour.
This one had teeth. It had burrowed deep enough that the body had started losing the argument. It was close to the inner core. Close to the organs.
And yet she stood there, straight-backed, as if pride could keep her warm.
Shen Yan didn't say any of that.
Naming it aloud would turn her into a patient, and prideful people hated being patients. It would also turn the room into a clinic, and this was not a clinic. This was an exchange of secrets.
So he bowed slightly instead, polite and smooth. "Sister Lu," he said, voice gentle. "You're too kind."
Ruyin blinked, surprised he didn't tease her the way rumor claimed he teased everyone.
Lianhua's smile widened. "As long as Young Master Shen is happy," she said, sing-song.
Shen Yan's gaze flicked to her. "Happy?" he echoed. "So this is a gift."
"A reward," Lianhua corrected, stepping closer to him. Her hand landed on his sleeve, and she leaned in just enough that her breasts pressed his arm again, soft and deliberate, like she wanted to remind him who controlled the rhythm tonight. "You complained about compensation, didn't you?"
Shen Yan sighed. "Sister Lianhua, you're dangerous."
"I'm helpful," she said brightly. Then her eyes darted to Ruyin, and the playfulness softened at the edges. "Sister Ruyin is shy."
Ruyin's blush deepened, and her lips parted as if she wanted to deny it. A tiny tremor ran through her, and she swallowed it like a secret.
"She's shy," Shen Yan agreed easily, as if it was charming rather than terrifying. "And brave."
Ruyin's eyes widened a fraction.
Lianhua's fingers moved to Shen Yan's collar. "Let me," she said, and slipped his outer robe off his shoulders with practiced ease, folding it neatly as if she were a maid and not the Pavilion's prized Jade Lark.
Then she stepped back, hands still. The air seemed colder without her warmth filling it.
Lianhua looked between them once, satisfied, and moved toward the door. "Enjoy your night," she said lightly, as if sending a man to a meal rather than to something that might change a life.
Before she slipped out, she added, voice softer, "Be gentle."
The door closed.
The latch clicked.
Silence fell into the room like a blanket that didn't warm.
Ruyin stood in the same place, hands folded, spine straight, looking as if she'd been taught a thousand rules and none of them applied to this moment.
Shen Yan crossed the distance slowly.
Not because he was savoring it.
Because moving too fast would make her flinch, and a flinch would become fear, and fear would tighten everything that needed to open.
He stopped an arm's length away.
"Cold?" he asked, as if it was a simple thing.
Ruyin forced a small smile. "A little."
Shen Yan reached out and took her hand.
Her skin was shockingly cold.
Not "my hands are cold in winter" cold.
This was the cold of a stone left in river water.
Ruyin sucked in a breath, and for a heartbeat her composure cracked—eyes flickering, lips parting, a quiet shiver rippling through her.
Shen Yan held her hand gently, warming it with his palm. "You're shaking," he said softly.
"I'm fine," she tried.
He didn't argue. He just lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles, a simple kiss that carried heat like a promise.
Ruyin froze—then flushed, caught between pain and innocence.
"You're… warm," she whispered, as if surprised warmth existed.
Shen Yan's eyes softened. "I'm stubborn," he said. "My body refuses to be cold."
She looked at him with a mixture of shyness and something else—hope, maybe, or desperation hidden behind sect discipline.
"Are you sure?" Shen Yan asked.
The question was quiet. Not ceremonial. Just real.
Ruyin swallowed. "I…" Her voice wavered, then steadied. "Yes."
"Why?" he asked, gently cruel, as if testing her truth.
Ruyin's blush deepened. "Because I… admired you," she said, words tumbling out like she'd been holding them too long. "I heard about you from my sisters. They said you're shameless, but… you're not cruel. They said you don't force smiles. You… you listen."
Shen Yan hummed, not mocking. "Rumors can be generous."
"They weren't," Ruyin said quickly. "I saw you tonight. Your poem…"
Her throat tightened. The cold stole breath from her chest, and she hid it behind a small inhale.
Shen Yan lifted her hand to his cheek, letting her feel his warmth properly. "We can talk about poems later," he said. "Right now, breathe."
Ruyin nodded, eyes fixed on his face like she was trying to memorize it.
He leaned in and kissed her.
Not a delicate brush meant to be polite.
A real kiss—warm, firm, steady—his lips claiming hers with the kind of certainty that made panic forget to exist.
Ruyin stiffened for half a heartbeat, then melted into it with a soft, surprised sound. She kissed back clumsily at first—too careful, too new—then with growing urgency as if she'd discovered something she'd been denied her whole life.
When Shen Yan pulled back, her lashes fluttered.
A faint white mist drifted from her lips.
Ruyin didn't notice it. She was still tasting him, breath shallow, cheeks flushed.
Shen Yan noticed.
His jaw tightened slightly, hidden behind a gentle smile.
She was at her limit.
The poison was beginning to freeze deeper, and even desire couldn't distract the body forever.
He didn't let fear enter his hands.
He only guided.
"Sister Lu," he murmured, fingers sliding up her arm, "let me."
Ruyin's voice trembled. "Okay."
Shen Yan untied the outer layer of her dress slowly, pausing whenever her breath hitched, letting her adjust. Cloth slid from her shoulders. Her skin under it was pale, goosefleshed from cold. When his warm palm touched her waist, she shivered again—this time not only from pain.
He lowered the dress carefully, folding it aside like it mattered.
Ruyin stood in simple underclothes, cheeks burning hot enough to fight winter. She tried to cover herself with her hands, then stopped, remembering she'd already agreed to this and hiding now would only make her feel smaller.
Shen Yan touched her wrist gently. "Don't hide," he said. "I'm not here to judge you."
Her eyes widened—sect upbringing colliding with the intimacy of being seen.
"You're… very direct," she whispered.
"I'm kind," Shen Yan corrected. "Directness is just how I deliver it."
He lifted her.
Ruyin made a small startled sound, arms automatically wrapping around his neck. Her body was light—too light for a grown woman who should have been eating properly—and cold against his chest. He carried her to the bed as if she weighed nothing and set her down on the quilts like she was something precious that might crack.
The bed swallowed her, making her look even more delicate.
Shen Yan climbed onto the mattress beside her, not above her yet. He wanted her to see his face, not only his intent.
He kissed her again, slower this time, letting warmth sink into her mouth, into her breath. His hand slid along her thigh, warming skin inch by inch, coaxing life back into places the poison had tried to claim.
Ruyin's fingers gripped his shoulder, tension in them like someone holding onto the edge of a cliff.
"Relax," Shen Yan murmured against her lips. "I've got you."
Her eyes squeezed shut. She nodded.
His kisses moved to her jaw, then down her throat. The skin there was cooler than it should have been. When his mouth touched it, she gasped—half shock, half relief.
He suckled lightly at her pulse, not marking her, just reminding her body what heat felt like. His hand slid up to her breast, cupping it through the cloth, thumb circling slowly until her nipple hardened under his touch.
Ruyin's breath hitched. A soft moan escaped her before she could swallow it.
The sound startled her more than the touch.
She tried to apologize with her eyes.
Shen Yan kissed the corner of her mouth. "Good," he whispered. "Let it out."
He pulled the cloth down enough to free her breast and took her nipple into his mouth, tongue warm, lips closing gently. Ruyin arched, her hands twisting in his hair with desperate uncertainty.
Her body was too sensitive—poison making every nerve raw, like winter skin touched by hot water. Pleasure came sharp, almost painful, but it was still pleasure, and it dragged her toward warmth like a drowning person grabbing air.
Shen Yan's other hand slipped between her thighs.
The heat of his palm met the cold of her skin, and she shuddered hard enough to shake the mattress.
He stroked her slowly, patient, feeling her tense around nothing, feeling her fight herself.
"Look at me," he murmured.
Ruyin forced her eyes open.
Shen Yan's gaze held her steady. "Breathe," he said again. "In. Out."
She obeyed, breath trembling.
His fingers found her properly—soft, slickening slowly—and he felt the chill there too, unnatural and wrong. Her body was cold even in the place that should have been the most alive.
He didn't show it.
He only rubbed, gentle circles over her clit, letting her learn the sensation, letting her body accept him.
Ruyin's hips jerked faintly. A broken sound slipped from her throat.
"That's it," Shen Yan whispered, mouth at her neck again. He sucked her nipple once more, a steady pull, while his fingers kept their slow rhythm.
Ruyin's legs trembled. Her toes curled. Her breath turned ragged, visible again in faint wisps that she still didn't notice.
Then her body clenched.
A small orgasm rolled through her—not huge, not dramatic, but real enough that her eyes went glassy and her mouth opened in a silent gasp.
Warm wetness spread beneath Shen Yan's fingers.
For the first time, the cold in her skin seemed to hesitate.
Ruyin lay there panting, face flushed, lashes stuck together by dampness. She looked stunned, as if she'd been told her whole life the world was black and white and someone had just shown her color.
Shen Yan kissed her cheek. "Good," he murmured.
Ruyin swallowed, voice shaking. "I… I didn't know…"
"I know," he said softly. "Later."
He shifted, moving above her now. Not crushing. Just covering enough that she felt his heat. He slid his underclothes down and freed himself, his cock already hard, the heat of him a contrast to the room's chill.
Ruyin stared for a heartbeat, then looked away quickly, mortified.
Shen Yan cupped her jaw gently and turned her face back. "Don't run from it," he said. "It's just a body."
Her eyes flicked to his, trembling. "It's my first time," she whispered, as if confessing a crime.
"I know," Shen Yan said. "It will hurt."
Ruyin's throat bobbed. Fear tried to rise, but her need drowned it.
Shen Yan guided her legs apart, settling between them. His hand slid down to position himself at her entrance.
She was wet now, but still tight. Still trembling.
He pressed the tip of his cock against her slowly, letting her feel the promise of it, the stretch waiting.
Ruyin inhaled sharply.
"Ease up," Shen Yan murmured. "Don't fight me."
"I'm not—" she started, then gasped as he pushed in a little, the initial burn biting through pleasure.
Her nails dug into his shoulders.
Shen Yan paused, holding still, letting her adjust to the intrusion. He kissed her mouth, deep and steady, swallowing her whimper.
"Breathe," he told her, voice low and sure. "I'm here."
Ruyin's eyes squeezed shut. She forced a trembling exhale.
He pushed again, slowly, inch by inch, feeling her stretch around him. Pain made her face twist; pleasure made her hips lift helplessly. The contradiction left her breathless.
Shen Yan felt the chill clamp around him.
It was like sliding into cold water—shockingly cold, almost numbing. His cock felt as if it had been wrapped in frost.
So this was how deep the poison had gone.
Shen Yan's jaw tightened.
He didn't stop.
He sank deeper, careful and relentless, because the goal wasn't just to take her virginity—it was to reach her womb, to deliver heat where the cold had made a nest.
Ruyin sobbed softly, not only from pain, but from the way his warmth surrounded her, from the way his kisses kept her from drowning in fear.
"You're doing well," Shen Yan murmured against her lips, lying kindly. "So well."
Ruyin clung to him, shaking. "It hurts," she whispered.
"I know," he said, and kissed her again. "Hold onto me."
He thrust once more, deeper, until he felt the firm resistance of her cervix. The contact made Ruyin cry out, body arching, eyes going wide.
Shen Yan froze there, buried fully, his cock pressed as deep as he could go. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight, chest to chest, heat to cold.
He kissed her slowly, letting her tremors settle.
Ruyin's breathing gradually matched his, her body easing around him as the shock faded into sensation.
His lips brushed her ear. "Stay with me," he whispered.
Ruyin nodded, tears caught at her lashes. Her arms tightened around his back as if he was the only warm thing in the world.
In the candlelight, their breath mingled—her faint cold mist thinning, his warmth pressing back.
Shen Yan held her there, deep and steady, until her body stopped resisting and started to accept.
Until she was relaxed.
Until she was ready for what came next.