The first rays of sunlight filtered weakly through the paper windows of their room. Liang Yue stirred, eyelids heavy, muscles aching in ways that reminded him of the night before. Every movement felt deliberate, measured; even breathing seemed heavier than usual. His delicate body, though slender and underestimated, carried the memory of the stressful, intense cultivation session he had endured with Shen Jin.
He propped himself up on one elbow, hair falling across his face, and blinked blearily. The room was quiet—too quiet. His pulse still raced faintly, the lingering hum of sexual energy circulating in his veins. The memory of Shen Jin's precision, control, and impatience made his chest tighten. The boy had pushed him beyond every boundary, forcing him to follow the rhythm of his energy, every movement guided with a sharp, unyielding hand.
Liang Yue shivered slightly at the recollection. Shen Jin had been relentless, impatient, exacting. Every time Liang Yue's energy neared a peak, the boy had seized control, making him submit to the flow. So… aggressive… so unrelenting, Liang Yue thought, a blush rising to his cheeks. His delicate frame had trembled under the force, the precision, and the subtle pressure of Shen Jin's dominance.
He shifted slightly on the mat, wincing as muscle soreness radiated through his hips and thighs. The exhaustion was physical, yes, but also mental. The intimate synchronization had demanded more than just his body—it had required obedience, attention, and careful calculation. Every pulse of energy, every subtle shift of Shen Jin's touch, had been measured, precise, leaving Liang Yue both drained and anxious.
Liang Yue's eyes darted toward the other side of the room. Shen Jin lay on his mat, back straight, breathing even and calm, hair splayed over the pillow. To any observer, he looked untouched, pristine, almost untouchable. But Liang Yue knew better. He had felt the boy's impatience, his precision, the sharpness behind every command. Even now, he could sense the residual energy radiating from him, a subtle pressure lingering in the air, reminding Liang Yue of last night.
A knot of fear and anticipation tightened in his chest. He had survived, but barely. The boy's control over the flow of energy, the sexual rhythm required for cultivation, had been intense, unyielding, and terrifyingly efficient. Liang Yue had followed, adapting in the moment, letting the energy guide his body, but part of him had still wanted to pull away, to catch his breath, to resist. And yet, Shen Jin had forced him to continue—his patience short, his dominance clear.
Liang Yue's cheeks burned as he remembered the boy's hand, the exact rhythm, the sharpness of every command. He had been overwhelmed, yet there had been a strange thrill buried beneath the fear—the realization that this was training, growth, and survival, all intertwined with sensation and control.
Slowly, Liang Yue sat upright fully, crossing his legs and lowering his head. His mind raced with strategies, adjustments, and self-analysis. If this was the first night, he knew the boy would not ease up. Shen Jin's impatience, his perfectionism, his drive for efficiency—they were both terrifying and a tool Liang Yue could eventually learn to manipulate. But for now… he had to endure.
The room was still quiet, the faint rustle of fabric the only sound as Shen Jin shifted slightly on his mat. Liang Yue could feel the subtle pulse of energy lingering, vibrating through the floor, through the air, through his own body. The thought of another session—another night, another synchronization—made his chest tighten again. Fear, anticipation, and the memory of last night's intensity mingled into a heady mixture.
Liang Yue leaned back on his hands, taking slow, deliberate breaths. He could feel the aftershocks of sexual energy still coursing through him. Weak though he appeared, delicate and fragile as his frame seemed, he had survived. He had adapted. He had learned. But the boy beside him—Shen Jin—was a predator in cultivation, precise, impatient, relentless. And Liang Yue knew that he had to understand, anticipate, and endure every move if he wanted to survive and grow stronger.
He glanced at Shen Jin once more. Calm, aloof, untouchable—yet a faint gleam in the boy's sharp eyes hinted at the control and expectation that had guided last night's session. Liang Yue swallowed hard. He was afraid of the boy, yes, but fear mingled with a strange curiosity—a pull, a challenge, a spark that urged him to continue despite the exhaustion.
The morning sunlight grew stronger, spilling across the mats, illuminating their shared room. Liang Yue lay back briefly, long black hair fanning around him, and let himself relax for the first time since waking. He was tired—every muscle, every nerve, every pulse of energy reminded him of last night—but he had survived.
And as he closed his eyes, he vowed silently: he would endure Shen Jin's impatience, he would survive the intensity, and he would grow stronger.