Han Feng 7           

Though Xue Li's body was untouched—pure as freshly fallen snow—the soul inside her was anything but innocent.

She was, after all, a woman in her late thirties, a NEET who had spent countless nights immersed in R-18 novels and games. She knew the art of seduction, not just from experience in the flesh, but from the stories and fantasies that had consumed her for years.

She could be as innocent and pure as freshly fallen snow—or flip the script and outdo the finest courtesan in the kingdom. Honestly, it was like she had a secret switch, and she knew which setting to use in any situation.

The duality of her existence was both her greatest strength and her most exhausting challenge. Playing the role of the timid, blushing maid required a level of restraint and skill.

The trembling hands, the downcast eyes, the breathy gasps—each detail had to be perfect to maintain the facade.

However now, with Han Feng momentarily distracted in the bath, she allowed herself a moment to relax. She lay on the emperor's grand bed, her chest rising and falling in controlled rhythm as she focused on the game she was playing—a delicate dance of timing and manipulation.

This wasn't just about surviving in this strange new world. It was about winning. And to win, she needed to win Han Feng over completely and change his fate.

Her plan was to make her madly fall in love with her, and give him happiness, and contentment for the rest of his life –– so madly in love with her that he couldn't replace her.

She couldn't afford to let him grow bored of her. Men like him—powerful, commanding, and used to having whatever they desired—were quick to discard what no longer intrigued them.

Her strategy was simple: pace herself. Let him believe he was in control. The fainting act had been a calculated move, a ploy to heighten his interest and make him view her as fragile and innocent—qualities that would keep him hooked . . . for now.

She counted the seconds in her head, timing her next move. The faint sound of water splashing reached her ears. Han Feng was bathing, the heat of his earlier desire likely cooled by now.

It was time.

Xue Li opened her eyes, her lashes fluttering as though she were waking from a faint spell. Her heart pounded—not from fear, but from anticipation. This was the crucial moment to deepen the connection, to plant the seeds of affection and obsession in Han Feng's mind.

Sliding off the bed, she padded silently toward the bathing chamber. Her movements were slow and deliberate, the embodiment of a timid woman gathering her courage. But inside, her mind was a whirlwind of calculated intentions.

The curtain to the bathing area was slightly ajar, and through the gap, she caught a glimpse of him. Han Feng's broad shoulders glistened with water, the muscles of his back flexing as he leaned against the edge of the wooden tub. His dark hair was slicked back, and the steam rising around him softened the sharp angles of his face, making him look almost otherworldly. Beautiful, yet dangerous.

He was the villain in a romance novel, alright.

For a moment, Xue Li hesitated. Not out of shyness, but to let the image burn into her mind. If she was going to play her role convincingly, she needed to feel the awe and nervousness that her character would.

Taking a deep breath, Xue Li waited just meters out from the curtains.

"Y-your Majesty . . . ?" she called softly, her voice trembling just enough to convey uncertainty.

Han Feng's head turned, his piercing gaze locking onto her. For a heartbeat, the intensity in his eyes made her stomach flip.

"Xue Li?" His voice was a low rumble, "You're awake now?"

"I . . . I woke up and didn't see you," she murmured, her fingers twisting the fabric of her skirt. "I was worried."

His lips curved into a faint smirk. "Is that so? Are you still feeling faint?"

"N-no, Your Majesty," she stammered, her cheeks flushing as she lowered her gaze. "I just . . . I-I only wanted to check if you had any other orders. If not, I will take my leave and not disturb your peace."

Han Feng's eyes narrowed, displeasure flickering across his face. Her eagerness to escape him was obvious, the fear in her every word grating against his pride. His tone dropped, low and hissing, "Come here."

The steam wrapped around Xue Li as she stepped closer, the warmth of the room seeping into her skin. Her gaze flickered downward, catching the faint scars on Han Feng's chest, barely visible beneath the water. Her breath hitched, and this time, it wasn't entirely feigned.

Han Feng reached out, his wet fingers brushing against her wrist. The heat of his touch sent a jolt through her, and she allowed herself to gasp softly, the perfect mix of surprise and vulnerability.

"Bathe me," he ordered, his voice a velvet command, his grip firm yet strangely gentle as he released her hand.

Xue Li hesitated, her trembling fingers reaching for the sponge. She knelt beside him, the warm scent of the bathwater mingling with the heady intensity of his presence.

"Do you not want to do this?" Han Feng's gaze lingered on her. Her movements were measured, almost too cautious, as though she feared a single misstep would ignite his temper.

Xue Li kept her head lowered, never daring to meet Han Feng's eyes. "What Xue Li thinks or wants does not matter. Only Your Majesty's orders matter. Xue Li is your servant to command."

Her voice, soft and obedient, carried a submissive undertone that made his chest tighten. Han Feng's dark eyes narrowed, studying her closely. Something in her response struck a nerve, igniting a simmering frustration he couldn't quite place.

"Is that so?" he murmured, his voice low and dangerously smooth as he leaned in. His fingers caught her chin, tilting her face upward until their eyes met.

"Then serve me . . . properly."