Spring slipped by in secret. Nothing was said through the night.
The next day, a brilliant sun slowly rose from the rippling lotus pond. As though freshly washed, like a water sprite dyed in brocade, it ascended toward the blue sky and stitched heaven and earth together.
The sunlight was like a lotus flower on the verge of blooming, purple-red, russet-red, then gradually whitening as it burst forth with a thick white radiance stained by clouds and mist.
Yin and yang alternated, the sun rose and set. Such was the nature of the world, filled with order.
Was the nature of life not the same? Man and woman, yin and yang—such was the principle of natural harmony.
Sunlight streamed through the window that had been shaken askew, illuminating Jiang Dali's tall, burly, powerful body as he stood before it. His marble-carved muscles, layered like ramparts, were plated in a mellow glow that dazzled the eye.
The bed in the room had collapsed, and several floor tiles had cracked apart.
Wang Yuyan and the other women hid behind the gauze curtains, watching the man by the window with bashful eyes. He was like a mountain that stood unyielding amid a storm, and their hearts still burned with enduring, fierce passion.
Whether it was Wang Yuyan of Gusu, the martial arts master famed across the land, Murong Qingqing, the zither demon who intimidated the martial world like an iceberg, or Wanwan, the Yin Empress renowned throughout the realm for her beauty, all of them were like waves crashing fearlessly against Jiang Dali's reef. Let the tide rise and fall; they did not fear being shattered to pieces.
Wanwan openly bared her alluring body and asked in a lazy, magnetic voice, "Stronghold Chief, once you leave, who knows when you'll return. What will