Eighth Sister, So Obedient and Adorable-Only Appearing After Finishing Something?

Criticism is one thing.

Qin Zhaoer took out a set of clothes and changed.

Dressed in moon white, the fabric was thin and clinging to her body, sliding down her waistline and clearly outlining her figure.

The neckline is low and the skirt is high, giving it a simple and clean look, yet the balance between revealing and concealing is just right.

This is her own handiwork.

While others make dresses that only cover up, she knows how to show off.

Her lower back and legs were still aching, and even bending over was difficult, which made Qin Zhaoer mutter another curse under her breath.

After changing, she slowly moved to the Bronze Mirror, picked up a comb, and tidied her messy black hair.

One comb, one comb.

As she combed her hair, Qin Zhaoer suddenly stopped.

The face in the mirror is still the same face.

But then again, something seems different.

Her eyebrows and eyes haven't changed, her skin hasn't changed, yet she exudes a certain indescribable charm.

Lazy and alluring, as if overnight, she had shed her youthful naiveté.

She stared at herself in the mirror for a long time, then reached out and touched her face.

They naturally knew what was going on.

My ears were getting warm, but the corners of my lips curled up uncontrollably. The more I looked at myself, the more I enjoyed it.

He looked at himself in the mirror from left to right, and then started humming a tune.

"That old man is so wicked... and I'm so beautiful..."

"Yesterday's debt is settled... Oh well, what can I do? I'm just too generous."

"Generous and beautiful, to have such a stunning beauty like me... you are truly blessed."

He hummed each line with increasing gusto, showing no trace of the begging for mercy he had endured the previous night.

It took me a while to calm myself down.

She gathered her hair into a bun, inserted a hairpin, and examined herself in the mirror.

It looks good.

But as he looked on, he inexplicably remembered an old incident from the trials.

There was a time when Qin Wangchuan, having nothing to do, would reminisce about the past, saying that her hair was very long and would definitely look good in pigtails.

She hadn't heard of it, so Qin Wangchuan told her about it.

At first, I didn't think much of it, but I tried combing it out.

Being bound like that makes my scalp ache when I'm doing things.

But that was just right for her.

From then on, this hairstyle quietly became a secret code between the two.

If I changed my hairstyle, then... I would want it.

Qin Zhaoer held the strand of hair, her fingertips pausing for a moment.

In the end, she raised her hand and pulled the hairpin out.

Her long, jet-black hair cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall, with a few unruly strands falling across her cheeks.

She tidied herself up in front of the mirror, her eyes sparkling.

It's not like I really want it.

I just... did my hair for him to see.

Thinking of this, her ears burned again, but she deftly divided her long black hair into two strands and tied them up high.

The person in the mirror instantly changed their appearance.

The hairstyle, which should have made her look younger, somehow couldn't hide the charm she had just developed.

Beneath the girl's delicate charm lies an undeniable allure, indescribably captivating.

Qin Zhaoer looked in the mirror and nodded with satisfaction.

"Perfect!"

Only then did he take the tea set, tiptoe to the tea stove, add water, and brew the tea, doing each step with practiced ease.

It's not like I'm serving anyone.

'I'm just... used to it.'

'Yes! I'm used to it!'

The tea was ready. She poured a cup, held it in her hands to warm it, walked to the edge of the couch, and sat down, watching the person's sleeping face in the morning light.

Golden Crow rose, a ray of light slanted into the hall and fell on his face.

As Qin Zhaoer watched, the corners of her lips involuntarily curved into a smile.

"Hello."

She poked his face with her fingertip.

Don't blame me if the tea gets cold.

The person on the couch fluttered their eyelashes and slowly opened their eyes.

The golden eyes reflected the morning light, and also the small face before him, which seemed to want to be fierce but didn't.

Qin Wangchuan didn't get up to take the cup of tea; instead, he lazily spoke.

"I'll have it cold."

As soon as she finished speaking, Qin Zhaoer frowned, her disdain written all over her face.

"You even picked on yourself? Drinking herbal tea so early in the morning, aren't you afraid of getting food stuck in your teeth?"

Despite his verbal complaints, he obediently took the teacup back.

She held it in her palm, pouting.

He blew small puffs of hot air into his mouth.

After blowing on it for a while, he still wasn't satisfied, so he took a small sip from the rim of the cup to test the temperature. Once he felt it wasn't too hot, he handed it back to him.

"Here, drink up."

Qin Wangchuan didn't answer, instead saying, "It's not cold enough."

"Ugh, I give up."

The words were a complaint, but the tone was so soft that there wasn't a trace of anger in them.

She put the tea leaves away again, lowered her head, and blew on them one sip at a time, her eyelashes drooping, this time with extra focus.

I blew on it, then slowly tasted it until it was completely cool before gently placing it in front of him.

"Alright, drink it now, it won't taste good if it gets cold."

Qin Wangchuan looked at her and suddenly smiled.

Eighth Sister herself probably didn't realize it.

The more intense the activity the night before, the more obedient she becomes afterwards.

Even now, on a normal day, she's too busy ordering people around to personally brew a cup of tea for anyone.

Qin Wangchuan reached out and took the tea.

He lowered his head, took a sip, and suddenly asked:

"Didn't you say you wanted to get it back tenfold?"

Upon hearing this, Qin Zhaoer did not reply, but simply lowered her eyes, her fingers twirling a strand of her long black hair.

Finally, he spoke in a low voice.

"... We can't get it back."

She admitted it in a muffled voice.

But as soon as she finished speaking, she suddenly raised her head and snorted at him unwillingly.

Don't get too cocky!

"It's only in things like this that you can outdo me."

Her voice was soft and gentle.

If the Qin Clan were to see him looking so docile, they probably wouldn't believe that this was the same arrogant and domineering Eighth Dao Child.

But she was indeed Qin Zhaoer.

However, it was Qin Zhaoer who had been thoroughly nourished.

"Alright, alright, go do what you're supposed to do."

"Most of the things I moved here yesterday are still piled up and haven't been put away yet, so I don't have time to play with you."

Before he could finish speaking, the man was just about to turn around.

Suddenly, the ponytail at the back of her head was grabbed and pulled back sharply.

Qin Zhaoer stumbled and fell onto the bed, bumping into a warm embrace.

Turning around, I bumped right into those golden eyes.

She knew the meaning behind it all too well.

"So many times already, you... you still want more?"

The voice was startled, but those alluring eyes were clearly brighter than anyone else's.

Qin Wangchuan didn't let go, his fingertip slowly circling the ponytail.

"You didn't style your hair yourself?"

Qin Zhaoer's face instantly turned bright red.

He had seen through my little scheme that I'd been hiding all morning.

"Who, who combed your hair for you! This is..."

Before he could finish speaking, he was forced down.

He couldn't bring himself to say the second half of the sentence.

Celestial birds soared through the sky outside the hall, disciples passed by carrying scrolls, and the Dharma boats patrolling the heavens glided across the sky according to the appointed time; everything was as usual.

Inside the hall, however, the scene was quite different.

Qin Zhaoer knelt on the brocade quilt, her two strands of black hair were held in someone's palm, pulling her fair neck high so she could no longer look down.

The broken, breathy sounds, the slight trembling as she clutched the brocade quilt, were all swallowed up by the formation.

A series of screams, their tones distorted, mingled with the swaying of the bed.