Yan Fei and Yan Lingji stood side by side in front of the door, wearing identical expressions.
Their eyes curved with amusement.
Zhao Linchuan frowned, and alarm bells went off in his heart.
Oh no!
I'm prey again!
The thought had barely flashed through his mind when faint footsteps sounded behind him. A soft, delicate body pressed against his back.
Yue Shen's voice brushed his ear, gentle as a spring breeze, yet carrying a hint that sent a chill down his spine.
"Husband, it's getting late. You should rest."
Zhao Linchuan swallowed with difficulty. "Um... dear, let's talk this out..."
Before he could finish, three figures pounced on him at once.
The candlelight flickered, and the night stretched on.
Time flew. Half a month later.
The morning sun filtered through the window gauze and spilled into the room, laying a warm golden glow across the floor.
The quilt on the bed lay in disarray.
Zhao Linchuan lay stiff as a board, lips parted, staring blankly at the canopy. He looked like a corpse drained of every last bit of life and spirit.
His chest still rose and fell, proof that he was alive—but only just.
Beside the bed, Yan Fei and Yan Lingji helped each other straighten their skirts.
Yan Fei tied the tassels at Yan Lingji's waist, while Yan Lingji tidied Yan Fei's slightly rumpled collar.
Their movements were gentle. Every now and then, they exchanged a glance, their faces tinged with guilty blushes.
After all, over the past half month, they had joined forces with Yue Shen and run their husband ragged.
It was, frankly, a little... unseemly.
Yue Shen had already finished dressing. Looking languidly overfull, she walked to the bed and crouched beside Zhao Linchuan, leaning close to his ear.
"Husband, you're getting better and better