Before Zhao Linchuan could say a word, a soft, warm body had already pressed gently against his back.
Yan Fei rested her cheek against his broad back, her voice softly tickling his ear like a feather.
"Husband... it's getting late. We should... turn in..."
The storm gradually subsided, leaving a lingering afterglow.
Yan Fei slumped weakly against Zhao Linchuan's shoulder, breathing hard. It was as if every ounce of strength had been drained from her; even lifting a finger felt like a struggle.
Though she had been the one to invite him to that little "match," she had clearly overestimated herself—or, rather... underestimated Zhao Linchuan's ability to keep his "Soul Power" going after that table full of "special ingredients" and the improvement in his strength.
Zhao Linchuan turned his head and looked at the woman in his arms, limp and languid, drenched in sweat. A hint of teasing amusement flickered in his eyes.
He reached out and gently brushed aside a damp strand of hair clinging to her cheek, then teased her:
"Madam, do you know what happens when you 'nourish' someone too much now?"
"Will you... still dare to 'feed me supplements' like that again? Hmm?"
At his words, Yan Fei barely had the strength to glare at him. She defended herself feebly:
"I-it was only because... you hadn't come back for days."
"I... I thought that temptress had... had 'devoured you whole,' so your condition might have... might have weakened..."
"That's why I wanted to make more medicinal dishes to replenish your strength... Who knew you'd..."
Her voice grew softer with every word, until she was almost mumbling.
"You..." Zhao Linchuan laughed at her well-meaning but misguided excuse. He lightly tapped the tip of her pert nose, his tone helpless yet affectionate. "Have a little faith in me,