Did he really have to take off his clothes and accept Master's treatment?
He bit his lip, wavering, unsure what to do. But soon, he saw Master's gentle gaze and his junior sister's heavy breathing.
The road to becoming Master's wife was long and fraught with obstacles.
He was foolish. Apart from the sword in his hand with which to sweep away Master's obstacles, and his stubborn heart that refused to admit defeat, he had nothing.
His junior sister, however, was the Hall Master of Spring Passion Hall. She had seen all the world's love affairs and was proficient in every kind of method.
If he backed down, Fourth Junior Sister might very well steal Master away.
Therefore, he had to press forward without hesitation, constantly asking himself whether this was the only chance he would ever have.
Defending the throne of Shimu was a duty he could not shirk.
At this thought, he took a deep breath, seemingly reaching a decision. He pressed his lips tightly together, his eyes filled with stubborn resolve.
His trembling hands slowly gripped his belt, then gave it a gentle tug...
His azure robe slipped off.
In the moonlight, beneath the lamplight, his cool, aloof body was gradually exposed, still trembling slightly. His hand clenched the Azure Shadow Sword, proof enough of just how nervous he was.
Yet even so, he showed no intention of giving up. Instead, he slowly lay down in Master's other arm.
He nervously closed those eyes like cold pools.
He huddled dazedly in Fang Yang's arms, motionless, like a piece of icy jade.
Inside the great hall, the lamplight flickered.
Fang Yang held someone in each arm.
On his left was Lian Yue, her body like a drifting willow; on his right was the stubborn, keen-edged Ye Qinghong.
Though