Even many of the amusing little trinkets came from Spring Passion Hall.
As the Spring Passion Hall Hall Master, Lian Yue cultivated the Red Dust Art, absorbing red dust qi amid the mortal world, so her style of dress should have been rather daring as well.
In reality, however, her silk stockings were of the simplest style, with none of those so-called black or white stockings.
Instead, they lent her a touch of sweet charm.
Now, as Fang Yang slipped off her silk stockings, her beautiful feet, snowy white as jade, appeared beneath the lamplight.
Her delicate, exquisite toes resembled pearls and were rather adorable, pressed tightly together in obvious nervousness.
She raised her head, meeting her master's eyes, which held the hint of a smile, and... grew even more nervous.
"M-Master, don't."
"..."
Fang Yang's mouth twitched. His disciple's words left him with black lines of exasperation across his forehead. Looking at Lian Yue, who was practically shrinking into a ball, he found it rather funny.
Previously, he had always thought of Lian Yue as a colder version of Lin Daiyu. After all, her hands had been stained with blood, and many sects had fallen at his disciple's hands.
But now it seemed...
Lian Yue's coldness was merely on the surface. In the end, she was only a young woman newly acquainted with intimacy.
At that moment, he had intended to comfort her, but recalling what she had done before, he decided to give her a warning instead, so she would no longer make decisions behind his back.
"My dear disciple, I remember warning you never to hide anything from me, no matter what. Yet you went behind my back, pushed me onto a bed, and took it upon yourself to have a wedding night. What, a disciple may