"Mistress, a fierce battle has broken out over there."
"It seems there might be a chance to escape this place..."
The old servant, hunched over, offered this remark with a fawning expression to Jiang Yingji, who stood nearby. She merely cast a fleeting glance his way, and he instantly clamped his mouth shut.
He felt mortified—he had previously taken advantage of Jiang Yingji while she was asleep, an act that, ironically, ended up alleviating her chronic lethargy. Consequently, the "Queen of Shanghai" decided to venture out herself to investigate the situation.
His lies were promptly exposed; the ruins were practically deserted, so there was certainly no sign of any "uprising" or extreme danger.
Though the old servant's scheme had been quite clever, he hadn't accounted for the Queen's formidable drive—she had quickly pieced together the truth behind the entire affair.
Furthermore, his earlier fabrications collapsed on their own: if the area was nothing but ruins, it stood to reason that the only item one could possibly "find" there—a garment that looked more like something out of an erotic fantasy—couldn't have been a genuine discovery.
That particular piece had been chosen entirely based on the old servant's own personal "tastes."
Take the outfit Jiang Yingji was wearing now: she had changed into it because she was fastidious about cleanliness and had felt the previous set of clothes becoming a bit grimy.
It was another ensemble he had prepared—a high-waisted, side-slit purple *qipao*. It revealed her smooth, radiant, and striking thighs, accentuating the peach-like curves of her hips and legs, while highlighting a waist that was both voluptuous and elegantly contoured. Above, her massive, creamy-white breasts—soft as curd—seemed ready to spill out entirely.
As she moved, the swaying and twisting of her slender waist and shapely, pear-like hips created a sight that was truly a feast for the eyes. Moreover, the *qipao*—extending from her snow-white neck down to her breasts—featured a sheer, pale-purple mesh panel where a row of traditional frog buttons would typically be; this panel reached nearly to the crest of her bosom. Her gracefully rounded shoulders and soft, shapely, slender arms were left entirely bare, while the flesh at the sides of her breasts spilled over, creating a lush, teardrop-like contour.
The full, soft, and supple curves of her breasts—along with the deep, inviting cleavage between them—were rendered clearly visible.
The design was also backless, revealing the elegant, slender curve of her spine, with her fair, smooth, and translucent skin fully exposed.
Her plump, peach-like buttocks stretched the fabric taut, molding it into an alluring shape reminiscent of a ripe, split peach. Furthermore, the side slits of the *qipao* were cut so high that her snow-white, shapely posterior would flicker in and out of view with every step she took.
Under these circumstances, wearing standard panties was out of the question—the telltale straps would be glaringly obvious. Only a C-string or a strapless, tension-fit thong would have been appropriate; yet, among the undergarments provided by the old servant, no such items could be found.
Jiang Yingji possessed an intense devotion to beauty; even in a situation like this, she refused to settle for an unrefined ensemble.
Ultimately, she chose to forgo underwear entirely. Beneath her long, fair, and shapely legs, her delicate, rosy-white feet were encased in a pair of black, red-soled stiletto heels.
For the sake of mobility, she had gathered her lustrous, raven-black hair into a long, thick braid starting from the nape of her neck. Though her face remained completely bare of makeup, it did nothing to diminish her unique allure—a captivating blend of a mature woman's poise, a young woman's sultry charm, and the fresh, vibrant beauty of a maiden. That thick, dark braid lent her an air of vigor and capability—so striking that it stole one's breath and left one utterly captivated.
This outfit was the result of Jiang Yingji's most careful selection; the other options had been far more scandalous and revealing. Now that his lies had been exposed, Jiang Yingji no longer placed any trust in the old servant.
Had the circumstances been different, she would have already moved to restrain the old servant's body. As it stood, she disregarded his every word, viewing him merely as a tool with some combat utility.
Ignoring him entirely—as if he did not exist—Jiang Yingji kept her gaze fixed firmly in the direction of the explosions. Her eyes shifted, and her willow-leaf brows knit together; in that fleeting moment, she sensed an aura that felt remarkably intimate and familiar.
The instant she caught that scent, it was as if an instinct had been triggered—a deep, tender chord within her heart began to thrum, stirred by an inexplicable emotion.
It was akin to the surging of maternal love—a warmth laced with an urgent, protective intensity, much like a mother shielding her young. Her entire focus was instantly drawn toward whatever was unfolding in that direction.
Seeing that Jiang Yingji's attention was no longer on him, the old servant let out a long sigh of relief; he dared not risk offending her completely just yet.
Although Li Dong had unleashed a sudden burst of power, he still failed to reach Sister Zhiran.
The space around him had abruptly solidified, acting like an invisible wall that barred his movement. He could only watch helplessly as Sister Zhiran was swept away toward his uncle, Luo Shaowen.
The white jade pillar—which held Sister Zhiran by her slender waist—sprouted several branches, spreading her snow-white legs apart as it began a slow, steady descent. At the same time, Luo Shaowen withdrew his cock from behind Lan Yan's buttocks. Coated in a thick, creamy, paste-like fluid, his massive member slid precisely between Zhi Ran's plump labia—with a wet, squelching sound, it plunged straight into her honeyed depths.
"Mmm… ah, wuu-wuu…!"
Zhi Ran's fair, naked body shuddered uncontrollably. In front of Xiao Dong, she was filled with such intense resistance that she had no desire to even attempt to relax her vaginal muscles to accommodate his colossal shaft.
Naturally, even when she tried her best to endure it, the relentless fucking would leave her vagina aching and numb, driving her to climax repeatedly while she wept and shrieked.
Now, her tender passage offered no resistance at all. Soft, supple, and slick with moisture, her tight, delicate opening was stretched so taut that every fold and crevice was smoothed out; it clung to his thick, rigid, and searingly engorged cock with an intense, gripping suction.
While Luo Shaowen's cock wasn't quite "inhumanly" large—comparable, perhaps, to the largest specimens found among Black men—his formidable physique, which rivaled even Tang Lan Yan's own, ensured his engorged member was hard to an extreme degree.
Unlike some men who, despite having large cocks, might struggle with a lack of full, rigid erection, his member stood as stiff as a red-hot iron rod—further intensified by an "evolved" form of *Pure Yang* energy, which infused his touch with a soul-melting, searing heat. The scorching, thick cock thrust deep, forcing its way through layers of tender flesh. The slick, white secretions within the vagina were compressed into a paste—thinner than paper—clinging to the space between the honeyed passage and the massive phallus. Excess fluid, squeezed out from the vaginal opening—now stretched so thin it appeared as nothing more than a delicate, crimson-hued membrane—oozed and gushed forth.