Having indulged in a bit of self-pleasure—a small solace for her intense longing—Xuetang finally emerged from the bathroom.
She had roughly dried her long, lustrous, jet-black hair and pulled it back into a simple ponytail. Against her skin—dewy, petal-soft, and flushed from her bath—this look lent her an air of youthful, vibrant charm.
A faint, lingering blush still graced her lovely face, adding a touch of allure and delicate radiance.
Wrapped in a silk bath towel that clung to her graceful, curvaceous figure, she stepped along in a pair of fuzzy slippers. Her legs, smooth and pale as carved jade, were slender and shapely, leading down to flawless, delicate ankles. With every step, her toes touched the floor first, followed by the lift of her ankle; her feet, soft and tinged with a delicate pink, revealed their tender, enticing soles with each movement.
She approached the walk-in closet and opened the doors, revealing dozens of exquisite garments—haute couture gowns, intricately embroidered dresses—a dazzling array of luxury. Yet, none of these suited her current needs, so she turned her attention to the loungewear.
However, the dresses and nightgowns intended for indoor wear were all startlingly sheer—practically transparent.
Xuetang's cherry-red lips parted slightly, and her eyes widened. A deep blush crept across her cheeks; she *had* asked for something looser and more comfortable, but she never imagined that Uncle Qin would prepare *this*...
After a moment's hesitation, she chose a light-gray, strapless-style sheer dress, adorned with delicate ruffles along the neckline. With a blush on her cheeks, the beauty slipped off her silk bathrobe and donned a sheer, gossamer-thin gown.
The fabric, light as a cicada's wing, clung to her body like a delicate mist draped over skin as smooth and lustrous as fine white jade. Her exquisite form and graceful curves played hide-and-seek beneath the sheer material; her breasts stood firm and proud, their vibrant, rose-hued peaks pressing boldly against the fabric, stretching it taut.
Her exposed shoulders and collarbones were fair, translucent, and whiter than snow. Beneath the faint veil of the gown, her cherry-pink areolas and delicate nipples exuded an intoxicating, hazy allure.
Her curvaceous, hourglass figure—full-bosomed and shapely—caused her ample, supple buttocks to tighten slightly, the fabric tracing the deep cleft between them and defining a silhouette as plump and luscious as a ripe peach.
In the mirror, the beauty's expression was one of shy, dreamy bewilderment, her face as radiant as a blossoming peach flower. Her perfectly contoured body, glimpsed through the sheer fabric, held an unparalleled, seductive charm.
Next, she began to pull on a pair of silk stockings. As she dipped her slender waist, she lifted a smooth, shapely thigh; the soft flesh between her legs pressed together, parting gently like the split surface of a soft, white steamed bun.
She raised a bare foot—delicate and dainty, yet soft and full—curling her jade-like toes as she eased the sheer, gossamer stocking up her shapely, supple leg. The fabric glided upward with the fluid, seamless grace of flowing water—so smooth and effortless that it felt as if a lover's hand were caressing her skin, a sensation that took Xue Tang by surprise. She extended one foot—clad in a sheer stocking—to take a closer look. Beyond a faint, crystalline-gray shimmer, the foot appeared almost entirely bare. Her delicate, slender toes—reminiscent of spring onions—rested close together, soft and tender. Five small, rounded toenails, tinged with a subtle cherry-blossom pink, looked like delicate flower petals; notably, there wasn't a single seam to be seen.
She was struck with surprise: Uncle Qin had managed to procure the most high-end, cutting-edge stockings available today.
Since the dawn of the "Transcendental Era," not only have humans awakened as "transcendentals," but animals, too, have occasionally evolved into transcendental creatures. Certain species—analogous to the "enhancement" type among human transcendentals—possess fur that can be processed into polyamide fibers; these fibers boast a tensile strength hundreds of times greater than that of ordinary textile materials.
Aunt Jiang's corporate empire has deep roots in this sector, encompassing the acquisition of various luxury fashion houses both domestically and abroad—names like Balenciaga and Chanel.
The reason Aunt Jiang is hailed as the "Queen of the Magic Metropolis" (Shanghai) stems not only from her poise, beauty, and status, but also from her reign as a true queen of the fashion world.
The stockings she wore were a new release from the Jiang Group, aptly named "Crystal Weaver." Beyond their unique material, they were crafted by a transcendental with "psychokinetic" (mind-power) abilities. Eschewing mechanical manufacturing, the weave is so incredibly fine—far beyond the reach of the naked eye—that the fabric is virtually indestructible.
It is as if she has acquired a second, gossamer-thin layer of skin; only a faint, translucent film connecting her toes betrays the presence of the garment—an incredibly sensual detail.
Naturally, such rarity commands an exorbitant price. Yet, as a daughter-in-law—though Xuetang herself remained unaware of it—she could always count on receiving the latest, most exclusive fashion pieces whenever the holidays rolled around. Xuétáng was struck with surprise; Uncle Qín was truly thoughtful—he had somehow guessed exactly what she most wanted to wear at that moment.
Before long, a wave of exhaustion washed over her. The loose, comfortable clothing she wore seemed only to deepen her drowsiness; no sooner had she sat down on the bed than she found herself pulling a plush quilt around her and slowly drifting off to sleep.
Yet, her legs—still clad in silk stockings—continued to rub against one another. It was clear that the earlier ministrations had failed to fully quell the restless stirrings within her body. She pressed her shapely legs together, seeking the soothing friction between her labia—or perhaps it was simply that her sleepiness had become too overwhelming to resist.
Soon, her long, graceful eyelashes fluttered, and a faint, shy flush crept across her beautiful face as she sank completely into a sweet, dream-filled slumber.
But before long, the tightly shut door opened without a sound.
A figure appeared within the warm, delicately fragrant boudoir—it was Uncle Qín.
Once the sleeping draught had finally taken effect and Xuétáng was soundly asleep, he had hurried straight to her room. His crisp, formal butler's uniform lay scattered on the floor, piece by piece—as if, in shedding his attire, he had also cast off a hypocritical mask, leaving his raw, unadorned desires exposed.
"Young Mistress…"
"Such a lovely scent…"
With his dark, unsightly member standing erect, Uncle Qín approached the bed and gathered Xuétáng's slender, exquisite form—with its narrow waist and shapely, rounded hips—into his arms. He buried his face near her fair, jade-like neck, inhaling deeply the orchid-like fragrance that clung to her body, as well as the faint, lingering scent drifting from her ponytail. "You seem to smell even sweeter now that you're pregnant... *hiss*... *ah*..."
Qin Bo stretched his neck out, inhaling greedily and with utter intoxication. He traced the hollow of the beauty's shoulder, moving up toward her temple and cheek, all the while peppering her skin with kisses and soft, lingering nips.