Ji'an broke the surface, gasping for air, violently coughing up a lungful of mineral water.
She wiped her soaking wet hair out of her eyes, completely blinded by the steam, and tried to push herself backward.
But she was trapped.
The geography of the situation was an unmitigated, catastrophic disaster.
Ji'an had fallen directly on top of him. Her knees were bracketed on either side of Elder Qin's hips.
She was essentially straddling the ancient, supposedly celibate master of the Heartless Dao in the shallow end of a steaming bath.
Worse still, her thin, white cotton tunic was completely soaked through. It clung to her skin like a second layer of paint.
The Void Locket she wore across her chest to maintain her male illusion was functioning perfectly; it still looked like a flat, masculine chest, but the sheer, unavoidable friction of two bodies pressed together in wet silk was scandalous enough to cause a riot in the mortal realm, let alone a puritanical cultivation sect.
