Inside the carriage, Meng Yan collapsed against the cushions, the velvet cool against her flushed back.
She held the damp towel in her trembling hands. Reason dictated she throw it into the storage compartment, it was just a used cloth, soiled by a man's bath. But reason had been incinerated by the fever in her blood.
Instead, she lifted it to her face.
She buried her nose in the damp white silk, inhaling deeply. It smelled of the fresh creek water, but beneath that, it smelled of him, a crisp, masculine musk. Her eyes rolled back slightly, her body humming with a dark, shameful electric pleasure she couldn't explain.
Creak.
The sound of the carriage door handle turning hit her like a bucket of ice water.
Meng Yan shoved the towel into her spatial ring with the speed of a thief, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She straightened her robes, smoothing the silk over her thighs, trying to reconstruct the shattered mask of a Matriarch.
Shen Yu entered.
The white robe she had cleaned for him hung loosely on his frame, exposing the column of his throat and the hint of his collarbone. His hair, still damp, had transformed from grey grime to a shimmering, ethereal silver-white. His face was sharp, aristocratic, and devastatingly handsome.
Meng Yan felt the air leave her lungs. She unconsciously rubbed her thighs together, the friction doing little to soothe the wet, aching heat between them.
Shen Yu sat opposite her. His expression was calm, almost saintly, a stark contrast to the wolfish hunger curling in his gut. The carriage lurched forward, the spirit beasts pulling them back toward the road to Thousand Waves City.
For a long time, there was silence. Shen Yu stared out the window, feigning disinterest, while Meng Yan devoured him with her eyes.
Finally, her voice broke the silence, sounding brittle and desperate.
"Young Master Tang... regarding what you said earlier. Is there truly a cure for my situation?"
Shen Yu turned his head slowly. He looked at her and smiled, a bright, dazzling expression that looked entirely innocent, like an angel offering salvation.
"Yes, Senior. There is."
Meng Yan's heart skipped a beat. Hope, hot and blinding, surged through her.
"Tell me," she said, leaning forward, the movement causing her robe to dip dangerously low. "What is it? I can pay you. Spirit stones, artifacts, rare herbs, I can give you whatever you want."
Shen Yu raised a hand, his palm facing her in a placating gesture.
"Hold on, Senior. Medicine is a precise art. I cannot prescribe a remedy based on a guess. I need to examine you first."
"Examine me?"
"Yes. I need to determine the exact stage of the Lunar Fire Stagnation. The treatment varies wildly depending on the severity."
Meng Yan hesitated only for a second. "You may."
"Excuse me, then."
Shen Yu extended his hand, his long, slender fingers closing around her wrist.
The moment his cool skin touched her burning flesh, Meng Yan gasped. A tingling sensation, like a mild electric current, shot up her arm and straight into her chest, making her nipples harden instantly against the silk.
She jerked her hand back instinctively, her eyes wide and flustered.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, her breath hitching in her throat.
Shen Yu paused, his hand suspended in the air. He looked genuinely confused, his golden eyes blinking with the guileless innocence of a scholar who had overstepped by mistake.
"Examining you, Senior," he said gently. Then, a look of dawn-like realization crossed his face. "Ah... I apologize. You are accustomed to High-Level cultivators using Spirit Sense to scan your meridians. I forgot my own limitations for a moment."
He lowered his hand, his voice turning professional, though his eyes lingered meaningfully on the pulse fluttering wildly in the hollow of her neck.
"Senior, you know I was born with crippled meridians. I cannot project Qi to see inside you," he explained, his tone laced with a practiced humility. "I have no choice but to perform a physical examination. I must feel the flow of the heat manually, through the skin."
Meng Yan bit her lip, her hazel eyes darting between his calm face and his waiting hand.
Of course. It was logical. He was a cripple; he had to use his hands like a mortal doctor. The reasoning was sound, impenetrable. Yet, the thought of his calloused, masculine hands exploring her body made her lightheaded, sending a fresh wave of heat through her already boiling blood.
In truth, the entire examination was a sham. A masterful piece of theater.
The Primordial Yin-Yang Scripture vibrating in Shen Yu's soul had already diagnosed her condition the moment she stepped out of the carriage. He knew exactly which meridians were clogged, exactly how deep the "Lunar Fire" burned, and exactly how desperate she was.
He didn't need to touch her to understand her illness.
He wanted to touch her to worsen it.
He was taking advantage of her desperation, using the guise of a doctor to dismantle her defenses. He needed to touch her not to find the problem, but to make her comfortable with his hands on her skin, to turn the high-and-mighty Matriarch into a pliant, trembling woman who would eventually beg for his "cure."
"I... I understand," she whispered, extending her wrist again. "Proceed."
Shen Yu took her wrist. This time, she didn't pull away. He didn't just check her pulse; he caressed the delicate skin of her inner wrist with his thumb, savoring the frantic, erratic rhythm of her blood.
'Fast,' he thought, enjoying the vibration. 'She's terrified... and excited.'
"Your pulse is chaotic," he murmured, his eyes focusing on nothing as if deep in calculation. "Circulate your cultivation technique, please. Slowly."
Meng Yan closed her eyes and obeyed.
"Now," Shen Yu said softly, releasing her wrist. "I need to check the source."
He reached out and placed his hand flat against her lower abdomen, directly over her Dantian, through the crimson silk.
Meng Yan stiffened, her back arching off the cushions. The heat of his palm seeped through the layers of fabric, branding her skin.
"Circulate again," he commanded softly.
She gritted her teeth, forcing the Qi to move.
"Hrm," Shen Yu frowned, pressing his hand deeper, his fingers digging slightly into the soft flesh of her stomach. "This is difficult."
He looked at her robes, then at her eyes, his expression apologetic.
"Senior... the silk is too thick. It is obstructing my sensitivity. Since I cannot use Qi to penetrate the fabric... I need to touch the skin directly."
Meng Yan froze.
"My... skin?"