Exiting Mei Yilan's chambers, Shen Yu turned his face toward the rising sun. A predator's smile played on his lips as the golden light caught the sharpness of his eyes. One more beauty in my grasp, he mused, the warmth of the kiss still lingering as a triumphant ghost on his lips.
He made his way toward Lixue's quarters, his stride confident and unhurried. As he moved through the corridors, the estate's servants froze, their gazes filled with a mix of awe and primal fascination.
He was a striking, visceral sight, the "Golden Paragon," half-naked and battle-worn, his pale chest marked by the jagged scars of a hero. The maidservants, in particular, watched with flushed cheeks and shallow breath, captivated by the raw, masculine power radiating from him despite his "injuries."
Shen Yu offered them a brief, saintly smile, a mask for the masses, before disappearing into Lixue's room.
