Mu Hanjin had never been treated so gently by Feng Aotian before—especially considering she was someone known for her cruelty toward him.
Perhaps because of her past actions, he instinctively resisted whenever she touched him. Yet, despite his aversion, there was always a subtle reaction. Now, as she teased him, her voice laced with seductive undertones, his face flushed red. The places she touched tingled with a faint numbness, sending shivers through him.
“Your servant… Your servant…” Mu Hanjin, who had always maintained a calm and composed demeanor, found his emotions easily disrupted by her light teasing. He felt a wave of frustration—had he really become accustomed to her torment after these past two years?
Lan Jingshu, watching from the side, also looked at Feng Aotian in shock. Yet, he dared not stare directly at her, only stealing occasional glances. In his mind, Feng Aotian was the most ruthless and merciless person alive. Her current behavior was so out of character that it left him deeply unsettled.
Feng Aotian’s slender, jade-like fingers traced across Mu Hanjin’s sensitive spots, her voice becoming even more alluring. Then, she lifted her gaze and looked toward Lan Jingshu. “Have you thought of an inscription for this Autumn Chrysanthemum Painting, Jingshu?”
“Your servant has not yet come up with one,” Lan Jingshu admitted. He had not expected the Regent to ask him such a question. She had always dismissed poetry and literature as frivolous pursuits—why was she suddenly showing interest now?
“Then let Hanjin write one. If it’s good, I’ll reward you tonight. If not, there will be punishment.” Feng Aotian raised her brows. Though her words were playful, they carried an undeniable authority.
A flicker of confusion passed through Mu Hanjin’s sharp, delicate eyes. He wanted to break free from her grasp, but he had no choice but to endure. Clenching his teeth, he steadied himself. The momentary chaos in his gaze faded, replaced by his usual calm. “Your servant obeys.”
With that, he attempted to step out of Feng Aotian’s embrace, but she tightened her grip around him.
“Write the inscription now—let me see it.”
Mu Hanjin’s heart sank. At this moment, with Feng Aotian’s arms still wrapped around him, he hesitated before shifting slightly. His back pressed against her broad chest, while the hand that had been restraining him continued its deliberate movements over his body. Unlike before, she was now completely unabashed, going so far as to tug at the white jade belt at his waist. The coldness of her fingers slid against his smooth skin, making him tense up, too afraid to move.
Enjoying his reaction, Feng Aotian smirked. With a flick of her free hand, she pulled the red brush from the table toward her, catching it effortlessly. “I’ll write a poem as well. Let’s each compose one—what do you think?”
Mu Hanjin was visibly taken aback. He had never known the Regent to write poetry. Doubt flickered in his eyes as he glanced at her, only to meet her sharp, piercing gaze. A chilling aura emanated from her, making his heart clench. He quickly turned away, picked up his brush, and leaned forward to write.
Meanwhile, Feng Aotian, completely ignoring Lan Jingshu’s presence, continued her unrestrained caresses while writing her own inscription on the painting. Mu Hanjin, trapped in her embrace, struggled to maintain his composure—both against her shameless teasing and in focusing on his inscription.
Lan Jingshu stood to the side, unsure of what to think. He resolved to act as though he were invisible, standing still like a statue. But when his gaze finally landed on Feng Aotian’s inscription, his eyes widened in shock. The flowing, ethereal calligraphy was breathtaking—like drifting clouds and flowing water. He almost gasped aloud in astonishment, staring at the elegant characters, unable to recover from his surprise.
By the time Feng Aotian finished writing, Mu Hanjin had also completed his inscription. Letting out a quiet sigh of relief, he set his brush down. But just as he did, his body stiffened. A wave of dizziness washed over him—she had just lightly bitten his ear…
