188: Chapter 188 The Final Passion

The flat curve of her lower abdomen and the rounded lines of her hips were outlined.

Her body trembled slightly under the moonlight, though whether from the cold or nervousness, it was hard to tell.

Yet she did not hide or cover herself; she simply stood before him, holding out her most precious, cleanest, and never-before-seen self with both hands, offering it to his eyes.

Ye Yun looked at her.

The moonlight fell upon that lustrous, white body, illuminating every inch of her curves with stark clarity.

His gaze started from her collarbones and traveled downward inch by inch, passing over the fullness wrapped in the chemise, the slender waist that could be held in one hand, the lower abdomen, the hips, and the long, straight legs.

He looked at every inch very slowly, as if admiring a piece of art meticulously carved by the heavens.

Fang Hansu felt her entire body grow hot under his gaze, and even her toes curled up.

"Young Master... stop looking."

Ye Yun did not look away.

"It's beautiful."

Fang Hansu's face turned even redder.

Fang Hansu did not give him another chance to look.

She took a step forward and straddled his lap, face to face and very close—close enough for him to feel the warmth of her skin, close enough that the cleavage of her chest pressed against his own, soft and burning through the fabric.

She reached out and cupped his face; her fingers trembled slightly, but her movements were firm.

"Tonight, Hansu will serve the Young Master."

Her voice was as soft as a dream, and then she lowered her head and kissed him.

Ye Yun's hands paused in mid-air for a brief moment.

[So be it.

I'm leaving tomorrow, so I'll reward her one more time tonight.]

The moment the thought flashed by, his hands descended.

One hand cupped the back of her head, his fingers sliding into her loose hair, pressing her lips tighter against his.

The other hand slid down her waist and rested on her buttocks; through the thin layer of her undergarments, he felt a startling fullness and elasticity in his palm.

Fang Hansu was kissed until she was breathless, but this time she did not passively endure it as she had before.

She mimicked him, using her lips to graze the corners of his mouth and her tongue to trace the line of his lips—clumsy and green, yet exceptionally earnest.

Her hands slid down from his face to pull at his collar; when it didn't open after two tugs, she bit his lip lightly in her frustration.

Ye Yun withdrew his hand from her hip and untied his own robe.

The grey robe fell open, revealing a lean, muscular chest and abdomen.

Fang Hansu's hands pressed against him, and when her palms touched the old scar on his chest,

Her fingertips trembled slightly, stroking it back and forth as if in heartache.

Ye Yun lowered his head and kissed her again.

This time, his hands did more than just hold the back of her head.

Starting from her shoulders,

He gave the straps of her chemise a gentle tug, and they came undone.

The water-blue silk slid down, bunching between their pressed abdomens.

His hand covered her, and the sensation in his palm caused a low, muffled groan to escape his throat.

Fang Hansu's body tensed suddenly, then bit by bit, she softened under his palm, turning into a pool of water.

After an unknown amount of time, Ye Yun released her lips.

Fang Hansu's eyes were closed, tiny teardrops hung from her eyelashes, and her cheeks were flushed.

Her lips were slightly swollen from his kisses, parted as she gasped for small breaths.

Then, she slowly opened her eyes.

Those eyes were filled with moonlight, filled with mist, and filled with his reflection.

They were tearful, yet startlingly bright.

She looked at him as if she wanted to carve his likeness into her very bones.

"Young Master.

In this lifetime, Hansu will never forget tonight.

I will never forget the Young Master."

Her voice carried a sob, a nasal tone, and an inseparable attachment.

Ye Yun picked her up in his arms, walked to the bedside, and gently laid her down.

Fang Hansu sank into the bedding, her black hair spilling across the pillow as moonlight fell upon her pale, white body.

The old marks of varying depths were still there, and new marks were now being layered over the old ones.

Her hand was still on his chest, her fingertips slowly sliding down from the scar there.

Passing the abdomen, passing the V-line, and continuing further down.

Ye Yun caught her wrist.

Fang Hansu looked at him.

"Young Master."

She turned her hand to clasp his fingers, their ten fingers interlocking as she pulled him down.

"Let Hansu do it tonight.

Young Master is leaving tomorrow; tonight, you only need to lie down."

Ye Yun's Adam's apple bobbed.

"You've certainly become bold."

Fang Hansu's face was red, but she did not let go.

"The Young Master taught me well."

Ye Yun leaned down.

A small oil lamp still burned on the bedside stand, its flame flickering gently in the night breeze.

Fang Hansu turned her head to glance at the lamp, then turned back to look at Ye Yun.

"Young Master.

The lamp... blow out the lamp, alright?"

Ye Yun looked down at her.

His gaze slid from her eyes to her lips, from her lips to her collarbones, and from her collarbones downward.

It passed over the marks he had left, over that skin illuminated by the moonlight to be as white as snow.

"I won't."

"Young... Young Master!"

"I want to see."

Fang Hansu's face was so red it looked ready to drip blood; she buried her face in the crook of his neck and fell silent.

That night, the night watchman's clapper in Qingzhou City struck the fourth watch, then the fifth.

Fang Hansu couldn't remember when she had fallen asleep.

She only knew that when the sky outside the window turned from pitch black to deep blue, then from deep blue to grey-white, and the distant rooster crowed for the first time,

She was still beneath him, her nails digging into his back.

She bit down on his shoulder to keep herself from crying out.

When it crowed a second time, she was slumped against his chest, without even the strength to lift a finger.

This time, even Ye Yun himself couldn't say for sure who had finally surrendered.

The sky outside the window was already beginning to brighten.

...

Morning light seeped through the gaps in the window paper, casting several faint golden lines upon the ceiling.

The room was very quiet.

The water in the wooden tub had long since turned cold, and the few flower petals on the surface had sunk to the bottom, motionless.

Clothing was scattered across the floor—a moon-white silk robe, a water-blue chemise, and a grey robe—intertwined like two leaves blown down by the wind.

Fang Hansu lay on Ye Yun's chest, her whole body as soft as melted sugar.

Her legs were still wrapped around his waist, her arm draped over his shoulder.

She clung to him like an octopus, yet her strength was as light as a feather.

She didn't even have the strength left to tighten her fingers.

Sweat made her loose, long hair stick to her cheeks, neck, and back; a few damp strands were plastered to his chest, rising and falling gently with his breath.

Her eyelashes rested quietly, and a lingering flush still remained on her cheeks.

The corners of her mouth were slightly upturned, as if she were smiling even in her dreams.

There were marks all over her body.

The old blue-purple bruises hadn't faded, and new crimson ones had been layered on top.

Dense and widespread, they looked like plum blossoms fallen upon the snow.

Particularly the two faint finger marks on her waist; after this night, they had deepened further.

The quilt only covered her up to her waist, revealing a large expanse of lustrous white skin on her upper body that shimmered with a warm, pearly glow in the morning light.