183: Chapter 183 Empress Xu is stuck in the washing machine

Xu Qingya walked over holding the hem of her skirt, her black high heels tapping a brisk rhythm on the wooden floor.

She stopped in front of the sofa, folding her hands over her apron and bowing her head slightly.

“Master, what kind of service would you like tonight?”

Jiang Fan leaned back against the sofa, his gaze sweeping from her bow headband down to the lace cuffs of her over-knee socks.

Not bad. A lot of thought must have gone into this outfit.

He raised a finger to point at the empty pan-fried bun box and a few used tissues on the coffee table.

“Clean this up first.”

Xu Qingya froze for a moment.

“...Are you serious?”

“Isn't that what maids do?”

The corners of Xu Qingya's mouth twitched twice. She stared at him for three seconds, likely trying to judge if he was intentionally killing the mood.

She bent down to gather the empty box and tissues, then turned and walked into the kitchen in her high heels to throw them away.

The hem of her skirt swayed with her steps. When she returned, her face practically screamed two words: I'll endure.

“Is there anything else you need, Master?”

Jiang Fan tilted his head and thought for a moment.

Then, he took off his white shirt, crumpled it up, and handed it over.

“Go wash this. I sweated a lot today.”

Xu Qingya's eyelid twitched.

“Jiang Fan, you're doing this on purpose.”

“Didn't you want to do this roleplay?” Jiang Fan shrugged. “You're a maid, what's wrong with doing some laundry?”

Xu Qingya took the shirt, forcing a standard service-industry smile.

“Of course, Master.”

Her voice was sickeningly sweet, but her eyes were already sharpening knives.

Clutching the shirt, she walked toward the laundry room next to the bedroom.

Jiang Fan sat on the sofa, picking up the remote to flip through the channels.

About two minutes passed.

“Jiang Fan!”

Xu Qingya's voice called out from the laundry room, sounding a bit anxious.

“What's wrong?”

“Come here for a second! Hurry!”

Jiang Fan got up from the sofa and shuffled over in his slippers.

The laundry room door was half-open. He pushed it open and stood at the doorway, staring for three seconds.

Xu Qingya was kneeling in front of the drum washing machine, her upper body bent completely forward, with her head and one arm reached inside the drum opening.

Because of this posture, the hem of her maid skirt was flipped all the way up, bunching around her waist.

Her legs, clad in white over-knee socks, knelt on the floor tiles. The heels of her black high heels tilted upward, exposing her heels.

The lace borders of her socks squeezed the middle of her thighs, above which was a large stretch of bare skin.

And further up—

Was a narrow strip of black fabric.

Jiang Fan froze in his tracks.

“What are you doing?”

“Cut the crap!” Xu Qingya's voice echoed muffledly from inside the drum.

“My hair got caught in here—hurry up and help me get it out!”

Jiang Fan took two steps closer and looked down.

A lock of her long hair was tangled around a protrusion on the inner wall of the drum, wound around it several times.

Standing directly behind her, Jiang Fan swept his gaze over her from top to bottom.

This angle, this posture, wearing a maid outfit, stuck in a washing machine...

This was a classic scenario from certain websites in his past life; he had seen it countless times.

He never expected that one day he would experience it firsthand.

And the one stuck inside was a popular diva with over a hundred million fans.

Jiang Fan pulled out his phone.

“Click.”

The shutter sound was exceptionally clear in the quiet laundry room.

Xu Qingya's body instantly tensed up.

“Jiang Fan!”

She kicked her legs twice, a high heel nearly flying into his face.

“You dare take a photo?! I'll kill you!”

“Just keeping a souvenir.”

“Delete it! Now! Instantly! This second!”

“Fine, fine, fine, deleted.” Jiang Fan slipped his phone back into his pants pocket.

“Are you going to help me or not?! My neck is about to break!”

Jiang Fan squatted down, leaning his head close to the washing machine opening to inspect the tangle.

“Don't move, let me see what to do.”

He tried reaching in from the left, but couldn't reach; then he tried from the right, but the angle was wrong.

Ultimately, he had to reach over from behind Xu Qingya, stretching his arm into the drum over the top of her head.

This posture—

His entire body was pressed against her back, his chest pressing down on her.

Xu Qingya's body instantly stiffened.

“Can't you—can't you reach in from the other side?”

“Can't reach. Don't move.”

Jiang Fan's fingers groped inside the drum. Finding the protrusion where her hair was caught, he began to unwind it loop by loop.

But after maintaining this posture for a dozen seconds, a problem arose.

Only a pair of pants and a negligibly thin layer of fabric separated the two of them.

Body heat transferred through that thin fabric, and combined with the visual from earlier—

Jiang Fan's body reacted very honestly.

Xu Qingya felt it. Her back muscles tensed, and her shoulder blades shrank back slightly.

“Jiang, Jiang Fan—”

“Hmm?”

“Get my hair out first—”

“Don't rush, I'm working on it.”

“Then stop pressing that thing of yours against me!”

“With you in this position, any normal man would react.”

“You—”

Xu Qingya wanted to turn around and glare at him, but her neck was stuck and she couldn't turn. She could only press her forehead against the inner wall of the drum, muttering curses under her breath.

“Can you hurry up already—”

“What's the rush? If it tangles any more, your hair will snap.”

Jiang Fan was indeed untangling it seriously, but as he unwound the third loop, he intentionally nudged his body forward.

Xu Qingya's voice went up an octave.

“Jiang Fan!”

“I didn't move. You backed up on your own.”

“I didn't—you went forward—forget it, don't say anything—just hurry up!”

After another half a minute, the final loop of hair was finally freed.

Xu Qingya let out a long sigh of relief.

“Alright, let me out.”

She started to back up.

But Jiang Fan blocked her completely from behind, his squatted knees wedged between her legs, cutting off her retreat.

“Jiang Fan, move aside.”

No response.

“Jiang Fan?”

She heard a familiar sound.

The clinking of a metal buckle, and the sound of a belt being pulled out.

Xu Qingya's mind went blank for a second.

“Jiang Fan, what are you doing—let me out first—”

“Aren't you supposed to be serving me?” Jiang Fan's voice drifted down from above. “This posture is great. No need to come out.”

“I—get the hell off me—”

She struggled twice. Although her head was free, her entire upper body was still inside the washing machine opening, and with Jiang Fan pressing down from behind, she couldn't get up at all.

“Jiang Fan, I'm warning you, don't do anything reckless—”

Jiang Fan placed his hand on her lower back, his fingers hooking the narrow edge and pulling it aside.

Xu Qingya's voice caught in her throat.

“You—bastard—”

The words that followed shattered into incoherent syllables, echoing muffledly from inside the washing machine drum.

Due to the resonance of the metal wall, her voice carried a strange echoing effect.

“You bastard, let me out—in here is too—”

Jiang Fan spanked her from behind.

“What should you be calling me?”

Xu Qingya gritted her teeth.

“...Master.”

Her voice was so quiet it was barely audible.

“Hmm? Didn't hear you.”

“Master—! Happy now—ah—”

The rubber pads at the bottom of the washing machine squeaked against the floor tiles.

Xu Qingya pressed her forehead against the inner wall of the drum, the cold metal resting against her burning face.

Her voice came in broken gasps, mixed with pants and curses, mostly swallowed up by the drum.

“Jiang Fan—you—just you wait—ngh—”

Jiang Fan's hand slid from her waist to her front, pulling her back slightly.

Xu Qingya's back arched, and her head finally emerged from the washing machine opening.

But coming out didn't make things any better.

She had barely caught two breaths of fresh air before Jiang Fan flipped her over.

Her hair was a complete mess, and her headband had long since fallen off somewhere.

Her maid dress was crumpled, her apron skewed to the side, and the black lace at her collar pulled loose.

Jiang Fan lifted her up, sat her on the washing machine, and draped her ankle, still clad in the white over-knee sock, over his shoulder.

“You...”

“The service isn't over yet, Miss Maid.”