Lin Fan sat slumped in the corner of a dim, damp cell.
Cold chains bound his wrists and ankles, shackling him to the jagged stone wall behind him.
The chill from the ground crept up his spine, and the silence of the prison gnawed at his sanity.
His body barely moved—stiff from the cold, sore from the beatings, and heavy with a gnawing emptiness he couldn't name.
Lin Fan's voice cracked through the quiet, barely a whisper.
"Why... why do I feel like something was stolen from me?"
He had asked that same question over and over, for hours now.
His cheeks were streaked with dried tears, his lips chapped, and his eyes bloodshot.
But no matter how many times he whispered it, no answer ever came.
'You need to calm down, boy.'
The voice echoed through his mind, old and firm.
It had first spoken to him the moment he was thrown into this hellish place.
Lin Fan didn't know who the voice belonged to, only that it felt ancient, powerful—
And vaguely familiar.
"Calm down?" Lin Fan spat, though his voice trembled with desperation more than anger.
"How can I calm down? I'm chained up in some godforsaken place, and I feel like something was ripped out of me! Something important! Something that mattered!"
His eyes widened as a terrible thought dawned on him.
"Wait! The Young Miss… It must be her! I-I saw her before this. I must've failed to protect her! I have to get out of here—I have to find her!"
Panic surged through him like fire.
He thrashed against the chains, trying to tear himself free, but the iron bit into his skin.
His breathing quickened, and he could feel his heart slamming in his chest.
"Damn it! Let me out! I have to save her!"
'Boy!' The old voice snapped like a whip.
'Listen to me. Thrashing like a fool won't do anything. Calm your mind. If you truly want to save her, we need to get you out of here first—and for that, you'll need strength.'
Lin Fan gritted his teeth, slumping back against the wall, chest heaving.
"I wouldn't even be here if my bloodline had actually done what it was supposed to," he muttered bitterly.
"I'd have torn through them. I wouldn't be this useless."
The old voice sighed, quieter this time, though laced with disappointment:
"Your bloodline is weak right now. Dormant. It needs cultivation, time, and purpose to grow. It holds incredible potential—even the potential to make you the strongest. But instead of training, you let your emotions lead you. You let a woman blind you, and now look where it's gotten you."
Lin Fan clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms.
His thoughts churned between guilt, frustration, and that unbearable, empty ache:
"I had to go," he whispered. "She was in danger. What kind of man would I be if I just turned away?"
The old voice was silent for a moment, then replied with something softer:
"You have a good heart, boy. But good hearts get crushed if not guarded by strength. That's the truth of this world. Save her, yes—but not like this. Not weak, not in chains. Grow stronger. Forge your path with power, not regret."
Lin Fan stared at the ground, jaw tight.
His heart still screamed for the Young Miss, but deep down, he knew the old voice was right.
"…Then teach me," he said finally, eyes burning with renewed resolve.
"Show me the way. I'll break these chains. I'll claw my way out of this place. And I'll make them all pay."
The old voice chuckled:
'Now that's the spirit, boy. Let us begin.'
.
.
.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," Hei Long said, as he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Qing Yue's forehead.
She stirred, her eyes fluttering open, and a shy smile played on her lips as she gave a small nod.
"Goo—Good morning, hus-husband…" Qing Yue stuttered, her cheeks already beginning to flush a soft pink.
Hei Long chuckled, stepping back to admire her:
"Wanna get some breakfast?"
Qing Yue bit her lower lip, considering his offer.
"That sounds nice…" she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.
She began to push back the covers, revealing her slender shoulders and the curve of her breast.
She stood up from the bed, stretching lazily like a cat basking in the sun.
Hei Long let out a faint whistle, his eyes roaming over her naked body.
"Damn, my wife really has a hot body," he murmured.
Hearing his words, Qing Yue looked down at herself, suddenly realizing her state of undress.
Her entire face went pure red, and she hurriedly grabbed the covers, pulling them back up to hide her nakedness.
"Did you see?" She asked shyly, her voice muffled by the blankets.
Hei Long let out a small laugh:
"No need to feel shy around me, you're my wife. Plus, I've already seen you naked."
"…" Qing Yue covered herself deeper into the covers, feeling more embarrassed than ever.
She remembered their passionate night together, and felt a familiar heat spread through her body.
Her hand moved slowly, tentatively, toward her most intimate place, and she began to touch herself, her fingers exploring the sensitive flesh.
Suddenly—
Hei Long's voice cut through:
"So are you just going to stay here or are you coming?"
He was already at the door, ready to head out.
Qing Yue stopped her movement, her fingers still inside of her, and she quickly withdrew her hand, noticing the wetness on her fingers.
She hurriedly said, "I'll join you," her voice breathless and hurried.
Hei Long turned to look at her, a smirk playing on his lips:
"That sounds good. Because I have something special planned for us today."
He held out his hand, waiting for her to take it.
'He's my husband… I shouldn't be acting so shy…' Qing Yue hesitated for a moment, then threw back the covers, taking his hand.
Hei Long pulled her close, his arm snaking around her waist as he leaned down to capture her lips in a searing kiss.
"!?" Qing Yue melted into him, her body pressing against his as she kissed him back with equal fervor.
When they finally broke apart—
Hei Long rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed:
"Though, you should get dressed first."