Relax, It's Not Like I'm Seducing Him

The display stand stood in bedroom in full view. Neatly arranged—no, ceremonially arranged—like someone was about to host a boudoir-themed fashion exhibit, was a lineup of nightgowns that looked like they belonged in a scandalous period drama or one of those TV shows where women just happen to sleep in five-inch heels and contour.

Correction: not nightgowns.

Weapons.

Each one could legally qualify as an accomplice to a felony-level seduction. Li Na stared in slow horror, afraid to touch anything for fear it might moan or combust.

The first was a translucent champagne gold number with barely-there straps and a slit so high it could air-condition the entire villa. Li Na held it up with two fingers like it was a biohazard.

The tag might as well have read:

"Warning: Will summon unintended consequences."