15. Shadows of Love

Meanwhile, in the palace:

Talking with her mother hadn't eased Qing's confusion. It deepened it. She couldn't voice her thoughts, unsure where to begin.

She'd also noticed her parents' bond was colder than she'd thought. Each time Ming visited Vermilion Pavilion, he'd offer a curt greeting and leave without lingering.

He always had excuses: state affairs, no time to sit. This left Mei no chance to keep him.

Sensing this, Qing's confusion grew heavier.

Feng Wei.

His name surfaced in her mind, but she felt lost on how to face him.

Carrying this turmoil, Qing drifted through half a month.

Ming had passed in late summer, and the new emperor had reigned for over two months. Thanks to the Golden Yuan Merchant Guild's generosity, the treasury swelled, smoothing the transition. Everything fell into place: repairing the late emperor's tomb, crafting the new emperor's dragon robes, maintaining the capital's waterways, promoting border generals. All on track.

Qing wandered the palace as usual. When restless, she often roamed aimlessly.

Not entirely aimless. She deliberately avoided Yong Row.

At first, the palace staff feared the ethereal long princess, kneeling at her approach. But over time, they grew used to her strolls. Beyond a polite bow, they no longer prostrated, sparing her the fuss.

"Your Majesty, look! Heehee!"

"Haha."

Passing the imperial gardens, Qing caught the sound of flirtatious laughter: a woman's chime-like giggle and a man's chuckle.

Beyond two pavilions, she saw guards and servants lining the corridor, standing rigid.

They didn't stop Qing. Ming had granted her free rein in the palace and the right to see him unannounced, a mark of his affection.

But it sometimes led to awkward moments.

Stepping into the garden's water pavilion, Qing saw a man in dragon robes cradling a stunning woman with cherry lips, clad in lavish palace garb.

They pointed at rare blooming flowers. The woman cooed playfully while the man smiled indulgently.

One was Qing's father, the new emperor of Bright Hua. The other, his favored beauty.

From recent gossip, this must be Yu Fei, the butcher's daughter turned consort.

Yu's face glowed like peach blossoms. Her almond eyes enchanted, lips lush, a tear-shaped mole beneath her eye adding charm to her radiant beauty. Unlike Mei, always draped in heavy, regal phoenix robes, Yu wore sheer silk that hugged her curves: full breasts, tiny waist, swaying hips. A femme fatale if ever there was one.

*Not as beautiful as Mother.*

Mei outshone her in raw looks, but Yu's flirtatious charm left the scholarly empress in the dust.

Qing kept walking, approaching the pavilion.

Lord Jian Qian, sharp as ever, spotted her and sang out, "This servant greets the Long Princess!"

Ming quickly dropped his arm from Yu, adjusting his sleeves. Turning to Qing with a warm smile, he said, "Qing, here to see the flowers too?"

He wasn't afraid of his daughter. He was just embarrassed she'd caught him so relaxed, clashing with his usual stern facade.

Yu's sultry eyes sized up the tall, flawless Qing. She giggled, covering her mouth. "Your Majesty, the long princess is so refined, like a fairy descended to earth! Just as lovely as Sister Mei. You haven't visited her in a while. Why not gather little Li and visit her tonight?"

Her words seemed innocent, but Qing felt uneasy.

With a thoughtful consort smoothing things over, Ming beamed. He knew Yu and Mei clashed privately, but Yu never troubled him, always lifting his spirits.

His awkwardness faded.

"Since we're all here, Qing, let's visit your mother. Bring Li too."

He didn't relish seeing Mei, but with her daughter present, he wouldn't undermine her outright.

"No need, Father," Qing said, shaking her head. She knew adding Yu to a meeting with her parents would freeze the air.

"I'm tired. Another day. Excuse me, Father."

Ming had only suggested it casually. Free from duties for once, he had no desire to face Mei's wooden expression. Seeing Qing's tactful retreat, he waved graciously. "Rest then."

Qing glanced at Yu, then Ming, and left.

As she departed, she summoned her cultivation, gliding like the wind to a high palace perch, her gaze distant.

When had her once-harmonious parents drifted so far apart? Mei sat alone in her vast hall, aging silently.

Was it Yu's fault?

Qing shook her head. She knew Mei's love for Ming hadn't faded in over a decade.

It was Ming who'd changed.

His heart had shifted.

Were all men like this, loving one after another?

Ming was. What about Feng?

Jun's granddaughter, the blade master's daughter. Even Li had an ambiguous tie to him.

And that demon sect temptress shared some unspoken bond with him too.

Maybe he wasn't as good as she'd thought.

Would she and Feng end up like her parents, smiling through a hollow marriage, clinging to a fragile dignity neither dared shatter?

Sadness flickered in Qing's heart.

Her eyes turned to Yong Row. She stepped forward.

Deep in Yong Row:

She returned to this place that unsettled her.

Expecting the usual stench, she was stunned to find it nearly gone. Only a faint, stubborn whiff of old decay lingered.

The doorstep gleamed, scrubbed clean of filth.

The shack remained ramshackle but refreshed. The leaky wooden door was patched, holes plugged: crude work, but livable.

Heart pounding, Qing nudged the half-open door.

No choking, lust-inducing reek assaulted her. The ceiling and floor sparkled. The messy bed was neat, joined by a small cabinet, two water jars, a stool, a table, and a bowl.

But the old eunuch she'd fixated on was absent.

Maybe he'd died. His wrinkled, spotted face and deathly aura had hinted at it.

Natural causes? Or discovered and executed?

Imagining that frail, pleading figure gone left Qing oddly empty.

Perhaps she'd end up like him one day: eyes dull, ambition faded, a walking corpse.

"Fairy! Princess!"

A thrilled voice jolted her from behind.

It was Elder Mu.

Qing turned, surprised to feel a spark of joy she didn't expect.

Elder Mu had changed. Still gaunt and wrinkled, his eyes shone brighter.

He wore a faded, patched robe and oversized pants that dwarfed his stick-thin legs.

Who'd guess those loose trousers hid a massive cock that tight ones couldn't contain? He'd stolen them from a fat eunuch, leaving the poor man cursing for days.

Elder Mu trembled with excitement, nearly dancing. Cleaning had worked. The fairy had returned!

"Princess," he stammered, unused to speaking.

Thrilled, he fumbled for manners. "Sit."

*Clunk!*

He grabbed the stool, but a leg snapped off: a discard no one wanted.

His face flushed with shame, unsure whether to drop it. He looked like a comical monkey.

"No need," Qing said.

"Then, water."

Flustered, he grabbed the bowl, forgetting how rude it was. Another might've stormed off.

He shuffled to the jars, too eager to recall which was safe.

Lifting a lid, a rancid stench hit, flooding the cleaned shack with that familiar odor.

Qing's body quaked. A strange heat flared.

She peered in. The jar wasn't water. It brimmed with thick, white semen, like milk or frothy tofu pudding.

The lewd scent thickened, assaulting her pure body and naive mind.

"Fairy! Princess!"

Elder Mu's face burned. He slammed the lid shut and turned to Qing, petrified she'd rage.

But seeing no fury, he drank in her perfect face, flushed with a rosy glow, more breathtaking than the garden's blooms.

His heart thudded. Lust surged within him. The giant cock in his baggy pants heated up and stiffened. His massive balls churned, veins bulging along his crimson shaft as the huge head pushed against his trousers, forming a visible bulge.

"Ah!!"

Seeing that monstrous erection point at her, Qing's heart leapt. She nearly stepped back, tempted to flee.

*No. If I fear a powerless old man, how will I face the heavens?*

She steadied herself. Her mind flashed to her parents' lost love, Mei's loneliness, Ming and Yu's laughter, then Feng's face.

"Feng!"

Resolve hardened. Pushing past shame and heat, she forced her eyes down, staring at the bulge that unnerved her.

Her gaze, shy yet firm, not cold, made Elder Mu shudder. His already huge cock grew even larger, straining harder against the fabric.

He stood frozen. But when she didn't leave or strike, courage surged. Trembling, he tugged at his pants and pulled them down to his knees.

Qing's shaky eyes followed the motion. First, she saw his shriveled belly and bony hips. Then a tangled nest of gray-black pubes came into view.

Finally, as the pants dropped fully, a monstrous red cock sprang free. It was thicker than her arm, veins pulsing like a living beast. The gaping tip oozed sticky precum, glistening in the dim light.

At nearly thirty centimeters long, Qing compared it to her slender arm and realized it dwarfed it entirely.

Her legs weakened. Heat spread through her body. A fire ignited in her belly, and her untouched core trembled with unfamiliar sensation.

A drop of slick nectar leaked from her virgin slit, sliding slowly through her tight, pristine folds.

Wetness bloomed between her thighs, an unspeakable feeling taking hold.

She clamped her legs shut. Her plump thighs pressed together, guarding that sacred crevice, now dampening her undergarments.

Shame, panic, chaos, and a racing pulse overwhelmed her: emotions she'd never known, too complex to name.

Seeing his dream lover's expression, Elder Mu quaked, not from fear, but from ecstatic arousal.

Her divine beauty, now vulnerable, fueled his desire like nothing else.

His cock, which usually took half an hour of stroking to release, reached its limit without touch, triggered solely by her trembling gaze.

"Oh! Fairy! Princess! I can't hold it! Ah! Ah!"

His swollen, purple-black head erupted. His massive, hairy balls convulsed, unleashing a torrent of scalding, stinking semen in white arcs, like an endless volcano.

The thick streams shot straight at Qing's face.

*Splatter! Splatter!*

Too stunned to dodge, Qing's mind blanked. Forgetting her powers, she shut her eyes and lips tightly, trembling as the hot, viscous cum struck her skin.

Each spurt jolted her body. Her womb quivered in response, and her virgin flower gushed sweet honey, syncing with his release, like a spring bursting from a dry valley.

*Drip, drip.*

The panting man and the racing-hearted woman stood silent, hearing only each other's pounding hearts.

Thick semen dripped from Qing's face, hair, and nose. It slid past her sealed lips, down her firm breasts, over her hardened nipples, and fell uselessly to the floor, never reaching her true garden.

Her face, coated in white, looked like a holy mask: sacred yet depraved.

After what felt like an eternity, Qing's fingers twitched. A flash of magic cleansed her body and the floor, erasing all traces of the semen in an instant.

But her stiff nipples still poked through her robe. Her breaths came heavy, matching the twitching of Elder Mu's post-climax cock, now softening slightly but still massive. These were the only proofs of what had just happened.

Silence lingered. Strength returned to Qing's legs. She clamped her thighs tighter, her curvy hips swaying subtly as she turned, her waist rigid with effort.

"I'm leaving," she said after a pause, her voice steady but quiet.

"Princess!"

Elder Mu, mute until now, panicked. He dropped to his knees, his huge cock slapping the floor with a wet thud. He pressed his forehead down, begging, "Please!"

Qing stood like a statue, her eyes fixed elsewhere. Then she vanished in a shimmer of light.

"Maybe later."

Her faint, cool voice echoed in the wind.

Elder Mu's face lit with wild joy.