23. Shadows of Yong Row

Several days had passed peacefully at Lunar Tower.

Each morning, Elder Mu awoke from his slumber with a vague sense of loss. He still recalled a vivid spring dream from half a month ago: a divine goddess entering his chamber, her presence hazy yet intoxicating, blending reality and illusion.

The sensation of her divine hips lingered in his mind, soft and elastic like gentle waves, driving him wild with longing. Every night, he yearned to relive that dream.

This morning, Elder Mu stirred awake to find his lower body straining, the blanket tented high, a towering thirty centimeters. Heat coursed through him as he flung the covers aside, revealing a monstrously thick, impossibly long cock. The purple-red shaft pulsed, crowned by a swollen, crimson glans resembling a giant turtle's head, oozing sticky precum. Some of the fluid had already stained the blanket, and as it parted from his tip, a long, translucent thread stretched out, trembling like a fragile silk strand before snapping reluctantly.

Panting heavily, Elder Mu gripped his shaft with a withered, claw-like hand, stroking the colossal cock that would shame any man. It stood proud and searingly hot, unyielding. His gaze drifted toward Lunar Tower, eyes burning with lust and covetous desire.

"Hey! Get out here!"

But just as he'd been stroking for half an hour, teetering on the edge of release, thick, foul-smelling semen ready to erupt and defile the air and room, a rude shout jolted him from outside the window. Cold sweat broke out, and his towering erection wilted instantly.

Flustered, he yanked on his oversized trousers, hiding his bony, hairy legs speckled with age spots. The massive cock, dangling like a third leg or a tail between his thighs, was stuffed awkwardly into the pants. From a distance, the ill-fitting trousers looked comical, the wide legs clashing with his shriveled frame, like a dwarf clown from a theater troupe playing for laughs.

Yet no one would suspect that beneath this timid, laughable exterior hid a titanic rod capable of driving women mad and stirring even immortals. His bulging scrotum brimmed with billions of eager sperm, the thick, white semen congealing into a jelly-like mass, reeking of musk and hormones. Mingled with the decay of age and the stench of unwashed flesh and clothes, it made him a pariah in the palace. Men and women alike shunned him, their eyes filled with disgust.

Take the palace maid at his door, for instance. Even from afar, she could smell the faint, nauseating odor wafting from the sealed house. The breakfast she'd just eaten churned in her stomach, her throat itching with revulsion.

"Please, do come out!"

The door creaked open, unleashing a wave of unspeakable stench. Elder Mu shuffled forward, his wrinkled face and sallow complexion grotesque, like a corpse long overdue for rot. Yet unlike the pale dead, he resembled a filthy old man who'd rolled in a dung heap.

The assaulting odor hit the maid, a novice at delivering food here, and she couldn't hold it back. Turning aside, her stomach heaved uncontrollably. Half-digested food surged up her throat like an unstoppable flood, bursting from her mouth in a mix of gastric acid and rancid scraps.

She vomited right in front of Elder Mu.

"Urgh, urgh... urgh..."

The sound froze the ingratiating smile on his face. He panicked, stepping forward to help her.

"Stay back! Don't come near me, you freak!"

Her voice trembled with raw rejection and deep loathing.

Elder Mu shrank further, his already hunched frame curling inward. He stammered a few incoherent sounds, head bowed like a bullied old man, sparse hairs falling over his forehead, the picture of abject humility.

The maid, having spewed her guts onto the ground, didn't hesitate to unleash a torrent of abuse. "I can't believe why Princess Qing would be so kind as to pick you for a servant instead of kicking you out to rot in Yong Row with the beggars."

"You don't even look human, so why don't you just die already? Bury yourself and spare us the sight! Oh, wait, you don't even have balls, let alone kids. When you croak, no one's going to bother burying your sorry corpse..."

Her sharp tongue stabbed into his timid, fragile heart. He mumbled, "No... n-not... I... I have... balls..."

"What?"

She laughed as if it were the funniest joke, her scorn thickening. "Balls? You're a eunuch! A useless, stinking eunuch who should've been thrown out to die in a ditch and get gnawed on by wild dogs! What dreams are you chasing here?"

"Wahhh... wahhh..."

Elder Mu broke down, sobbing like a child, tears and snot streaming over his wrinkled, spotted face.

"Wahhh... waaahhh!!!"

The mess only made his hideous features more repulsive. The maid had more venom to spit, but seeing his pitiful state and smelling the worsening stench, her stomach churned again.

She set the food box down, carefully placing Qing's portion aside, then kicked Elder Mu's share over with contempt. "Starve for all I care!"

Steaming rice balls and dishes rolled into the dirt, coated in dust.

"Eat the dirt, you filthy wretch... what a curse! I'm never coming back!"

Cursing, she stormed off without a backward glance.

Elder Mu was left alone, wailing pitifully.

It took a long time for his sobs to subside into soft sniffles.

Shakily, he ignored the grime and, without bothering with chopsticks, grabbed the dirt-streaked food with his bony fingers, stuffing it into his mouth.

*Crunch, crunch!*

Dust, gravel, and rice mingled as his yellowed teeth bit down, the sound of stone against tooth grating. Yet he ate silently, without complaint, until every scrap was gone, dirt and all.

Back inside, he wiped his tears and snot, peering into a clear water basin. The reflection showed his wretched, ugly state.

Staring at himself, a flicker of confusion crossed his eyes, but then an odd calm settled in. He washed his face, tidied his disheveled clothes, picked up the food box, and trudged toward the Lunar Tower on the hill.

There, a figure like a banished immortal sat gracefully in the pavilion. A breeze lifted Qing's long hair, her dark strands swaying gently. Her serene eyes gazed into the distance, overlooking Bright Hua's capital in quiet splendor.

She was a living masterpiece. If a famed poet saw her, he'd sing, "A celestial dwells in the mountains, a dreamlike vision in the clouds." A master painter would seize his brush to capture her beauty, creating a timeless work.

The scene wasn't divine for its landscape alone, breathtaking as it was, but for her presence. Without her, it lacked that ethereal charm. With her, it became a mortal paradise.

Elder Mu didn't dare disturb this tranquil beauty. He quietly opened the food box, setting out the meal and still-warm rice before Qing with careful hands, then stepped back, head lowered respectfully.

But Qing, sharp as a mirror and calm as still water, noticed his change.

"What's wrong?"

Her voice rang like celestial music, cool as moonlight, tinged with curiosity and a hint of concern.

"Nothing... nothing..."

Elder Mu feigned nonchalance.

"Oh..."

Qing seemed to accept it with a single word. She ate her breakfast delicately, turning simple vegetables and rice into a feast fit for an immortal.

When she finished, she rose from the pavilion and walked to the railing, gazing afar.

"I recall you warmed the food last time..." She paused, then asked, "Can you cook?"

Elder Mu blinked, then nodded.

"Have the Ceremonial Office send ingredients. From now on... no need for the Imperial Kitchen to deliver."

"Princess!!"

Tears welled in Elder Mu's eyes as he looked up at Qing, who spoke as if it were a trivial matter.

"It's a hassle for the kitchen staff to keep coming."

Her gaze never met his, her tone flat, as if discussing something mundane.

"From now on, you'll handle my meals. Can you do it?"

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes!!"

Elder Mu nodded frantically, overjoyed, bobbing like a loyal dog.

Gratitude overwhelmed him, tears threatening to spill again as he gazed at the ethereal figure he adored.

Qing wore a white robe purer than northern snow, her dark hair pinned with an ornate hairpin, the rest cascading like a waterfall. Her sculpted face flowed into a swan-like neck, delicate collarbones peeking from her collar. Below, her breasts rose like unreachable peaks, tempting yet untouchable, their softness a mystery to fantasize over.

Her waist, cinched by plain fabric, was slimmer than a spring willow, a flawless curve like a master-crafted vase. Her flat stomach showed no ripple, a serene expanse begging exploration.

Her long skirt hid hips round as a full moon, youthful yet pure, like a budding flower or an unripe peach, firm and untouched. Her legs, straight and full, pressed together seamlessly, radiating innocence and allure.

Her face was perfection: eyes like stars, bright yet deep, a nose carved by heaven, lips red and smooth as ripe cherries, her features a divine work of art.

"Princess..."

Suddenly, the pent-up lust from last night surged. Heat flared in his gut, his cock swelling.

His loose pants tented again, the massive glans outlined clearly, its mushroom-like ridge pressing against the fabric. The slit rubbed the coarse cloth, leaking precum that soaked a small patch.

Elder Mu hunched awkwardly, eyes darting guiltily toward Qing, standing poised and elegant.

Yet Qing remained lost in the scenery, not sparing him a glance.

Or did she? A faint blush seemed to flicker across her cheek, gone in an instant, perhaps imagined.

"Princess... this old servant... this old servant..."

Unable to hold back, he yanked down his pants. His gargantuan cock sprang free, a towering pillar thicker than an adult arm, longer still, veins pulsing like writhing snakes. The crimson glans, monstrous as a serpent's head, throbbed menacingly.