When they arrived at the grand conference hall, the atmosphere was already charged with anticipation. Standing at the center was President Gu Yan, flanked by several elder members of the Alchemist Association. Their expressions were solemn, yet filled with a barely contained excitement.
"Nephew Shen Fei, at last you've arrived," Gu Yan greeted warmly, his voice brimming with pride. With a confident stride, he approached and ceremoniously pinned a gleaming badge onto Shen Fei's chest—a symbol that marked his ascension to Master Alchemist.
"From this day forward, Shen Fei is recognized as a Master Alchemist of the association," Gu Yan announced, his tone rich with excitement. "Should you ever require aid, the full support of the association is yours."
"Thank you, President Gu Yan," Shen Fei replied with a practiced smile, his voice light and humble, though his eyes glinted with a deeper cunning hidden beneath the surface.
Gu Yan's eyes twinkled with a hint of expectation. "Nephew Shen, would you consider beginning your duties tomorrow? Perhaps refining a few batches of pills to help alleviate the association's load?"
Shen Fei raised a hand gently, the smile still lingering on his lips. "Under normal circumstances, I would be honored to accept. However, I'm still a student at Holy Orchid Academy, and classes resume in a week. My schedule is tight, and there's still much I need to study and understand. I hope you understand, President."
A slight murmur passed through the elders, but Shen Fei continued calmly, "That said, whenever I find time, I'll gladly return to guide other alchemists and offer whatever insights I can."
His composed response softened the tension. Yang Xin stepped forward gracefully, her voice smooth and poised. "Everyone, Brother Shen has spent the entire day within the association. Surely he must be weary. Perhaps we should allow him to rest, and continue this discussion tomorrow."
"Quite right," an elder chuckled with a nod. "Nephew Shen must be exhausted after waiting for us old fogies, double-checking his assessments. Go on, lad. But do remember to come by tomorrow. Many among us have questions—questions only a mind like yours can answer."
"Then I shall excuse myself," Shen Fei said with a slight bow. "I'll return tomorrow."
Just as he turned to leave, a sultry voice halted him.
"Brother Shen, may I accompany you home?" Yang Xin's gaze was laced with mischief and invitation, her words soft like velvet. "I trust you wouldn't mind the company?"
The brief silence that followed was charged, and only they could interpret the silent message exchanged between them.
Yang Xin turned to Gu Yan and spoke with a suddenly serious tone, "President, if I may. I believe we should keep the news of Brother Shen Fei's promotion confidential for now. Should word spread of his genius, he might attract the attention of the Dark Guild. That kind of notoriety could be dangerous."
Gu Yan's smile faded, replaced by a grim expression. He muttered under his breath, "Damnable Dark Guild..."
After a thoughtful pause, he nodded solemnly. "Very well. Shen Fei's true rank shall remain known only to us, the upper echelon of the association. Publicly, we'll announce only that he has achieved the rank of Alchemist Apprentice."
"It's the wisest course," Yang Xin added.
This plan, in truth, had originated from Shen Fei himself. Yang Xin was merely voicing what he had carefully orchestrated behind the scenes.
Though he had no fear of the Dark Guild—they were in secret alliance with his Sacred Family—Shen Fei had no desire for unwanted complications. Better to veil his strength, to let the world underestimate him… until the day came when no one could stand in his way.
With a few parting words and respectful nods, Shen Fei and Yang Xin took their leave from the association, stepping into the evening air and enjoying the breeze.
As they walked side by side beneath the quiet canopy of twilight, the world around them seemed to fade into the hush of anticipation. The rustling leaves, the distant chirping of night birds—none of it mattered. Not to Shen Fei. Not to Yang Xin.
She glanced back at him again, her hips swaying with practiced grace. But her eyes betrayed something deeper—something tender, almost shy behind that sultry veil. "Brother Shen Fei," she said, her voice smooth and low like silk trailing across bare skin, "are you going back to the Sacred Family manor… or would you prefer to stop by this sister's place for a drink?"
Her tone was teasing, but her intention wasn't hidden. Not anymore.
Yang Xin was the epitome of allure and authority, renowned for both her beauty and brilliance. She had risen to the position of Alchemist Association Director while still in her twenties, a feat many envied. Now nearing her thirties, she had maintained her unattainable aura—yet until today, she had remained untouched.
That all changed just hours ago, when her carefully maintained composure gave way to indulgent ecstasy in the private shadows of her office. Though she had long teased him with coy gestures and sultry glances, she was, in truth, untested and inexperienced. But now, after surrendering herself to four hours of carnal pleasure, a new hunger stirred inside her—an unrestrained desire to feel it again.
He smiled slowly, heat flickering in his gaze. "A drink from Sister Yang Xin? How could I say no, especially after everything I've tasted today?"
Her cheeks flushed faintly, but she said nothing, only biting her lip and walking ahead, her pace deliberately slower now—as if inviting him to catch up, to follow the sway of her body that he already knew so intimately.
When they reached her home, she opened the door and stepped inside. As she turned to lock it behind them, the soft click of the bolt sounded like a seal on something forbidden.
"You can sit here, Brother Fei," she murmured, her tone demure, eyes avoiding his. "I'll cook something for you."
He sat, but his gaze never left her. From where he lounged, he could see straight into the kitchen—and into her heart.
Yang Xin moved with quiet grace. She loosened her Master Alchemist robe, letting it slide down her shoulders and fall in a soft heap at her feet. Beneath, she wore nothing. Nothing but a sheer apron, the fabric clinging to her curves as though it worshipped her body.
Her skin was luminous, flushed from the heat of the kitchen—or perhaps something more internal. She began preparing vegetables and meat, her movements fluid, natural.
Yet each sway of her hips, each subtle arch of her back, sent pulses of desire through Shen Fei's blood. The scent of spice and simmering broth filled the room, but it was the sight of her—the gentle bounce of her chest beneath the apron, the glimpse of bare thigh as she stepped back and forth—that made his dick ache.
She was unknowingly seductive. Or maybe she knew exactly what she was doing.
He could no longer stay seated.
Rising slowly, he moved toward the kitchen, every step deliberate. As he entered, the warm light revealed her clearly: her apron soaked in parts with sweat and steam, clinging like a second skin, the outline of her nipples faint beneath the damp cloth, the curve of her ass barely concealed.
Yang Xin gasped as she felt him behind her, his cock pressing in like heat.
"Brother Shen Fei… I-I'm cooking. Don't… don't tease me now. The food will burn…"
But her voice was weak, trembling—not with fear, but with expectation. Her breath hitched as he reached out, his fingers grazing the bare skin of her hips.
"I think," Shen Fei whispered into her ear, his breath warm and heavy, "you're the one teasing me."
He drew her into him, one hand sliding around her waist, the other resting low on her belly. His aroused cock pressed firmly against her ass, undeniable, raw. She stiffened, but only for a moment, then melted into him.
Her head tilted back slightly, eyes fluttering closed as she felt his warmth, his hunger. The steady, practiced hands that once stirred cauldrons now traced delicate lines across her trembling skin.
"I can't think," he murmured, "when you're like this."
Yang Xin swallowed hard. "I… I didn't do it on purpose…"
"Liar," he growled gently, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he slowly slid the knot of her apron loose.
The air between them burned.
As he untied the knots of her apron, it slid down on the floor.
Her pristine naked body is wet with sweat, making her look more alluring as her skin blushes red in heat.
He once again closed the distance between them. Pulling her by the waist as her soft ass squeed his hard cock.
"Mm…"
A soft moan escaped Yang Xin's lips as her hips began to sway—slow, deliberate, teasing. She pressed ass back against Shen Fei, her supple cheeks framing his cock as she moved in rhythm, massaging him with every curve of her body.
Shen Fei didn't rush.
He remained still, his breath warm against the curve of her neck, his hands heavy with restraint as they rested on her waist. He traced the lines of her body with slow, reverent fingers, the pads of his thumbs brushing tenderly over her skin, igniting sparks with every glide. His presence was overwhelming, not just in form but in intent.
Yang Xin clutched the countertop for support, her knuckles pale as her breath hitched with every stroke of his hands. Her body, once so guarded and untouched, now moved instinctively under his touch—sensitized by hours of earlier pleasure, and now craving more, deeper, fuller. Her self-control crumbled like dry leaves under his touch.
"Brother Shen Fei…" she whispered, the words barely formed between gasps. "If you keep going… I won't be able to stop myself…"
He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear—just enough to send shivers down her spine. His voice was low, dark, and full of promise.
"Then don't."
She arched against him, pressing her bare skin to his, inviting everything, denying nothing.
He answered the invitation without pause. One hand slid upward, cupping the weight of her breast, thumb grazing her nipple until it peaked beneath his touch. The other slipped lower, gripping her thigh, pulling her ass tigher against his dick, letting her feel the full intensity of his desire.
She moaned—quiet, desperate—as her body quivered. Her hands clenched the counter like a lifeline.
"You drive me insane, Yang Xin," he murmured into her neck. "You have no idea what you do to me."
"I do…" she breathed. "Because you've done the same to me."
He turned her gently, savoring every moment, every breathless second. Her eyes met his—half-lidded with need, but wide with something deeper: vulnerability, surrender, and an unspoken plea for more.
He lifted her onto the counter, his touch both strong and careful. She opened her legs for him, welcoming him without hesitation. Their faces were close—lips brushing but not yet kissing. Their breaths mingled, thick with heat, the kitchen air heavy with more than just the scent of spices.
When his lips finally found hers, it wasn't soft. It was consuming. Their mouths moved in raw hunger, a kiss that tasted of hours of restraint and undeniable connection. His hands roamed across her bare flesh, rediscovering every curve, every response, every gasp she made just for him.
And then he claimed her—slowly, deeply—with a single thrust that made that sheathed his cock in warmth of her pussy, her gasp and cling to him, her body tightening around him like silk over steel.
Pah
Pah
Each movement sent a jolt through her. Her body rocked with his rhythm, hips meeting his in perfect sync. Her voice trembled into the air—half-formed cries, soft moans that painted the kitchen with echoes of their pleasure.
Her breasts bounced to the rhythm of his thrusts, flushed and sensitive. He leaned forward, taking one into his mouth, sucking gently before letting his teeth graze the nipple—earning a cry from her lips, both pained and pleading.
He lavished her with attention, switching from one breast to the other, leaving behind red marks that spoke of his hunger for her.
Pah
"Aah… Shen Fei…"
Smack
"Oohh…"
The sounds of their bodies meeting, the occasional slap of skin, and the low cadence of their moans turned the quiet home into a den of heat and passion. They didn't stop—not when the food finished cooking, not when the pot boiled over. Their hunger was no longer for food.
They shifted positions again and again—bent over the counter, pressed against the wall, straddled across the dining table. Every surface bore witness to their passion, marked by lingering fingerprints, moistened skin, and the scent of sweat and satisfaction.
By the time they sat down to eat—still naked, still flushed—the food was lukewarm, but they didn't care. Their bodies were still warm, still thrumming from hours of shared release.
Yang Xin sat across from him, her hair tousled, her lips swollen. Her breasts bore the faint outline of bite marks, a visual confession of how completely she had surrendered to him. Her legs remained spread, lazily draped across the chair, and from between them, the unmistakable trace of their debauchery slowly dripped down her inner thigh.
Because in the silence, in the way their eyes lingered and their bodies still yearned, everything had already been said.
Shen Fei didn't return to the Sacred Family manor that night. The thought never crossed his mind. He had become a captive—not by chains, but by the sexy limbs and untamed hunger of Yang Xin.
Her body was no longer a temple of restraint and poise. Last night, it had been a blazing altar of desire, where every moan was a prayer and every touch a surrender. She had given herself over to him wholly—no inhibitions, no secrets.
And in return, he devoured her. Again. And again. And again.
The walls of her house, once pristine and noble, were now tainted with the scent of passion. Her sheets—twisted and soaked. The floor—marked with the faint trails of their restless movement.
The furniture bore fingerprints, bite marks, and indents of their tangled limbs, which were soaked in white fluids. Her body, and his, had not known rest since sunset.
By the time morning rays pierced through the delicate curtains, golden light bathing the ruined bed in a soft warmth, they were still entwined—flesh to flesh, heartbeat against heartbeat.
Yang Xin was no longer the composed and noble director of the Alchemist Association.
She was breathless.
Disheveled.
Ravenous.
And still not done.
"Mmmhh…" she purred with his cock in her mouth, her voice hoarse with exhaustion and pleasure.
Slurp… slurp…
Shen Fei lay sprawled on the bed, his back against the pillow, his eyes half-lidded as he watched her—naked, radiant, relentless.
Yang Xin knelt between his legs, her lips wrapped tightly around his dick. Her head moved rhythmically, her throat working to take him deeper each time.
Saliva glistened along his cock, her pouty lips sealing tightly around his base. She moaned softly with each descent, as if pleasuring him brought her a pleasure of her own.
Shen Fei groaned, his muscles tensing as she swallowed around him.
"Ahh… take it deeper…"
Her hands gripped his thighs. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked harder, her tongue swirling, stroking his cock with practiced rhythm born not of experience, but instinctive desire. Her eyes flicked up to meet his—a fiery glint within them that sent another jolt of lust through his spine.
Then came the moment.
With a long, throaty moan, Shen Fei tensed.
"Ahhh…"
He erupted, his thick white cum filling her throat in hot, pulsing waves.
Gulp. Gulp.
Yang Xin didn't flinch. She held him in place, sucking and swallowing, draining him completely. Only when his breathing calmed did she let him go, licking her lips with a sultry smile as she wiped a trail of white from the corner of her mouth.
She leaned forward, resting her head on his thigh, her fingers lazily tracing circles across his abdomen.
"I suppose we should wash up now," she said, voice lazy and content. "The Association opens soon… and I still have to scold an apprentice or two before noon."
Shen Fei chuckled. "You might want to avoid yelling today. Your voice is a little… worn out."
Yang Xin rolled her eyes but smiled. "Then it's your fault for being too much."
They rose and entered the bath together. The water was warm, but the air between them was warmer still.
Shen Fei sat behind her, gently massaging her shoulders as she leaned back against him. Now and then, his fingers would slip just a bit lower than necessary, making her squirm most delightfully.
There was no rush.
Only shared silence, the kind that only exists between two people who had tasted each other's souls the night before.
After the bath, Yang Xin wrapped herself in a robe and prepared breakfast. The meal was simple—porridge, steamed buns, and tea—but it felt more decadent than any feast.
Shen Fei watched her from across the table, admiring how the morning light kissed her bare collarbone adorned with red bite marks, how her flushed cheeks still glowed, how even in mundane tasks, she moved with elegance.
She ate with composure, but her legs remained spread beneath the table, relaxed and open, a lazy, teasing confidence lingering in her posture. Her thighs still bore the faint tremble of overuse. And her chest, marked with bite-marks and red blossoms from the whole night of his attention, rose and fell gently with each breath.
After their meal, they dressed. There was no kiss goodbye. No promises exchanged. Only a silent understanding.
They would meet again.
But for now, to avoid unwanted suspicion, they left separately.
Yang Xin departed first, composed, graceful, but undeniably changed. She was no longer just the Association's proud director. She was a woman claimed, deeply and thoroughly.
An hour later, Shen Fei emerged, his posture relaxed, his expression unreadable—but his eyes still burned with what he had experienced.
When he stepped through the gates of the Alchemist Association, none could tell what had transpired.
None… except for her.
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