Smut

It was my fifth year since transmigrating from a smut novel into ancient times.

My body had been feeling worse and worse.

Then one day, I coughed up a mouthful of blood from my heart.

I knew that if I did not have a man to relieve me, I would die when my body burst apart.

Just then, lines of floating comments suddenly appeared before my eyes.

[The Male Lead has been afflicted with Lust Poison tonight. What a shame the Female Lead hasn’t appeared yet. The Female Supporting Character will have to detoxify him instead.]

The Male Lead was my eldest brother, a man as pure as a clear breeze and bright moon, cold and aloof.

But I was neither the Female Lead, nor the Female Supporting Character, nor Female Character N.

I was only an adopted daughter with the role of Background Character A.

Being Background Character A meant I could do anything.

So under cover of night, dressed in nothing but a layer of gauze,

I secretly slipped into my brother’s room.

On the first day of the Lunar New Year, I climbed out of my childhood friend’s bed.

He lit a cigarette with careless ease.

“Leave through the back door in a bit. Don’t let my girlfriend see you.”

I froze. “You have a girlfriend? Since when?”

He curled his lips in a cold smile.

“None of your business.”

“You were the one who came on to me last night. I’m not taking responsibility.”

My expression turned indescribable.

“The person who slept with you last night wasn’t me…”

It was the cleaning lady from the guesthouse, who also happened to be his second uncle’s wife.

I had only come over to clean up the mess for them.

I was abducted as a child, but because I had fair skin and a pretty face,

I was carefully trained into a temptress made to ensnare wealthy young masters.

That night, in the most extravagant luxury suite in Macau,

Zhao Rongzheng lay there, languid and sated, his gaze falling on me as I wept like a flower in the rain.

“Stop crying. I’ll pay off your brother’s debt for him. From now on, you stay with me.”

I took the money, coaxed him with sweet words, and then vanished without a trace.

Five years later, news that the Seventh Young Master of the Zhao Family was divorcing his wife to marry a widow shook all of Hong Kong.

Zhao Rongzheng, now the man in power over the Zhao Family, personally stepped forward to handle this sordid scandal.

Seated high above me, he looked down at my meek, submissive, pitifully vulnerable appearance.

“What is it? Does every man in the Zhao Family have to fall into your hands at least once?”

Three days after I married the Foolish Prince, he started making a fuss about moving out of the bedchamber.

I grabbed him and demanded to know why. Blushing, he stammered, “When Ah Heng sleeps with my wife, Ah Heng always wets the bed.”

My gaze slid downward, and realization struck me at once.

As I helped him, my own face burning, I couldn’t resist teasing him. “Only children wet the bed. Why is Your Highness just like a child?”

Later, the clingy fool recovered and became the cool, aloof prince he truly was.

Day and night, he pressed close to me, his breath warm against my ear. “Only children wet the bed, Princess Consort… Why are you just like a child?”

By day, my straight roommate and I are sworn enemies.

By night, I secretly write slash fanfiction about the two of us.

[He slowly closed his eyes, his soft lips pressing against mine…]

That very night, in my dreams, we reenacted the exact scene from my story.

Later, I discovered that whatever I wrote, I would dream about that night.

I became addicted to it, losing myself in the fantasies until there was no turning back.

Still, I always made sure to maintain a sense of propriety, never daring to go too far or truly offend him.

Until one day, I finally plucked up the courage to reach out and touch my roommate in the dream.

The next morning, the look in his eyes when he turned to me was dark and unreadable.

“What’s the point of just dreaming?” he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward him.

It turned out that I wasn’t the only one; he had been having those dreams too.

After my sworn enemy and I both lost our memories, we lost control and ended up in bed together.

He was “gifted beyond measure,” and I was “shamelessly uninhibited.”

Physical desire and psychological disgust tore viciously at each other.

When my memories returned, I stared at my longtime nemesis, bare from the waist up, loving him and hating him all at once.

While enjoying his top-tier stamina, I maliciously recorded a video of him acting like my dog.

The shock brought his memories back.

After a brutal fight, we went our separate ways.

When we met again,

the wedding convoys of Hua Kingdom’s two great families ran into each other on a narrow road.

Song Jinbie and I regarded each other coldly, then brushed past without a word.

But late that night,

my newlywed husband was hanging upside down from the ceiling. Song Jinbie’s tone was lazy as he said,

“Become a widow, or marry me. Pick one.”

I likewise handed a hemp rope to his newlywed wife.

“Either tie it around yourself, or loop it around your husband’s neck.”

The first time I met Li Shuyu…

He had black hair, black clothes, and black-rimmed glasses.

He looked ascetic and buttoned-up.

Only after spending some time with him did I realize just how wrong I had been.

This seemingly aloof man would take off his glasses at night,

put in his lip stud and tongue stud, and say thickly,

“Don’t tremble, jiejie.”

Fu Shiyu, the crown prince of Beijing’s elite circles, was famously untouchable.

I worked as his chief interpreter for three years.

He still never managed to remember my full name.

Until the day I “ran into” him at the gallery he often visited, my fingertip brushing over his Adam’s apple.

“CEO Fu, your tie is crooked.”

He pinned me against the floor-to-ceiling window and bit my earlobe.

“Who are you calling CEO Fu?

“Say that again. I dare you.”

The new boss was taking over, and I stood in the hallway with a group of young women to welcome him.

He stopped in front of me and said in a low voice,

“I want to go in.”

My face went hot.

Back then, on that narrow little bed, when he held me with burning breaths and begged me in a low voice again and again…

Those were the words he loved saying most.

I was a peasant woman whose child had died. At night, my breasts would swell until the pain was unbearable, but I was afraid my husband and mother-in-law would scold me, so I could only go out to the ridges between the fields alone to relieve myself.

I never expected to come across a man lying gravely wounded by the roadside.

He kept rasping, “Thirsty… so thirsty…”

I couldn’t help myself, so I let him have a mouthful of milk.

Later, I went to the General’s Mansion to serve as the Young Master’s wet nurse.

The Young Master was naughty and refused to drink.

I glanced at the Young General beside me and teased him.

“Young Master, if you still won’t drink, I’ll give it to your elder brother instead.”

That night, in a daze, I heard the Young General talking to the Young Master.

“Little ancestor, are you drinking or not? At least make a sound!”