Smut

I was a widow starved for a man.

While I was burning incense and praying for a good match, some villain broke into my boudoir.

I knocked him out with a vase.

Then I took a look and-oh. A beautiful man.

So I tied him up, hid him in my little courtyard, and had my way with him every day…

Later, he ran off.

When we met again, I knelt on the ground and stammered in terror, “Th-this humble woman greets His Royal Highness the Crown Prince…”

I was born to perform.

When I discovered that my husband from a marriage of convenience was only cold and aloof on the surface-and insatiable underneath-I helped myself to the feast.

I loved watching still waters ripple endlessly under my touch.

But I seemed to have taken the act a little too far. It wasn’t just in bed that I clung to him. I lost control outside the bedroom too.

One day, when I brought lunch to his office again, I overheard his friend teasing him.

“Who was it that said this was just a business arrangement and you’d get divorced after three months? Now you go home at six thirty sharp every day. Aren’t you sick of it?”

After a few seconds of silence, Qin Xian answered.

“I am.”

I stood outside the door, staring down at the lunchbox in my hands.

So his workday didn’t actually end at ten thirty. It ended at six thirty.

I decided it was time to rein in my urge to perform.

I remained endlessly enthusiastic in bed, but I never initiated another message to him.

On the day our contract expired, I cheerfully handed him the divorce papers. Qin Xian’s eyes instantly darkened.

“All this time, did you see me as your husband-or as a vibrator?”

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 Pei family funded me for ten years, and Pei Shaoye hated me for ten years.

Because not only was I a top student, I was also well-behaved.

The proud and untamable young master once spoke of me with disdain to his friends.

“She’s so full of it, just a bookworm who only knows how to study. Without my family’s funding, she’d be nothing.”

When I won another scholarship, Pei’s father asked me what reward I wanted.

I said I wanted Pei Shaoye.

“Great, with you, Xiaoye will surely mend his ways.”

That very night, I had Pei Shaoye pinned beneath me on the bed, kissing him breathlessly.

With an indifferent face, I watched his lashes tremble and his neck flush red.

“Am I learning well, Young Master Pei?”

“What the hell… What kind of book is this?”

“Forcing Rebellious Men: A Smutty Po18 Novel. Forgot to tell you-top students don’t just study well, we also rock it in action.”

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.

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.

I came to the city looking for work, and somehow ended up as the male secretary to a young, domineering CEO.

Like an idiot, I asked him, “Bro, I don’t have much schooling. What can I do?”

The CEO frowned around the cigarette between his lips and motioned for me to bend lower. “You can.”

Three months later, I was standing beside the CEO’s bed while he shifted over with his laptop in his arms to make room for me, then reached out to blow-dry my hair.

All at once, it hit me.

Wait.

Something about this doesn’t seem right.

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 friends of the Crown Prince of the Beijing Circle were always laughing at me for being a hick, saying I wasn’t even worthy of being a stand-in for his white moonlight.

They even predicted that I’d be packing up and leaving in less than a month.

I panicked and immediately summoned my seven older sisters for emergency training in the art of being a white moonlight substitute.

Even if I got fired, there was no way I was letting such a cushy gig fall into an outsider’s hands!

Then, a year later, the white moonlight returned to the country. The moment the crown prince saw her face-he threw up.

Trembling, he said, “I’m sick of it. So sick of it. For the rest of my life, I never want to see that face again!”