Huang Rong from The Return of the Condor Heroes: Guo'er, calm down.

March, Peach Blossom Island.

The sea breeze swirled petals, which landed on the stone table in the Sword Testing Pavilion. Leftovers lingered, the aroma of wine still present.

Today is Guo Jing's 38th birthday.

Guo Jing was overjoyed and, as was his custom, had several jars of aged Shaoxing wine opened. Even the usually serious Ke Zhen'e drank until his face was flushed, and as he leaned on his iron staff to return to his room, he was still humming a little tune that no one could understand.

The brothers Wu Dunru and Wu Xiuwen were practically glued to Guo Fu, and in their struggle to drink, they were already completely drunk and had to be carried away by the servants.

Yang Guo was not drunk.

He was a soul from the future; this little bit of wine wouldn't make him lose his composure. At the banquet, he found the sycophantic behavior of Da Wu and Xiao Wu quite amusing.

It's late at night, in the master bedroom.

The red candle was half burned, and the candle wax dripped down the bronze stand.

Huang Rong sat before her dressing table, removing the pearl hairpins from her hair. The bronze mirror reflected a face that could express both anger and joy. Time had been exceptionally kind to her; in her thirties, not a trace of hardship etched on her eyes or brows, but rather a mature charm, like the reddest peach hanging on a branch, ripe enough to burst with juice.

She looked through the bronze mirror at Guo Jing, who was sitting on the edge of the bed.

Guo Jing sat cross-legged, palms facing upwards, breathing deeply and evenly. He was practicing his internal energy cultivation.

Huang Rong's anger flared up instantly.

Eighteen years.

Ever since he became pregnant with Fu'er, Guo Jing has been like a different person. Those old Taoist priests of the Quanzhen Sect teach all sorts of nonsense about internal energy cultivation, saying that the Innate Skill requires preserving one's original essence, locking the seminal gate, and severing desires in order to reach the pinnacle.

Guo Jing was an honest man; he did whatever his master told him to do.

This lock lasted for eighteen years.

Huang Rong was a woman, and a woman in the prime of her life.

"Brother Jing".

Huang Rong called out, her voice laced with a cunning.

Guo Jing didn't even lift his eyelids, his inner energy circulating, wisps of white steam rising from the top of his head: "Rong'er, rest early, I still need to circulate my energy for three more cycles."

Huang Rong turned around, her fingertips lightly flicking, and her silk robe slid down her rounded shoulders, piling up at her feet.

The bright red mandarin duck bodice was stretched high, creating a breathtakingly white arc that trembled slightly with each breath, as if it could not contain the overflowing fullness.

Beneath her slender waist, which could be grasped in one hand, lay full, mature hip bones. As her skirt swayed, a pair of long, straight, jade-like legs were faintly visible. Her skin gleamed with a delicate sheen under the dim light, like a ripe peach. Every undulation of her body silently proclaimed its allure.

She walked to the bedside and reached out to take Guo Jing's hand.

"Everyone's in a good mood today, and you've had quite a bit to drink..."

The moment her hand touched Guo Jing's wrist, it was repelled by a gentle yet resolute internal force.

Guo Jing opened his eyes, his brows furrowed deeply: "Rong'er, you mustn't. The Quanzhen Martial Arts emphasizes tranquility and non-action. The alcohol has already disturbed your mind. If you break the rules again, all the hard work you've put in over ten years will be wasted."

Is it ruined?

For the sake of some damn martial arts, you're willing to keep your wife a widow?

Huang Rong's chest heaved violently, her face flushed crimson. She was the renowned Chief Huang, the spoiled daughter of Huang Yaoshi; when had she ever suffered such humiliation?

"Practice, practice, practice! Just go live your life clinging to your own Quanzhen Dao!"

Huang Rong grabbed a pillow and threw it hard at Guo Jing.

"Get out!"

Guo Jing paused for a moment, hugging his pillow, looking bewildered: "Rong'er, what's wrong with you? If you think I'm too noisy, I'll go to the study to meditate."

He got up, straightened his clothes, and actually went out the door.

The door slammed shut with a creak, then rattled loudly in the wind.

Huang Rong was so angry that she trembled all over. She grabbed the teacup on the table and smashed it on the ground. Broken porcelain shards were scattered all over the floor.

"You piece of wood! You stinky piece of wood!"

She cursed a few times, but her eyes reddened. This vast Peach Blossom Island, this long night, yet she could only keep watch alone in her empty room. The burning heat within her body, amplified by the alcohol, had nowhere to go, making her feel flustered and disoriented.

"Someone come here!"

Hearing the commotion, the mute servant on night watch outside rushed over.

"Prepare water, I want to take a bath," Huang Rong ordered coldly.

……

Half an hour later.

Guo Jing was already in meditation in his study, and he remained there without wavering.

Yang Guo, however, couldn't fall asleep no matter what.

Although he didn't have a system with him after transmigrating for so many years, he managed to master those martial arts skills quite well based on his understanding of the world.

However, Huang Rong was worried that she was born with a rebellious nature, so she did not allow Guo Jing to teach her martial arts. Instead, she insisted on teaching him herself, but he only taught her classical Chinese phrases and did not pass on a single real martial arts move.

"I wonder if Uncle Guo is asleep yet. I can take this opportunity to plead with him to send me to the Quanzhen Sect as soon as possible so that the real story can begin."

Yang Guo rolled out of bed. He was a man of action; he did what he thought of.

The moonlight was like water, casting shadows in the peach blossom grove.

Yang Guo easily found his way to Guo Jing and his wife's courtyard. The gate was ajar, and it was quiet inside.

"Uncle Guo?"

Yang Guo called out softly in the courtyard, but no one answered.

The light in the master bedroom was still on.

He thought to himself, "Guo Jing is diligent; he's probably still practicing his martial arts."

Yang Guo didn't think much of it and walked straight to the door.

I was about to knock on the door, but as soon as I raised my hand, I realized that the door was unlocked and there was a crack in it.

A thick, warm steam, carrying the delicate fragrance of orchids, seeped out through the crack in the door. The scent was so strong, it didn't smell like peach blossoms, but rather like the perfume of a woman, mixed with moisture, and went straight into my nose.

Yang Guo is a modern person, so he doesn't have so many rules.

"Uncle Guo, I need to talk to you."

Push open the door, step inside.

Upon entering, Yang Guo froze completely.

The room was filled with steam, making visibility somewhat blurry.

In the center of the room, there was a huge mahogany bathtub.

A person was sitting in the bathtub.

It's not Guo Jing.

The person had their back to the door, their dark hair damp with moisture, lazily coiled on top of their head, held loosely by a single white jade hairpin.

That was the fullness and firmness of a mature woman. The lines of her back flowed smoothly like undulating mountains, her shoulder blades trembled slightly with her breath, and her fair skin glowed with a faint pink under the candlelight and steam.

A few stray hairs clung to her neck, making the nape of her neck appear even whiter and more dazzling than snow. Water droplets slid down her rounded, beautiful shoulders, falling into the cleavage. The cleavage was obscured by the wooden tub, so Yang Guo couldn't see it clearly. But in the misty haze, the woman in the tub exuded a hazy, alluring charm.

Her back view is extremely beautiful.

A thick layer of peach petals floated on the water's surface, obscuring the underwater scenery, but unable to conceal the breathtaking curves of her back.

Yang Guo felt a surge of heat rush to the top of his head.

This is Huang Rong!

Indeed, besides Huang Rong, who else on Peach Blossom Island has such a figure?

run!

This was the first thought that popped into Yang Guo's mind.

If this were discovered, let alone whether Guo Jing would kill him with a single palm strike, Huang Rong, with her temperament, would probably turn him into a floating corpse in the sea by tomorrow morning.

He held his breath, tiptoed, and prepared to slip away unnoticed.

"So you know how to come back?"

A lazy yet alluring voice suddenly rang out.

Yang Guo's foot, which had just stepped out, abruptly stopped in mid-air.

Huang Rong did not turn around.

She thought it was Guo Jing who had entered. No one on the island dared to barge into her bedroom without knocking.

Given that she had just lost her temper, even though Guo Jing is a blockhead, he still cares about her. He will most likely come back to apologize.

Huang Rong's anger subsided considerably, replaced by a secret sense of anticipation.

She lifted her arm out of the water.

The arm was so white it was dazzling, and water droplets dripped down the elbow, making a dripping sound.

She grabbed a damp, warm towel from the side of the tub and covered her face with it.

The bath towel obscured her vision and also the blush that rose on her face from embarrassment.

"What are you standing there for?"

Huang Rong's voice was muffled under the bath towel, sounding deep and husky, yet it carried a hint of coquettishness rarely seen on her face. "Now that you're back, come and help me wipe my back. The water was a bit too hot, and my back feels weak."

Yang Guo stood there, caught in a dilemma.

If someone were to speak up now and say, "Aunt Guo, it's me, Guo'er," the scene would be absolutely tragic.

Huang Rong was completely naked, and he was watching from the side. This was a situation where he couldn't clear his name even if he jumped into the Yellow River.

But if we leave...

The door hinges were old and in disrepair. It was fine when we came in earlier because of the wind, but now that it's late at night and quiet, opening the door again will definitely make noise. If Huang Rong pulls off her bath towel then, even with her current lightness skill, she will have no chance of escaping.

How will we explain that then?

Yang Guo broke out in a cold sweat.

"Still not moving?"

Huang Rong seemed a little impatient in the bathtub. She leaned forward slightly, rested her arms on the edge of the tub, and exposed her entire back.

Her waist was slender, yet not gaunt, extending downwards in a breathtaking curve. The candlelight flickered, casting ambiguous shadows on her back.

This is hardly the brilliant strategist Zhuge Liang; she's clearly a ripe peach, just waiting to be picked.

Yang Guo's Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

He was a normal man, nineteen years old, full of youthful vigor.

Since there's no way to escape, then... we can only make the best of a bad situation?

The moment this thought crossed my mind, it grew wildly like weeds.

As long as I don't speak and don't let her see my face, I can find a chance to slip away and maybe get away with it.

Yang Guo took a deep breath, suppressed his wildly beating heart, and walked over step by step with light steps.

With each step I took, my heart beat a fraction faster.

The floor was thick, but he felt as if he were walking on cotton, soft and fluffy.

As I approached the bathtub, the orchid fragrance became even stronger, making me dizzy.

He noticed the fine downy hairs on the back of Huang Rong's neck.

"Why is it so slow..." Huang Rong muttered, her body swaying in the water, making a splash. "Strengthen it a bit. I've been busy preparing for Brother Jing's birthday today, and my back is aching."

Yang Guo's hands trembled slightly.

He gritted his teeth, grabbed a bath towel, and draped it over Huang Rong's shoulder.

"Um……"

Huang Rong didn't notice anything amiss. She simply adjusted her posture slightly, her voice revealing a hint of relaxation after exhaustion, "Move a little to the left. My shoulders have been really sore these past two days from preparing for Brother Jing's birthday."

Yang Guo's mind went blank; he dared not have the slightest extra thought.

He could only mechanically follow instructions, his movements stiff and rigid. Due to excessive tension, he used significantly more force than usual.

But this accidental force actually relieved Huang Rong's soreness.

"Your strength is definitely greater tonight," Huang Rong said softly through the misty steam without turning around. "You're usually so careful, what's wrong? Did you drink tonight and forget to hold back?"

Yang Guo held his breath, not daring to make the slightest sound, for fear of revealing his presence.

The bath towel moved slowly down his shoulders, merely pressing against his taut muscles. His eyes were fixed on the edge of the wooden tub, forcing himself not to look at the figure that was faintly visible in the mist.

At this moment, besides feeling nervous, he felt an indescribable sense of absurdity.

The usually dignified, authoritative, and exceptionally intelligent Aunt Guo now completely entrusted her back to him without any suspicion. And the person she called out to was Guo Jing, who was not present at the moment.

This disorienting feeling of walking on a knife's edge made him break out in a cold sweat.

"Ouch...be gentle."

Huang Rong suddenly shrank her shoulder slightly, "You're hurting me."

Yang Guo was so startled that his hand trembled, and the towel almost slipped off. He quickly softened his grip.

This sudden change stirred a strange feeling in Huang Rong's heart.

In the past, Brother Jing's hands were broad and rough, and his movements were steady, even clumsy. But tonight, although his hands also had calluses, they seemed... somewhat different.

This subtle difference made her heart skip a beat.

"Brother Jing..."

Huang Rong suddenly spoke, her voice tinged with a hint of probing, and she grabbed the wrist that was resting on her shoulder.

Yang Guo's heart skipped a beat, and a chill instantly ran down his spine.

broken!

Guo Jing practiced the Eighteen Subduing Dragon Palms for many years, resulting in broad, thick hands with strong knuckles. Yang Guo, though also a martial artist, had much longer, more slender hands. The calluses on the base of the thumb and the pads of the fingers were particularly striking.

If she were to examine him closely, his identity would be exposed in an instant!

Just as Yang Guo instinctively tried to pull his hand away, Huang Rong did not immediately let go, but instead grasped it, as if she wanted to pull his hand closer to her for a closer look.

At the critical moment!

A sudden inspiration struck Yang Guo, recalling Guo Jing's usual honest, slow-witted, and taciturn manner. He immediately gathered his energy, held his breath, and suddenly intensified his movements, pressing hard on the acupoint on the shoulder. At the same time, he used the force to quickly cover Huang Rong's eyes with another bath towel, blocking her view.

This attack, performed without internal force and relying solely on brute strength, appeared clumsy and hasty.

Startled by the sudden movement, Huang Rong staggered and leaned back against the barrel wall, her view now obstructed.

"What are you doing?" Huang Rong asked, somewhat surprised, her tone carrying a hint of reproach. "You're so clumsy."

She assumed her husband had lost his senses after drinking and didn't think anything of it.

Yang Guo's heart pounded wildly.

The crisis was temporarily averted, but he knew that if he made another mistake, the night would be hard to end.

Looking at the unsuspecting Huang Rong before him, Yang Guo's eyes were unreadable. The hand on his shoulder was trembling slightly. He didn't know whether to continue or flee immediately...