Now I really have to marry the princess.

Yingluo leaned against Yang Zhengdao, first filling his teacup, then pulling his legs into her arms and gently kneading them with her hands, one above and one below.

Ru Meng knelt close to Li Hui beside him, one hand holding her sleeve, the other holding a piece of pastry, which she offered to his lips.

Attended by Yingluo and Rumeng, Yang Zhengdao and Li Hui ate pastries while discussing the hot spring bathhouse.

Based on Yingluo and Rumeng's indirect inquiries about the foster mother, and Li Hui's investigation, it was learned that the person behind this secluded place was Lu Chengqing, the Assistant Director of the Ministry of Personnel's Performance Evaluation Department.

Lu Chengqing was a representative figure of the Lu clan of Fanyang in the imperial court, and he was nearly forty years old.

This fake mother, Liu, whose real name was Ru Shi, was once the most beautiful woman in Pingkangfang and was extremely popular.

Lu Chengqing was Liu Rushi's patron when she was young.

This involves the Shandong gentry, and further consideration is needed.

As the four were chatting, a maid announced that the courtesan Zhezhi had arrived.

Then four veiled musicians entered with musical instruments and placed a small bronze animal-shaped incense burner in front of Yang Zhengdao and Li Hui.

A wisp of very faint blue smoke rose from the stove.

Yang Zhengdao sniffed the air and sensed that the incense in front of him had a strange aroma, probably because it contained some ingredients that were not found in the Central Plains.

At first, it smells sweet and floral, but upon closer inspection, it carries a hint of bitter medicine. These various scents intertwine, making one feel light and airy.

The atmosphere was so inviting that Yang Zhengdao was even more excited about the courtesan Zhezhi.

After the four female musicians, holding a pipa, a transverse flute, a konghou, and a waist drum, sat down in the corner with their eyes lowered, a delicate hand gently lifted the gauze curtain.

A tall, slender woman from Hu walked in, her head bowed and her feet bare.

This is the courtesan Zhezhi.

She was about fifteen or sixteen years old, wearing a white veil that revealed only her eyes.

Her eyes are slightly sunken, with slanted corners, and her pupils are a light turquoise green, giving her a more exotic look compared to Nazha.

She was wearing a white, narrow-sleeved silk robe, so thin it was as if there was a layer of smoke between them, tightly wrapped around her chest. Her two treasures, too big to be covered by one hand, looked like two lanterns hanging on her chest.

A slender waist was visible beneath the silk robe, and a gold foil flower ornament was pasted at the navel, highlighting the fair and delicate abdomen.

Amidst the wisps of smoke, Yang Zhengdao was already lost in thought, wondering how this slender waist compared to Yingluo.

Just then, Yingluo in his arms shifted her body, her warm breath brushing against Yang Zhengdao's ear.

"Young Master Yang, if you like it, I'll wear it for you."

After saying that, she blushed again, lowered her head, and nuzzled against Yang Zhengdao's chest.

Yang Zhengdao's throat was a little dry. He kept his eyes straight ahead, focusing on appreciating the art, but casually pinched Yingluo's cheek as punishment for her playfulness.

Then look at that courtesan, Zhezhi. Her ankles were as delicate as lotus roots, her arches as slender as jade, and her toes as round as pearls. Her pair of bare feet, as white as mutton fat, were so beautiful that they made it hard to look away.

Her lower body was covered by a pair of wide-legged floral trousers made of flowing silk, with slits on both sides that went all the way up to her hip bones, partially concealing her smooth and slender legs.

now.

Suddenly the pipa sounded, like pearls falling onto a jade plate, with a crisp, clear sound; the konghou harmonized with it, like stones splashing against a clear spring, making a clear, melodious sound.

The prostitute with the mulberry branch moved.

She trembled slightly at first, her whole body like a snake awakened, her arms soft and boneless, slowly rising from her sides.

It glides across the neck, brushes the collarbone, and the fingertips hook one's gaze, drawing two invisible arcs across the chest.

At this time.

The waist drum suddenly rises, as if striking one's heart; the transverse flute pierces the air, as if tearing open a brocade garment.

The courtesan suddenly began to dance, as swift as a rabbit.

Her smooth, alabaster-like belly began to rise and fall, and her silk robes, like butterflies, began to flutter.

The legs peeking out from the slit in the floral pants appeared and disappeared intermittently, sometimes revealing suggestive thoughts, and sometimes dazzlingly white.

Her waist was like a willow branch in the wind, so supple it seemed boneless.

The hips twisted in time with the beat, as if urging someone on, each thrust coming quickly and forcefully.

My chest swayed to the melody, like a shy invitation, bouncing and bouncy, wonderfully gentle.

Yang Zhengdao's Adam's apple bobbed, and he couldn't help but take a deep breath.

He felt Yingluo's body slightly warm in his arms. Looking down at her, he saw that her foxy eyes were full of spring water, and her little face was delicate and beautiful.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at Li Hui, whose breathing was rapid. His hands were hidden in Ru Meng's arms, but his eyes were fixed on the prostitute Zhe Zhi.

Ru Meng, who was in his arms, let out a soft moan and twisted her body, getting up and pulling him into the inner room.

The music continued, and the dance moves were enchanting.

But a sound came from the inner room, mixed in with the pauses in the music.

Soft, rustling sounds of caressing, soft, delicate laughter...

Yang Zhengdao cursed inwardly, thinking to himself that these two were truly men of strong character.

His hands, however, were quite honest, causing Yingluo's cheeks to flush and her body to go limp.

Yingluo naturally guessed what the two people inside were doing.

These young master Li and sister Rumeng are truly bold, making others both ashamed and envious.

Feeling the pressure of Yang Lang's hands, she felt like she was about to melt.

Yang Zhengdao felt only that Yingluo in his arms was as sticky and inseparable as if she were on fire.

His Adam's apple bobbed involuntarily again, and his eyes began to glaze over.

As if her heartbeat quickened, the courtesan's dance became even more hurried.

The pipa played with the force of a sudden downpour, the drumbeats were so dense they were impenetrable, and the strange fragrance in the room seemed to grow even stronger.

There, the courtesan with the mulberry branch danced into a wisp of smoke, transforming into a cloud.

The straps on her arm had come loose, revealing half of her snow-white shoulder; her white silk robe was wet, revealing glimpses of her fullness.

Gradually, everything before Yang Zhengdao's eyes began to blur.

Yang Zhengdao looked down and saw that Yingluo in his arms had closed her eyes and was breathing softly. Her delicate face was full of shyness, ready to be taken by him.

He shook his head, but couldn't clear his mind at all; all that came to mind were his study materials from his previous life.

He sniffed again; something seemed off about the incense...

The next moment, his eyelids twitched, then closed uncontrollably, and his entire body, embracing Yingluo, gently fell down.

Just then, the dance of the courtesan Zhezhi abruptly stopped, and all the music ceased.

She hurried forward, only to find Yang Zhengdao and Yingluo already panting heavily, entangled together.

She immediately ordered, "Move them both to the inner room on the other side."

The four musicians moved Yang Zhengdao and Yingluo to the inner room on the west side as instructed, and casually loosened the leather belt around Yang Zhengdao's waist and the knot in Yingluo's skirt.

The four musicians packed up their instruments and then picked up the bronze incense burner with a small animal design that stood before the couch.

"Lady Dili, let's hurry!" the musician holding the pipa urged urgently.

The courtesan Zhezhi, who was called Dili Niangzi, frowned and pondered for a moment. Then, a sly smile seemed to appear on the corner of her mouth, which was hidden behind her veil.

She took out a white porcelain bottle from her chest, unscrewed the stopper, and carefully poured the pink powder inside onto the gauze curtain in the west inner room.