Wang Jian stretched languidly in his silk-lined bed, the morning sun filtering through the ornate windows of his chambers. His gaze swept across the room, landing on the three slumbering figures nestled beside him. A wry smile touched his lips.
"Morning, beauties," he drawled, his voice a husky rumble.
Cui Lan, the Pavilion Mistress, stirred first, her eyes fluttering open. Shame colored her cheeks as she met his gaze. The memory of last night's passionate encounter was still fresh in her mind, a stark reminder of their new, unwelcome reality.
"Good morning, Master Wang," she murmured, her voice devoid of its usual authority.
Wang Jian chuckled, a sound both playful and unsettling. "No need for such formalities, Cui Lan. Just call me Jian."
