This thought existed for only a moment before Fang Yang dismissed it outright.
It was nothing but absurd to him.
Who would crawl under the bed every day when one could simply stay in a fine courtyard?
Moreover, the bed was not very stable.
Thus, under the despairing gaze of the princess consort, he slowly took off his clothes and lay on the bed.
Gently, he took the princess consort into his arms.
Outside, the night was enchanting; inside, the spring evening was unbearable.
...
Outside the Parasol Tree Courtyard, the same tree stood, with the same familiar figure underneath.
Huang Fuling was clad in imperial robes.
She gazed slowly over the courtyard.
In her enchanting eyes, a thick jealousy swept through.
Damn that stupid woman!
Why is she always so lucky?
Tonight, I busied myself all evening, continuously massaging the Demon Lord, until my hands were sore.
And yet... everything has gone to the princess consort?
It's too absurd, too laughable.
