On a moonlit night by the Twenty-Four Bridge, where is the beauty teaching flute play?
At that moment, within the ten-mile gallery, Empress was kneeling on the ground, bound in red silk threads, kneeling right in front of Fang Yang.
Her black hair fluttered chaotically, the usually domineering lady now looked enticing, with ripples of charm emanating from her eyes and brows.
She exuded a particular allure, the flavour of being forcefully conquered.
As the Empress of Tang, she had always been aloof, never actively seeking to please another. To serve a demon lord, nearly grovelling, was an immense humiliation for her.
Yet at the same time, a thrilling sensation was stirring deep within her heart.
This thrill was faint, very subtle, barely noticeable without careful attention.
But now, it was growing ceaselessly, as if taking root and sprouting within her, impossible to erase, making her flute playing ever more exquisite, utterly mesmerizing.
