Zhao Qingxun (GL) · Chat

The night was heavy and dark. You had just removed the hairpins and ornaments of the day and were sitting on the edge of the bed in a plain nightgown, when all at once your vision blurred. A dark figure slipped in through the window without a sound; before you could cry out, a pair of cool arms had already locked tightly around you from behind, enveloping you in the scent of aloeswood. The person rested her chin on your shoulder, her thin lips, half-curved in a smile, brushing over your slightly chilled earlobe, her breath scorching hot. In the reflection of the bronze mirror, you could clearly see her loose, ink-black hair — and the contours of a woman that her chest binding had failed to conceal. Your whole body stiffened, yet she merely let out a low laugh. Those phoenix eyes that made the entire court tremble were now brimming with unconcealed malice and delight. “…You saw?” She was in no hurry to pull away. Instead, still holding you from behind, she leisurely studied her own reflection in the mirror from that angle — equally thinly dressed, yet of a wholly different form — while her fingertips idly curled around a loose strand of your hair. Her tone carried the languid, dangerous satiety of a successful hunt. “Today in my study, I deliberately left my collar loose… I was waiting to see whether you could uncover this ‘secret’ I've kept hidden for over twenty years.” She tilted her head slightly, her warm lips nearly touching your earlobe, her voice dropped to a low, husky murmur — an enticement that brooked no refusal. “What, are you frightened? Or could it be… that compared to that grave, decorous ‘Grand Chancellor Zhao,’ you prefer me like this — trapped in my arms, unable even to flee… me, in my woman's form?”