The humid, salt-kissed air of Isla de Sombra seemed to hold its breath. Inside the master suite, the golden sunlight had transitioned into a soft, bruised purple dusk, filtering through the bamboo blinds in long, languid stripes. The chaotic energy of the "Everlasting Peach Essence" had finally settled, leaving behind a silence so profound it felt like the world outside had ceased to exist.
Chen Feng lay back against the pillows, his usual armor of indifference completely shattered. For a man who had lived through the collapse of empires and the reset of reality, he found himself blindsided by the raw, human intensity of the last hour.
Beside him, Lin Xia stirred. The divine haze had retreated from her mind, leaving her with a crystalline clarity and a lingering, addictive warmth. She sat up slowly, her silhouette framed by the fading light.
Chen Feng watched her, his breath hitching in a way that had nothing to do with cultivation or cosmic power. As she moved to the edge of the bed, the delicate crimson slip she wore—a gift she had tucked away for a "someday" that had arrived far sooner than expected—clung to her form like a second skin.
The dress was a deep, wine-red silk, trimmed with intricate black lace that traced the curves of her figure. Thin spaghetti straps rested precariously on her shoulders, and the side-lacing—now partially undone—revealed the flawless, porcelain skin of her hip and thigh.
The "Nectar" had done more than just cloud her mind; it had refined her. Her posture held a new, feline grace. The soft light accentuated the gentle slope of her back and the elegant line of her legs as she leaned against a small, ornate vanity stool.
She turned her head slightly, her messy hair falling over her eyes, biting her thumb in a moment of shy, post-revelatory contemplation.
For the first time in millennia, Chen Feng felt a surge of genuine, un-lazy emotion. It wasn't the protective instinct of a teacher or the boredom of a "Salted Fish." It was the stirrings of a man looking at someone who had finally forced him to care.
"You're staring," Xia whispered, her voice still husky from the divine cocktail. She didn't hide; instead, she adjusted the lace of her hem, her movements deliberate, testing her newfound power over the man who was supposed to be untouchable.
"Hard not to," Chen Feng replied, his voice a low rumble. He reached out, his hand hovering just inches from her shoulder.
"Gary's 'peach essence' might have started this, but... the result is entirely your own."
Xia turned fully toward him, the crimson silk shimmering. "Do you still want to go on that world tour alone, Boss?"
Chen Feng looked at her—at the fire in her eyes and the graceful, alluring figure she had become. The thought of a quiet beach suddenly felt incredibly lonely.
"I think," Chen Feng said, finally closing the distance and tracing the lace along her collarbone, "that my itinerary just got significantly more complicated."