The moment the bedroom door clicked shut, Gu Qing pounced like a cat sensing the scent of prey. One arm looped around Milton’s waist, his cheek brushing lightly against Milton’s shoulder, voice soft and coaxing enough to make hearts melt: “Just once… just once, okay?”
Milton’s spine stiffened. He lifted a hand to press precisely against Gu Qing’s forehead, gently pushing him back, voice cold and firm: “No. You said the same thing last night.”
Gu Qing let out a low, playful laugh, catching Milton’s wrist and pressing it against the wall. His breath, hot and intimate, brushed against Milton’s ear, while his other hand rested on the nape of Milton’s neck, radiating an irresistible sense of comfort: “This time, I’ll be gentle, slow… only making you feel good, not tired. Alright?”
Milton was about to spit out the word no when a tender hand slid down his spine, as if soothing a leopard ready to snap. The shiver of sensation spreading along his vertebrae caught his breath, and his tense shoulders finally relaxed under the prolonged caress.
Half-hugging his waist, Gu Qing’s voice dripped with both clinginess and seduction: “Don’t you like it when I act spoiled?”
Milton’s ears burned. He gritted his teeth and muttered, “You can act spoiled, but that doesn’t mean you can harass me every day.”
“Harass? You misunderstand. I call this… loving affection.” Gu Qing bit the word love seriously, his hand slipping beneath Milton’s uniform, pressing the warmth of his palm against the lean curve of his waist.
Milton shivered at the heat but found himself held more firmly. Gu Qing’s long fingers deftly undid the complicated buttons of his uniform; the soft friction of cloth against skin echoed clearly in the quiet bedroom. As each layer fell away, Milton’s smooth, powerful back was fully exposed to the slightly cool air, immediately pressed against Gu Qing’s burning chest.
“Are you really willing to refuse me?” Gu Qing whispered, planting a soft kiss on his bare back.
Milton kept his face cold, silent, yet he no longer struggled.
A triumphant glint appeared in Gu Qing’s eyes. His lips traced the alabaster expanse of Milton’s back, fingertips exploring the taut muscles, igniting dormant fires. When he felt Milton tremble slightly at the arousal, his fingers found the deepest indentations along the sides of the spine—the most sensitive, hidden switches of an alpha female.
He gently pressed the exact spot.
Click—
A pair of silver wings extended under the pressure, unfolding gracefully in the moonlight, the intricate patterns as delicate as carved sculptures fused seamlessly with flesh, gleaming with a cold radiance.
Gu Qing whispered in awe: “Your bone wings… are beautiful.”
Milton’s body jolted. Complex emotions surged—these bone wings were his deadliest weapons, the pride of an alpha female, something the males instinctively feared. Normally, no one dared touch them.
Especially Gu Qing, who came from another world where females had no bone wings. Would he be scared? Would he recoil?
A flicker of unease passed through Milton, instinctively curling his wings back—but Gu Qing’s voice stopped him:
“Don’t hide. Let me see… the real you.”
Low, husky, like the night wind—gentle yet resolute, cutting through all his defenses.
Gu Qing’s fingers traced the silver outline with reverence: “I want to see all of you. These wings, the parts you hide… they’re all part of the you I love.”
The words were like a light, quietly illuminating the deepest corners of Milton’s heart. His breathing eased; his spine relaxed, finally willing to accept Gu Qing’s closeness.
Seeing Milton loosen, Gu Qing’s eyes gleamed with a shadowy intent. His fingers moved boldly over the silver wings, kneading, caressing, even lightly flicking the sensitive patterns.
“You don’t need to hide anymore. Let me love you… even these wings.” He whispered, applying subtle pressure, and the once rigid wings began to quiver and soften beneath his touch, like a tamed wild beast.
All night, Gu Qing tended to Milton’s wings as though they were precious treasures, melting his body and soul under gentle care.
The next morning, sunlight filtered through the curtains, grazing the room’s scattered traces of passion. Milton sprawled on the bed, silver hair tousled, the usually stoic general’s face marked by fatigue and embarrassment. Attempting to move, the joint between his spine and wings sent subtle twinges of ache through him.
He gritted his teeth, thinking: This guy can even turn my bone wings into something… irresistible.
Turning, he shot a glance at Gu Qing, whose purple eyes shimmered with playful triumph rather than menace. Never had Milton imagined his terrifying wings could become instruments of intimacy, each movement from Gu Qing precisely measured to bring him from discomfort to delight, until he finally melted into that embrace.
“Were you… doing this on purpose?” Milton croaked. Gu Qing had promised last night he wouldn’t tire him out.
Gu Qing looked utterly innocent, carefully tucking the sheets around him: “Hm? I restrained myself last night.”
“You—”
Blushing furiously, Milton grabbed a pillow to throw at him, but Gu Qing caught it effortlessly. Sliding closer, he enveloped Milton in his arms again, planting a gentle kiss at the corner of his reddened eyes:
“If it weren’t for someone crying and begging me not to stop… I would’ve let you sleep earlier.”
“You… bastard.”
“Fine, I’m a bastard.” Gu Qing leaned close to his ear, whispering gently: “And now, I’ll get you officially excused from headquarters so you can lie in bed all day. But there’s one condition—”
He breathed warmly against Milton’s ear, smirking like a triumphant fox: “While you’re awake… you have to let me hold you.”
Meanwhile, at headquarters, the administration was thrown into chaos by a sudden leave request.
Early that morning, the inbox pinged with a top-priority leave application:
“General Milton has overexerted himself recently and is unwell. He requires several days of rest. Approval requested. — Gu Qing”
The sender? None other than the army-wide notorious “pampering fanatic,” Gu Qing.
The message hit like a bomb. Everyone in the internal channels buzzed with speculation.
Since Milton Collins became general, he had never once requested leave, no matter the injuries—let alone for a vague “illness.” Placed in this context, it spoke volumes.
Especially after their triumphant return from Onia, fresh from a widely publicized wedding.
Exchanges in the office were silent, knowing glances exchanged.
“I felt something was off yesterday… I walked past the general’s office and noticed an absurdly thick, soft seat cushion on his chair,” whispered one female officer.
“Ahhh, so jealous,” another muttered, barely containing excitement. “Gu Qing may look gentle, but his stamina… even the strongest female officers can’t handle it.”
The unanimous conclusion among the staff:
— General Milton had been pampered by Gu Qing and couldn’t get out of bed.
Meanwhile, in the bathroom, the protagonists remained blissfully unaware of the office gossip.
Steam blurred the mirror, softening Milton’s usually rigid profile.
He stood with his back to Gu Qing, silver hair damp and clinging to his smooth back, holding a bottle of shower gel. The tips of his ears glowed a deep red under the heat.
Gu Qing, arms crossed leisurely against the tile wall, watched his beloved’s adorably awkward, yet pure, demeanor with a satisfied smile:
“Really not letting me help? Your waist… moving must be a bit inconvenient.”
“…I’m not a little alpha cub. I don’t need help showering,” Milton gritted out, avoiding eye contact.
Gu Qing laughed softly, pressing against him from behind, naturally wrapping around his slender waist. Milton’s muscles tensed instantly.
“You… stay away…”
“Last night we were closer than this,” Gu Qing murmured, his hot breath teasing Milton’s flushed earlobe. “And you were crying, begging me not to stop… I always listen to my alpha, how could I hold back?”
“!!… You… bastard! Shut up! If you say another word like that I—”
“Do what?” Gu Qing’s laughter was clear and light, fingertips tracing the sensitive muscles of his waist, voice almost liquid: “Let me soothe you again?”
Milton, flustered, tried to push him away, but Gu Qing caught his hands, interlacing fingers, palm to palm, radiating heat.
“Milton,” Gu Qing suddenly softened, calling his name like a solemn confession: “Let me take care of you. Isn’t that alright?”
Milton froze.
He could feel the pounding heartbeat behind him, the rhythm astonishingly fast. Warmth and droplets slid along his collarbone. He lowered his lashes, finally surrendering all futile struggles, murmuring after a long pause:
“…You can’t just say things like that all the time, I don’t know how to respond.”
“Then don’t respond.” Gu Qing kissed his damp hair, voice low and resolute: “Just remember—this is how I’ll always treat you.”
Milton’s ears burned. He could only grit his teeth, blushing, as Gu Qing’s large hands lathered, shampooed, and washed him, leaving the general utterly powerless, while the swordmaster beside him looked on full of tenderness.
The screen outside the bathroom flickered faintly. A new message from the Empire’s Internal Affairs appeared:
[Ares Campaign Celebration Banquet Invitation]
Time: 12:00 PM, 6th of next month
Location: Imperial Capital · Imperial Palace · Dawn Hall
— Hosted personally by the royal family
Amidst the steam, the message blinked a few seconds before vanishing, seemingly aware not to disturb the warmth of the room.
Deep in the black market, in a shadowy palace, gilded bronze ornaments reflected the low light like a slumbering beast exhaling slowly.
Liyou’s voice was even: “Young master, next month the Ares Campaign celebration will be held at Dawn Hall. All imperial powers will attend…”
On the throne, a fiery red figure reclined lazily, one hand supporting his face. Golden-red eyes half-closed, like a lion dozing, yet ready to strike.
He let out a languid laugh, dragging the tail of it, full of dangerous interest: “Sounds intriguing… perhaps Blue Dai will appear personally, hm—”
Fingers tapped rhythmically on the armrest: “Monitor all palace devices; if he appears… perhaps we can extract some information from him directly.”
Lowering his gaze, voice deep with chilling amusement: “And those nobles claiming to ‘know the whereabouts of the Immortal’… heh, I’m curious to see what scheme they’re plotting.”
Crimson hair fell over his shoulders. He rose slowly, posture sharp as a blade, eyes surveying rows of kneeling females, tone cold and imposing:
“Seems… we should send someone to that banquet. Let’s see who the true hunter is at the end of this play.”
A faint smirk curved his lips, golden-red eyes glinting with calm, penetrating intelligence.