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Zhao Changhe had to admit that he was a worldly man through and through. For all the lofty talk in Buddhist and Daoist texts about the wonders of divine soul union, no matter how many times he had tried it, it had always felt… underwhelming. None of it could compare to holding a warm, fragrant, and soft body in his arms. Even if he did nothing else, the sensation alone was worlds apart.
Seeing her beloved so enchanted by her new form, Piaomiao naturally felt gratified. It made all the effort feel worthwhile. However, her expression gave away nothing. “Do you intend to take a bite of me while I’m still fresh?”
Zhao Changhe replied with mock solemnity, “Nonsense. Am I that kind of person? I am merely inspecting this new body for imperfections.”
“Why, you sure are inspecting it,” Piaomiao snapped as she pinched and twisted his waist sharply. “Where exactly are your hands wandering? Is there a need for you to grope me in order to check for flaws? Was all that gentlemanly restraint before merely an act? So this is the real you! Lecherous to the bone!”
Zhao Changhe laughed. “Isn’t being lecherous toward one’s own wife a virtue?”
“Wife? Who’s your wife?” Piaomiao shoved Cui Yuanyang into his arms. “Here you go, take her. The remaining lotus petals will be used to refine her body. Go on, handle your business. I still need time to attune myself to this new vessel, so keep your hands to yourself.”
Zhao Changhe rolled his eyes. He was not planning to make any moves right now anyway. Yangyang had just injured herself, and although they had indeed been caught up in the excitement of resurrecting Piaomiao, there was no way Zhao Changhe would ignore her.
He reached for Cui...
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