Yue Lan felt no shame, no hesitation as she watched the quiet intimacy unfold between Han Chen and Hye Won directly. It isn't the first time seeing their raw passion, as Han Chen was aware of her using his spirit sense. There was no awkwardness—only a slow, unfolding recognition of his needs… and her own. Her body began whispering what her pride would not say aloud: that it was time to let him in.
The first kisses had felt curious and exploratory. Then they deepened, lingered. There was no pressure, no urgency in his touch—only patience, as if he were circling a sacred flame. She saw how he treated Hye Won, not with dominance, but devotion, and it made her walls melt, one after another, without force. Truth be told she was uncertain about their future.
The turning point came two months in, on a forgotten island lost in the blue sprawl of the Andaman Sea. That afternoon, the sun painted slow golden strokes over a private stretch of shore—an uninhabited beach leased under a name that didn't exist. Han Chen lay reclined beneath a gently swaying palm, eyes half-lidded, soaking in the laughter of Yue Lan and Hye Won as they played in the waves. Their voices danced over the sea—unguarded, alive, almost childlike in their joy.
He had watched them from the shade of a palm tree, the sun gilding Yue Lan's shoulders as she waded into the surf, Hye Won's laughter ringing like wind chimes as she splashed her. The way Yue Lan's sundress clung to her hips when the waves licked her thighs. How Hye Won's fingers lingered when she "accidentally" brushed sand from Yue Lan's waist.
That night, after the stars had claimed the sky and silence had settled like a soft quilt over the island, Yue Lan approached his makeshift room. She paused at the entrance—barefoot, hair damp from the sea under the moonlight. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, as if prearranged, Hye Won quietly stepped out of the tent, brushing past Yue Lan with an intimate embrace, her eyes offering silent reassurance before she disappeared into the shadows.
Yue Lan stepped inside. Han Chen lay in his low bed. He reclined against piled cushions, shirtless, the planes of his chest shadowed in lantern light. His eyes tracked her as she crossed the room, the sway of her hips deliberate.
She sat beside Han Chen without a word, her fingers finding his and resting there. "I'm not drunk," she whispered, voice soft but steady. "Maybe a little..... This feeling… it's been itching beneath my skin for a while." She looked into his eyes. He also stared back and saw the quiet certainty of a woman who'd made up her mind. "You aren't drunk, not in the slightest.." His voiced replied, seeing through her.
"...Hmm, drunk only for you.." Her teasing front remained. She admitted, kneeling beside him. Her fingers brushed his wrist, then slid upward—over his pulse, his forearm, the ridge of his collarbone. A scholar's touch, mapping territory she'd studied from afar.
He caught her hand, pressed it flat over his heart. Feel this, the gesture said. This is yours now. When she leaned in, her hair curtained their faces, blocking out the world.
Han Chen didn't rush. He peeled her clothes away like unwrapping a relic—reverent, savoring each reveal. The gasp she stifled when his mouth found her neck. The arch of her spine as he palmed her breast, thumb circling a nipple until it pebbled against his palm.
Yue Lan had expected dominance. Instead, he gave her control. "Tell me," he murmured against her thigh, nipping the soft skin there. "Tell me how you want it."
A command wrapped in velvet. She bit her lip, then whispered: "I want to feel everything." She guided him. When he kissed her collarbone, then lower—his lips grazing her ribs, her hips—Yue Lan arched gently, her breath caught between a sigh and a moan.
***
Her thighs shifted, seeking. His hands moved up, spreading warmth and goosebumps wherever they lingered. Time flowed and neither of them noticed. He teased her everywhere, his hands and lips exploring every inch of her trembling skin. He filled her so completely she saw stars—stretching, burning, wet and perfect. Her nails bit into his chest as she rocked, chasing the friction that made her whimper.
Han Chen watched her through half-lidded eyes, hands gripping her waist. "Look at you," he rasped. "Taking me so well." Praise wrapped around her like a second skin. It wasn't until her thighs trembled and she felt release she glanced down through a haze of gasps that she fully realized what she had been straddling.
When her climax hit, it was a tidal wave—body bowing, thighs trembling. He rolled her beneath him before she'd caught her breath, driving into her with a groan. The bedframe rattled. Somewhere outside, a night bird cried. Yue Lan came again with his teeth at her throat.
Hye Won didn't knock that night but found them at dawn, limbs tangled in sweat-damp sheets. She paused in the doorway, a smirk playing on her lips. "Took you long enough."
There was no awkwardness—only a new awareness. Yue Lan met Hye Won's eyes and didn't flinch—if anything, she tilted her chin slightly, claiming her place not as an intruder, but an equal. Hye Won's teasing that day was light, affectionate, edged with the familiar sharpness of her wit but free of malice.
She understood what had happened. Accepted it, even. But that didn't mean she was ready—not yet—for what came next.
And Han Chen, for all his celestial confidence, never pushed. But time has a way of softening edges. A few weeks later, the final wall fell—quietly, inevitably. By turning hesitation into hunger.
One day, driven by a sudden surge of desire, Hye Won peered into the symphony of their soul connection at a special moment. Han Chen seized the moment, unleashing the power of the soul corridor—a deep conduit of shared emotions he had kept sealed until now. Minutes later, there was one more presence in the room. No ceremony, no grand declarations—just a night that blurred into morning, breath mingling with breath, as three hearts learned to find their rhythm together.
Han Chen held himself back, a quiet force of restraint—because only he truly understood how delicate their mortal bodies were in his hands. Yet for the women, even that restraint was something else entirely.
By then, they had become something else entirely: a trio with shifting harmonies, moving in sync even when desires diverged. Yue Lan had arrived at her own pace. Hye Won did too, when she was ready. There was no jealousy—only a growing truth between them: that love could be shared without diminishing, that timing was sacred, and that intimacy, in its truest form, was never forced. Only welcomed.
Their souls connected them together transcending physicality to spiritual pleasure and intimacy, that no mortals ever felt. From that night on, the trio moved like echoes of one another, shadows in sync, each gesture and glance charged with a harmony. They had tasted the forbidden fruit, and what lingered on their lips was not regret—but craving.
But the world outside waited with its own agenda. No sooner had they returned to the cadence of their professional lives than disruption arrived.
An underground satellite laboratory was found attempting to reverse-engineer a NovaGen medipod, licensed to them. for limited functionality and research.
Of course, the reverse-engineering attempt failed—spectacularly. Han Chen had anticipated such a possibility from the start. In fact, he had deliberately embedded misleading complexities in the design blueprints, ones that would misfire if tampered with or replicated without full comprehension. It was a trap dressed as innovation. But he also knew this victory was temporary. In time, through academic publications and patient-based observational studies, other pharmaceutical giants would inevitably begin to unravel the truths.
The real storm, however, came later.
Blackmail attempts, sudden financial audits, and covert political interest began to swell only few months after the initial rollout—when the world started to grasp the true value of the Medipods. Within just four months, the military revised NovaGen's license twice, increasing its classification level and attempting to consolidate control. Pressure mounted to limit exports, keeping the product confined within national borders.
But Han Chen had built NovaGen's structure with surgical precision. Through a maze of offshore shell companies, carefully curated jurisdictions, and anonymous crypto-funding layers, the core ownership and control of the IP remained elusive. Governments found themselves locked out, unable to stop the outflow of technology or trace its financial veins.
Eventually, they declared the Medipod a "Strategic National Asset" and demanded equity stakes in NovaGen, even placing state representatives on its board. The scrutiny turned toward Yue Lan herself—initially accused of withholding national resources and threatened with detainment. But when investigators probed deeper, they discovered that the foundational IP and critical access codes were never with her. They belonged to an unknown founder.
Han chen had her tail. With legal fortifications and layers of plausible deniability, he shielded Yue Lan—not just from bureaucratic assault, but from the martial cultivators and covert agents dispatched to extract the truth by force. They never found him. But he was always there.
The intruders didn't return. Not a single whisper echoed after their vanishing. In official reports, they were simply "lost in action"—but within certain circles, a different understanding spread: Yue Lan was not alone. Hidden clans, long thought of lacking enthusiasm in affairs of ordinary life, had marked her as under their patronage. Whistleblowers who once threatened exposure fell silent. Guided by their spiritual insight, the trio perceived loyalty among the participants, effectively cornering those with any reservations. One by one, threads of dissent silenced.
Alarmed by the implications, both the central government and the Cultivation Regulation Authority stepped in—not with prosecution, but with offers. Strategic partnerships were forged. Licenses were restructured. Control was rebranded as cooperation. And NovaGen moved forward. For a while it was peaceful and extremely profiteering.