The first rays of dawn painted the opulent bedchamber in hues of soft rose and pale gold, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. The heavy velvet curtains were still drawn, but light seeped around their edges, chasing away the deep shadows of the night.
The room bore the silent testament to hours of unbridled passion. Discarded robes lay in pools of fabric on the floor, alongside the tattered remnants of crimson silk. The air itself felt thick, still charged with the lingering energy of their intense encounter.
On the large bed, amidst rumpled silk sheets, two figures lay entwined. Song Qing was awake, his emerald eyes clear and sharp, though softened by the intimacy of the morning. He lay propped up slightly against the headboard, one arm securely wrapped around Bibi Dong, holding her close against his side.
Bibi Dong stirred softly, nestling deeper into his embrace. Her rose pink hair was a glorious mess, spread across the pillows and his bare chest. Her face, usually composed and regal, looked younger, softer in repose, though faint marks on her neck and the slight puffiness of her lips hinted at the night's activities. Her bare back, smooth and pale, pressed against his side, her skin still warm. Even in the light slumber she drifted in, her body instinctively sought his closeness.
Song Qing tightened his hold almost imperceptibly, a possessive warmth spreading through his chest. He looked down at the woman in his arms – the Pope of the Spirit Hall, his revered Teacher, his secret lover. The events of the previous night replayed in his mind: her shocking attire, his initial shyness giving way to burgeoning dominance, her surprising submission, the tearing silk, the sting of his handprint on her skin, her cries of pleasure mingling with her pleas, the raw intimacy they had shared without reservation.
A complex mix of satisfaction, possessiveness, and burgeoning affection filled him. This woman, so powerful and proud, had yielded to him completely, reveled in his dominance, offered herself without restraint. It was intoxicating.
He gently brushed a stray strand of pink hair from her face, his fingers lingering on the softness of her cheek.
Bibi Dong's eyes fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the dim light. Her gaze, still hazy with sleep, focused on his face hovering just above hers. A soft, languid smile touched her lips, utterly devoid of her usual regal mask. It was a smile of pure contentment, intimate and unguarded.
"Mmm... morning, Qing'er," she murmured, her voice husky with sleep and the lingering effects of her moans from the night before. She shifted slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his bare shoulder, inhaling his scent.
"Good morning, Teacher," Song Qing replied softly, his voice a low rumble in his chest. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a gentle, lingering kiss, a stark contrast to the demanding passion of the night, yet no less intimate.
Bibi Dong sighed into the kiss, her arms sliding around his neck, pulling him closer. The cool silk sheets rustled around them as she molded her naked body more fully against his. She could feel the hard planes of his chest, the strength in his arms holding her. Even in repose, his power was palpable.
They stayed like that for a long moment, simply holding each other, savoring the quiet intimacy after the storm of passion. The world outside, the Spirit Hall, their duties, their secrets – all felt distant, unreal.
Finally, Song Qing drew back slightly, though he kept her cradled close. His emerald eyes searched her face, a thoughtful expression dawning within them. There were things they needed to discuss, threads left untangled from the night and from events unfolding beyond these chambers.
"Teacher," he began, his tone gentle but serious, stroking her hair absently.
"Hmm?" Bibi Dong hummed contentedly, tracing idle patterns on his chest with her fingertip, enjoying the simple closeness.
"We... need to talk about something," Song Qing continued, choosing his words carefully. He watched her expression closely. "It concerns... Renxue."
At the mention of her daughter's name, a flicker of something complex – surprise, perhaps wariness – crossed Bibi Dong's features. Her hand stilled on his chest. She met his gaze, her rose pink eyes suddenly more alert. "Renxue? What about her, Qing'er?"
Song Qing hesitated for a fraction of a second. This was delicate territory. "You must be aware, Teacher, that my relationship with her... is close. Closer than merely fellow disciples or allies within the Spirit Hall." He didn't elaborate further, letting the implication hang in the air. He knew Bibi Dong was perceptive; she would understand.
He continued, his voice low, "And now... there is this." He gestured subtly between the two of them, acknowledging the intimacy they shared, the events of the previous night, the undeniable shift in their own relationship. "You and me. Her and me."
He paused, letting the weight of the situation settle. "I need to ask... how do you feel about this? This... complicated triangle?" He held her gaze intently. "Does it... trouble you? Is it inappropriate in your eyes, Teacher?"
Bibi Dong was silent for a long moment. Her brow furrowed slightly as she processed his words, his direct question. She averted her gaze for a second, looking towards the canopy above the bed, her expression unreadable.
'Inappropriate?' she thought inwardly. The word felt ridiculously inadequate. Her disciple, the boy she had watched grow, the man who now held her in his arms after a night of such intense passion, was also intimately involved with her own daughter. The daughter she had a strained, painful history with. 'Strange' was perhaps a better word. Unsettling, even.
A knot of complicated emotions tightened in her chest – a flicker of jealousy perhaps, not necessarily directed at Renxue, but at the situation itself, mingling with the overwhelming desire she felt for Song Qing himself.
But then, another thought surfaced, cold and pragmatic. What right did she have to feel troubled? What right did she have to object?
She turned her gaze back to Song Qing, her expression settling into one of quiet resignation, tinged with a hint of self-deprecation. She reached up, cupping his cheek gently.
"Qing'er," she began, her voice soft, almost a whisper. "Of course... it feels strange. How could it not?" She gave a small, humourless smile. "She is my daughter, after all, even if... even if our relationship is far from ideal."
She sighed softly, her thumb stroking his jawline. "But... do I mind? Do I find it inappropriate?" Her gaze became more intense, holding his. "What standing do I have to 'mind' anything you do, Qing'er?"
The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning.
"I know my place in your life," she continued, her voice dropping lower, becoming more intimate, more vulnerable than he had ever heard it. "I understand what... this... is." She gestured again between them. "Last night... the nights before... I am your Teacher, yes. But in moments like these... I am simply your woman. Your secret mistress, hidden away behind closed doors."
The words stung slightly, despite their truth. Song Qing frowned. "Teacher, that's not—"
"Isn't it?" Bibi Dong interrupted gently, but firmly. "Let us be honest, Qing'er. You are the Holy Son, destined for greatness, perhaps even inheriting the mantle of the Spirit Hall someday. You will have wives, concubines, women flocking to you. Qian Renxue... she is of the Qian Family, powerful, beautiful, a suitable match in many ways." Her voice was calm, devoid of bitterness, merely stating facts as she saw them.
"And me?" She gave another small, self-deprecating smile. "I am the current Pope. Your Teacher. Significantly older than you. Our... connection... can never be brought into the light, can it? For both our sakes. So, I am the shadow, the secret indulgence."
She leaned closer, her eyes searching his. "As your secret mistress, Qing'er, what right do I have to dictate who you associate with? Who you take to your bed? Especially when it concerns my own daughter, whom I have barely treated as such?"
Her honesty, her vulnerability, struck Song Qing. He hadn't expected such a candid, almost bleak assessment of her perceived position. He felt a pang of something akin to guilt, though he pushed it aside. This was the reality they navigated.
Before he could formulate a proper response, Bibi Dong's expression shifted slightly. A teasing glint entered her eyes, chasing away some of the melancholy. She poked his chest lightly.
"Besides," she added, her voice regaining a playful, seductive lilt, "I know you too well now, my dear disciple." She leaned in, whispering conspiratorially near his ear, "If I were to actually object... if I told you to perhaps... distance yourself from Renxue... what do you think would happen?"
She pulled back slightly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "You wouldn't listen, would you? Oh no. Instead," she paused for dramatic effect, lowering her voice again, "I imagine you would find some way to... punish your presumptuous Teacher for daring to interfere." Her gaze flickered meaningfully down towards her own backside, still faintly tender from the previous night's ministrations. "Perhaps another lesson in obedience was what you'd have in mind?"
Song Qing felt his face flush hotly. He was utterly taken aback by her accurate prediction. The thought had flashed through his mind the instant she'd voiced the hypothetical objection – the image of turning her over his knee again, silencing her protests with the sting of his palm. The fact that she saw right through him, that she anticipated his dominant reaction with such accuracy, was both embarrassing and strangely exhilarating.
He couldn't meet her teasing gaze, looking away for a moment. He cleared his throat. "Teacher... you..."
Bibi Dong laughed softly, a melodic sound that filled the quiet room. "Am I wrong, Qing'er?" she pressed gently, enjoying his discomfort immensely.
Song Qing turned back, his blush still evident, but a familiar smirk played on his lips now. He met her gaze, emerald eyes locking with rose pink. "No," he admitted, his voice a low growl. "You're not wrong, Teacher. The thought did occur."
He shifted slightly, his hand moving from her hair, sliding down her back with deliberate slowness, coming to rest possessively on her upper buttock. Her skin was warm and incredibly soft beneath his palm.
"In fact," he continued, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, his eyes gleaming with intent, "even suggesting such a thing might warrant..."
SMACK!
He brought his hand down in a firm, but not overly harsh, swat. It wasn't with the same intensity as the night before, more of a possessive reminder of their dynamic.
"Ngh! Ah!" Bibi Dong gasped, her body jolting against him. The sound was sharp, surprised, but instantly followed by a low moan of pleasure. Her back arched, pressing her breasts against his chest. The sting was familiar, igniting the embers of the previous night's passion. She instinctively clenched her buttocks, a wave of heat washing through her.
"Qing'er..." she breathed, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. She didn't pull away; if anything, she seemed to press her backside more firmly into his hand, a silent invitation.
Song Qing chuckled softly, rubbing the spot he'd just smacked, enjoying the faint quiver that ran through her. "Consider that a warning, Teacher. Don't put ideas in my head."
Bibi Dong turned her face into his chest, hiding her own flush of pleasure and embarrassment. "Cruel disciple," she mumbled against his skin, though her tone held no real complaint. After a moment, she tilted her head back again, her eyes shining with a mixture of lingering arousal and deep affection.
"So, no," she said softly, her voice now completely serious, heartfelt. "I have no objections, Qing'er. Truly. All I ask... all I hope for... is that you continue to find... value... in this." She gestured vaguely towards herself, towards the bed. "That you continue to desire me. Continue to come to me."
Her gaze was unwavering, filled with a raw honesty that touched him deeply. "Be with whomever you wish. But please... don't discard me. Let me continue to serve you. Let me be your escape, your secret pleasure. Use this body," she whispered, her hand moving to rest on her own flat stomach, then sliding up to cup one of her magnificent breasts, offering it to his gaze, "however you desire. It finds its greatest happiness in pleasing you, my dear, dominant disciple."
Her words, her complete surrender, sent a powerful wave of possessive satisfaction through Song Qing. He leaned down, kissing her forehead gently, then her eyelids, her cheeks. His lips brushed against hers.
"Teacher," he murmured against her mouth, his voice thick with emotion. He brought his hand up to cup the breast she had offered, his thumb stroking the already hardened nipple. "You are thoroughly corrupting me, do you know that?"
He felt her shiver under his touch. "Spoiling me so completely." He kissed her again, deeper this time, his hand squeezing gently. "Making me think... inappropriate thoughts."
Bibi Dong moaned softly into the kiss, melting under his touch and his words. "What thoughts, Qing'er?" she whispered when he broke the kiss, her eyes hazy with desire. "Tell your Teacher."
Song Qing looked down at her, at the beautiful, powerful woman offering herself so completely, then thought of her daughter, Qian Renxue – the proud beautiful girl who also held a complicated place in his heart and ambitions.
Bibi Dong's words about having no objections, her complete submission... it sparked a daring, decadent idea in his mind. An idea born from the corruption she accused herself of fostering in him.
"Well..." he began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, his eyes gleaming with a dark, excited light. He leaned closer, his lips brushing her ear. "Hearing you say you don't mind... hearing you offer yourself so freely... It makes me wonder..."
He paused, letting the anticipation build. Bibi Dong held her breath, her heart pounding.
"...I wonder," Song Qing continued, his voice husky, "what it would be like... to have both of you."
Bibi Dong's eyes widened slightly.
"To have the magnificent Pope Bibi Dong," his hand stroked her breast possessively, "and her beautiful daughter Qian Renxue..." He looked directly into her eyes. "...together. In the same bed. With me."
He watched her reaction intently. "I wonder how you would both taste," he murmured, the thought itself sending a jolt of raw lust through him. "How it would feel to enjoy both mother and daughter... properly... dedicating a whole night to exploring every inch of you both."
The air crackled with the audacity of his words. Bibi Dong stared at him, her face flushing a deep, beetroot red. Her mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out initially. Shock warred with a confusing surge of embarrassment and, disturbingly, a flicker of forbidden excitement.
With Renxue? Her daughter? Together? The image was scandalous, almost unthinkable. The potential awkwardness, the sheer taboo nature of it... yet, the thought of pleasing Song Qing to such an extent, of fulfilling such a decadent fantasy for him...
"Qing'er... you..." she stammered, utterly flustered. Her blush deepened, spreading down her neck and onto her chest.
"Is the thought displeasing, Teacher?" Song Qing asked softly, though his eyes held a challenge. He ran a finger lightly down her cheek.
Bibi Dong swallowed hard, avoiding his gaze for a second. 'With Renxue...' The girl she barely knew how to speak to despite the two of them having become quite close in the past few years due to Song Qing.
To share such intimacy... it was mortifying to contemplate.
But then she remembered her own words from moments ago. Use this body however you desire. It finds its greatest happiness in pleasing you. Had she not meant it? Was there any line she wouldn't cross for him, for the man who made her feel truly alive, truly desired, even amidst her complicated existence?
She took a shaky breath, forcing herself to meet his intense emerald gaze. Her own rose pink eyes were filled with a mixture of deep embarrassment and unwavering resolve.
"I..." she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "I... if that is what would make you happy, Qing'er..." She hesitated, the words feeling alien on her tongue. "Then... then I can do that."
She saw the surprise flash in his eyes, quickly followed by appreciation.
"It would be... strange," she admitted, blushing furiously again. "Incredibly embarrassing... to... to be with my own daughter in such a way." A shudder ran through her. "But... if it pleases you..."
She lowered her voice, a note of her earlier resignation creeping back in. "It's not as if Renxue and I have ever had a normal mother-daughter relationship anyway. Perhaps... perhaps sharing in your pleasure is the only way we could ever truly be... connected." The thought was melancholic yet held a twisted sort of logic in the context of their dysfunctional family. "If having us both brings you joy... then I... I am willing."
Song Qing nodded slowly, a calm, satisfied expression settling on his face. He didn't press the issue further for now, merely tucking the astonishing offer away in his mind. He leaned down and gave her a deep, appreciative kiss. "You truly are devoted, Teacher."
He let the charged topic hang for a moment before skillfully shifting the conversation, his hand still idly caressing her hip, enjoying the feel of her soft skin as she lay pliant in his arms.
"On a different matter," he said, his tone becoming more business-like, though the intimacy of their posture remained unchanged. "Someone will be arriving at the Spirit Hall within the next two days. A woman named Liu Erlong."
Bibi Dong blinked, the name pulling her from the haze of their personal discussion. Liu Erlong? The name resonated with unpleasant memories. "Liu Erlong?" she repeated, a frown touching her lips. "The Golden Iron Triangle? Yu Xiaogang's... woman?" The last word was spoken with a trace of old bitterness.
"The very same," Song Qing confirmed, nodding. "She sent me a letter. It seems her association with Flender and Yu Xiaogang is souring, partly thanks to the information I provided her previously, and partly due to the recent failures and misconduct of the Shrek students."
He paused, his gaze becoming sharp. "She intends to visit me here. And when she does, Teacher, I want you to meet with her."
Bibi Dong looked surprised. "Meet with her? Why? What purpose would that serve? She is connected to him." The disdain in her voice when referring to Yu Xiaogang was unmistakable.
"Precisely," Song Qing said smoothly. "Liu Erlong is already disillusioned with Yu Xiaogang. She's questioning his 'genius', suspecting his theories were plagiarized from Spirit Hall research – which, as you know, they largely were, with you providing much of the foundation he later twisted or failed to credit."
He leaned closer, his voice dropping slightly. "I want you to talk to her, Teacher. Share your experiences. Tell her the truth about the man she married – his plagiarism, his incompetence, his... character flaws." He chose his words carefully, knowing Bibi Dong's history with Yu Xiaogang was a deep wound. "Liu Erlong currently feels doubt and disgust. I want you to amplify that. Turn it into complete revulsion. Make her hate him."
Bibi Dong stiffened slightly in his arms. Her expression clouded over, the earlier softness replaced by a cold, distant look. "Must we speak of that worthless trash, Qing'er? Especially now?" Her voice was tight, strained. Discussing Yu Xiaogang always dredged up painful, humiliating memories she preferred to keep buried.
She looked at him searchingly, her rose pink eyes narrowed slightly. "Why? Why go to such lengths to destroy their relationship? What is your goal here?" A sudden suspicion entered her gaze. "Liu Erlong... she is considered a beauty, isn't she? Part of the 'Golden Iron Triangle', powerful in her own right. Are you... planning to add her to your collection, Qing'er? Is that why you want her free from him?"
Song Qing met her suspicious gaze calmly, a faint smile playing on his lips. He shook his head. "No, Teacher. I have no romantic or possessive intentions towards Liu Erlong whatsoever."
His smile widened slightly, becoming colder, sharper. "My goal is simpler, yet perhaps more satisfying."
He paused, letting the silence stretch for a beat before delivering his true motive.
"I merely want Yu Xiaogang," he stated, his voice devoid of warmth, "to lose the woman he supposedly loves. I want him to suffer the pain of that rejection, amplified by the knowledge that it was you, the woman he discarded, who helped orchestrate it. I want him utterly alone and discredited."
Bibi Dong stared at him, processing his cold, calculated reasoning. A slow understanding dawned in her eyes, followed by a flicker of dark satisfaction that mirrored his own. Hurting Yu Xiaogang... that was a motive she could certainly understand, even embrace. The lingering bitterness she felt towards the man made the prospect undeniably appealing.
She relaxed slightly against him again, the coldness in her expression softening into thoughtful contemplation. Perhaps talking to Liu Erlong wouldn't be so unpleasant after all, if it served such a purpose.