The warm autumn morning sunlight streamed into the luxuriously decorated room. On the wide, comfortable bed, someone was still having his pipe dream. For him, still communicating in spirit with the daughter of the Duke of Zhou, anyone who dared disturb him now had only one fate—slay without mercy！
'Wudao, time to get up! Breakfast is ready! Otherwise, Mom will scold you again. Everyone's waiting for you!' A lively, pleasant voice rang out by the bedside. A voice so heavenly that having it call you 'hubby' would be one of life's greatest pleasures.
The guy in the blanket clearly was reluctant to let go of the lingering warmth from the night. He turned over and continued sleeping without a stir, huddled up like a big shrimp—a shrimp that loved to sleep in, of course.
'Wudao, you really need to get up！' Seeing no response, the girl said with a thick blush of shyness： 'If you just get up, whatever Xuehen has to do, Xuehen will do it for you. Wudao~ won't you get up? Okay?'
Hearing this exciting hint, the pervert Ye Wudao flipped up like a carp, pulled the girl into his arms, and deeply inhaled her long hair with his nose, wearing an intoxicated expression： "So fragrant！ In Dream of the Red Chamber, Jia Baoyu has the fragrance named 'Xiren,' and I, Ye Wudao, have 'Xuehen's lingering scent'—no worse than him, hehehe..."
The little girl held in his arms nestled infatuatedly in Ye Wudao's embrace, quietly enjoying the peace. For her, who was so far from the outside world, everything Ye Wudao gave her was her entire world.
From the moment she stepped into the Ye family’s gate and saw Ye Wudao for the first time, he had already domineeringly claimed her as his own. She had no choice and didn’t want any other option. That year, Ye Wudao was seven, and Murong Xuehen was seven, because they were born on the same day, month, and year.
Who, as long as they still hold a shred of fantasy or longing for love, would deny that in a past life they were playmates by the Stone of Three Lives？
Murong Xuehen's grandfather, Murong Qingfeng, and Ye Zhengling were sworn brothers, having braved life and death together for decades, closer than blood brothers. Although Murong Qingfeng wasn't as illustrious as Ye Zhengling, his business was still far beyond what ordinary companies could compare to. However, Murong Qingfeng's only son died in a car accident, and he himself fell ill under the crushing blow of having to bury his own child, never recovering. On his deathbed, he entrusted his surviving granddaughter, Murong Xuehen, to Ye Zhengling, and she was to inherit the nearly billion-dollar fortune of the Murong family upon turning eighteen.
At only fifteen, Murong Xuehen could already be seen as destined to become a stunning beauty—a flawless little face, skin as delicate as jade, a crisp and sweet voice, and a well-developed figure made her an absolute perfect beauty！ Moreover, her musical talent could only be described as genius; at eleven, she performed her own composition at the Metropolitan Opera House, one of the world's four greatest opera houses, and was unanimously hailed as the 'female Mozart' of the twenty-first century.
More importantly, nurtured by culture, art, and music, plus strict family upbringing, young Murong Xuehen was gentle as water. She was recognized by both the Ye and Yang families as the future wife of Ye Wudao, this little emperor. Ye Zhengling truly cherished her to the core—if anyone dared to bully this future granddaughter-in-law he had personally chosen, he would never let that person off, not even Ye Wudao！
Murong Xuehen—it was she who gave up her virginity at thirteen, making Ye Wudao, this pervert who had long coveted her, a real man. Afterward, looking at the bloodstains on the bed blooming like seductive roses at night, she felt no regret, only softly murmuring Ye Wudao's name with tearful whispers.
Ye Wudao pressed Murong Xuehen onto the bed, lowered his head to gaze at his first woman, and stared at that fair, tender face that begged to be bitten. His lust surged; he pressed against Murong Xuehen's soft lips, savoring the taste that only he knew, while his hands, unwilling to be idle, slid over her body.
Having long since given her whole heart to Ye Wudao, Murong Xuehen voluntarily pressed her petite body against Ye Wudao—who was hard to call either a boy or a man. Though she knew it wasn't right, she could never resist his teasing. Her small hands tightly hugged Ye Wudao, and from her cherry-like little mouth came faint, almost inaudible moans.
After lingering for a long time on Murong Xuehen's small but tender snow-like chest, finally satisfying his desires for now, Ye Wudao let go and sat back on the bed, teasing the disheveled, spring-faced Murong Xuehen： 'Mom is waiting for us, you know. And then she'll just blame me again, not knowing that someone seduced me first！'
Murong Xuehen straightened her clothes and casting a bewitching glance at Ye Wudao, said coquettishly： 'Who told you to refuse to get up, and then you say I seduced you！ I won't bother with you, you heartless big bad guy, you big bad Ye Wudao！'
This seductive, bone-deep side of Murong Xuehen that made one's heart tremble would never be shown in front of others. In others' eyes, she would only be the gentle, qin-playing lady from a Jiangnan painting; only in front of Ye Wudao would she reveal this unknown, unique charm.
This is just like the 'born with bewitching bones' said in many novels.
Ye Wudao pinched Murong Xuehen's little nose and smiled： 'If you don't pay attention to your husband, who will? If you're not obedient, I'll eat you for breakfast!'
The two went downstairs for breakfast, and Yang Ningbing inevitably gave her routine 'lesson'： 'Wudao, I've told you a hundred times that the morning is the best part of the day. Getting up early to jog or read English is very good for you. Look at Xuehen, she gets up an hour earlier than you every day to practice piano without complaining, and you still whine about waking up too early！'
Ye Wudao lowered his head and muttered： 'Morning sleep is twice as good as evening sleep; what a waste to miss out！'
Murong Xuehen beside him barely stifled her laughter, under the table she tightly grabbed Ye Wudao's 'An Lushan claw' that was caressing her thigh, lowering her head to eat the sumptuous breakfast like a proper lady. He always liked to deliberately twist ancient sayings into his own crooked logic; this time he casually corrupted Jin Shengtan's 'afternoon nap is twice as long as dusk,' last time before doing that shameful thing to her behind the adults' backs he changed the sage's 'Life is what I desire, righteousness is also what I desire, when both cannot be had, I sacrifice life for righteousness！' into 'Love is what I desire, sex is also what I desire, when both cannot be had, I sacrifice love for sex！' Thinking of this, Murong Xuehen's face flushed red, her little hand tightly gripping Ye Wudao's warm hand.
Ye Hetu, who was reading the newspaper and drinking tea—the direct cause of this good socialist youth's corruption—sprayed out a mouthful of tea. This son of his, truly outdoing his father, dared to crack jokes in front of her. One word: strong！
'Wudao, what did you just say？' Yang Ningbing, true to her reputation as one of D Province's Four Great Beauties, the 'Ice Queen,' was still captivating even with her brows furrowed. Her perfectly aloof face carried an innate coldness, as silent and chilly as the Moon Goddess herself, nearly at freezing point.
As the deputy mayor in charge of a major Chinese city's economic affairs, Yang Ningbing inherited her father's imposing authority—the kind that commands respect without being overt. At home, though she didn't put on a stern face, the inadvertent aura she exuded still put pressure on everyone, including Ye Wudao.
"Ah, just now？ Let me think！" Ye Wudao's eyes darted around. If he didn't come up with an answer that satisfied Mom, he'd definitely be in for it. Genius is genius—furrowing his brow, an idea struck him, and he said with perfect composure, "I mean, Mom, you shouldn't stay up late anymore. The books say staying up late is the enemy of a woman's beauty！ Of course, I think Mom's diamond-like ageless beauty and charm won't fade away！"
Ye Hetu sprayed out his tea again. Good kid, saying something so cheesy with such a righteous face—truly his own son. The two maids beside him couldn't stop laughing either. Murong Xuehen let go of Ye Wudao's hand, allowing him to roam his fingers freely over her leg, bringing her a different kind of thrill.
"Spare me that act. Do you really think Mom didn't hear anything? No allowance today!" Looking at her son's cute, fake, utterly ridiculous smile, Yang Ningbing felt an immense comfort deep in her heart. This is my son, she thought; he's all grown up, even knows how to butter up his mom. Though, being in a high position, she was sick and tired of others' flattery, but from her own son, it made her so happy.
Ye Wudao was utterly frustrated. He wolfed down his breakfast, as if taking his anger out on the food. People say money flows like water, but his money hadn't even been spent yet—it had just slipped away from under his nose. How unfair！ This was a serious problem. Without money, how was he supposed to pick up chicks? In this world, everything costs money these days—even breaking up has *** compensation for lost youth. What kind of world is this！！！"
"Eat slowly. What, do you have a grudge against the food? With such bad table manners, who's going to like you? If you end up alone when you grow up, don't expect Mom to find you a wife." Watching Ye Wudao's originally handsome face now scrunched up in frustration, Yang Ningbing was secretly laughing inside, though her face was stern.
That little lecher won't have a wife？ I'm afraid every man in the world will have to be a bachelor！ Ye Hetu muttered amusingly to himself, in the future, he better not have too many women！
Murong Xuehen saw that Ye Wudao's face clearly showed unhappiness, so she softened and whispered in his ear, 'Later I'll give you my allowance.' Before Ye Wudao could get happy, Yang Ningbing, who was eating with her head down, said coolly, 'Xuehen, you are not allowed to give your allowance to Wudao！' This was like the Supreme Court sentencing Ye Wudao to death. Ye Wudao slumped weakly in his chair with a groan, why is my life so hard！
Heavens, just let beauties rain down on me as compensation！！！