黑帮三三

The evening air over Yedong City carried the salt of the sea and the low growl of cargo ships docking in the industrial haze of the Black Gold Island harbor. The sky was a bruised purple, clouds rolling in from the east where the Korean Peninsula lay invisible beyond the horizon. The pier was alive with the clatter of forklifts and the shouts of dockworkers unloading crates stamped with both Chinese and Korean characters, but at the far end of Wharf Seven, a small crowd of men in dark suits stood in a tight formation, their eyes scanning the approaching vessel with practiced vigilance.

Piao Dagen stood at the head of his men, his squat frame planted firmly on the concrete like a bulldog ready to charge. He was only one hundred fifty-five centimeters tall, barely reaching the shoulders of the men beside him, but his body was a block of dense muscle honed by years of street fights and labor on the docks before his father had promoted him to leadership. His face was plain, almost ugly, with a broad nose and thick eyebrows that gave him a permanent scowl, but his eyes held a desperate fire tonight. The Big Gate Gang had been his father's life's work, a small-time Korean outfit that had scraped by on local protection rackets and a few smuggling routes, and now that the Bamboo Organization had poisoned the old man and left him bedridden, the weight of the entire gang's survival rested on Dagen's shoulders.

The ship eased into the berth, a modest cargo vessel with rust along its hull and a Chinese flag fluttering at the stern. Dagen watched as the gangplank lowered, and two figures emerged from the shadows of the bridge, stepping into the glow of the harbor lights.

The woman was impossible to ignore. Yimeier, the eldest daughter of the Dark Dragon Gang's boss, moved with an unhurried grace that made the dockworkers pause mid-task. Her wavy chestnut hair caught the wind, cascading over her shoulders, and her height of one hundred seventy-five centimeters was accentuated by the fitted black dress she wore, a subtle thing that did nothing to hide the full swell of her breasts or the generous curve of her hips. Her legs were long, bare, and toned, carrying her with the confidence of someone who had never needed to prove her worth through violence. But it was her face that held Dagen's attention—a soft, maternal beauty with large eyes that seemed to hold warmth even when she was assessing a stranger. She was the kind of woman who could smile at an enemy and make them forget why they were angry.

Beside her, Liqing was a stark contrast. The eldest son of the Black Tortoise Gang's boss stood at one hundred seventy centimeters, lean to the point of frailty, with narrow shoulders and a boyish face that made him look younger than his thirty years. He wore a simple gray jacket over a white shirt, his hands tucked into his pockets as he walked with a casual, unhurried step. There was no menace in him, no swagger. He looked like a university lecturer who had accidentally wandered into a criminal negotiation, but the tattoo crawling up his neck—a coiled tortoise in black ink—marked him as one of the most protected men in the underworld.

Dagen stepped forward as they reached the dock, his men parting to let him through. He bowed slightly at the waist, his hands pressed together in a respectful greeting. "Miss Yimeier, Master Liqing, welcome to Yedong City. I have arranged a seaside inn for your stay. Please, allow me to escort you."

Yimeier returned the bow with a graceful nod. "Thank you, Boss Piao. We appreciate your hospitality."

"Please, call me Dagen. We are all brothers here," he said, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He gestured toward a black sedan idling at the edge of the pier, its engine humming low. "The car is ready. We can talk on the way."

Liqing yawned, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. "Long trip. The sea air makes me sleepy."

They walked to the sedan, and Dagen held the door open for Yimeier, who slid into the back seat with a fluid motion. Liqing followed, sitting close to her, and Dagen took the front passenger seat, his driver—a thick-necked Korean man named Min—pulling smoothly away from the docks.

The streets of Yedong City unfolded through the tinted windows. It was a strange place, this island metropolis, a hybrid of Chinese and Korean influences that had grown organically over decades of smuggling, trade, and uneasy alliances. The main boulevard was lined with neon signs in both languages, restaurants serving kimchi jjigae alongside xiaolongbao, and convenience stores selling soju and baijiu from the same refrigerated shelf. The upper levels of the city were clean, orderly, policed by municipal authorities who turned a blind eye to the real power structures beneath the surface. But the lower levels—the alleys, the basements, the underground markets—were the domain of the gangs.

Dagen cleared his throat, twisting in his seat to face his guests. "I will be direct, if you don't mind. My father is dying. The Bamboo Organization sent a man to his office last month, pretending to negotiate a partnership. They poisoned his tea. He survived, but barely. He cannot speak, cannot move. I am the acting boss now, and I am telling you both plainly: the Bamboo Organization has plans for this island. They want to take control of all underground operations. They have already approached my distributors, my informants, even my own lieutenants. They offer better terms, but the terms are always a trap. Once they have you, they own you."

Yimeier listened without interrupting, her hands folded in her lap. She was calm, her expression unreadable. "We have heard similar reports from our own contacts on the island. The Bamboo Organization has been aggressive lately, expanding into territory that belongs to other families. But the Dark Dragon Gang has been allies with the Black Tortoise Gang for three generations. We do not make decisions lightly."

"I am not asking for a decision tonight," Dagen said, his voice earnest, almost pleading. "I am asking you to consider. The Big Gate Gang has survived here for forty years because we know the island. We know the Koreans on the streets, the fishermen in the ports, the merchants in the markets. If the three of us stand together, the Bamboo Organization cannot compete. They are outsiders here. We are not."

Liqing leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Brother Dagen, I understand your urgency. But the Dark Dragon Gang is still the largest force on this island. The Bamboo Organization is ambitious, but they are not stupid. They will not move against us directly until they are sure they can win. That gives us time. Time to investigate, time to plan, and time to enjoy this city we have never properly visited." He smiled, a relaxed, almost lazy expression. "I say we take a few days. See the sights. Eat the food. Let the Big Gate Gang show us what this island has to offer. Business can wait until our stomachs are full."

Dagen hesitated, then nodded slowly. "You are right, of course. It is my anxiety speaking. My father... he always told me that patience is a weapon. I forget that sometimes." He turned back to face the road. "I will take you to your gang's island headquarters first. The local captains have been informed of your arrival. After that, I have a seaside inn reserved. It is not the Glass Hotel—that is unfortunately closed for renovations—but it is comfortable and private."

"That sounds perfect," Yimeier said, her voice gentle. "Thank you, Brother Dagen."

The car drove through the winding streets of the commercial district, past a row of karaoke bars and massage parlors, until it reached a nondescript building on a side street. A small plaque beside the door bore the emblem of a coiled dragon in gold. Yimeier and Liqing spent a brief hour inside, meeting with the local Dark Dragon and Black Tortoise operatives, reviewing reports and confirming that their respective operations were stable. Dagen waited outside, smoking a cigarette and watching the street, his mind churning with possibilities and fears.

When they emerged, the sun had fully set, and the city's neon glow painted the night in red and blue. Dagen drove them to the edge of the coast, where a row of cliffside inns overlooked the dark water. The inn he had chosen was modest—a two-story building with a wooden deck and paper lanterns hanging from the eaves. The sound of waves lapped against the rocks below.

"This is the place," Dagen said, pulling into the gravel lot. He turned off the engine and faced them. "I am sorry I cannot offer you the luxury of the Glass Hotel. When it reopens, I will be the first to welcome you back as my honored guests."

Yimeier smiled. "This is lovely. The sea is beautiful at night."

Dagen nodded, then stepped out of the car. He watched as a porter from the inn escorted them inside, carrying their luggage. He lingered for a moment, his hands in his pockets, then climbed back into the sedan. "Drive," he said to Min. "We have work to do."

The inn room was simple but clean. A large bed with white linens faced a window that opened onto a small balcony, where the sound of the waves was a constant, soothing rhythm. The walls were paneled in light wood, and a single lamp cast a warm glow over the room.

Liqing flopped onto the bed, his body sinking into the mattress with a sigh. "Finally. Solid ground. I was starting to get seasick on that boat, but I didn't want to say anything in front of the crew."

Yimeier laughed softly, setting her small bag on the dresser. "You should have said something. We could have stopped at a port."

"And miss the chance to look strong in front of Brother Dagen? Never." He reached for the television remote, clicking through channels until he found a nature documentary about deep-sea fish. "This is nice. Quiet. No bodyguards, no meetings, no one asking us to make decisions."

Yimeier disappeared into the bathroom, and soon the sound of running water joined the waves outside. Liqing watched the television absently, his eyelids growing heavy, until the bathroom door opened and he forgot how to breathe.

She stood in the doorway, wearing a black lace bodysuit that left little to the imagination. The fabric was sheer, hugging the curves of her breasts and the dip of her waist before flaring at her hips. Her skin was still damp from the shower, and her wet hair clung to her shoulders, dark as ink against her pale skin. She smiled at him, a soft, intimate expression that belonged only to the two of them.

"You look comfortable," she said, walking toward the bed with a sway that was both teasing and affectionate.

Liqing set the remote aside, his mouth suddenly dry. "I was. Now I'm not sure what I am."

She laughed, a sound like warm honey, and climbed onto the bed beside him. She stretched out, arching her back like a cat, her body pressing against the sheets as she let out a contented sigh. "The trip was long. I missed you, even though you were right there on the boat with me."

"I was always right there," he said, his voice husky.

"I know." She rolled onto her side, propping her head on her hand, and looked at him with those large, gentle eyes. "But now we're alone. No business. No alliances. Just us."

She reached down, her fingers trailing over his stomach, then lower, finding the soft bundle of flesh between his legs. She stroked him gently, feeling him stir, growing firm in her hand until he reached his full length—eight centimeters, as it always was, no more, no less. She had never known any other man, had never wanted to know. This was Liqing. This was the boy she had played with as a child in the gardens of her father's compound, the boy who had held her hand when she was scared of the dark, the boy she had promised to marry when they were both too young to understand what that meant.

She lowered her head, her lips brushing against his skin, and took him into her mouth. She was

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After shaking off their pursuers, both boats were running dangerously low on fuel. Park Dae-geun's small fishing trawler had almost nothing left in the tank, while Yi Mei'er's luxury yacht still had a little reserve. She decided to tow his boat, the thick rope stretching taut between them as they cut through the dark, unfamiliar waters. Neither of them had any idea which part of the ocean they had drifted into.

Park Dae-geun stood at the helm of his rusty, battered vessel, scanning the horizon with an old pair of binoculars. The lenses were scratched and foggy, but through them he spotted something—a dark lump rising from the sea in the distance. He adjusted the focus, squinting. It was a small, uninhabited island, covered in dense vegetation and surrounded by rocky cliffs. He recognized it from old maps: Sea Serpent Island. A remote, forgotten speck of land far from Black Gold Island, so off the beaten path that even fishermen rarely came near it.

He grabbed the radio. "Yi Mei'er, you see that island ahead? That's Sea Serpent Island. Nobody lives there. We could stop for a while, figure out what to do."

Yi Mei'er's voice crackled back through the speaker. "I see it. My fuel gauge is almost on empty. We won't make it much farther anyway. Let's pull into that natural harbor on the south side."

They guided the two vessels into a calm, crescent-shaped bay sheltered by steep cliffs. The water was glassy and turquoise, almost unreal after the chaos of the past hours. Yi Mei'er cut the engine on her massive white yacht, and Park Dae-geun killed the sputtering motor on his tiny trawler. The contrast between the two boats was almost comical—one a gleaming floating mansion, the other a rusted, peeling hunk of metal that looked like it might sink in a stiff breeze. They drifted close together, bumping gently as if leaning on each other for support.

Yi Mei'er picked up the radio again and hailed Li Qing. The connection was scratchy but usable. "Li Qing, we've landed on Sea Serpent Island. When can you come get us?"

A pause, then Li Qing's voice came through, heavy with frustration. "I'm afraid it won't be anytime soon. The Zhuzhu Group sent a bunch of thugs to block all the refueling points. I can't get a boat out until the headquarters of the Black Tortoise Gang sends a large vessel from the mainland. That'll take at least three days. But there is good news—I heard that the Damen Gang sabotaged the Zhuzhu Group's boats. They can't attack you from the sea anymore. By the way, how are you and Brother Dae-geun holding up?"

Yi Mei'er let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "We're fine. Don't worry about us. Just get here when you can." She clicked off before he could say anything else.

She stepped out onto the deck, the warm island breeze catching her hair. Park Dae-geun was already on the shore, tying a rope to a gnarled tree root. She grabbed a small bag with her few belongings—a white blouse and a black skirt she had stashed on the yacht—and changed quickly, leaving behind her torn, bloodstained clothes. She walked down the gangplank in her simple outfit, the white fabric bright against her skin, and joined him on the sandy beach.

The island was wild and overgrown. A narrow path led inland, but it was choked with tall grass and thorny bushes that had long since reclaimed it. They pushed through, swatting away mosquitoes and stepping over fallen branches. After a few minutes, they came upon a small wooden house, its roof half-collapsed, the windows dark and empty. The door hung askew on one rusted hinge. Inside, dust covered everything—a broken chair, a shattered table, an old stove caked with rust. It was clear that no one had lived here for years, maybe decades. They were completely alone.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple, they dragged some driftwood to the beach and lit a fire. The flames crackled and popped, casting dancing shadows on the sand. The waves lapped gently against the shore. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Finally, Yi Mei'er looked at Park Dae-geun, her eyes reflecting the firelight. "Why did you come to save me?" she asked quietly. "You could have left with Li Qing. You could have gone the same direction, been safe."

Park Dae-geun picked up a stick and poked at the embers. "I figured the Zhuzhu Group wanted you dead so they could cripple the Azure Dragon Gang. I know those bastards too well—the kind of scum they are. I had to protect you." He paused, the words catching in his throat. "And also... the truth is, I really do—"

He didn't get to finish. Yi Mei'er leaned forward and pressed her lips against his, cutting off his words. The kiss was sudden, fierce, desperate. It deepened quickly, their mouths moving together with growing hunger. She parted her lips, and their tongues met, sliding and wrapping, hot and wet. She gripped his shoulders, pulling him closer as the kiss turned more forceful, more passionate, almost frantic. Time seemed to stop. The fire crackled beside them, the waves whispered, but all they could feel was each other.

They broke apart, breathing hard. Yi Mei'er's eyes were glistening. "I've spent my whole life keeping myself composed for the sake of the gang," she said, her voice trembling. "Li Qing has loved me since we were kids. I've always looked out for him, protected him like a younger brother. He sees me as a romantic partner, but I've always treated him like family. I know I have to marry him—it's the seal of friendship between the Azure Dragon and Black Tortoise clans, a bond that's lasted for generations." She swallowed. "But you... you're the only one who would risk your life for me. The only one who treats me like someone worth protecting. I think... I think I like you. A little. But I've been suppressing it, pushing it down, because I know I shouldn't—I—"

Park Dae-geun reached out and took her hand. "You know what I love about you, Yi Mei'er?" he said softly. "This. The fact that even if you marry Li Qing, I don't care. I just want to be in your heart. Not just the gang, not just your family duty—but me. If you like me, if you put me somewhere important in your heart, that's enough for me. I love you, Azure Dragon Gang boss. I love you, Yi Mei'er."

Something broke inside her. The walls she had built for years crumbled in an instant. Without a word, she stood up and pulled off her blouse, then unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the sand. She stood naked before him, the firelight outlining her curves, her full breasts exposed, her skin glowing. She turned and walked toward the abandoned house, her bare feet pressing into the cool sand. A few steps in, she looked back over her shoulder, a silent invitation in her eyes. *If you really love me, show me the courage of a man. Come.*

Park Dae-geun rose, his heart pounding. The bulge in his pants was already straining, fully erect. He followed her without hesitation, stepping into the darkness of the ruined house.

The night was filled with sounds that had nothing to do with the ocean or the wind. Guttural moans, gasps, the rhythmic creaking of old floorboards, the wet slap of flesh against flesh. Inside the crumbling shack, Park Dae-geun gripped Yi Mei'er's waist from behind, thrusting into her relentlessly. She twisted her head around and smiled, then kissed him, her lips soft against his. He reached forward with both hands and grabbed her heavy breasts, squeezing and kneading without restraint. She moaned into his mouth, then reached one hand back to wrap around his neck while the other hand reached down to spread her own ass cheeks, because his cock was so thick she needed the extra room.

Thirty minutes later, he came for the first time. Thick, heavy ropes of cum flooded into her, so much that it overflowed and dripped down her thighs. The warmth of it made her whole body tremble, her knees buckling as she gasped and cried out. He kept spurting for what felt like three full minutes before finally stopping.

She sank to her knees, still breathing hard, and turned to face him with a wicked grin. She opened her mouth and took his cock, still slick and glistening, deep into her throat. She worked him with practiced devotion, her cheeks hollowing, her tongue swirling, her eyes locked on his with pure affection. It didn't take long—his dick hardened again, rock solid, showing no sign of fatigue.

The second round began.

An hour passed. Then a third round. By the fourth, Park Dae-geun decided they needed a change of scenery. He scooped Yi Mei'er up in his arms and carried her out of the house, across the beach, and onto his little fishing boat. She kissed his face the whole way—his cheeks, his jaw, his lips—each kiss filled with genuine warmth and love.

The small boat rocked violently in the calm bay, its creaking hull the only accompaniment to Yi Mei'er's cries of pleasure. But there was joy mixed in with the moans, a raw, happy sound that echoed across the water.

They didn't stop until the first light of dawn broke over the horizon. By then, he had come more than a dozen times, and she had lost count of her own climaxes. They collapsed into a tangled heap on the narrow bunk, exhausted and sticky and utterly satisfied.

At ten o'clock the next morning, Park Dae-geun woke to sunlight streaming through the grimy porthole. He was sprawled naked on the cot, his body sore but content. He heard footsteps on the deck, then Yi Mei'er appeared in the doorway, holding a plate of fruit and bread she had scavenged from her yacht. She walked over, sat on the edge of the bunk, and leaned down to press a soft kiss on his lips. Her smile was tender, her eyes warm.

"Sun's burning your ass, lazybones," she said, her voice full of affection.

The radio crackled with Li Qing’s voice. “Yi Meier, listen to me. My boat needs some paperwork before we can set sail. Can you wait another five days?”

Yi Meier’s response came muffled, interrupted by wet sounds. “Mmm… mm… boh… not good…”

Li Qing’s tone turned puzzled. “Huh? What are you eating in your mouth?”

Yi Meier froze, suddenly remembering what she was actually doing. She was kneeling on the deck of her yacht, Piao Dagen’s cock deep in her throat. She jerked her head back, spitting him out with a gasp, then forced her voice steady. “Ah, it’s like this. I’m eating a popsicle on my yacht. I can’t stop—it’ll melt. I’ll just talk while I eat.”

Li Qing seemed convinced. “Oh, I see. Do you have enough supplies?”

She resumed her work, talking around him, her mouth full. “Mmm… ngh… slurp… mmm… so big… Ah, right, the supplies are pretty big—I mean, the supplies are plentiful, enough to last.”

They talked about several things. Port schedules, fuel levels, the weather. Li Qing asked about her navigation equipment, and she answered between wet, sucking noises, careful to keep her voice casual. Finally, satisfied that everything was under control, Li Qing signed off.

On the deserted island, the two of them sat together in the sand, the yacht anchored just offshore. They had already confessed their love. It was real, deep, unshakable—but it had to remain a secret forever. The Li family could never know.

Piao Dagen lounged on the beach, taking a long swig of coconut water, then turned and took a mouthful of Yi Meier’s breast. She moaned softly, letting him do as he pleased. Her fingers toyed with his hardening shaft as she leaned into him. They made love in the open air, on the sand, then moved to the bow of her yacht, the waves rocking them. At night they kissed under the stars, showered together, steam and water mixing with their laughter.

“You’re so annoying,” she whined, slapping his chest playfully. “You never stop.”

He grinned, pulling her close.

Later, she changed into a white one-piece bikini, the cut high on her hips. “How do I look? Do you like it?”

He scooped her up in a princess carry, and she squealed with excitement, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Days passed like that, the two of them almost glued together. Then Li Qing arrived with a fuel tanker. Yi Meier and Piao Dagen greeted him with perfectly normal demeanors, nothing out of place. She walked up to Li Qing and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank goodness you’re here.”

Piao Dagen clapped him on the back. “I thought I was going to turn into a caveman, Brother Li. Really, thanks for coming. Now I can finally go home.”

The three of them laughed together, the atmosphere as easy as ever. No one suspected a thing.

One month later, Li Qing and Yi Meier held their wedding. The ceremony declared the everlasting friendship between the Green Dragon Gang and the Black Tortoise Gang, a union of two families. At the reception, Piao Dagen approached Yi Meier, who was radiant in her white gown.

“Congratulations,” he said, his voice low. “And you look beautiful in that dress.”

She smiled, thanked him, and turned away.

After the wedding, it was customary for the husband to drive his bride home. But a sudden crisis at a Black Tortoise branch forced Li Qing to leave. He could only trust his most reliable friend. “Piao Dagen, could you take Yi Meier home for me?”

“Of course,” Piao Dagen said.

They drove off, Yi Meier in the back seat, her wedding dress a sea of white silk. The car wound through the countryside. When they hit a deserted stretch, Piao Dagen glanced around, saw no one, and turned the wheel sharply onto a track leading into a dense reed field. The car lurched to a stop.

Moments later, the vehicle began to rock.

Inside, they tore at each other. The wedding dress bunched around her waist as they kissed, hot and urgent. “Ah,” he breathed, “you look amazing in that dress. Gorgeous.”

She gasped against his lips. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.”

They spent an hour before finally heading home.

A few days later, Yi Meier and Li Qing sat at a city café, chatting and laughing like an ordinary happy couple. No one would ever know the secret she shared with Piao Dagen.

That evening, Yi Meier dressed in a red high-slit gown. Her full breasts spilled out, the sheer fabric barely containing them. The slit climbed high, revealing a black lace garter belt and fishnet stockings. Her hair flowed loose.

Li Qing looked up from his book. “Dressed so lavishly? Where are you going?”

“Oh, Dàmén Gang’s fortieth anniversary gala is tonight. I was invited.”

“I see,” he said, trusting as always. “Be careful on the road.”

She smiled and left.

Inside a secret meeting room beneath the Wragras Five-Star Hotel, Piao Dagen and Yi Meier met in a passionate embrace. They fell onto the bed, and for five hours they made love without pause.

“Mmm… stay with me a little longer,” she murmured.

He growled, “Tonight I’ll fuck you senseless.”

“That’s more like it,” she purred.

Then the phone rang. She picked it up, her face and voice instantly shifting to that of a composed, powerful boss. “Hey—oh, it’s you, Second Sister. What’s wrong? No one picked you up at the dock?”

Piao Dagen whispered in her ear, “I can have my second brother, Piao Jingshuo, pick her up. What’s your sister’s name?”

“Yi Ke’er,” she replied.

He made a quick call, giving instructions. Then he hung up and returned his attention to her. They resumed their deep communion.

As for their affair, Piao Jingshuo knew nothing. He assumed it was just a normal relationship between gang leaders. Yi Ke’er also believed her sister and brother-in-law Li Qing were a normal couple, unaware of the hidden fire.

So ends the story of Yi Meier and Piao Dagen—for now.

Next comes the tale of Yi Ke’er, Li Tianhe, and Piao Jingshuo. But that will have to wait until the next chapter. Stay tuned.

The sea breeze carried the smell of salt and diesel across the sprawling docks of Yedong City, Black Gold Island. The afternoon sun hung low and lazy, casting long shadows between cargo containers and fishing boats. Park Jung-seok pulled his black sedan to a stop at the edge of Pier 7, killed the engine, and sat for a moment, cracking his neck.

He was a compact man, barely 158 centimeters tall, but stocky and dense with muscle. His face was ordinary, bordering on ugly—a broad nose, thick eyebrows, and a jaw that seemed set in a permanent scowl. At twenty-eight, he had clawed his way to being co-acting boss of the Daemun Gang, the Korean-run syndicate on the island. His older brother, Park Dae-geun, was the other co-acting boss, and together they kept the Korean crews in line.

His phone buzzed. A subordinate.

“Hyung-nim, I found you a real prize. A whore. Beautiful. You want her?”

Jung-seok frowned. “I’m busy today. I’ve got to pick someone up at the dock.”

“Ah, that’s perfect. She’s already at the dock. Just take a look. Test the goods.”

Jung-seok hesitated. The ferry from the mainland wasn’t due for at least another thirty minutes. He could spare five. He let out a low chuckle. “Alright. If she’s really pretty, tell her to wait at my place. The second branch villa. I’ll handle her after the pickup.”

“Consider it done, hyung-nim.”

Jung-seok grinned and stepped out of the car. The heat hit him, thick and humid. He tugged at his collar and walked toward the passenger terminal, his eyes scanning the crowd. There were dock workers, a few tourists, some sailors. And then he saw her.

She stood near the railing, alone. Tall—maybe 176 centimeters. Her hair was black, long, straight, and glossy, falling past her shoulders like a silk curtain. She wore a black cheongsam with a high slit that ran up to her thigh, revealing long legs sheathed in black stockings. The dress was cut low at the chest, barely containing breasts that seemed ready to burst free. A deep valley of cleavage pressed together, smooth and pale. Her face was striking—sharp eyes, full lips, a gaze that was both focused and seductive, as if she could pull a man’s soul out through his pupils.

Jung-seok’s breath caught. *This must be her. The one my subordinate found.*

He approached her with a swagger, confidence oozing from his compact frame. The woman turned as he neared, her eyes meeting his. She opened her mouth to speak. “You came. I—”

Jung-seok raised a finger and pressed it gently against her lips. “Shh. I know you’ve been waiting for me. And I’ve been waiting for you. But tonight, I have another job to do first.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key. “Here’s the address of the Daemun Gang’s second branch. It’s just a big villa I live in alone. Make yourself at home. I suggest you take a shower and wait for me, baby.”

Before she could react, he tucked the spare key into her handbag, then slid his arm around her shoulder. Her body stiffened. Her eyes narrowed, and a cold, murderous gleam flickered in them. But Jung-seok, drunk on lust, mistook the tension for hesitation. He let his hand slide down her shoulder and grab her breast through the thin silk of her cheongsam. It was full and firm.

In one fluid motion, she caught his wrist and twisted. Bone cracked. Jung-seok yelped and crumpled to the ground, his arm wrenched behind his back. Pain shot through his shoulder. He gasped, his face pressed against the rough concrete.

“Ahhh! That hurts! That’s too much! Even if you don’t want to provide service, you don’t have to treat a customer like this!” he groaned, struggling.

She leaned over him, her voice cold and sharp. “I am Yi Ke’er of the Qinglong Gang. No one has ever dared to insult me so lightly. I think I’ll leave you with a permanent reminder of your mistake.”

Jung-seok’s eyes went wide. *Yi Ke’er? The second-in-command of the Qinglong Gang? Sister of Yi Meier?* The blood drained from his face. “Wait! You’re Yi Ke’er? I thought you were—never mind. Please let me go. I’m Park Jung-seok, co-acting boss of the Daemun Gang. My brother Park Dae-geun sent me to pick you up. It was an honest mistake!”

Yi Ke’er released his wrist and stepped back. Jung-seok scrambled to his feet, dusting off his suit, trying to compose himself. He forced a straight face. “Welcome to Yedong City, Miss Yi. That was a misunderstanding. I’m actually a very proper gentleman. I hope you won’t think ill of me.”

Just then, a voice called out from behind. “Hyung-nim! I brought her!”

Jung-seok turned to see his subordinate jogging toward them, dragging a heavily made-up woman by the arm. The woman wore a tight miniskirt and a cheap tube top, her face caked with foundation and garish lipstick. She looked nothing like the woman standing beside Jung-seok.

The subordinate beamed. “Sorry I’m late, hyung-nim. She didn’t know where the dock was, so I had to bring her myself. How is she? Pretty, right? You want me to take her to your villa?”

Jung-seok’s face turned red. He covered his eyes with his hand, wanting to disappear. He couldn’t look at Yi Ke’er.

Yi Ke’er let out a low, amused laugh. “So *this* is the kind of proper gentleman you are?” She walked past him, opened the passenger door of his sedan, and slid inside. Through the open window, she said, “Hurry up. Take me to the private beach villa the Qinglong Gang prepared for me.”

Jung-seok dropped his hand and shot a venomous glare at his subordinate. The younger man’s smile faltered. He realized his mistake and bowed deeply, muttering apologies. Jung-seok grunted, got into the driver’s seat, and started the engine.

As they pulled away from the dock, Yi Ke’er stared out the window, her expression unreadable.

Jung-seok cleared his throat. “Miss Yi, about earlier... It was all a mistake. I hope this doesn’t affect the relationship between our gangs. The Daemun Gang holds the Qinglong Gang in the highest respect.”

Yi Ke’er said nothing for a long moment. Then, without turning her head, she replied, “Drive.”

Jung-seok swallowed hard and kept his eyes on the road. The sea glittered in the dying light, and the only sounds were the hum of the engine and the distant cries of gulls.

Three days later, Park Jeong-seok arrived at the second branch of the Xuanwu Gang on the island. He came to greet Li Tian, the second son of Li Qing's younger brother, who was one of the many sons of the previous generation's leader. Park said, "Second-in-command Li, you've only been on the island for a week. Getting used to it? Looks like you and I are alike, stuck guarding a branch alone."

Li Tian was a 27-year-old Chinese man, 170 centimeters tall, with an average, slightly thin build. When erect, his penis measured only nine centimeters, and his semen was thin and watery, with low sperm count and poor motility. He replied, "Ah, you're wrong there. It's two people now, you know. My fiancée came along."

Park's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, is that right? What kind of woman could capture the heart of Li Tian, the second-in-command of the Xuanwu Gang?"

Just then, footsteps came from upstairs. A beautiful woman in a form-fitting office lady outfit descended the stairs, her face lit with a sweet, playful smile. "Honey, look what I found—an adorable cat!" she said to Li Tian.

The woman was Yi Ke'er. The moment she spotted Park Jeong-seok, her expression shifted instantly. Her smile faded, replaced by the cold, arrogant mask of a strong-willed career woman. "Well, well, if it isn't Park Jeong-seok, the second-in-command of the Dumen Gang," she said, her voice dripping with ice.

Li Tian looked between them, confused. "Ah... this..."

"Mm, so you two know each other," Li Qing said, stepping forward. "I was just about to take you to the Dumen Gang's second branch. I'll lead the way."

Yi Ke'er let out a sly, knowing chuckle. "I don't think that's necessary. I already know the location—for certain reasons. Isn't that right, Mr. Park Jeong-seok?"

Park's face tightened. He pretended to study the scenery around him, his eyes darting everywhere except at her, his composure cracking with embarrassment and unease.

Li Tian frowned. "What's going on?"

Yi Ke'er waved a dismissive hand. "Nothing. Just a trivial matter, nothing to worry about."

Li Tian didn't press further. If Yi Ke'er said it was nothing, then it was nothing. Park Jeong-seok turned abruptly and walked away. Behind him, Yi Ke'er and Li Tian exchanged a kiss on the cheek, their intimacy plain for all to see.

Halfway down the path, Park twisted around and stuck his tongue out at Yi Ke'er, making a taunting sound. "Stupid woman! Nyeh nyeh nyeh!" he mocked.

Yi Ke'er's face flushed with anger, but she could only sigh helplessly and let out a defiant humf. Li Tian noticed the tension between them and shook his head with a resigned sigh.

Once Park was gone, Yi Ke'er and Li Tian returned to their room. Yi Ke'er transformed into a clingy, sweet cat. She pressed close to Li Tian, showering him with soft kisses on the lips, trying to ignite his desire. Her hands worked quickly, pulling down his pants. Without hesitation, she lowered her head and began performing oral sex on him.

As his erection grew, it only reached about nine centimeters, but Yi Ke'er didn't mind. She pressed her large breasts against it, covering it completely in a deep, full breast job. The massive mounds swallowed his entire length; it was invisible beneath her flesh. Then they began to make love. Yi Ke'er moved wildly, her body shaking with fierce energy.

In less than six minutes, Li Tian climaxed. His ejaculation was weak and shallow, the spurts barely reaching inside her. If he wanted to get her pregnant, it would take many, many attempts. The chances of successfully fertilizing Yi Ke'er were extremely low. After that single release, Li Tian collapsed, spent, his body trembling with exhaustion. It would take him a long time to recover.

Yi Ke'er stroked his face gently, a tender look in her eyes. "You did great, honey. Try harder next time," she whispered, and planted a loving kiss on his cheek.

Two days later, Yi Ke'er arrived at Park Jeong-seok's second branch villa of the Dumen Gang. When Park opened the door and saw her, his face immediately soured. "Wow, what wind blew you here? This wind doesn't feel good at all," he said through gritted teeth, his voice sharp with irritation.

Yi Ke'er remained composed, a smug confidence radiating from her. "I just wanted to see what kind of savage's den the great Park Jeong-seok lives in."

"Just you? Where's your fiancé, Li Tian?" Park asked, his tone hostile.

"He's busy and couldn't make it. I'm just taking a look around, then I'll be on my way," she said smoothly.

"Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom," Park muttered, and quickly slipped away.

Inside the bathroom, he dialed his elder brother, Park Dae-geun. "Brother, what am I supposed to do? I've landed myself in trouble with a woman, you hear me?"

Park Dae-geun was on the other end of the line, all while Yi Mei'er was giving him oral sex. "Ohhh... that feels good. Brother, don't make a big deal out of it. Treat this as a lesson. As your older brother, I order you to control your temper. Oohhh..."

Park Jeong-seok frowned, hearing strange noises. "What's with all those weird sounds?"

Park Dae-geun lied quickly, "Uh, it's just my daily muscle training. I make these grunting noises. Oohhh... ohhh... I'm busy now, I'll hang up." He ended the call.

Park Jeong-seok bought the excuse. "This guy and his weird habits. Whatever," he muttered, shaking his head.

Meanwhile, Yi Ke'er had also made a call—to her elder sister, Yi Mei'er. "Hey, dear sister, how are you and Brother Li Qing doing? Congratulations on your marriage, by the way. I ran into Park Jeong-seok the other day. That man makes my blood boil. He did something awful to me. Ugh, I hate him so much. He's disgusting."

On the other end, Yi Mei'er was currently deep-throating Park Dae-geun's massive cock. "Mmm... mmm... *pop*... My dear little sister, you're an adult now. You shouldn't judge someone so one-sidedly... Mmm... so big!"

Yi Ke'er paused, confused. "What's so big?"

Yi Mei'er lied smoothly, "Nothing. I'm just eating an ice pop. It's a little... mmm... *pop*... big! Really big, this ice pop!"

Yi Ke'er shrugged, convinced her sister was literally eating a frozen treat. She ended the call.

Yike'er continued her tour of Park Jingshuo's villa, her heels clicking softly against the marble floors as she moved from room to room. The place was grand in scale but lacked personality—sterile, like a showroom no one actually lived in. That was, until she pushed open the door to the master bedroom.

She stopped in the doorway and let out a slow, deliberate sigh.

Clothes draped over chairs. A half-empty glass of water on the nightstand. The bedsheets twisted into a knot at the foot of the mattress. Crumpled receipts and empty snack wrappers littered the desk. It looked like a typhoon had passed through and decided to settle in.

"Unbelievable," Yike'er muttered under her breath. She folded her arms and tilted her head, a look of amused disdain spreading across her face. "You actually live like this? A grown man who doesn't know how to pick up after himself."

Park Jingshuo leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking vaguely embarrassed but trying to play it cool. "I've been busy. It's not that bad."

"Not that bad?" Yike'er gestured at a sock hanging from a lampshade. "This is a crime scene. If my men saw this, they'd never respect you."

She stepped inside, grabbed a crumpled shirt from the chair, and held it up between two fingers as if it were contaminated. Then, with a sigh that carried the weight of weary charity, she began to fold it.

"Alright, listen," she said, moving to the bed to straighten the sheets. "I'm doing this once. Just once. After this, don't expect a second time. If you really can't manage, you should get your girlfriend or wife to handle it. Oh wait—" She shot him a wry glance over her shoulder. "Judging by your lifestyle, I doubt any woman's been here in a long time. That's why you had to call your boys to hire a prostitute, isn't it?"

Park Jingshuo flinched. "I already said I was sorry about that. I mistook you for someone else. Please, I'm begging you—can we just move on?"

Yike'er smoothed out the bedsheet and picked a sock off the floor. "How could I blame you? You're just a lonely, pathetic man who has to rely on prostitutes to satisfy his urges. Pitiful, really."

He walked over and dropped onto the sofa in the corner, rubbing the back of his neck. There was a long pause before he spoke again, quieter this time. "I didn't... actually do anything. That night was my first time trying. And it failed."

Yike'er stopped mid-reach for a pillow. "Failed? What do you mean?"

"It didn't happen," he said, his voice suddenly tight with irritation. "I'm still a—" He waved a hand, unable to finish the sentence. Then he just blurted it out: "I'm still a virgin! If I hadn't mistaken you for someone from that joint, I might have already gotten rid of it. So go ahead, laugh. I know it's funny."

Yike'er turned to face him fully, her expression unexpectedly serious. She set down the pillow and walked closer, her gaze steady.

"No," she said. "I won't laugh at you. Honestly, Park Jingshuo, I don't think there's anything wrong with a man staying a virgin until he finds true love. I wouldn't mock him for it."

He looked up at her, somewhat surprised. For a moment, the irritation faded, replaced by something like respect. *She really is something,* he thought. *The deputy leader of the Blue Dragon Gang. Cool and principled.*

But then Yike'er's lips curled into a playful smirk. "That said, I don't think you're likely to escape single status in this lifetime. And mocking a pathetic case is beneath me—I'm mature enough to know that."

Park Jingshuo's brief moment of admiration evaporated. He let out a scoff and slumped deeper into the sofa, sulking like a scolded child.

Yike'er paid him no mind and continued cleaning. She collected the trash, folded the scattered clothes, and wiped the dust off the furniture. She worked with quiet focus, her movements precise and unhurried.

Park Jingshuo watched her from the corner of his eye. As she bent over to pick up a stray magazine, his gaze caught on something else entirely. The loose neckline of her blouse dipped forward, revealing the deep, shadowed cleft of her full breasts. Her skin was pale as porcelain, smooth and luminous against the dark fabric. Her hair—long, straight, jet-black—fell like a curtain of silk across her back. She stood close to 176 centimeters tall, and every line of her form was striking.

Without thinking, he whispered, "Beautiful..."

Yike'er straightened and looked over her shoulder. "Huh? Did you say something?"

He snapped out of it, cheeks flushing. "What? No. I talk to myself sometimes. Don't worry about it."

She gave him a curious look but didn't press, returning to her task. For the next thirty minutes, she transformed the disaster zone into something livable. When she finished, she grabbed her handbag and headed for the door.

Park Jingshuo followed her to the entrance. Before she stepped out, he spoke.

"Miss Yike'er, I sincerely hope that our previous misunderstanding won't damage the relationship between the Daimen Gang and the Blue Dragon Gang. My older brother instructed me to maintain goodwill with you. For the future of both organizations, I hope you can—"

Yike'er turned, a graceful pivot that brought her face-to-face with him. She cut him off with a look that was both curious and sharp.

"And what about you, personally?" she asked. "Do you truly believe that the Daimen Gang and the Blue Dragon Gang can cooperate? You only spoke of organizational matters. I want to know what *you* think. Can you, Park Jingshuo, maintain a friendly relationship with me? More importantly—do you *want* to? I want to hear your own thoughts."

Park Jingshuo fell silent. His gaze dropped to the floor, then rose slowly to meet hers. He took a breath.

"Actually... I think you're very charming. I might be a little bit interested in you. Would you like to be my—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa—stop right there!" Yike'er raised both hands, palms out, as if to physically block the words. "I think you've misunderstood. I came to your place today as a courtesy, to make clear the Blue Dragon Gang's position. I don't have any romantic interest in you whatsoever."

He pressed on, his tone earnest. "That's fine. I can wait. I'll wait until you're ready to accept me."

Yike'er's expression hardened. "That's even more impossible. Don't wait. Do you know why?" She planted her hands on her hips. "I'm taken. I have a fiancé. I thought you knew—my fiancé is Li Tian. He used to hang out with you all the time. You two were close friends. My God, he never told you about me?"

The color drained from Park Jingshuo's face. He paled visibly, his jaw going slack. "Li Tian's woman? I—I just confessed to my brother's fiancée? I was about to ask her to come inside, to—" The words tumbled out unfiltered, his inner thoughts spilling into the open. "—to make love and have ten or so kids."

He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until he saw Yike'er's eyes narrow.

Silence hung between them for a beat.

Then her hand moved fast. *Smack.* The sound of her palm connecting with his cheek echoed through the foyer. A red handprint bloomed across his face.

Yike'er turned on her heel and strode away, her footsteps sharp and angry.

"Wait! I'm sorry!" he called after her. "At least I'm honest! And I deserved that slap!"

She stopped, without turning around. After a long pause, she said, "Yeah, having expectations like that for me—you deserved it. But at least you're straightforward and honest. Do you have anything else to say?"

Park Jingshuo walked up behind her and bowed deeply. "Since Miss Yike'er and I have no romantic destiny, then I'll focus on the friendship between our gangs. And out of my personal respect for you, I'll strive to earn your regard."

Yike'er turned back, a confident smile spreading across her face. "Then you'd better work hard to earn my respect. I'm looking forward to seeing what you can do."

With that, she spun around and walked off, humming a cheerful tune under her breath.

To be continued.

Li Tian and Piao Jingshuo pulled their car up to a rundown warehouse on the outskirts of the city. The building looked abandoned from the outside, but intel suggested otherwise. The Zhuqi Group from Japan had been using this place to manufacture a new synthetic drug for overseas distribution. If they could bust this operation, it would deal a serious blow to their operations.

“You ready?” Li Tian asked, checking his weapon.

Piao Jingshuo nodded, his eyes scanning the perimeter. “Let’s go. Yi Ke’er, stay in the car. Keep the engine running.”

Yi Ke’er frowned from the driver’s seat. “You two be careful. If anything goes wrong, honk twice.”

“We’ll be fine,” Li Tian said, and then he and Piao Jingshuo slipped out of the car and crept toward the warehouse’s side entrance.

The door was unlocked. They pushed it open slowly, stepping into a cavernous space filled with stacked crates, chemical drums, and a faint, acrid smell. The place was eerily quiet.

“Looks empty,” Piao Jingshuo whispered.

They moved deeper inside, checking behind every crate, every stack of barrels. The manufacturing equipment was still there—vats, tubing, packaging machines—but no workers, no guards. Nothing.

“We missed them,” Li Tian muttered. “They must have gotten word.”

“Maybe,” Piao Jingshuo said, his eyes narrowing. “But why leave all this equipment? Something’s not right.”

As they turned to leave, two men stepped out from behind a stack of drums, grinning. They were low-level thugs, easily recognizable by their cheap suits and swagger.

“Well, well, well,” one of them said, a short, wiry man with a scar across his cheek. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

The other, a heavyset brute, held up a small canister. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

Before Li Tian or Piao Jingshuo could react, the heavyset man twisted the top of the canister. A burst of greenish gas shot out, enveloping them. Li Tian tried to hold his breath, but it was too late. The world spun, his knees buckled, and he collapsed to the concrete floor. Piao Jingshuo fell beside him, unconscious.

Scarface laughed, kicking Li Tian’s leg. “Stupid cops. Or whatever they are.”

The heavyset man knelt down, pulling a small vial from his pocket. “Boss said if anyone snoops around, give ’em the special cocktail.”

He uncorked the vial and forced Li Tian’s mouth open, pouring a bitter liquid down his throat. Then he did the same to Piao Jingshuo.

“Two hours,” Scarface said, grinning. “Two hours and their dicks will explode, and they’ll be dead. Nothing can stop it.”

The two thugs high-fived, satisfied with their work. They didn’t notice the shadow that had slipped in through the side door behind them.

Yi Ke’er had gotten worried. She’d waited five minutes, then ten. No sign of the men, no honking. She couldn’t just sit there. Grabbing her pistol, she slipped out of the car and made her way to the warehouse, moving silently.

She saw the two thugs standing over Li Tian and Piao Jingshuo’s prone bodies. Rage boiled in her chest. She crept closer, then in one fluid motion, she slammed the butt of her pistol into the back of Scarface’s head. He crumpled instantly.

The heavyset man spun around, but Yi Ke’er was already moving. She swept his legs out from under him, and he hit the ground hard. In seconds, she had him face-down, her knee pressing into his spine, one arm twisted behind his back. She jerked his wrist upward, making him cry out.

“Talk!” she snarled, her voice cold. “What did you give them?!”

“Agh! Let go!” the thug whined.

“Tell me what you poured down their throats, or I’ll break your arm!”

“It’s—it’s a drug!” he gasped. “We found it last year. Makes a man’s dick go hard—really hard—and after two hours, it explodes. Kills him. Unless it goes soft.”

Yi Ke’er stared at him, disbelief written on her face. “You expect me to believe that? How did they pass out?”

“That was the gas,” he said, voice trembling. “Special knockout gas. They won’t wake up for four hours at least.”

Yi Ke’er’s mind raced. Four hours. But the poison would kill them in two. She needed more information, but just then, Scarface started to stir on the ground.

The thug under her control shouted, “Defense system activate!”

A loud mechanical whir filled the warehouse. From the ceiling, a panel slid open, and a robotic arm extended, gripping a pistol. It swiveled, aiming directly at Yi Ke’er.

She dove behind a stack of crates just as the mechanical arm fired. Bullets tore through the air, chewing up the concrete where she’d been standing. The arm kept firing wildly, still seeking a target.

Scarface, dazed but alive, tried to crawl away. The robotic arm’s sensors caught his movement. It fired twice. Scarface jerked and went still, a pool of blood spreading beneath him.

The thug Yi Ke’er had pinned saw his chance. As Yi Ke’er scrambled further behind cover, he wrenched himself free and bolted for the door. The robot arm tracked him, but it seemed to malfunction. There was a grinding noise, a spark, and then one last shot rang out. The bullet caught the fleeing thug square in the back. He pitched forward, dead.

The arm whirred, then sagged, powering down.

Yi Ke’er waited a long moment, heart pounding, before emerging. She quickly checked on Li Tian and Piao Jingshuo. They were still unconscious, untouched by the gunfire. She let out a shaky breath.

She dragged them one by one to the car, straining under their weight. She got them into the back seat, then jumped into the driver’s seat and sped away.

Halfway back to the city, the car sputtered. The fuel gauge was nearly on empty. “Damn it,” Yi Ke’er muttered. She had no choice but to pull off the road into a small patch of woods, hidden from view. She’d have to figure out a way to get gas, but first, she needed to check on the men.

She turned around and froze.

Both Li Tian and Piao Jingshuo were still unconscious, but there was a prominent bulge in their pants. Even through the fabric, she could see it: Li Tian’s erection was noticeable, but Piao Jingshuo’s was enormous. The outline of a massive, hard shaft strained against his trousers.

“Oh no,” Yi Ke’er whispered. The thug’s story was true. The drug was working.

She remembered what he’d said: *Unless it goes soft.* She had to get their erections down. But they were knocked out for four hours. The drug would kill them in two.

There was only one way.

Yi Ke’er’s hands trembled as she unbuckled Li Tian’s belt and pulled down his pants. His erection sprang free: about nine centimeters, hard but not impressive. Then she turned to Piao Jingshuo. She hesitated, then pulled down his pants.

She gasped.

His cock was enormous: twenty-eight centimeters, thick as her forearm, rock-hard, and veined. The smell of his musk hit her nostrils, strong and masculine. She had never seen anything like it. Compared to Li Tian’s modest size, the difference was stark.

“How... how can it be that big?” she whispered, her voice shaky.

But she had no time to dwell. She took a deep breath, then wrapped her right hand around Li Tian’s cock and her left around Piao Jingshuo’s. She started to stroke, trying to stimulate them to climax. If they came, maybe the erection would subside.

She worked both at once, her mind a whirlwind of anxiety, embarrassment, and fear. Li Tian’s was easy to handle, the motion smooth. Piao Jingshuo’s was a challenge—her hand could barely close around it. She had to use both hands, alternating.

Within three minutes, Li Tian groaned in his sleep. His hips bucked, and a thin stream of semen spurted onto his stomach. His cock softened.

Yi Ke’er felt a flicker of hope. She turned her full attention to Piao Jingshuo. But his massive erection didn’t flag. She kept stroking, faster, harder. Ten minutes passed. Twenty. Thirty. Forty. His cock remained like iron, impossibly hard.

“Come on,” she pleaded, sweat beading on her forehead. “Just shoot already.”

Piao Jingshuo stirred, but not from arousal. He was dreaming, talking in his sleep. “Yi Ke’er... you little kitten... give me a titjob...”

Yi Ke’er flinched. “What?!”

In his dream, Yi Ke’er was submissive, obedient. The dream Piao Jingshuo was arrogant, commanding. He muttered again, “I said... give my big cock a titjob... now...”

In the real world, Yi Ke’er slapped him across the face. Hard.

“Wake up, you pervert!”

But he didn’t wake. His cheek was red, but he remained unconscious.

She looked at the time. An hour and a half had passed. She had less than thirty minutes.

“Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “Forget you’ll ever know.”

She pulled off her jacket, then her shirt. She unhooked her bra, and her huge, pale breasts spilled out, impossibly full and heavy. She knelt over Piao Jingshuo’s prone body.

She slowly lowered herself, letting her breasts envelop his cock. The thick head pressed between the mounds of flesh, spreading them apart. She had to use both hands to press her tits together around his shaft. The length of his cock was so great that the tip emerged near her chin.

She began to move, sliding her breasts up and down his slick shaft. The heat of his skin radiated against her. The smell of his precum mixed with her own sweat.

She could see the head of his cock practically in front of her face. She could almost taste it.

Then, suddenly, Piao Jingshuo sat bolt upright. His eyes were half-lidded, glazed over. He was still in the dream, the gas still in his system.

Yi Ke’er froze. *Shit! He’s awake!*

But he wasn’t really aware. He was in a fugue state, acting out his dream.

“I asked you a question,” he said, his voice thick and commanding. “Do you like my big cock, Yi Ke’er kitten? Say it.”

Yi Ke’er’s heart pounded. She had to play along. If she could get him to finish quickly, maybe she could get him back to sleep.

“Yes,” she said, forcing a smile. “I like it. I love it.”

“Then smile,” he said. “And kiss the tip. Smile while you do it.”

She gritted her teeth but obeyed. She brought her lips to the glans protruding from between her breasts, forcing a smile, and kissed it.

“That’s right,” he murmured. “Now suck it. I’m going to come.”

Desperate to finish, she opened her mouth and took him in. It was impossible to deep-throat something that big, but she managed to get the head past her lips. She tasted his pre-cum, salty and thick.

Piao Jingshuo groaned. “Yes... I’m coming!”

A torrent of hot, thick semen erupted into her mouth. It was so much, so intense, that she nearly choked. She managed to hold it, but some threatened to spill from the corners of her lips. She gulped, swallowing the sticky fluid. Then more came. She swallowed again. He kept coming, a seemingly endless stream.

Finally, it stopped. Yi Ke’er pulled away, still chewing the viscous residue. She swallowed it all.

Piao Jingshuo collapsed back onto the seat, his breathing slowing. His erection softened, then went flaccid.

Yi Ke’er let out a shuddering breath. She quickly put her bra and shirt back on, her hands shaking. She glanced at Li Tian. He was still out, unaware of what had happened. Good.

Two hours later, the drug’s deadline passed. Li Tian and Piao Jingshuo were still alive. Yi Ke’er remembered there was a spare gas can in the trunk. She refueled the car, and they set off again.

As the effects of the knockout gas wore off, Li Tian stirred. He sat up groggily, rubbing his head. “What happened? Where are we?”

“You got gassed,” Yi Ke’er said, keeping her voice steady. “I got you out. How do you feel?”

Li Tian stretched. “Fine, I guess. Just... my crotch feels a little weak. Like I overdid it or something.”

Yi Ke’er didn’t respond.

Piao Jingshuo woke up next. He groaned, touching his sore cheek. “Ow. Why does my face hurt? Did someone hit me?”

“You fell,” Yi Ke’er said quickly.

“Huh.” Piao Jingshuo shook his head, trying to piece together his memories. “I feel... energized. Like I just had a great workout. And I had the weirdest dream...”

“Don’t bother remembering,” Yi Ke’er said sharply.

Pia

（本章内容较长，当前页面已截取部分内容）

A week had passed since the incident, and the morning sun cast long shadows across the driveway of the suburban villa. The doorbell rang sharply, cutting through the quiet hum of the house.

Park Jung-seok trudged down the stairs, still wiping sleep from his eyes. "Who could that be at this hour?" he muttered, yanking the door open.

Yi Ke-er stood on the doorstep, dressed in a crisp white office ensemble, holding a neat folder in her hands. She looked immaculate, her hair tied back in a professional bun, her expression businesslike.

"Li Tian had to go out of town for three days," she said flatly, extending the folder toward him. "He asked me to deliver these documents to you personally."

Jung-seok took the folder with his left hand, but his right hand was occupied—gripping a large, squirming octopus he'd been about to prep for breakfast. He had planned on making grilled octopus, a guilty pleasure he rarely indulged in.

"Thanks, I appreciate—"

The octopus thrashed violently, its beak opening wide, and a thick jet of black ink shot out like a cannon blast. The viscous liquid splattered across Yi Ke-er's pristine white blouse and skirt, staining everything with dark, inky blotches.

Yi Ke-er froze, staring down at her ruined outfit. Her jaw tightened, and she looked up at him with eyes that could cut glass. "What the hell? Look at this—it's all over me! I should've known that running into you means nothing but trouble."

Jung-seok's face flushed crimson. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to—the octopus just—it got startled, I think. Please, come in, sit down. Let me get you something to clean up with."

He gestured frantically toward the living room, still clutching both the folder and the writhing octopus. Yi Ke-er sighed heavily, stepping past him with stiff, annoyed movements. She dropped onto the leather sofa, arms crossed, glaring at the black stains spreading across her clothes.

"I'll be right back," Jung-seok said, scurrying toward the kitchen. "Just give me a minute to deal with this thing."

He carried the octopus to the cutting board, his movements quick and efficient as he cleaned, sliced, and arranged the pieces on a serving platter. The ink didn't bother him—he'd clean it later. His priority was damage control with Yi Ke-er.

By the time he finished and walked back into the living room, the sofa was empty.

"Huh?" Jung-seok looked around, confused. "She left already?"

He shrugged, setting the folder down on the coffee table. It had been a long day yesterday—paperwork, meetings, dealing with a shipment dispute that had dragged into the night. He hadn't even showered. Since the branch villa was empty—no staff, no family, no guests—he figured now was as good a time as any to freshen up.

Without a second thought, he stripped off his pants and boxers right there in the living room, leaving them in a heap on the floor. He grabbed a towel from the nearby rack, wrapped it around his waist, and padded barefoot through the back door toward the villa's private outdoor hot spring.

He'd had it built last year—a small, stone-lined pool fed by natural hot springs, surrounded by a high wooden fence for privacy. Steam rose from the water, curling into the cool morning air.

Jung-seok slid the wooden door open and stepped inside.

A scream pierced the silence.

"What are you doing?! I'm still in here!"

Yi Ke-er was submerged in the steaming water, her hair now loose and wet, plastered against her shoulders. Her white blouse and skirt lay in a damp heap on the edge of the pool. She clutched a long towel to her chest, struggling to cover herself, but her breasts were so large that the fabric barely concealed them. The edge of her areola peeked out from the side, pink and unmistakable.

Jung-seok froze, his back instantly turning to her, facing the wooden wall like a soldier at attention. "I had no idea you were still here! I thought you left!"

"Where the hell was I supposed to go?" Yi Ke-er snapped, her voice a mixture of embarrassment and fury. "My apartment is being renovated—no running water, no bathroom! I figured since your villa is empty and I was already here, I'd just... use the hot spring. And then you just waltz in like you own the place!"

"I do own the place," Jung-seok mumbled, then winced. "That came out wrong. I'm sorry. I'll leave right now—"

Before he could finish, the roar of an engine cut through the air from outside the fence. Tires screeched, and a car screeched to a halt somewhere beyond the wooden barrier.

Two men in dark suits stepped out, their movements sharp and coordinated. They pulled pistols from underneath their jackets, aiming through the gaps in the hot spring's wooden fence.

The first shot shattered the morning calm, the bullet tearing through a wooden slat and embedding itself in the stone edge of the pool.

Yi Ke-er reacted instantly, rolling out of the water with the towel still wrapped around her, ducking behind the stone rim. "Get down!"

Jung-seok dropped to the ground, crawling toward the door. "Stay here! I'll get the car!"

He burst out of the hot spring enclosure, still wearing nothing but the towel around his waist, and sprinted toward the garage. His Porsche sat gleaming under the morning light. He jumped in, the engine roaring to life as he slammed the gear into drive and floored it.

The car crashed through the wooden fence, splintering planks flying in all directions. Yi Ke-er was crouched behind a low stone wall, using it as cover while bullets whizzed past her head.

Jung-seok skidded to a halt beside her, leaning over and shoving the passenger door open. "Get in!"

Yi Ke-er didn't hesitate. She vaulted into the car, landing squarely on his lap, her towel-wrapped body pressed against his bare chest. Without a word, she grabbed the steering wheel, her eyes flashing with determination.

"I drive," she said, her voice brooking no argument.

"What? You're sitting on me—"

"I said I drive. Move over."

Before Jung-seok could protest, she twisted the wheel, her foot slamming onto the accelerator. The Porsche lurched forward, tires screaming against the pavement as the car shot out onto the main road.

The assassins' vehicle, a black sedan, swerved onto the road behind them, engines howling.

Jung-seok's hands scrambled for the seatbelt, and he fumbled to strap them both in together—his bare chest pressed against her towel-covered back, the belt cinching tight around both their waists. "This is insane!"

"You haven't seen insane yet," Yi Ke-er muttered, taking a sharp turn that threw Jung-seok against the door.

The car hit a speed bump, the impact jarring. Jung-seok's hands, thrown off balance, landed squarely on her chest. His fingers sank into the soft flesh of her enormous breasts through the thin towel.

Yi Ke-er gasped. "Let go! Don't grope me!"

"I'm not groping! It was an accident!"

The car hit another bump, and this time, Jung-seok's body pitched forward. His groin pressed against her core, and he felt it—his cock, already half-hard from the adrenaline and the impossible proximity, starting to stiffen against the thin barrier of the towel.

Yi Ke-er's breath hitched. Her thighs clenched involuntarily as she felt the hardness pressing against her entrance. The towel was the only thing between them, and it was soaking wet, offering no real protection.

"Stop... don't..." she whispered, but her voice wavered.

Another speed bump. The car lurched, and Jung-seok's cock slid against her slit, the tip nudging past the folds, the towel bunching up uselessly between them.

Yi Ke-er bit her lip. "Ah... ngh... ohh..."

The chase continued, the black sedan gaining on them. They sped through intersections, past startled pedestrians, until they reached a dead end—a long, endless staircase descending into a lower district of the city.

Yi Ke-er stared at the steep steps, her eyes wide. "You've got to be kidding me."

"The car won't make it down that," Jung-seok said.

"We don't have a choice."

She didn't slow down. The Porsche hit the first step with a bone-rattling jolt, and then they were bouncing, the car shuddering and shaking as it careened downward. Each bump drove Jung-seok's cock deeper into her, the friction unbearable, the heat overwhelming.

Jung-seok gritted his teeth, his hands gripping her hips as he fought to hold on. His shaft plunged into her with every jolt, her tight walls clenching around him, drawing him deeper.

Yi Ke-er's towel slipped, falling away completely. Her breasts bounced freely with each impact, full and heavy, slick with steam and sweat. She moaned openly now, unable to control the sounds escaping her throat.

"Oh! Ah! Ooh!"

Ten minutes. They bounced and fucked their way down that staircase, the car lurching and jolting, their bodies locked together in a primal rhythm. Every step was a thrust, every landing a collision of flesh.

At last, the wheels hit flat ground. The staircase ended, and the street stretched out ahead of them, empty and safe. The assassin's car was nowhere in sight.

Yi Ke-er pulled over in a barren lot overgrown with weeds. She tried to push herself off him, to pull away, but Jung-seok's hands clamped down on her waist, holding her in place.

"We've gone this far," he said, his voice low and rough. "I can't stop now. I'm going to come inside you."

"No—don't you dare—"

But his hips bucked upward, and he spilled into her, a thick, hot torrent of semen that shot deep into her womb. It kept coming, pulse after pulse, for what felt like an eternity—three full minutes of him emptying himself into her.

Yi Ke-er trembled, her body convulsing with each spurt, her legs shaking, her fingers digging into the leather seat. Silent tears streaked down her cheeks.

When it was over, they sat in silence, panting. Jung-seok's phone buzzed. He glanced at it.

"It's my men. They chased off the assassins. We can go back to the villa safely."

They drove back in silence. The villa was empty when they arrived. No one saw them slip inside, naked and disheveled.

They showered separately. Changed into clean clothes. Met in the living room, avoiding each other's eyes.

Jung-seok cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. I lost control. I shouldn't have..."

Yi Ke-er stared out the window, her arms crossed. "What happened today doesn't leave this room. You tell no one. Ever."

Jung-seok nodded solemnly. "I swear. I'll take this secret to my grave. No one will ever know except the two of us."

Yi Ke-er finally looked at him, her expression unreadable. She opened the door to leave, but paused.

"The documents still need to be signed by Friday." She closed the door behind her.

Jung-seok stood alone in the silent villa, the morning sun streaming through the windows, and wondered how his day had gone so completely off the rails.