Aristocratic Mother and Daughter

Chen Feng stepped out of the black Maybach, smoothing the lapels of his charcoal suit as he gazed up at the glass tower that housed Lin Xue's company. The autumn sun caught the windows, turning them into mirrors that reflected nothing but his own polished image. He smiled—a thin, practiced expression that never reached his eyes.

Inside, the receptionist recognized him immediately and led him to the executive floor. The corridors smelled of fresh coffee and ambition, but Chen Feng smelled something else: opportunity. He had been waiting for this moment for months, carefully laying the groundwork while maintaining the perfect facade of a reliable business partner.

The conference room doors opened, and there she was. Lin Xue stood by the window, her cream silk blouse tucked into a tailored black pencil skirt, her dark hair swept into an elegant chignon. At twenty-eight, she possessed the kind of effortless beauty that came from good breeding and expensive maintenance. Beside her stood Zhang Wei, her husband, his posture slightly stooped as he reviewed a spreadsheet.

"Chen Feng, good to see you." Zhang Wei extended his hand, his grip weak and perfunctory.

"Likewise." Chen Feng shook it briefly, his gaze already sliding past the husband to settle on Lin Xue. "Lin Xue, you look radiant as always."

She offered a polite smile, professional and distant. "Thank you. Please, have a seat."

They settled around the mahogany table, and Zhang Wei launched into a review of quarterly figures. Chen Feng nodded along, making occasional comments, but his attention was divided. He watched Lin Xue's movements—the way she crossed her legs, the slight tension in her shoulders, the nervous flick of her eyes toward her phone.

An hour into the meeting, Chen Feng interrupted. "Zhang Wei, I just realized—I need you to go over the third-quarter projection details with my team. They're having trouble reconciling the numbers from the Hualian acquisition."

Zhang Wei frowned. "But we can handle that after the meeting."

"No, it's urgent. My CFO is waiting for a call." Chen Feng pulled out his phone, pretending to check a message. "I told him you'd explain the methodology. He's at the office now."

Lin Xue's eyes narrowed slightly. She knew this game. She had played it before, years ago, in a cramped dorm room with beer bottles and bad lighting.

Zhang Wei hesitated, looking to his wife for guidance. Lin Xue said nothing, her hands folded on the table, her knuckles white.

"Alright, I'll head over," Zhang Wei said finally, gathering his papers. "Lin Xue, can you cover the remaining points?"

"Of course," she said, her voice tight.

When the door closed behind her husband, the silence in the room became thick, charged. Chen Feng leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, his smile widening.

"Finally. I thought he'd never leave."

Lin Xue stood abruptly, walking to the window. "What do you want, Chen Feng? We have a contract. We're partners. There's nothing else—"

"You remember university, don't you?" he said softly, rising from his seat. "Those photos you took. The ones you sent me, thinking I'd delete them."

She didn't turn around. "That was ten years ago. I was young and stupid."

"And now you're a successful executive. A wife. A mother." He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. "How would Zhang Wei feel, knowing his elegant wife once spread her legs for a camera in a frat house?"

Lin Xue's shoulders trembled. "You wouldn't."

"I would. I have copies on three different drives, in the cloud, and with a reliable friend who has instructions to release them if anything happens to me." He stopped behind her, close enough that she could feel his breath on her neck. "But I don't want to ruin you, Lin Xue. I want to enjoy you."

She turned, her face pale, her eyes pleading. "Please. I have a daughter. I have a reputation."

"That's exactly why you'll cooperate." He reached out, fingers brushing her cheek. She flinched but didn't pull away. "Now, kneel."

The command hung in the air. Lin Xue's mind raced—she thought of Xiao Rou, of the scandal, of the life she had built. Then she thought of the forbidden thrill that had stirred in her chest the moment Zhang Wei left. She had felt it during the meeting, a shameful heat that pooled in her belly whenever Chen Feng's eyes met hers.

Slowly, she lowered herself to her knees on the plush office carpet.

"That's better." Chen Feng unzipped his trousers, his expression one of cold satisfaction. "You remember how this goes, don't you? I want you to show me how grateful you are."

Lin Xue's hands trembled as she reached up. Her mind screamed resistance, but her body remembered. The taste, the submission, the way it made her feel both degraded and alive. She closed her eyes and parted her lips.

The first few seconds were mechanical, reluctant. Chen Feng tangled his fingers in her hair, guiding her pace.

"That's it. You're still good at this." He groaned, his grip tightening. "I've been thinking about this moment for years, Lin Xue. How I'd have you again. And now you're even more beautiful—married, a mother, playing the perfect lady. But I know the truth."

A soft, unwilling moan escaped her throat. She hated herself for it, but she couldn't stop. The old familiar heat began to build, washing away the last vestiges of resistance. Her movements grew more eager, her tongue more skilled.

Chen Feng laughed, a low, predatory sound. "There we go. I knew you'd remember who you really are."

When he finally withdrew, Lin Xue sat back on her heels, her lipstick smeared, her breath ragged. She looked up at him, and in her eyes there was a mixture of shame, fear, and something else—a dark anticipation.

He tucked himself away, adjusting his trousers. "Tonight. I'll come to your house. Seven o'clock. Have dinner ready, and make sure Xiao Rou is in bed early."

"I can't," she whispered. "My husband—"

"Zhang Wei will be at the office until late, won't he?" Chen Feng knelt down, lifting her chin with one finger. "You'll find a way. Text him, tell him you have a headache. Tell him anything. But when I arrive, I want the door unlocked, and I want you wearing something that's easy to take off."

Lin Xue swallowed. Her body was still humming with the aftershocks of their encounter, and against all reason, she felt a pull toward the very degradation she should have fled.

"Say it," he insisted. "Say you'll be waiting."

She nodded, her voice barely audible. "I'll be waiting."

Chen Feng stood, straightened his tie, and walked to the door. He paused, looking back at her—still on her knees, her composure shattered. "Seven sharp. Don't disappoint me."

The door clicked shut behind him.

Lin Xue remained on the floor for a long minute, her forehead pressed against the carpet, her breath coming in uneven gasps. She should call security. She should tell her husband. She should protect her daughter.

Instead, she reached for her phone and typed a message to Zhang Wei: *"I have a terrible migraine coming on. Going home early. Don't worry about dinner."*

She hit send, then opened her wardrobe in the private bathroom. Her fingers brushed past the business suits and blouses, stopping on a sheer black negligee she had bought on a whim years ago and never worn.

Tonight, Chen Feng would come.

And a part of her—the part she kept locked away, the part that had been awakened in that frat house—could hardly wait.

The evening air was cool and crisp as Chen Feng stepped through the front door of Lin Xue’s home, a leather briefcase in hand and a polished smile on his lips. The house was grand, as expected—marble floors, high ceilings, and soft ambient lighting that cast a golden glow over the living room. Lin Xue greeted him at the entrance, her posture impeccable, her silk blouse tucked neatly into a pencil skirt. She looked every inch the poised corporate executive, but Chen Feng saw the faint tremor in her fingers as she shook his hand.

“Thank you for coming, Chen Feng. My husband is still in the study—he said he’ll join us shortly,” she said, her voice steady but her eyes betraying a flicker of unease.

Chen Feng chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on her face. “No rush. Business can wait.” He stepped past her into the living room, where the scent of jasmine tea drifted from a tray on the coffee table. And there, curled up on the sofa, was Xiao Rou—a small, delicate girl with pigtails and wide, curious eyes. She wore a pale pink dress, her legs swinging idly as she watched a cartoon on the television.

“Hello, Uncle Chen Feng,” she chirped, her voice sweet and innocent.

Chen Feng’s smile widened. He set his briefcase down and approached her, sitting on the edge of the sofa. “Hello, little princess. You’ve grown so much since I last saw you.” He reached out and ruffled her hair, a casual gesture that seemed benign. But then his hand slid down, resting on her shoulder, his fingers brushing against her collarbone.

Lin Xue froze mid-step, her heart lurching. She opened her mouth to say something—anything—but the words died in her throat. Chen Feng shot her a glance, a quick, sharp look that pinned her in place. She remembered the last time she had resisted him: the threats to expose their affair, to ruin her career, to destroy her family. Her breath caught, and she felt a hot wave of shame wash over her as she remained silent.

“Uncle, your hand tickles,” Xiao Rou said, giggling as Chen Feng’s fingers trailed down her arm.

“Does it? I’m sorry.” He didn’t stop. Instead, he pulled her onto his lap, cradling her like a father would a child. His hand rested on her small thigh, his thumb tracing slow circles just above her knee. “You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?”

Xiao Rou nodded, leaning into him without hesitation. “Yes, Uncle. Mommy says I always listen to adults.”

Lin Xue’s throat tightened. She took a step forward, her hand reaching out, but Chen Feng’s gaze cut to her again—cold, commanding, and knowing. “Lin Xue, why don’t you pour us some tea? I think Xiao Rou and I are getting along just fine.”

The words were a command wrapped in a pleasant tone. Lin Xue’s hand dropped. She turned mechanically toward the coffee table, her movements stiff, her mind racing. She could hear the soft rustle of fabric, Xiao Rou’s innocent giggle, and the low murmur of Chen Feng’s voice, but she dared not look back. She picked up the teapot with trembling fingers, pouring the amber liquid into a cup, watching her own reflection distort in the surface.

Behind her, Chen Feng’s hand moved higher, slipping beneath the hem of Xiao Rou’s dress. The girl stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, her eyes meeting her mother’s for a brief, bewildered second. Lin Xue’s heart hammered. She wanted to scream, to tear him away, but her body was a cage of fear and corrupted loyalty. She had been his for so long—his puppet, his toy—that even now, she couldn’t find the strength to defy him.

“Uncle, what are you doing?” Xiao Rou asked, her voice small but not afraid.

“Just making sure you’re comfortable,” Chen Feng replied, his breath warm against her ear. “Does it feel strange?”

Xiao Rou was quiet for a moment, then nodded slowly. “A little. But it’s not bad.”

Lin Xue closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek. She set the teacup down and turned, her legs moving of their own accord toward the sofa. She knelt beside them, her hand resting on Xiao Rou’s back, as if to offer comfort, but her touch was limp, useless.

Chen Feng stood abruptly, lifting Xiao Rou in his arms. Her little legs dangled, her arms wrapping around his neck automatically. “I think we need a little privacy,” he said, his voice carrying a smug certainty. He looked at Lin Xue. “You’ll join us, won’t you?”

It wasn’t a question. Lin Xue followed, her steps hollow, as he carried Xiao Rou into the master bedroom. The door clicked shut behind them.

The room was dim, the curtains drawn, the bed neatly made with crisp white sheets. Chen Feng laid Xiao Rou down gently, her pigtails splaying across the pillow. She looked up at him with trusting eyes, then at her mother, who stood frozen by the door.

“Mommy, what’s happening?” Xiao Rou’s voice wavered for the first time.

Lin Xue’s lips parted, but nothing came out. Chen Feng silenced her with a look, then turned his attention back to the girl. “Don’t worry, little one. Uncle is going to teach you something special.”

He undressed her slowly, methodically, peeling off her dress and her small undergarments as if she were a doll. Xiao Rou shivered, her small arms crossing over her chest, but she didn’t cry. She looked at her mother, seeking guidance, and Lin Xue gave a almost imperceptible nod—a betrayal born of years of subjugation.

Chen Feng lowered himself onto the bed, his body covering hers. Xiao Rou gasped as his weight pressed down, her legs parting instinctively when he nudged them apart. Lin Xue watched, her hands clenched so tight her nails bit into her palms, as her daughter’s face contorted in pain.

“It hurts, Uncle,” Xiao Rou whimpered, tears welling in her eyes.

“Shh, it will pass,” Chen Feng murmured, his voice soothing yet relentless. He moved slowly, deliberately, his eyes locked on Lin Xue’s. “She’ll learn to love it. Just like you did.”

Lin Xue’s knees buckled. She sank to the floor, her back against the wall, her hand covering her mouth to stifle a sob. The minutes stretched into an eternity—the soft creak of the bed, the small gasps, the whispered reassurances from Chen Feng. And then, gradually, something changed.

Xiao Rou’s whimpering subsided. Her body, once tense and rigid, began to relax. A strange, small sigh escaped her lips, and her hands, which had been pushing weakly against Chen Feng’s chest, now clutched at his shirt.

“Uncle,” she breathed, her voice dreamy, “it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Chen Feng smiled, a predator’s smile. He quickened his pace, driving deeper, and Xiao Rou let out a soft moan that sent an electric jolt through Lin Xue. Her daughter’s eyes were half-lidded, her lips parted, her expression no longer that of a child but of someone lost in a dark pleasure. Lin Xue watched in horror and fascination as the girl’s innocence crumbled before her eyes.

When it was over, Chen Feng rolled off, his chest heaving slightly. He pulled the sheet over Xiao Rou’s small body and sat up, reaching for his clothes. Xiao Rou lay still, her cheeks flushed, a contented smile on her lips. She turned her head to look at her mother, her eyes glassy.

“Mommy, Uncle is nice,” she said, her voice soft and slurred. “Can he stay?”

Lin Xue’s world tilted. She scrambled to her feet, her legs unsteady, and approached the bed. Chen Feng stood, buttoning his shirt, watching her with a knowing gaze. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her close, his lips brushing her ear.

“You see? She’s mine now. You both are,” he whispered. “If you ever tell anyone—if anyone ever finds out—I’ll make sure you lose everything. Your husband, your job, your reputation. And I’ll take Xiao Rou anyway.”

Lin Xue trembled, her eyes wet. She looked down at her daughter, who reached out a small hand and touched her mother’s arm.

“Don’t be sad, Mommy,” Xiao Rou said, her smile innocent and corrupted all at once. “I like Uncle. I want him to come play again.”

Lin Xue’s resistance crumbled entirely. She nodded, her body sagging, and leaned into Chen Feng’s embrace. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close, and she buried her face in his chest, feeling his warmth, his power. She had no fight left.

From the study down the hall, a faint sound of typing could be heard. Zhang Wei was still working, oblivious to the world that had just been remade in his home. The door to the bedroom remained closed, and the night stretched on, heavy with secrets.

Chen Feng’s visits became a fixture of the household, a routine Zhang Wei accepted without question. Every Thursday and Saturday evening, the young entrepreneur arrived with a bottle of wine or a box of pastries, exchanging pleasantries with his business partner before the man retreated to his study. Zhang Wei assumed the gatherings were social, perhaps a chance for Lin Xue to entertain while he worked on spreadsheets. He never bothered to listen at the door.

“Another late night?” Lin Xue asked one such evening, her voice smooth as she poured Chen Feng a glass of whiskey. Xiao Rou sat on the sofa, legs tucked beneath her, watching with wide eyes.

“I’m in no hurry,” Chen Feng replied, his gaze lingering on the mother’s curves beneath her silk dress, then sliding to the daughter’s innocent face. “But I do think we should practice a few new things tonight.”

Lin Xue’s breath caught. She set down the decanter and stepped closer, her fingers brushing his sleeve. “Whatever you want.”

Xiao Rou perked up. “Can I learn too, Uncle Feng? I want to be as good as Mommy.”

Chen Feng chuckled, patting the cushion beside him. “Come here, little one. We’ll all learn together.”

He guided them through positions with the patience of a teacher, though his hands wandered freely. Lin Xue knelt on the Persian rug, back arched, while Xiao Rou mirrored her from behind, small hands braced on the floor. “Higher, Xue,” Chen Feng directed, tapping her hip. “And you, Rou, keep your chin up. Let me see your faces.”

They competed in whispered gasps, each vying for his praise. Lin Xue’s body trembled as she held the pose, her eyes locked on Chen Feng’s approving smile. Xiao Rou’s giggle was breathy, precocious, as she imitated her mother’s every tilt and sway. When Lin Xue faltered, Xiao Rou held steady longer, earning a stroke of Chen Feng’s fingers through her hair.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “You’re learning fast.”

Later, he made Lin Xue crawl across the floor on all fours, her dress rucked up, her knees reddening against the wool. “You’re a bitch tonight, Xue,” he said, his voice low and firm. “Say it.”

“I’m a bitch,” she breathed, her cheeks flushing with shame and excitement. She lowered herself further, pressing her forehead to the ground. “Your bitch.”

Xiao Rou crawled beside her, mimicking the posture without hesitation. “Am I a bitch too, Uncle Feng?”

Chen Feng laughed, a dark, pleased sound. “You’re my little bitch,” he said, nudging her chin upward. “Just like your mother.”

The bathroom steamed with hot water and jasmine oil. Lin Xue undressed first, then helped Xiao Rou out of her clothes, guiding her into the claw-foot tub. Chen Feng joined them, settling between the two as the water lapped at their waists. His hands roamed—cupping Lin Xue’s breast, tracing the curve of Xiao Rou’s shoulder.

“You’re both so eager tonight,” he said, his thumb brushing across Lin Xue’s nipple. “Jealous of each other?”

“I want to be your favorite,” Xiao Rou whispered, pressing closer to his side. “Mommy’s had you for so long.”

Lin Xue’s hand slid underwater, stroking his thigh. “She’s just a child. I can give you more.”

“But she’s so willing,” Chen Feng replied, his fingers dipping between Xiao Rou’s legs. The girl gasped, clutching his arm. “And so tight. You taught her well, Xue.”

The mother’s eyes glistened with something between pride and envy. She leaned forward, kissing his chest. “Then let us both serve you. However you want.”

Chen Feng tilted his head back against the rim of the tub, a satisfied groan rising in his throat. “This is how it should be. A man, and his two sluts.”

Xiao Rou giggled, water splashing as she shifted. “Are we your sluts, Uncle Feng?”

“The best sluts,” he confirmed. “Better than any others.”

The water sloshed as he moved them into new positions, his voice low and commanding. Lin Xue’s moans mixed with Xiao Rou’s innocent questions, the steam wrapping around them like a veil. In the study downstairs, Zhang Wei adjusted his glasses and checked another email, oblivious to the muffled sounds above.

The morning mist had barely lifted when Chen Feng’s black sedan pulled up to the private airfield. Lin Xue sat in the passenger seat, her silk blouse buttoned to the collar, her hair pinned in a neat chignon. In the back, Xiao Rou pressed her face to the window, eyes wide at the colorful balloon being inflated on the grass.

“Where’s Zhang Wei?” Chen Feng asked, though he already knew the answer.

“He had an emergency board meeting,” Lin Xue said, her voice carefully neutral. “He sends his regards.”

Chen Feng smiled. That smile never reached his eyes. “Perfect. More room for us.”

They climbed into the wicker basket as the ground crew untethered the ropes. The burners roared, and the earth fell away. Lin Xue gripped the rim, feeling the familiar lurch of ascent. Beside her, Xiao Rou squealed with delight, her small hands clutching the weave.

“Look, Mommy! The cars are like toys!”

Lin Xue forced a smile. She could feel Chen Feng’s gaze on her back, a physical weight that made her skin prickle. She knew what this trip meant. There were no accidental outings with him.

The balloon climbed higher, the wind humming past the envelope. Below, the city shrank into a patchwork of green and gray. They were alone in a world of blue sky and white clouds. Perfect isolation.

Chen Feng stepped closer, his hand sliding to the small of Lin Xue’s back. His fingers traced the line of her spine through the silk. “You’re dressed too warmly for such a beautiful day.”

Lin Xue’s breath caught. “The pilot... he might see—”

“I dismissed him before takeoff. We’re on autopilot.” Chen Feng’s voice was silk over steel. He reached for the top button of her blouse. “Now. Take it off. All of it.”

Xiao Rou watched from the far side of the basket, her eyes bright with curiosity. She had seen this before. She knew what came next.

Lin Xue’s hands trembled as she unbuttoned her blouse. The fabric slipped from her shoulders, catching the wind before falling to the basket floor. She stepped out of her skirt, her heels, until she stood naked in the open air, the sun warming her skin, the altitude raising goosebumps along her arms.

“Good,” Chen Feng breathed. He pushed her against the basket rim. The wicker pressed into her hip as he unfastened his trousers. “Hold on tight. Don’t look down.”

The first thrust made her gasp. She gripped the edge, knuckles white, as the balloon swayed gently. Below, a river glittered. A flock of birds passed far beneath them. Anyone with binoculars could see a woman’s bare back arched against the sky.

“Please,” she whispered, “someone might—”

“That’s the point.” Chen Feng’s hand closed around her throat, not choking, just owning. “You’re mine, Lin Xue. High above the world. Everyone below can guess what we’re doing. Doesn’t that make you wet?”

She whimpered, but her body betrayed her. She was wet. She was burning. The fear and the exposure and the violation all tangled into a furious pleasure that bucked against him.

Xiao Rou crept closer, her small footsteps silent on the wicker. Her mother’s face was flushed, her mouth open in a silent cry. The girl had seen her mother like this before, in the study, in the bedroom, in the back of the car. She no longer found it strange.

“What about me?” Xiao Rou asked, her voice innocent.

Chen Feng laughed, a low, satisfied sound. He pulled out of Lin Xue, leaving her trembling against the basket rim. He turned to the girl, pulling down her shorts, her panties. “You’re going to help your mother. Lick her. Right here.”

Xiao Rou knelt without hesitation. Her tongue was small and warm against Lin Xue’s slick flesh. Lin Xue cried out, a sharp sound swallowed by the wind. Her knees buckled, but Chen Feng caught her, holding her steady.

“Harder,” he commanded.

The girl obeyed. Her tongue found every nerve, every hidden place. Lin Xue’s fingers tangled in her daughter’s hair, not to pull her away, but to press her closer. The sky spun. The clouds drifted. And the pleasure built like the pressure in a furnace.

When Chen Feng pulled Xiao Rou away and took his own place, Lin Xue was already shuddering on the edge of climax. He drove into her from behind, one hand on her hip, the other guiding Xiao Rou’s mouth to his testicles. The girl licked obediently, her rhythm matching his thrusts.

The balloon drifted over a patchwork of farmland. Far below, a tractor moved in a straight line. The driver was too far away to see, but Lin Xue felt his imagined eyes on her anyway. It made her scream.

“Now,” Chen Feng said, his voice tight, “both of you. Shout it out. Shout to the sky what you are.”

Lin Xue’s voice cracked. “I’m a whore! I’m your whore, Chen Feng!”

Xiao Rou looked up, her face smeared with wetness. “I’m a little slut for Uncle Chen!”

The words echoed over the fields, carried by the wind, lost before they reached the ground. But the act of saying them, of shouting her degradation into the heavens, unlocked something in Lin Xue. She came with a raw, tearing cry that raked her throat raw.

Chen Feng followed moments later, spilling into her with a grunt of satisfaction. He held himself inside her for a long moment, letting the aftershocks ripple through both of them.

When he pulled away, Lin Xue collapsed onto the basket floor, her body trembling. Xiao Rou curled beside her, pressing a kiss to her mother’s shoulder.

“That was fun,” the girl said.

Chen Feng zipped his trousers and retrieved a bottle of water from his bag. He tossed it to Lin Xue without looking at her. “Drink. We still have another hour before we land.”

Lin Xue didn’t answer. She lay naked on the wicker, her daughter warm against her side, and watched the clouds drift past. The balloon continued its silent journey through the endless blue. Far below, the world went on, utterly unaware.

The desert stretched in golden waves under a sky bleeding orange and purple. Chen Feng stood by the Land Rover, one hand resting on the roof as he surveyed the campsite. The tent was already pitched—a spacious four-person shelter dyed the color of sand. He had chosen this spot deliberately, miles from the nearest road, far from prying eyes. The wind carried the faint scent of dry earth and heat-soaked stone. Perfect.

Lin Xue stepped out of the passenger seat, her white linen dress catching the breeze. She brushed a strand of hair from her face and forced a smile. “It’s beautiful out here.”

“It is,” Chen Feng said, his eyes lingering on her. “Too bad your husband couldn’t make it. Another business trip, I assume?”

“Osaka,” she said, the word flat.

“He works so hard,” Chen Feng said, the mockery barely concealed. “Leaves his beautiful wife and lovely daughter alone.”

Xiao Rou climbed out of the back seat, her small hand gripping a stuffed rabbit. Her hair was braided neatly, and she wore a pink sundress that seemed out of place against the raw landscape. She looked up at her mother, then at Chen Feng, and her lips curved into a smile that was too knowing for her age.

“Uncle Chen,” she said, her voice sweet. “Are we going to play games tonight?”

Chen Feng’s smile deepened. “Very special games, Xiao Rou. Just the three of us.”

The evening meal was a pretense. Sandwiches eaten in silence, water bottles passed hand to hand. The sun sank, dragging the temperature down with it, and the stars emerged like scattered diamonds on black velvet. Chen Feng lit a small lantern inside the tent, casting long shadows over the fabric walls.

Lin Xue knelt on the sleeping mat, her dress pooling around her. Xiao Rou sat cross-legged nearby, watching Chen Feng with bright, expectant eyes.

“You know what I want,” Chen Feng said, uncoiling a length of soft rope from his bag. It was silk, dyed deep red. He held it between his fingers, letting it glint in the lantern light.

Lin Xue’s breath hitched. She lowered her gaze. “Yes.”

“Then show me.”

She moved slowly, deliberately. First onto her hands and knees, her head bowed until her forehead nearly touched the mat. Xiao Rou mimicked her mother without hesitation, her small body folding into the same posture.

Chen Feng stepped closer, the rope trailing from his hand. He looped it loosely around Lin Xue’s neck, then let it run across her back to Xiao Rou’s, securing it around hers as well. The two were linked, mother and daughter, bound together by a red silk leash.

“Crawl,” he said.

They moved in unison, hands and knees pressing into the sand that had blown into the tent. The lantern flickered, and their shadows danced on the fabric walls like beasts in a cave. Chen Feng walked behind them, the rope slack in his hand, guiding them in a slow circuit around the tent floor.

“Faster,” he said.

They complied.

Lin Xue’s breath came in shallow gasps. Her knees left impressions in the scattered sand, and her dress dragged, gathering grit. Xiao Rou crawled with a fluid ease, her small back arching naturally, as if she had been born to this.

After three circuits, Chen Feng pulled the rope taut. Both stopped.

“Good girls,” he said. He unhooked the rope from Lin Xue’s neck and set it aside. “Now, Lin Xue. On your back.”

She rolled over without a word, her legs parting slightly, her eyes fixed on the tent ceiling. Chen Feng knelt between her thighs and pulled down the hem of her dress, exposing her to the cool desert air. He did not hurry. He traced a finger along her collarbone, down her sternum, pausing at her navel.

“You’re wet already,” he observed.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He took her then, a slow, deliberate rhythm that built into a savage pounding. The fabric walls of the tent shuddered. His hand found her throat, pressing just enough to make her gasp. Sand clung to their skin, grinding between them, but neither cared. When he finished, he pulled out and let his seed pool on the sand beside her hip.

“See that?” he said, pointing. “That’s your mark. You’re my slut, Lin Xue. Remember it.”

“I’m your slut,” she repeated, her voice thick.

He turned to Xiao Rou. The girl had watched the entire thing, her eyes never leaving them. She sat on her heels, hands folded in her lap, patient.

“Your turn, little whore,” Chen Feng said.

She lay down without being told, her pink sundress bunched around her waist. Chen Feng positioned himself over her, and she made no sound at first, only a slight tightening of her jaw. He moved with the same deliberate rhythm, and soon a soft moan escaped her lips.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “You love this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “I love it.”

When he finished, he pulled away and traced a line in the sand next to her small body. “And that’s your mark. Two little whores in the desert. No one knows. No one sees.”

He sat back, cross-legged, watching them. The lantern light guttered, then steadied. Outside, the wind picked up, whispering over the dunes.

“It’s late,” he said. “But we’re not done.”

Lin Xue propped herself up on her elbows. Xiao Rou turned her head to look at him.

“You’re going to pleasure each other,” Chen Feng said. “And I’m going to watch.”

He gestured for them to lie side by side. They did, facing each other, inches apart. Lin Xue’s hand trembled as she reached out and touched her daughter’s cheek. Xiao Rou turned her face into the touch, then leaned forward and pressed her lips to her mother’s.

The kiss was hesitant at first, then grew in confidence. Chen Feng leaned back against a pile of bags, a faint smile on his lips.

“Use your tongues,” he instructed.

They obeyed.

Their bodies twisted together, arms wrapping, legs intertwining. Sand clung to their damp skin. The tent smelled of sweat and sex and the dry breath of the desert. Chen Feng watched in silence, his eyes traveling over every curve and hollow. When Lin Xue’s hand slid down between Xiao Rou’s legs, he made a soft sound of approval.

“Yes,” he said. “Show me how much you love each other.”

Their moans filled the tent, blending with the rustle of nylon and the distant howl of a coyote. The night deepened, and the stars wheeled overhead, indifferent and bright.

Chen Feng did not touch them. He only watched, directing their movements with occasional words, until both were slick and trembling, their cries swallowed by the vast empty dark. When they finally lay still, tangled and spent, he reached over and patted Lin Xue’s hip.

“Good girl,” he said. “Both of you.”

He lay down between them, an arm around each, and closed his eyes. The sand beneath them was cool now, scattered with the evidence of their obedience. Outside, nothing moved. The desert kept its secrets.

In the morning, they would pack up the tent and drive back to the city. Zhang Wei would call from Osaka, apologizing for missing the trip, promising to make it up to them. Lin Xue would laugh and say it was fine. Xiao Rou would smile and hug her father’s leg when he returned.

But now, in the tent, under the lantern’s dying glow, there was only the quiet breathing of the complicit, the soft rustle of sand, and the satisfaction of a night well spent.

The concert hall was a cavern of pulsating light and sound, the bass thrumming through the floor and up into the bones of the thousands packed shoulder to shoulder. Chen Feng stood tall amidst the swaying crowd, a faint smile on his lips as he surveyed the sea of faces. To his right, Lin Xue swayed gently, her elegant evening dress hugging her curves, her eyes half-lidded as she let the music wash over her. To his left, little Xiao Rou clung to his arm, her small hand gripping his sleeve with a trust that made his blood hum.

"You like this song, sweetheart?" Chen Feng leaned down, his breath warm against Xiao Rou's ear.

She nodded eagerly, her pigtails bouncing. "Yes, Uncle Feng. It's so loud and pretty."

He chuckled, his hand moving from her shoulder to rest on the back of her neck, a possessive gesture that she leaned into without hesitation. Two weeks ago, she had flinched at his touch. Now she sought it. The transformation had been swift, but not surprising. Children were malleable, especially when their mothers led the way.

Lin Xue caught his eye and gave a small, knowing nod. They had done this many times before—in restaurants, in parked cars, in the shadows of her own home while her husband toiled away at his desk, oblivious. But the concert was new. The sheer scale of the crowd, the anonymity of the darkness, the thrill of being surrounded by so many people and yet completely unseen. It excited her in ways she hadn't anticipated.

The main act launched into a roaring chorus, and the crowd erupted. Chen Feng used the moment of chaos to step closer to Lin Xue, his hand sliding down her back to rest on the curve of her hip. "Get down," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the noise.

Lin Xue's breath hitched. She knew that tone. Without a word, without hesitation, she lowered herself. The crowd around them was too focused on the stage, bodies pressing and jumping, creating a wall of movement that hid her descent. She knelt on the sticky floor, her knees pressing into the discarded cups and trampled flyers. Her heart hammered, not with shame, but with a dark, giddy anticipation.

Chen Feng looked down at her, his expression calm, as though she had simply dropped her earring. He adjusted his stance, spreading his legs slightly, the black fabric of his trousers falling just right. "Tie my shoelace," he said, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear, should they glance over.

Lin Xue reached for his shoe, her fingers brushing the polished leather. But her other hand moved to his belt, deft and practiced. The noise of the crowd, the flashing lights, the sheer absurdity of the moment—it all blurred into a single, intoxicating haze. She leaned forward, and the concert became nothing more than a soundtrack to her surrender.

No one noticed. The woman beside her was screaming lyrics, eyes closed, hands in the air. The man behind her was bouncing with his phone held high, recording a blurry video of the stage. Even the security guard scanning the crowd swept his flashlight over them without pausing. They were invisible, hidden in plain sight.

Chen Feng's hand came down to rest on the back of Lin Xue's head, fingers threading through her perfectly styled hair. He did not push. He didn't need to. She knew her role. His other hand remained in his pocket, his face serene, a man simply enjoying the music.

Beside him, Xiao Rou tugged at his sleeve. "Uncle Feng, what's Mommy doing?"

"She's helping me," Chen Feng said, his voice light, almost cheerful. He lifted Xiao Rou into his arms, settling her on his hip. The child was light, her legs dangling, her small arms wrapping around his neck. "Hold on tight, little one."

She giggled, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. Chen Feng's free hand slid down her back, past the frilly hem of her dress, and beneath the fabric. His fingers found the waistband of her underwear, and he pushed past it without ceremony.

Xiao Rou tensed for a moment, then relaxed, a soft, practiced moan escaping her lips against his neck. Her fingers clutched the collar of his jacket, her small body going limp in his arms. The people around them saw a man comforting a tired child. No one looked twice.

"That's a good girl," Chen Feng whispered, his finger moving slowly, methodically. "You're learning so fast."

Her breath came in short, quick gasps, lost in the roar of the music. Her face remained buried in his shoulder, her body trembling in infinitesimal shudders. She had stopped crying weeks ago. She had stopped asking questions even before that. Now, she simply existed for his pleasure, and she did it with a submissiveness that made him proud.

Minutes passed. The song built to its climax, the percussion rising, the lights strobing. Chen Feng felt Lin Xue's movements grow more frantic below him, and he knew she was close to losing herself. He withdrew from Xiao Rou, letting the child's dress fall back into place, and set her down gently. "Stay close," he said, and she nodded, her eyes glassy, a small, satisfied smile on her lips.

Lin Xue shuddered against his leg, then pulled back, her lips slick, her eyes dark and hungry. Chen Feng grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet, spinning her around so that her back was against his chest. The darkness of the crowd was absolute now, the stage lights aimed at the performers, leaving the audience in near-blackness.

He pressed her forward, bending her over slightly, his hands hiking up the hem of her dress. She gasped, but did not resist. Her hands found the railing in front of them—a metal barrier separating the general admission from the VIP section—and she gripped it, her knuckles white.

Around them, the crowd jumped and screamed. A woman bumped into Lin Xue's shoulder and apologized without looking. A man spilled beer on Chen Feng's shoe and didn't notice. They were a unit of two, moving in complete synchronization amid the chaos.

Chen Feng unzipped his fly and pressed against her from behind, his body shielding her from any stray glances. He entered her in one smooth motion, and Lin Xue's head fell back, her mouth open in a silent scream that was swallowed by the explosion of sound from the speakers.

He moved with the rhythm of the music, slow at first, then faster as the beat intensified. Lin Xue's body responded instinctively, pushing back against him, her moans mingling with the distorted guitar riffs. Her mind was a fog of pleasure and degradation, and she craved more, always more.

The concert reached its crescendo—a fireworks display synchronized to the final chorus. Blue and gold sparks rained down from the ceiling, and the crowd erupted in a roar of ecstasy. Chen Feng drove into her harder, faster, his hand clamped over her mouth to muffle the sounds that were growing too loud.

But Lin Xue was beyond caring. The pressure inside her built to an unbearable peak, and then broke. Her body convulsed, her vision went white, and a warm, gushing release flooded down her thighs, soaking her dress, running down her legs in rivulets. She had lost control completely, and the shame of it only intensified her orgasm, sending wave after wave of pleasure through her trembling frame.

Chen Feng felt the warmth spread against him, and a dark satisfaction curled in his chest. He finished moments later, pulling out and letting his seed spill onto the ground, lost among the crushed cups and footsteps. He straightened his clothes, zipped his fly, and took Lin Xue's arm, steadying her.

"Get yourself together," he said calmly, as if he were reminding her to fix her makeup.

She nodded, still panting, her legs weak. She smoothed her dress, feeling the dampness spread against her thighs. It was ruined, but she didn't care. She looked at him with adoration, her eyes glazed with a devotion that had long since eclipsed all reason.

Xiao Rou came up beside them, taking Chen Feng's hand. "Was that fun, Uncle Feng?"

"Very fun," he said, smiling down at her. He looked at Lin Xue, then at the child, and felt a perfect, complete power surge through him. "Let's go home. Your father is probably still working."

They walked out of the concert hall together, mother and daughter flanking him, their hands in his, the noise of the crowd fading behind them. Outside, the cool night air did nothing to dispel the heat that clung to their skin.

In the car, Lin Xue sat in the back seat, shivering slightly, her dress wet and clinging. Xiao Rou sat on Chen Feng's lap in the front passenger seat, her head resting against his chest. She was already half asleep, her thumb finding its way into her mouth—a habit she had never fully broken.

Chen Feng started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. Behind them, the concert hall glittered with lights. Ahead, the road stretched into the quiet suburbs, toward the house where Zhang Wei sat hunched over his laptop, buried in spreadsheets, never once looking up at the clock or wondering why his wife and daughter came home so late, so flushed, so changed.

Chen Feng arrived at the Lin household every evening now, just as the sun began to sink behind the manicured hedges. Zhang Wei always greeted him at the door with a warm handshake and a grateful smile, calling him "brother" as if they shared a bond deeper than business. The husband never noticed how Chen Feng's eyes lingered on his wife, nor how Xiao Rou's small hand would brush against his leg as she passed. To Zhang Wei, Chen Feng was a savior—a partner who had lifted the company from near collapse, a friend who visited daily to discuss strategy. He would retreat to his study after dinner, burying himself in spreadsheets and reports, leaving the rest of the house to Chen Feng's command.

The rules had been established on the third day. Chen Feng sat in the leather armchair in the living room, a glass of scotch swirling in his hand. Lin Xue stood before him in a midnight-blue lace babydoll, the fabric barely concealing her breasts, her thighs exposed beneath the hem. Xiao Rou waited beside her mother, her white sundress replaced with a black pleated skirt so short it revealed the elastic of her panties when she shifted her weight.

"From now on," Chen Feng said, his voice low and even, "this is your uniform, Lin Xue. Every day when I arrive. And Xiao Rou—no more dresses past your fingertips. I want to see your legs."

Lin Xue nodded, her cheeks flushed. "Yes, Chen Feng."

Xiao Rou's eyes were bright, eager. "I understand, Uncle Chen. I'll always wear short skirts."

Zhang Wei poked his head out from the study. "Did I hear something about a uniform? Are you two going somewhere?"

Chen Feng smiled, raising his glass. "Just a little fashion advice, brother. Your wife has great taste, but I told her she could show a bit more leg. You don't mind, do you?"

Zhang Wei laughed, waving a hand. "You know women better than I do. Whatever makes her happy." The door clicked shut, and the lock engaged.

That evening, Lin Xue prepared dinner in the kitchen, her bare feet padding on the cool tile. She wore only a sheer apron over the lace babydoll, the strings tied loosely at her waist. The smell of garlic and soy sauce filled the air as she stirred the wok. Chen Feng entered silently, his shoes clicking on the floor. He came up behind her, his hands sliding around her waist, his fingers tracing the edge of the apron.

"You're cooking with this on?" he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. "What if someone sees?"

Lin Xue's hand trembled on the spatula. "Zhang Wei is in his study. He never comes out until dinner."

Chen Feng chuckled, pressing his body against her. His hand slipped beneath the apron, finding the damp lace between her thighs. "But I'm here. And I'm hungry for something else."

He unzipped his trousers, lifting the hem of the babydoll. Lin Xue braced herself against the counter, her breath hitching as he entered her from behind. The spatula clattered into the sink. She bit her lip to stifle a moan.

In the doorway, Xiao Rou appeared, her small frame silhouetted by the hallway light. She held a stack of plates, her eyes fixed on her mother's bent form. "Mommy, I have the plates for the table."

Lin Xue's voice came out strained. "Just—just put them down, sweetie."

Chen Feng's pace quickened, his grip tightening on Lin Xue's hips. "No, Xiao Rou, come here. Bring the plates to the counter."

The girl obeyed, setting them down beside the wok. She stood close, her face level with her mother's trembling thighs. Chen Feng reached out and pulled Xiao Rou closer, his fingers stroking her hair.

"Watch," he said. "Watch how your mother serves me."

Xiao Rou's eyes were wide, her lips parted. She watched without blinking, her small hand reaching out to touch her mother's knee. Lin Xue cried out softly, her body shuddering as she climaxed. Chen Feng finished a moment later, pulling away with a satisfied grunt.

He straightened his clothes while Lin Xue sagged against the counter, gasping. "Clean up," he said. "We have a competition after dinner."

The meal passed in a blur. Zhang Wei ate heartily, complimenting the fish and the vegetables. He didn't notice how little Lin Xue touched her food, nor how Xiao Rou kept glancing at Chen Feng. After the dishes were cleared, Zhang Wei retreated to his study, leaving the three of them alone.

Chen Feng sat on the sofa, his legs spread wide. Lin Xue knelt before him, her babydoll now discarded, her body bare. Xiao Rou knelt beside her mother, her short skirt hiked up to reveal her pink underwear.

"I want to know which of you is more lewd," Chen Feng said, leaning back. "Prove it to me. Show me how much you want my attention."

Lin Xue crawled forward, her hands resting on his knees. "I'll do anything, Chen Feng. I've been yours since university. I'll always be yours."

Xiao Rou pushed forward, pressing her cheek against his thigh. "Uncle Chen, I want to please you more than Mommy. I'm younger. I can learn faster."

Chen Feng laughed, his fingers tangling in Xiao Rou's hair. "Then show me. Both of you. I want to see who begs the loudest."

Lin Xue lifted her head, her eyes meeting her daughter's. For a moment, something flickered in her gaze—a ghost of maternal instinct. But it died quickly, replaced by raw hunger. She reached for Chen Feng's belt.

Xiao Rou mirrored the motion, her small fingers fumbling with the buckle. They worked together, their hands brushing, their breaths quickening. When his erection sprang free, Lin Xue took it in her mouth without hesitation. A moment later, Xiao Rou licked the base where her mother's lips ended, her tongue tracing a wet line.

"Good," Chen Feng whispered, his eyes half-closed. "Good girls. But I haven't decided who wins yet. Make it harder."

Lin Xue doubled her efforts, bobbing her head faster, her throat working. Xiao Rou shifted, pressing her mouth against her mother's cheek, trying to find space. They competed in silence, a perverse dance of greed and submission. Finally, Chen Feng pulled away, his breath ragged.

"Enough." He pointed at Lin Xue. "You, on the floor. Xioa Rou, watch her. Learn."

Lin Xue lay on her back, her legs spread. Chen Feng knelt between them, entering her again. Xiao Rou crawled beside them, her face inches from where their bodies joined. She watched as her mother's hips bucked, as her face contorted in pleasure.

"Tell me who's more depraved," Chen Feng demanded.

Lin Xue gasped, her hands clawing the carpet. "I am—I'm the most depraved—I let you do this to me while my daughter watches—"

"No," Xiao Rou interrupted, her voice small but clear. "I am, Uncle Chen. I begged you to touch me. I was only eight. That's more depraved than anything."

Chen Feng laughed, thrusting harder. "You make a good point. But your mother offered you to me. That's a different kind of wickedness."

"Then we're both the best," Xiao Rou said, her hand reaching out to stroke her mother's hair. "We're both yours."

Lin Xue came again, a shuddering cry escaping her lips. Chen Feng followed, burying himself deep. When he pulled out, he stood, zipping his trousers.

"From now on, every evening. Training," he said. "You'll both get better. You'll both learn to please me more. And if Zhang Wei ever asks—he won't. He's too busy."

Lin Xue lay on the floor, her body slick with sweat. Xiao Rou curled beside her, her small hand resting on her mother's stomach. They looked at each other, a strange peace settling between them. In the distance, the study door remained closed. The house was quiet, safe, and utterly theirs.

The last echo of Zhang Wei’s car faded into the night, and the house settled into a waiting hush. Lin Xue stood at the front door, one hand still resting on the knob, the other pressed against her stomach where a familiar, shameful flutter had begun. Her husband’s business trip meant three days of freedom—three days of captivity.

She had barely turned away from the door when the sound of a key turning in the lock made her start. Chen Feng let himself in without knocking, a leather duffel slung over one shoulder and a predatory smile already curving his lips. He closed the door behind him and set the deadbolt with a quiet click.

“He’s gone?” Chen Feng asked, though he already knew the answer.

“Yes. He’ll be back Thursday evening.” Lin Xue’s voice came out steadier than she felt. She had worn her best silk robe for this—deep burgundy, tied loosely at the waist—trying to preserve some illusion of control.

Chen Feng dropped his bag by the stairs and crossed the foyer in three long strides. He didn’t bother with hello. His hand slipped inside her robe, palm flat against her hip, and pulled her hard against him. “You missed me.”

“I always miss you.” The words tasted like honey and poison.

“Where’s Xiaorou?”

“She’s asleep. I put her to bed an hour ago.” Lin Xue felt his fingers tighten on her skin. “I thought we could have some time alone first.”

Chen Feng laughed, a low, rough sound. “Alone? All night is a long time, Xuer. Plenty for everyone.” He released her and started toward the stairs, expecting her to follow. She did.

The master bedroom was dimly lit by a single lamp on the nightstand. Chen Feng sat on the edge of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt with practiced ease. Lin Xue stood before him, waiting. He looked at her, then at the hallway. “Go get her.”

“She’s sleeping—”

“I said go get her.” His voice didn’t rise, but the edge in it cut through any protest.

Lin Xue walked to the guest room where Xiao Rou lay curled under a thin blanket, her small face peaceful. It hurt to wake her, but it hurt more to imagine what Chen Feng would do if she delayed. She touched her daughter’s shoulder gently.

“Xiaorou, honey. Uncle Chen is here. He wants to see you.”

The child stirred, her eyes opening slowly. There was no fear in them. Instead, a strange, practiced calm settled over Xiao Rou’s features. She sat up without a word, smoothed her nightgown, and slipped her hand into her mother’s.

When they returned to the master bedroom, Chen Feng had stripped to his boxers and was scrolling through his phone. He looked up and smiled at the sight of the two of them. “Good girls. Both of you. Come here.”

Lin Xue led Xiao Rou to the bed. Chen Feng patted the mattress beside him. “Xiaorou, lie down on your stomach. I have something new to try tonight.”

The child obeyed instantly, turning over and resting her cheek on the pillow. Lin Xue’s heart lurched. “She’s so young, Chen Feng. Please, not that.”

“I decide what’s ‘that.’” He reached for the bottle of lubricant on the nightstand—he had brought his own, knowing Lin Xue wouldn’t have anything suitable. “You’re going to help. You’re going to make sure she’s ready, because if she hurts too much, you’ll both pay for it later.”

Lin Xue’s hands trembled as she took the bottle. Xiao Rou looked back over her shoulder, her expression blank. “It’s okay, Mama. I’m not scared.”

Those words shattered something in Lin Xue’s chest, but she squeezed the gel onto her fingers and began to work it gently into her daughter’s small body, preparing the way for Chen Feng. Xiao Rou whimpered once, then fell silent, her small hands clutching the pillow.

Chen Feng watched, his breathing growing heavier. When Lin Xue finished, he pushed her aside and took his position. “Count,” he ordered.

“What?”

“Count. For posterity. And don’t miss a single one.”

Lin Xue sat frozen, her mouth dry, as Chen Feng breached her daughter for the first time. She heard Xiao Rou’s sharp inhale, saw the tears that welled in her eyes but did not fall. And she heard her own voice, hollow and distant, beginning to count.

“One… two…”

It took him seventeen strokes to finish with Xiao Rou. He stayed inside her an extra moment, enjoying the child’s stillness, then withdrew. Xiao Rou curled into a tight ball, but when Chen Feng patted her head and said “Good job, princess,” she managed a weak smile.

“Now, Mama.” He gestured to the space beside Xiao Rou.

Lin Xue shed her robe and lay down. She did not need preparation; her body had long since betrayed any resistance. Chen Feng entered her in one smooth motion, and she let out a moan that was half pleasure, half despair.

“Count,” he reminded her.

“Eighteen… nineteen…”

He went slowly, deliberately, building both their pleasure. When he finished again, he rolled off and checked his phone. “Two for me. That’s a poor start. We have all night.”

He did not let them sleep. After a short rest—ten minutes, precisely timed—he roused them again. The second round was faster, more frantic. He took Xiao Rou from behind and made Lin Xue hold her steady. The third round, he had Lin Rouge on top while Xiao Rou knelt beside them, watching. By the fourth round, Xiao Rou had become his assistant, fetching water, massaging his shoulders, whispering encouragement in her mother’s ear.

At some point in the early morning—Chen Feng had lost count at nine and stopped caring—he ordered Xiao Rou to retrieve his phone. He propped it on the dresser, aimed at the bed.

“Smile, both of you.” His voice was casual, almost cheerful. “Say cheese.”

Lin Xue tried to turn away, but Chen Feng grabbed her jaw and forced her face toward the camera. Xiao Rou, obedient as ever, looked directly into the lens and gave a small, practiced smile.

“Now, I want you to tell me why you do this. One at a time. Xuer, you go first.”

Lin Xue’s voice cracked as she spoke. “Because I love you. Because I need you. Because I’m yours.”

“Louder. And look at the camera.”

“Because I’m yours!” she repeated, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Xiaorou?”

The child’s voice was clear. “Because I’m your good girl, Uncle Chen. I always will be.”

Chen Feng stopped recording and set the phone on the nightstand. He gathered the mother and daughter into his arms, pulling them against his chest. “You see? This video stays with me. If either of you ever thinks about betraying me, about running away or telling anyone—I’ll post it everywhere. Your friends, Zhang Wei, the company, the whole world. You’ll be destroyed.”

Lin Xue shuddered. Xiao Rou nuzzled closer to Chen Feng’s side.

“We won’t betray you,” Lin Xue whispered.

“Good.” He kissed the top of her head. “Now, Xiao Rou, get some rest. You’ve been very brave. Mama stays with me a little longer.”

Xiao Rou nodded and padded out of the room without protest. Chen Feng turned Lin Xue onto her back and began again, slow and grinding. She had no voice left to count with.