The communication jade in her hand pulsed faintly with heat.
Zhao Mingyue, reclining naked upon the edge of her bed, let its glow cast pale light across her oil-slicked body.
Her long silver hair fanned behind her like the tail of a sleeping crane.
Her thighs, smooth and parted, glistened under the soft early morning light that escaped through closed silk curtains.
The lily oil she had rubbed in still clung to her like a fragrant mist.
Finally, her son's voice emerged from the other side of the jade, which was low, uncertain, and strained like an ill person.
"M-Mother?"
She closed her eyes, letting that word weigh upon her chest like a stone in a quiet lake.
"I wanted to hear your voice," she said softly, her voice as gentle as a spring breeze.
"I'm currently in my room. Why did you—"
Before he could finish, she asked
"I wanted to ask…" She paused, her breath catching as her fingertips drifted from her collarbone down the valley between her breasts,
