He also described how grand the former mansion was, how many bumps the stone lion's head had, and how massive it was.
Entering the residence, Shen Yunyun saw the courtyard before her, and a scene suddenly flashed through her mind, but it passed too quickly for her to catch it.
She continued deeper inside, stepping into the front hall's reception room, where she seemed to see a male host entertaining guests. A clumsy maid came to serve tea, but her foot slipped, and she stumbled toward the host.
The host dodged with lightning speed, then coldly ordered the servants to drag her out and sell her off.
Just then, the elegantly dressed mistress entered, and the host said to her with a pitiful tone, "Wife, my innocence is intact—she didn't touch me."
This scene appeared before Shen Yunyun, making her feel both like an observer and a participant.
"Whiny and sweet," she said, uttering the exact same words as the mistress.
"Miss, do you want some milk tea?" Tang Gao quickly asked.
Shen Yunyun snapped back to reality, and the scene before her instantly shattered.
She realized she had spoken the same words as the mistress in that vision.
At that moment, a storm raged inside her. She struggled to breathe, clutching her chest in pain as sweat beaded on her face and rolled down.
"Miss, what's wrong?" Tang Gao saw her distress and immediately scanned the crowd.
"Where's that little brat from Old Six's family? Come here quick."
Soon, an elderly man over seventy emerged and immediately moved to take her pulse.
Shen Yunyun declined his kindness, saying, "No need. All of you, leave. Let me have some quiet."
Seeing her like this, Tang Gao grew uneasy. He swept his gaze over the crowd again, spotted Tang Yu, and pointed at him. "You stay with the miss. Everyone else, disperse."
Hearing the patriarch's orders, the others slowly filed out.
"Miss, are you alright? Did seeing familiar scenes trigger some memories?" Tang Yu looked at her expectantly.
Spot on, Shen Yunyun rolled her eyes and spat out one word, "Scram."
"On it." Tang Yu scurried away.
Shen Yunyun wandered alone around the room, but no more scenes appeared—until she stayed the night.
"Wife, you've finally deigned to return. Your husband has missed you so."
Shen Yunyun groggily opened her eyes and saw the man from the portrait before her.
His ink-black hair was loose and disheveled, his clothes in disarray, revealing a smooth, muscular chest with perfectly shaped, adorable little buds, pink and tender, as if inviting her.
Shen Yunyun stared blankly at the man.
His eyes were slightly reddened as he slowly leaned in, kissed her, and then pinned her down.
Throughout it all, Shen Yunyun didn't resist—in fact, she cooperated fully.
It wasn't that she didn't want to resist; her body simply wouldn't obey. The two bodies moved together as if they had done this countless times, everything so familiar and effortless.
She woke up in a state of intense excitement, her mind a blank.
She had just had an erotic dream.
And the object of that dream was the man from the portrait.
How utterly shameful.
It must be that daydreams lead to night dreams.
She turned to look out the window, and suddenly a scene appeared: she was sitting before a mirror, and the man was drawing her eyebrows.
"My wife is so beautiful. My heart is overjoyed."
He pinned a velvet flower in her hair, a satisfied smile on his face.
Then the scene shifted.
The man, clad in armor, was about to head to battle. The woman wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed close.
Soon, the dressing table began to shake.