Zhao Yiming widened his eyes. He didn't expect the perverted deity to go this far. Sure, the system had always been outrageous, but this? This was on a whole new level of degeneracy.
And yet... he didn't hate it.
After all, if there was anyone who deserved poetic, sinful retribution—it was Jin Haolong.
His eyes drifted toward the man, who was still yapping proudly about how the glass was "storm-proof, wind-proof, bulletproof, earthquake-resistant and bullet-resilient" or whatever other nonsense he was making up on the spot.
"Are you sure you want to take it?" Jin added smugly, still not realizing the storm brewing behind him.
"Of course, why not?"
Zhao Yiming smirked.
'Hard mode it is.'
His hand moved with purpose, sliding down to Meilin's ass and giving it a tight, deliberate squeeze.
She jolted. Her eyes widened, and she glared at him—but her body said otherwise.
She didn't pull away. Didn't scold him. Just stood there, lips parting slightly as a small sound slipped out.
"Hnnngg... What are you doing, Yiming?" she muttered, face flushed, but her hands stayed still—almost like she wanted more.
He leaned in, whispering just above her ear. "Just giving your husband a reason to talk less." His breath was hot, his voice low.
His hand grinding into her tight jeans, fingers pressing just right between her legs.
The denim strained against his grip as her breath hitched, her thighs pressing together.
Her moan was quiet—but real.
"You bad boy," she scolded, half-laughing, head tilting to lean against his shoulder like she was melting into him.
Zhao Yiming wasn't about to back down. He slid his fingers along her inner thigh, dragging pressure over her folds just to make her shiver. Her jeans barely kept her together at this point.
"If my husband finds out, we're dead," she whispered, but her voice was teasing. Tempting.
He chuckled. "Aren't you scared?"
Her hand slid down to his thigh, slow and smooth, fingers brushing the bulge in his pants. He hissed under his breath.
"I don't care," she whispered with a sly grin. "I want him to see."
Her grip tightened. His jaw clenched.
They were lost in their own little world, brushing, teasing, gasping—while that bastard Jin Haolong kept rambling about his overpriced apartment, oblivious that his wife's pussy was being touched by the same man he just mocked five minutes ago.
But then Jin started to turn.
Zhao Yiming and Meilin snapped back like nothing happened, hands back to their sides, faces calm.
Jin narrowed his eyes slightly but said nothing. After all, in his eyes, who would want his "bumpkin wife" anyway?
"Why don't we check out the bedroom?" he said. "Or do you want to see the private pool?"
Zhao Yiming shrugged, calm and smug. "Bedroom first. I want to see where I'll be sleeping."
Jin Haolong sighed. He still couldn't believe this drunkard was actually taking the penthouse. But business was business.
As they followed, she grabbed his hand first. Both of them walked behind Jin Haolong like nothing happened, stealing little grins and brushing their fingers together like two reckless teenagers hiding their sin from the teacher.
When they entered the room, Zhao Yiming had to admit—it was something.
Spacious, fully furnished, with that clean, modern aesthetic you'd see in high-end magazines.
The walls were sleek black, the bed matched, and the floor was white marble laced with dark veins. Everything was polished, sharp, and expensive.
Zhao Yiming nodded slightly, amused. He liked this room. But no way in hell was he going to show it on his face.
"All the furniture here is made from premium materials! You see this—"
Jin Haolong's mouth revved up like an overconfident car salesman, explaining every inch of the place as if Zhao Yiming gave a damn.
Honestly, Yiming just wanted to rip all of it out and replace it with something that didn't have his voice echoing off it.
'Tch. Annoying bastard.'
Then a soft touch grounded him again—Meilin. She reached out, calming him like a switch. He leaned in close, head brushing her temple.
She met him with a quick kiss. No, a hungry one.
He gripped her jaw, pulling her deeper into it as their mouths collided again, sloppier this time—greedy and hot.
Tongues tangled like they'd been starved for days, lips smacking as their kiss deepened, their breaths shallow.
Her moan slipped out between their mouths.
"Mmhhnn~"
Zhao Yiming broke the kiss with a teasing grin, his breath brushing her cheek. "You're enjoying this way too much."
"I can't help it… We haven't seen each other for four days. I missed this—you." She leaned in again, but—
A sudden voice barked from the bathroom.
"What are you two doing? Come check out this bathroom! It has an automatic bidet function!" Jin Haolong shouted, still blissfully unaware.
Both of them paused, sighed in unison, then followed him inside like innocent guests.
He rambled about the toilet and the sink for a solid ten minutes—yes, ten. When it finally ended, and they stepped out into the hallway again, Meilin's hand shot out and dragged Yiming back into the master bedroom.
She closed the door softly, her finger pressing to his lips before he could speak, her eyes gleaming.
The sound of Jin Haolong's voice was still echoing down the hall.
"Let's have a little fun," she whispered, breath hot with want, voice dipped low with intention.
Zhao Yiming gulped. His mind screamed that it was risky—too risky. But damn… the look she gave him made his blood run hot.
She wanted to be fucked!
Just as he was about to answer her, the system beat him to it.
[You triggered a new quest as God Of Richness & Love barking like a dog in heat!]
["Horny House Call: Claim the Landlady in the Landlord's Precious Penthouse!"]
[The God of Richness & Love is panting, rolling on satin sheets in excitement!]
["She dragged you back in? My boy… my proud, naughty little profit prophet!"]
["Now don't waste this chance—sow chaos, claim cheeks, and leave no doubt who the real man in her life is!"]