The qipao Ning Yao wore today was the very same one she had on when they first met. A qipao is a timeless piece of fashion, and now, as she donned it again, she moved with captivating grace, just as she had that day.

Watching her lightly lift the hem of the gown and ascend the stairs toward the second floor, Wang Zhuo smiled, meeting her gaze. He lightly pressed a button on the remote, and a soft shush sound echoed across the floor-to-ceiling glass in the hall as a curtain slowly descended.

The figure before him merged once more with the stunning beauty from their first encounter. Except now her long hair was elegantly swept up; her face and figure remained unchanged.

Time seemed to have left no mark on this woman—a truly gifted constitution. Wang Zhuo chuckled softly.

Perhaps a part of his own essence contributed to keeping this beauty perpetually youthful? “Here, the roast duck you wanted.” The takeout bag was offered.

“And the pancakes, scallions, and sweet bean sauce. Satisfied?

Eat up!” “I’m not hungry,” Wang Zhuo grinned, not taking the bag. “Not hungry?

Then why did you have me run all the way out to buy it?” Ning Yao shot him a look, deliberately avoiding his eyes, which were fixed on his suggestive bathrobe. “Because we can have a late-night snack, and we won’t have to go out again this evening.” Wang Zhuo rocked his armchair, beckoning her with a crooked finger.

“Take off your shoes and come here so I can inspect you.” Ning Yao blinked, then carefully slipped off her high heels and stepped onto the carpet, standing before him to ask, “Inspect what?” Wang Zhuo smiled without answering. He leaned forward, his left hand still bracing the back of the chair, while his right hand reached out and flicked up the front of her qipao.

As his hand slipped inside, he encountered a place that was hot and wet. “Impatient already?” His palm rested against the slick inner curve of her thigh.

He looked up at the Movie Queen and asked with a smile, “Have you missed me?” Ning Yao’s lovely face flushed, and she pressed her legs tightly against his hand, murmuring softly, “You already know, so why ask?” “Oh,” Wang Zhuo drawled, a knowing half-smile playing on his lips. He moved his fingers in the warm, wet heat and remarked, “So this is how much you’ve missed me.” Ning Yao felt a mixture of exasperation and desire; his teasing words ignited a fierce heat within her.

She simply nodded. “Come, let’s take a picture first.” Wang Zhuo withdrew his hand, and as the armchair tilted back, he reached over to the side table, picked up his phone, and playfully shook it at her.

Ning Yao was the kind of woman who became more sensual when facing a camera. Wang Zhuo felt she was born for the lens; without one, her performance would drop at least two levels, rendering her completely unsatisfactory to him.

But when directed at a camera, the Movie Queen’s style and charm manifested fully. Therefore, since discovering this, Wang Zhuo had never been without gadgets like phones, cameras, or DV recorders during their intimate moments.

Ning Yao took two steps back, put her high heels back on, and struck an elegant pose that exuded regal composure. After adjusting his camera, Wang Zhuo snapped two shots, then pointed at her.

“Hold that expression, and take off that bothersome thing underneath, pull it down past your calves.” Ning Yao had rushed over from the city center, specifically to buy roast duck, and had even stopped at her residence to retrieve this outfit, changing in the car only after entering the villa district. She had barely managed to get upstairs, hadn't had a sip of water or even sat down, yet he was already making such an outrageous demand.

Yet, the more she felt slighted, the more stimulated and excited she became. Following Wang Zhuo’s instructions, she obediently reached both hands under the hem of the qipao, gently drawing out a piece of white silk fabric, pulling it down to her calves, and resuming that demure and tranquil posture.

The image—silk fabric twisted around her calves—was the perfect finishing touch, creating a stark contrast with her serene expression. At Wang Zhuo’s command, the great Movie Queen struck a series of pure and elegant poses.

As the photographs accumulated, her desire gradually reached a fever pitch. “Come, change into this.” A small bag was placed on the table.

Ning Yao walked over curiously, unfolding the contents to find a set of role-playing lingerie—a maid’s outfit. She couldn't help but laugh, asking, “How did you get something like this?” “Found it in Wang Zhengdao’s room,” Wang Zhuo chuckled.

“There are lots more styles. Don’t leave tonight; we’ll try them all.” “I’m a Movie Queen, and you want me to wear this?” Ning Yao shot him a playful glance while changing.

Wang Zhuo said proudly, “So what if you’re a Movie Queen? Don’t think just because you’re immensely popular in front of others that you don’t have to kneel at my feet and eat my sausage?” The coarse words instantly set Ning Yao ablaze.

What fueled her most was Wang Zhuo teasing, even mocking or insulting her; it was her ultimate aphrodisiac. Every time Wang Zhuo used this tactic, it struck her just right.

“Come, it’s time to sweep.” Wang Zhuo sat back proudly on the sofa, untied his bathrobe sash, and parted the front, revealing a body nearly bare, lightly swaying the tip of his hardened erection while simultaneously beginning to record with his phone. Ning Yao gave him a charming sidelong look, just about to step forward, when snap—Wang Zhuo tossed a small notebook at her feet.

“What’s this on the floor? Clean it up.” Playing the maid role already?

Ning Yao pouted coquettishly, reluctantly bending down to pick up the book, deliberately tilting her face up to meet Wang Zhuo’s gaze, thrusting her chest forward so he could see her magnificent breasts from the opposite angle. “Give Grandpa a cat walk, on all fours,” Wang Zhuo continued to command.

And so, within the lens, the widely adored Movie Queen Ning Yao truly began to move her body gently, following Wang Zhuo’s instructions, crawling slowly toward him like a docile cat. In film schools, acting programs feature a lesson on using body language to imitate real-life animals, including cats, dogs, pigs, sheep, and even elephants or lions.

This wasn't Wang Zhuo’s unique invention, but something Ning Yao had once told him about. Although Ning Yao studied directing at the Beijing Film Academy, performance courses were mandatory for future directors.

Thus, briefly imitating a cat, while somewhat rusty for Ning Yao, was a skill she had practiced and even received praise for from her mentor. Performing it for Wang Zhuo instantly earned his admiration.

Reaching Wang Zhuo, Ning Yao knelt with her knees bent, assuming the posture of a young maid awaiting her master’s command. This maid outfit must have been produced by a manufacturer fond of cutting corners.