The city of Zhenzui was home to one great clan—all who bore the surname Zui.

Among them, Zui Meiyin was renowned for his peerless beauty, his charm as dangerous as it was intoxicating. Often seen in the clan’s uniform, bathed in soft golden light, he seemed less like a mortal man and more like a deity descended from the heavens.

His long, inky hair flowed like a silken river, tied high with an ornate golden crown and adorned with delicate ornaments that glimmered like divine radiance. A slender circlet of gold rested upon his brow, framing narrow phoenix eyes—eyes the color of burning dusk, sharp yet languid, as though they could pierce through one’s heart, and yet chose instead to remain amused.

His skin was porcelain-pale, smooth as carved jade, with lips faintly flushed—curved in a smile neither warm nor cold, merely enchanting, as though he toyed with the world’s adoration. Draped over his shoulders was a robe of pure white silk embroidered with golden threads, flowing like starlight. Strings of pearls and golden chains cascaded across his chest, each one accentuating his ethereal nobility.

Every gesture carried the weight of divine seduction—a celestial immortal who could command reverence in court, yet ensnare hearts into sin with nothing more than a glance.

Many mistook him for a noble scion, yet he was merely the child of an unknown lineage. Rumors whispered that he had once bewitched an elder, and thus earned his place as the favorite among the disciples of the Zui clan.

But all changed with the return of the High Elder—Shen Xuanji.

After five years of seclusion, Shen Xuanji emerged once more. His retreat was not for cultivation, but for grief—mourning the loss of someone whose identity none dared to speak. The burden he carried was not physical, but emotional, and it weighed upon him heavier than the heavens themselves.

Shen Xuanji was the oldest among the cultivators, revered as the shizun of the Zui clan, though he never bore their surname. He refused to let his own name be replaced, for it was the last remnant of what he had once lost.

When word reached Zui Meiyin that Shen Xuanji had returned, the youth’s lips curled into a smile. At last, he would meet the great shizun of the clan.

As Shen Xuanji walked alone through the courtyard, Zui Meiyin stood waiting. He bowed gracefully, his robes swaying like drifting clouds.

“Shizun,” he greeted, lowering his head before lifting his gaze. His phoenix eyes gleamed, dangerous and inviting, every glance laced with s*duction.

And thus, the most enchanting ct-sleve of Zui stood before the man untouched by worldly desire.