She dumped me, I awakened a forbidden art, killed her attacker—and became her only cure in bed.

Four generals of the Chen family fell in battle. The house fell. Guests scattered. My fiancée, the icy prodigy of Suzhou, arrived to call off our wedding—and I signed without a word. That night, a rapist slipped into her room and dosed her with a lust poison. I killed him, but the damage was done. The antidote? Five rounds of intimacy daily for seven straight days. No tricks. No schemes. She knelt and begged me to share her bed. This isn't a love story—it's seven days of life-or-death entanglement, and a duty I couldn't walk away from. The northern war claimed four Chen generals. Glory turned to ash. Guests vanished overnight. Then Liu Yiqing—the ice-cold literary beauty of Suzhou, and my betrothed—showed up at my door to break the engagement. I didn't argue. I signed the papers. That very night, the notorious rapist Xie Shisan broke into the Chen estate, slipped a powerful aphrodisiac into her drink, and intended to have his way with her. I returned in time, cut him down with one strike—but the poison had already entered her blood. The Xie Clan's Lust Powder has only one cure: intercourse five times a day for seven consecutive days. Fail, and her meridians will rupture. Death is certain. One moment we were strangers signing a breakup. The next, trembling with fever, she was on her knees begging me to take her to bed. No sweet words. No pleas to stay. Just the poison shredding her control—and me, left with no choice but to administer the seven-day "treatment." Each time was necessity. Each time peeled back a layer of something neither of us had ever admitted. Seven days later, the poison was gone. The engagement was over. She stood at my gate, turned back, and asked: "Those seven days—was it really just medicine to you?"