Faz de ti a caldeira, fizeste o velho ancestral engravidar?

Lin Fan was dressed in a crimson wedding robe, a red veil covering his head, seated upon a soft, luxurious bed. The candles flickered at the bedside, and through the veil, he saw that he was in an opulent, antique chamber, rich in ornamentation.

“Holy hell, I’ve transmigrated? Fine, but why did I end up in a bride’s body?” Lin Fan was stunned, and to his horror, he found he couldn’t move at all, save for his eyes. The thought of some man soon pinning him down sent a chill through his body; every hair stood on end.

“This is bad, really bad… I’m doomed!”

Just as Lin Fan’s panic reached its peak, footsteps sounded outside the door.

With a creak, the door opened, and through the veil, Lin Fan saw a slender figure standing at the threshold.

She wore exquisite red embroidered shoes, the golden peony flowers on them vivid and dewy, as though kissed by the morning. Her red dress, though loose, traced her stunning curves—slender waist and full hips forming a thrilling silhouette. Higher up, the wedding robe was taut, hinting at an astonishing fullness beneath.

“A perfect figure! More exaggerated than any game heroine.”

With measured steps, the woman entered the room, and Lin Fan could finally see her face—fair skin, delicate features! Only her age stood out: around thirty.

“She’s gorgeous! And thirty? That’s just my type.”

Lin Fan’s nerves eased, replaced by a spark of anticipation.

“Sister, the night is late. Let us consummate our marriage,” the woman said, gently lifting his veil, her smile soft and alluring.

Lin