Wangji hums in response, a gentle sound as he does as instructed and wraps his hand around the length of Wei Ying's cock.

"Wei Ying will have to be specific. Has he not heard? Hanguang-jun is pure," which is what the inn keeper's daughter had been gossiping about as they passed, hushed but not for a cultivator's hearing. He is amused by the thought, of course, by the fact that no one would believe that he is the one with less shame between them.