I’m a Green Tea in a Matriarchal World

As mentioned before, you could tell a woman’s strength by her chest size. The higher her cultivation, the more radiant her skin, the more perfect her figure.

A big chest didn’t guarantee strength, but every strong woman had one.

By the same logic, this world had silk stockings—woven from the threads of spirit beasts, which only cultivators could tame.

Their rarity was obvious. Without status or rank, you couldn’t even dream of wearing them.

Su Yu figured the other women were likely maids or attendants.

With that in mind, his gaze settled on the veiled woman in white silk.

White robes fluttered, black hair danced lightly, and her exposed eyes gleamed like amber—dreamy and ethereal.

Her aura was otherworldly, her beauty like an Immortal Lady, as if untouched by mortal cares, ready to drift away on the wind.

Su Yu had seen plenty of stunning women—his two sisters, his childhood sweetheart, even himself, prettier than most girls.

In this world, where the immortal path thrived, any woman who cultivated was gorgeous—rarely average.

Yet seeing Lin Qingyue still struck him with awe.

It wasn’t just her looks—her presence outshone ordinary women.

He’d seen her true face in memories. If she unveiled now, she’d draw a crowd for sure.

But more than that, what caught his eye was her outfit.

Unlike most women in practical pants or short skirts, Lin Qingyue wore something akin to a dress from his past life.

Light white gauze swayed in the breeze—airy, its fabric a mystery. The simple gown traced her tempting curves perfectly.

Thanks to her cultivation, every inch was flawless: a full chest, graceful hips, long legs wrapped in white silk stockings, glowing snowy-white in the sun.

“White silk… so nostalgic…”

Su Yu’s eyes roamed her silk-clad legs.

Everyone had their tastes—some liked white silk, some black.

Black silk hit hard, captivating at first glance, unforgettable.

But Su Yu adored white silk—its purity.

Smooth, delicate, innocent, and lovely—the longer he looked, the deeper he sank into it.

If black silk was a heady wine, white silk was tea worth savoring, its depth unfolding slowly.

He stared at Lin Qingyue’s legs, nostalgia welling up. After all this waiting, it was worth it.

Just then, as if sensing him, Lin Qingyue glanced up from below the window.

Her misty eyes held a faint smile.

“Oops—caught!”

Seeing her look up, Su Yu knew he’d been spotted. He ducked back, flustered, not daring to peek again.

Did she see him?

Heart pounding, he felt a strange shiver—like she’d seen right through him.

He patted his chest. Probably just his imagination…

…

Lin Qingyue’s lips twitched, a soft smile breaking through.

A prodigy like her was used to being the center of attention—being watched was nothing new. But that familiar, soul-stirring pull…

Outwardly calm, she’d already sent her spiritual sense toward the watcher.

As expected, only that boy could shake her so.

Though masked as a fox, hiding his face, those fair fingertips and raven hair gave him away.

Warm sunlight bathed her, and a gentle smile curved her lips.

She’d never thought a man she’d met once could linger in her mind like this.

She thought of him at meals, before sleep, even touring with her sect sisters.

It was as if her life’s purpose was to meet him.

Before, peerless in talent, she’d dismissed men entirely, chasing the immortal path—dreaming of ascension like the former sect leader.

But now…

Lin Qingyue knew this was love—love at first sight, no less. She couldn’t explain it; she just fell.

“Love arises unbidden, deep and unwavering.”

Meeting her heart’s desire in her prime, even the Immortal Lady she sought seemed less vital. Unbelievable.

Immortal powerhouses fighting over men—she’d read such tales, puzzled. Mere mortals, stirring cultivators’ hearts?

Did love wield such magic?

Now, experiencing it herself, she saw no exaggeration.

She remembered their first meeting…

Was this really a mortal?

How could a man be so pure—those bright, untainted eyes, that heart-fluttering smile, like he’d stepped from a painting? Every move tugged her soul, leaving her speechless.

Lin Qingyue once thought her life’s pursuit was the Immortal Lady alone, untouched by mortal love. Now, she saw how naive she’d been.

Why else the saying, “One ascends, all rise”? Cultivators couldn’t shed the mortal world—clinging to loved ones and things.

That was their truest selves. They were human too—her seniors and ancestors proved it.

A stray thought clouded her mind, yet she felt joy—unprecedented joy. Even neglecting cultivation didn’t faze her.

“Miss, you seem in a good mood?” Her maid, Little Li, blinked at Lin Qingyue’s irrepressible smile.

Serving her for years, Little Li knew her mistress’s cool nature—aloof, rarely smiling, never warm to strangers.

But since the engagement, she’d changed—staring into the distance, breaking into soft smiles.

Little Li burned with curiosity. What kind of man could transform her mistress so?

Lin Qingyue laughed. “Heh, I saw someone unexpected. It caught me off guard—in a good way.”

Someone unexpected?

Little Li glanced around the busy street. She didn’t spot anyone special!