She was carrying a wooden bucket — water, sloshing over the edges as she ran. Her body was thick. Not the cultivated thickness of the Plum Blossom Sect women — not the martial-artist muscle and heavy-titted softness of warriors and cultivators.
This was the thickness of a mortal woman who had borne children, worked fields, carried water, and endured years of hard labor.
Her hips were wide — very wide — the bones broad, the flesh thick, the kind of hips that swung heavily with each stride.
Her ass was thick and round, the heavy cheeks shifting beneath her rough cotton skirt with every step.
Her thighs were thick, the inner surfaces rubbing together, the flesh soft and deep. Her waist was wide, her belly soft, the shape of a woman who had given birth and never fully recovered.
