Rain fell in a patter.
Once late spring passed, the rains increased.
Liu Qiao’e awoke from a hazy daze.
At first, her mind was still foggy, unable to discern where she was.
Until a sticky fluid kept flowing from between her legs. She snapped back to her senses, her face instantly flushing red!
Her limbs felt heavy, her fingertips numb and weak. Her body seemed to still hold the lingering aftershocks of that heart-shaking ecstasy. That bastard Mu Daoying had stuffed her full last night! She could still clearly feel his heat and shape, coursing through her meridians, throbbing vigorously. Now her body was filled with pure yang energy—never had it been so righteous before!
Liu Qiao’e’s face grew even redder, a glint of murderous intent at the corner of her eyes. She lifted her gaze to find that culprit!
But there he was—the very culprit from last night—already neatly dressed in his daoist robes.
The young man had black hair hanging to his waist, an elegant and refined appearance. His thick, dark eyelashes lowered, his slender frame sat alone against the wall in the corner, hands resting on his knees, listening to the fine rain outside the window.
His expression was dazed and absent-minded.
“Mu—Dao—Ying!” She was utterly embarrassed and furious, shouting his name one syllable at a time.
The youth abruptly came back to himself. Seeing her, he froze again.
Waves surged in his eyes. His pale face shifted through several expressions—from shock, to shyness, to disbelief—before gradually settling into one of bleak despair.
If she hadn’t been the one forcibly taken by him last night, with his fragile little white flower appearance, Liu Qiao’e might have thought she had ravished him.
Mu Daoying knew full well he had done wrong under the influence of that potent aphrodisiac.
He parted his lips, a long trace of regret and struggle flashing across his face. In the end, he said nothing.
He offered no excuses, merely bowed low in a deep kowtow.
“Last night, this youngster…” His throat moved as he tried to speak, but bitterness coated his tongue, choking his throat. The words that emerged were hoarse and broken.
How could Mu Daoying have imagined things would escalate to this point!
Last night, his mind had seemed melted by that potent aphrodisiac too, his usual detached emotions amplified several times over.
Disappointment, anger, and that obscure, unspoken affection and possessiveness all tangled together, driving him by instinct to commit such a beastly, despicable act.
But with just a slight thought, Mu Daoying stiffened, his lips and tongue no longer obeying him. “Last night, this youngster… was wildly reckless and insolent, offending Old Mother…”
“Must you speak to me like this?” Liu Qiao’e sneered coldly, mercilessly shattering the last shred of his self-respect.
“What should be done and what shouldn’t—it’s all done now. Mu Daoying, the wild and wanton way you were sprawled on top of me last night wasn’t so dignified.”
Before her words even finished, she smugly watched Mu Daoying’s face drain of color, his shattered expression.
Though the process had some mishaps, it had still humiliated him by accident.
“I didn’t force you to move. You were the one who was incredibly proactive yesterday.”
“Old Mother!” Mu Daoying truly couldn’t accept such naked, straightforward words. He raised his tone unusually, interrupting her.
“Hypocrite!” She plopped down onto the floor, her skirt spreading out like petals.
Mu Daoying’s heart skipped a beat. Seeing her barefooted with disheveled hair, flushed face, and disordered clothes, last night’s amorous scenes replayed vividly. The woman had cried out, clinging to him, hugging him tightly—as if he were the only one between heaven and earth, and he had thoroughly possessed her.
His heart actually skipped another beat, his mouth going dry.
Mu Daoying closed his eyes as if facing death calmly and let out a soft sigh. In a gentle voice, he asked, “Then, Qiao’e, what do you intend to do?”
Liu Qiao’e: “You think I’ll make you take responsibility? If This Seat demanded responsibility from every man I’ve been with, Myriad Fragrance Hall would be overflowing by now!”
Even knowing it was the truth, Mu Daoying felt as if his heart had been pricked densely by cold needles out of nowhere.
His heart had long been possessed by her, yet he could never exclusively possess her.
He didn’t want to continue this topic.
Human psychology is truly wondrous. Though he knew she disliked discussing official matters, he still harbored a faint deliberate intent.
Lowering his eyelashes, he asked methodically in a soft voice, “The words I said last night—can Old Mother give Ying a reply today?”
Her face darkened at once, as expected.
Seeing this, Mu Daoying’s heart stirred again with a twinge of pity.
After all, they had just been intimate last night. With the object of his admiration right before him, even hundred-refined steel would turn to softness around the finger—how could he truly be heartless as iron?
He still didn’t want to give up hope of persuading her.
“Old Mother…” Mu Daoying hesitated for a few breaths before speaking. “A few days ago, Ying went to Little Thatch Ridge.”
Liu Qiao’e’s expression changed drastically. “You investigated me?!”
Mu Daoying pursed his lips and said stiffly, “…Sorry.”
She was strong-willed by nature; he had anticipated she might not like it, but not that her reaction would be so intense.
“Ying harbored no ulterior motives. I merely wanted to understand you more, to know your past, your experiences…”
“Qiao’e, I’m truly sorry. I didn’t know you had endured such hardships…” Mu Daoying said slowly, word by word. He had a bellyful of bitterness he wanted to pour out to her.
He wanted to tell her—he knew. He knew her grievances.
But Liu Qiao’e snapped harshly, “You think I’m still that daughter of the Liu family from before, don’t you?”
“You’re wrong! Put away your useless sympathy and pity!
“There are plenty of pitiful people in this world. For me to survive and cultivate is already luck far beyond countless others.
“Rather than pity me, pity yourself!”
“To tell you the truth,” Liu Qiao’e said viciously, “if you knew my past, you’d know how much I hate this cultivation world! Hate you self-righteous cultivators! Cooperating with the Demonic Sect is precisely so you lot won’t have it easy!”
Her every word and sentence pierced his heart and lungs like ten thousand arrows.
Mu Daoying forced himself to listen, slightly stunned. Seeing the genuine hatred in her brows and eyes, he understood her resolve.
Knowing her intentions were set with no room for turning back.
Yet he still refused to give up lightly and pressed, “Is there truly no possibility at all?”
“Absolutely none!”
Mu Daoying clenched his fists.
The teachings from childhood to adulthood made it impossible for him to sit by and watch Liu Qiao’e’s actions with the Demonic Sect.
His heart gradually cooled.
He wanted to say something but couldn’t muster the strength.
With things at this point, it seemed their paths would part for good.
He turned his face away, as if unwilling to look at her anymore, and only asked softly,
“If Old Mother hates me, why keep me?”
“You want to run?” Liu Qiao’e lunged forward, pinching his jaw and yanking his hair, forcing him to meet her eyes. “Or die?”
Mu Daoying said nothing, calmly meeting her gaze.
“Abandon that thought. And don’t think last night gives you any leverage over me.”
She shoved him to the ground, her sharp words crashing down like icy spikes. “I saw how enthusiastically wild and wanton you were yesterday.
“If you serve me well, once the Demonic Lord conquers the world, I won’t deny you a way to live. And right now, whenever I feel inclined, you’ll strip, wash clean, and wait.”
Mu Daoying closed his eyes, silently enduring such humiliation.
Her filthy words shamed not only him but herself as well.
After unleashing this torrent of abuse, Liu Qiao’e stormed off.
For the next few days, she truly didn’t show herself, only ordering attendants to move him to Myriad Fragrance Hall, into a long-vacant, neglected side hall.
In that side hall, Mu Daoying had nothing to do. Heartbroken over Liu Qiao’e’s attitude and worried about the situation outside the mountains, he visibly withered away.
That day, he had just blown out the lamp and lain down to rest when he turned and saw a small, shadowy figure.
He was slightly startled, recognizing her identity. “Old Mother?”
Liu Qiao’e threw herself at him, arms around his neck.
His heart tightened at the memory of her earlier words—“whenever I feel inclined, you’ll strip, wash clean, and wait”—and he resisted, pushing her away with his hands.
But where did he have the strength now? Ever since meeting Liu Qiao’e, he seemed forever on the path to injury.
He pushed once, and she pounced again.
“Don’t do this.” Mu Daoying frowned.
She pulled down his arm, sneering. “Don’t tell me you don’t like it?”
“I don’t.”
“But that’s not how you acted that night.”
Mu Daoying paled. That night’s indulgence was the deepest regret of his life, a hidden pain in his heart.
He couldn’t tolerate emotionless sex. If she respected their bond, serving her wouldn’t be impossible.
Mu Daoying pursed his lips, putting on a cold demeanor, his voice cool as jade. “That was merely the effect of your sect’s spirit pills and wondrous medicines.
“Otherwise, I absolutely would not touch you.”
Seeing him act as if enduring great shame, stubbornly defiant to the end, Liu Qiao’e fumed inwardly.
After three or four rounds of push and pull, she grew angry, dislocated his one good arm, pinned him to the bed, and mounted him.
Unable to resist her, he could only close his eyes. She bit his neck, throat, jaw, forcing him to open them.
“Look at me.”
Mu Daoying quietly opened his pitch-black eyes, clear and limpid as if washed by water.
Forcing such a gentle, kind person to this extent stirred an involuntary excitement in her body.
She leaned down, feeling his impressive length with her body, mocking him from his shoulder. “No medicine and you won’t touch me? Your body doesn’t seem to agree. I think you like it immensely.”
Mu Daoying was mortified to death. His body’s eager response embarrassed him utterly; his temples throbbed, teeth clenched tight.
No… he couldn’t… he mustn’t…
“What’s the use of regretting now? You shouldn’t have provoked me that night!”
She forced him to look again. He refused, so she yanked his hair.
Mu Daoying mustered all his willpower to avert his gaze, but it still brushed past inadvertently. Glimpsing their scissored union, it was as if a great bell had struck him square—flames incinerated his body, the little beast reared up, and she clearly felt it grow over twice the size.
The world spun for him, head splitting with pain, ears buzzing. Unable to bear the sight, he closed his eyes, lips trembling. “I indeed regret it. Regret it deeply.”
Yet that erotic scene still lingered before his eyes.
“What a bore. Just read too many books, deceiving yourself because you dare not cross moral bounds.”
Her small hand caressed his distinctly chiseled abs. The man’s lean waist and abdomen tensed.
Mu Daoying slowly closed his eyelashes, telling himself over and over in his heart.
Don’t ask, don’t speak, don’t think anything.
He endured her rising and falling on him. Perhaps knowing his wrong from that night, against her, his tone and attitude resisted but always lacked force—even his resistance was mostly mild, like a peaceful protest.
If she clung fiercely, his hand would pause slightly, lifting to stroke her hair from temple to ends.
But if she ordered him to move or kiss her, no matter what, he wouldn’t. His palm hovered less than an inch from her waist, yet he absolutely wouldn’t proactively support her motions.
He knew her words weren’t wrong. He was merely suppressing his nature, forcing himself to loathe and hate her through years of moral cultivation teachings.
Yet his body was far more honest than his intricately twisted psyche.
The little beast he kept hidden still craved her intensely, welcomed her passionately, rearing its head and lightly rubbing.
Mu Daoying slightly lowered his eyelids, silently enduring until the clouds dispersed and rain cleared.
Even after the clouds vanished and rain ceased, there was no tender lingering affection.
He merely knelt silently, straightened his disheveled clothes, covered his body full of bruises, and bound his long hair.
In the days that followed, Liu Qiao’e often sneaked into his room at midnight, ignoring his wishes, shoving him onto the bed and taking her pleasure.
Even when he lay in dazed pain from injuries, asleep, an untimely pleasure would suddenly intrude in his dreams.
Opening his eyes, he would see her astride him. Once sated, she turned and left.
He knew nothing of the outside world or the passage of time in the mountains, confined daily to the side hall for her use.
He had truly become an object for her lust, kept in her chambers.
Mu Daoying vaguely sensed something off in her rough treatment of him.
She was like a restless little beast trapped in a cage, desperately seeking an outlet but forced onto a dead end.
She was unhappy. At least, when she had forced him, he had not sensed any joy from her. She had battered herself black and blue, covered in blood, and could only keep tearing at others and herself.
He had tried more than once to have a proper talk with her, to figure out exactly what had happened to her.
Why had she suddenly changed like this?
Was it because Second Master’s injuries had worsened again in recent days? Did she hate him yet still harbor some old affections, and thus vent her pain and stress in this manner?
He wanted to get to the bottom of it, but she had always refused to communicate.
That day, Liu Qiao’e finally showed mercy and let him go out.
Having been confined in the pitch-black side hall for so long, Mu Daoying indeed wanted to go out for a stroll and get some fresh air.
The long-absent expanse of blue sky and white clouds gave him a feeling as if a lifetime had passed.
He quietly wandered through the gardens of Myriad Fragrance Hall, pondering his future. Having once again become a prisoner, what should he do?
Lost in thought, he suddenly heard the crisp sound of porcelain shattering nearby.
Immediately after, a sharp whoosh cut through the air toward his cheek. Mu Daoying swiftly dodged, evading the slap that came flying at his face.
“Insolent! Who are you?! Don’t you watch where you’re walking?!”
Regaining his senses, he met a haughty face.
It belonged to a delicately pretty young servant boy, carved like jade with finely painted features.
At his feet lay the shattered remains of a celadon porcelain flower vase, its glaze warm and lustrous, clearly no ordinary item.
Mu Daoying subconsciously apologized, but the young servant boy refused to let it go. He frowned slightly, quickly realizing something was off.
Though he had been preoccupied and absent-minded earlier, he had not felt himself bumping into anything.
With that in mind, Mu Daoying’s gaze involuntarily shifted past the young servant boy to his master.
The young man with his black hair tied high turned his face faintly.
It was Tu Qin.
Mu Daoying recognized him as the one who had been with He Chuan and the others before.
Having a vague idea in his mind, he responded neither servile nor overbearing, giving a slight nod. “Fellow Daoist Tu.”