The night was dark and windy, Li Zhaoye's face obscured in the shadows. His brows, eyes, and the bridge of his nose were hidden in the gloom, his skin deathly pale and cold. As a corpse puppet, his body held no warmth—instead, it seemed to leech heat from the surroundings.
He was smiling, yet it only made him feel more dangerous.
His tall, lean frame loomed over her, oppressive and unyielding. Luo Luo’s mind involuntarily flashed to the old romance novels she’d read—stories where a terrifying, ghostly lover would pin her down, sink sharp teeth into her flesh, bruise her, shake her, break her apart…
Then she remembered his hands.
They were calloused (whether from sword practice or crawling around, who knew), his fingers long and slender like bamboo, hard and sharply defined.
Those bamboo-like fingers could easily part her lips, pressing in inch by inch. Every knuckle left its mark, each ridge unmistakable.
It made her tremble.
He always whispered filthy praises in her ear while tormenting her.
Utterly shameless.
Luo Luo’s cheeks burned. The memories flooding her mind left her body weak, her breath uneven.
Li Zhaoye didn’t miss the change in her.
The warm fragrance clinging to her darkened his gaze. Under the cold moonlight, his throat bobbed with dangerous restraint. His presence grew heavier, wilder.
Luo Luo lifted her eyes to his shadowed face, lips parting unconsciously in silent invitation.
Then—she flinched.
His icy fingers clamped around her jaw, hard and unrelenting. He forced her head back, tilting it to the side before biting down.
"Mmph!"
Li Zhaoye had never been gentle, but this was the first time his kiss hurt.
His lips were cold, his canines sharp. He crushed her mouth with bruising force, drawing blood. The taste only spurred him on—sucking, biting, conquering.
When his teeth grazed her tongue, he seemed to realize his grip was in the way.
The hand on her jaw slid down, wrapping around her throat instead. He slammed her against the wooden wall.
Luo Luo gasped, arching as he swallowed her breath in another searing kiss.
Her heartbeat pounded in her chest, trapped and frantic.
Dizziness crept in from the lack of air. She weakly pushed at him—only to remember his body was cold, his chest still. No heartbeat.
Her heart ached. Her fingers faltered, trailing down his form before falling limp at her side.
Li Zhaoye never missed an opportunity to push further.
He hauled her up, biting her lip again while his other hand wandered lower.
Her muffled protests vanished into his mouth.
"Mmph!"
Outside, the wind scattered the clouds.
Moonlight spilled into the loft, illuminating the two plant puppets sitting primly in the light—perfect replicas of them, serene and meditating.
But in the shadows, ragged breaths tangled in the dark.
"Already out of strength?" He nipped her earlobe. "Bite my hand again."
Luo Luo: "..."
"Harder."
Beyond the window, bamboo stalks crushed petals under their sway.
She shut her eyes, pretending not to hear his nonsense.
Later, Luo Luo slumped over Li Zhaoye’s chest, panting like a stranded fish.
Dazed and boneless.
His body was cold and unyielding, one arm hooked around her waist as he shoved her into the rattan chair—as if determined to wreck her completely.
"Li Zhaoye..."
He bit her lips again.
He didn’t need to breathe, so his kisses were relentless, bordering on savage.
For a moment, she thought he might actually devour her.
Yet the blade never fell.
She could feel him straining, his resentment thickening, eyes black and tinged with red.
The moon dipped westward; dawn crept over the horizon.
Slowly, he pulled away, stepping back with heavy footsteps.
His resentment clung to him like a tangible thing, soaking his black robes, dripping like rain.
The very picture of a frustrated, ghostly man.
Luo Luo’s heart twisted.
"Li Zhaoye," she called softly, cheeks flushed. "If you want to... it’s not like I’d refuse..."
For some reason, he looked even more aggrieved.
After a long pause, he muttered darkly, "No. I don’t."
Luo Luo: "...Oh."
"Leaving!" He stalked off, then threw a glare over his shoulder. "Focus on your cultivation tonight. Next time, don’t expect mercy."
Heat rushed to her ears.
She muttered under her breath, "You never listen when I beg anyway."
His eyes narrowed.
Luo Luo hastily nodded. "Got it."
Only after he vanished from the loft did realization strike.
"Wait..." She blinked. "He’s the one who snuck in to spy on me!"
How did this become about her neglecting cultivation?
"Absolute scoundrel!"
Luo Luo locked the back window, slapping eight layers of seals over it.
The plant puppet that looked like Li Zhaoye got tossed out too—she didn’t want to see that face right now.
She kept the other puppet, activating the Soul-Jade illusion.
The minor spell left behind by Li Ermiao was surprisingly intricate. Luo Luo quickly grasped its mechanics.
With a thought, she skipped past long stretches of empty time, focusing on the fragments the puppet had recorded.
She saw herself and Li Zhaoye seated on meditation mats, reciting cultivation mantras in unison.
The old man who was supposed to supervise had long since slipped away, leaving a puppet in his place.
Luo Luo hadn’t noticed, diligently reciting.
Li Zhaoye, ever the sly one, half-lidded his eyes, parroting her words lazily.
Then—Li Ermiao returned from whatever mischief he’d been up to.
He lurked outside the carved window, peeking in at the two youngsters with a grin.
Luo Luo: "..."
These two truly were cut from the same cloth!
Her lips pursed as she studied the old rogue outside. He was grinning like a fool, utterly pleased with himself.
After a moment, her eyes grew warm.
She flicked the memory away.
Seasons flickered past—fragments of time flashing before her.
Then, abruptly, a younger Li Zhaoye’s face filled her vision.
He looked freshly returned from sword practice, temples damp, irritation rolling off him.
Passing the puppet, he rasped, "Bring a robe to the small waterfall!"
The puppet obediently headed for Zhaoye Pavilion.
Following its memory, Luo Luo stepped into the chaotic mess of Li Zhaoye’s quarters, grabbed fresh robes, and carried them to the waterfall.
From the rushing waters came the sound of his rough, labored breathing.
Luo Luo marveled. "Practicing sword forms even while bathing?"
The man was relentless!
But as she drew closer, something felt off.
The waterfall crashed over him, sending up a misty veil.
His figure was lean and toned, his muscles forming smooth, beautiful lines. His firm forearms tensed tightly as they moved rhythmically beneath the water.
Powerful ripples spread outward in layers.
Luo Luo: "!"
It took her only a moment to realize what he was doing.
The wooden puppet placed his robes on the flat stone by the waterfall and turned to leave.
Luo Luo could no longer see the scene beneath the waterfall.
But the steady sound of water kept her heart racing, her cheeks burning.
Just as the puppet stepped out of the waterfall’s range, Luo Luo suddenly heard the young Li Zhaoye call her name in a voice thick with restraint—low, husky, and unmistakably raw with desire.
"Luo Luo!"
Her breath hitched, her heart pounding as her consciousness abruptly snapped out of the memory.
Sitting by the window, she blinked dazedly, her cheeks heating up despite herself.
No wonder he had "experience" in the illusion—turns out he’d gained it by thinking of her while taking care of himself under that little waterfall.
Luo Luo pressed her lips together, lost in thought.
Given how pent-up he’d been earlier, he was probably back at the waterfall right now, wasn’t he?
She decided to go catch him in the act—that bastard always bullied her. It was time for some payback.
Mind made up, she concealed her presence, slipped out the window, and soundlessly made her way toward the small waterfall behind Zhaoye Pavilion.
"Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh!"
The roaring water masked the sound of her landing.
At a glance, sure enough, that bastard Li Zhaoye was cooling off under the waterfall.
Her pulse quickened. She took a deep breath—then teleported right behind him in a flash!
"SPLASH!"
She appeared behind him, arms wrapping around his waist in a tight grip. "Got you!"
Li Zhaoye: "Tch—!"
The thick, almost tangible resentment around him momentarily scattered in surprise.
His pupils constricted as he whipped his head around to stare at her like she was a ghost.
Luo Luo clenched her jaw and decisively plunged her hand into the water, reaching for him.
"...Huh?"
She blinked in confusion.
Last time in the hot spring, it had definitely been right here.
But this time, her grasp closed around nothing—the "sword" wasn’t there. Neither were his hands.
No evidence to seize.
With a splash, Li Zhaoye clamped onto her wrist.
He slowly turned to face her, dark eyes boring down. "What are you doing?"
She stiffly glanced around, spotting both his hands—neither was hidden underwater doing anything questionable.
And he was fully dressed, robes neatly in place.
Miscalculation.
Luo Luo: "..."
Thinking fast, she put on a serious face. "I came to discuss something important."
Li Zhaoye narrowed his eyes. "Speak."
She swallowed hard. "Well, Senior Sister asked us to name that sword technique. Since we practiced it in the water last time, I thought coming here might help me brainstorm!"
The more she spoke, the more convinced she sounded. "Yeah, exactly! That’s why I’m here."
"Oh—" Li Zhaoye nodded, his tone light. "I see."
Luo Luo nodded vigorously. "Right, so hurry up and think!"
"Splash."
He suddenly stepped forward. Instinctively, she retreated.
A flicker of unease rose in her chest—the memories from last night were still vivid. Her lips still tingled faintly, her tongue sore.
"Why retreat?" He raised a brow. "Weren’t you here to brainstorm?"
Luo Luo steadied herself. "Yes! Exactly!"
Li Zhaoye: "How many modifications did we make to the sword technique in the water?"
She thought carefully. "Three."
Li Zhaoye: "Where was the final stance perfected?"
Luo Luo strained to recall. "The bottom of the pool."
Li Zhaoye: "And what exactly were you trying to grab earlier?"
Luo Luo answered without thinking: "Your brother."
She sucked in a sharp breath, horror dawning in her eyes.
His gaze turned icy, his voice eerily calm. "Did you catch him?"
Luo Luo shook her head frantically. "No, no!"
Desperate to convince him, she added earnestly, "Absolutely nothing there."
"Oh." He looked even more like a vengeful spirit now. "Ab-so-lute-ly nothing."
He chuckled lowly—the kind of laugh that sent chills down one’s spine.
Luo Luo: "...It’s true!"
"Mm, true." He nodded slowly. "Brother wasn’t home. But when he returns..."
Luo Luo: "When he returns?"
He leaned in, his cold lips brushing her ear as he whispered:
"I’ll you to death!"
