Yu Zhiling had a wonderfully comfortable sleep.
In her dream, she was basking in the warm sunlight, her entire body cozy and content, when her obedient little disciple approached with a bucket of fried chicken!
"Master, it's time to eat."
Good heavens, this was the life she deserved—why bother cultivating? Why chase after merit points? She was already the number one in the Central Continent!
No more cultivation, no more cultivation, no more cultivation! She just wanted to laze around, laze around, laze around forever!
Yu Zhiling waved her hand grandly. "Mo Zhu, feed it to your master!"
She loved this kind of idle, pampered life—no ambitions, just pure indulgence!
Her obedient little disciple sat beside her, feeding her the fried chicken she had been craving.
Yu Zhiling took a big, satisfying bite.
But then, the fried chicken in her mouth twitched. She heard it gasp sharply.
"Master?"
Master? What master? Since when was Yu Zhiling the master of a piece of fried chicken? Since when did a mere piece of fried chicken dare to call her master?!
Yu Zhiling used both hands, gripping the fried chicken and taking another fierce bite. This time, the fried chicken finally settled down—it stopped talking!
The fried chicken was trembling.
No—Mo Zhu felt like he hadn’t woken up yet.
He recited countless verses of the Heart-Cleansing Scripture in his mind, keeping his eyes shut tight, not daring to look. His hands hovered uncertainly, unsure where to place them. The composure he had forced upon himself shattered completely under the relentless nibbling of the person on top of him.
She bit down on his collarbone. Mo Zhu turned his head away, panting softly, his voice trembling as he pressed a hand to her shoulder. "M-Master… please… stop biting."
If she kept going, he wouldn’t be able to hold back.
Yu Zhiling mumbled petulantly, "If I don’t bite you, who else gets to? You’re mine!"
Her fried chicken!
The fried chicken fell silent.
Was this… the consequence of using Frostwind Slash?
Yu Zhiling lay sprawled over him, nipping at his earlobe before demanding, "Say it—whose are you?"
The fried chicken: "…"
"Still not talking?"
Mo Zhu, caught off guard by another bite, hurriedly answered, "Yours, Master’s."
"Who’s your master?!"
"Master is… Yu Zhiling."
"Can anyone else eat you?!"
"…"
Why was she back to talking about eating him?
"Say it!"
Mo Zhu quickly obliged, humoring her. "No one else. Only Master can… eat me."
Yu Zhiling happily licked the "skin" of her fried chicken, smoothing out the teeth marks before taking small, delicate bites.
Strange—why was this fried chicken so tough?
Annoyed, she bit down harder, leaving tiny teeth marks along his neck and collarbone.
Mo Zhu’s entire right side went numb. He couldn’t suppress the low, ragged breaths escaping him. Turning his head away, he caught sight of her face—her eyes half-lidded, gaze hazy, clearly still half-asleep. If he didn’t push her away now, he’d be taking advantage of her.
All it would take was a light shove, and he could free himself.
Just one push…
But after a few moments, his hand, which had been resting on her shoulder, dropped limply to the side. Mo Zhu tilted his head back, baring his neck completely, letting her gnaw at him like a kitten.
He couldn’t control the heat pooling in his body, couldn’t ignore the way his breathing grew increasingly ragged. With every little bite Yu Zhiling took, the truth became undeniable—he wanted her.
A disciple, lusting after his own master.
He had truly lost his mind.
Yu Zhiling, meanwhile, was growing increasingly frustrated with her futile chewing. Damn it, all she was doing was covering this fried chicken in drool—why were its bones so hard?!
The aggrieved master slumped over her fried chicken, the frustration of being unable to eat it properly bringing her to tears. She was exhausted, starving, and now—miserable.
Mo Zhu: "…"
Mo Zhu snapped out of his daze, tilting his head slightly to look at the person sprawled on top of him. Her cheek was pressed against his chest, eyes shut, but tears trickled down the bridge of her nose.
"Master… why are you crying?"
Wasn’t he the one being bitten? She had even broken skin on his collarbone.
Yu Zhiling pouted, her voice barely audible.
Mo Zhu leaned in closer.
"I… I don’t like fried chicken anymore… I want boneless wings… the kind with just cartilage… sweet plum powder with extra spice…"
Mo Zhu: "?"
"I’m… so hungry…"
Mo Zhu: "…………"
So she was just hungry.
He lay back down, one arm thrown over his eyes, taking deep breaths to calm the fire in his veins. His other hand rested on her back, gently patting her as he murmured, "Master, should I go get you something to eat?"
Yu Zhiling didn’t answer—she had already fallen asleep on top of him.
Mo Zhu stayed like that for a long time. The bite on his collarbone stung faintly, but the pain was nothing compared to the frantic pounding of his heart, the heat still coursing through him.
This reaction was entirely unfamiliar to him. At seventeen, he had spent most of his life exorcising evil spirits. He was naturally reserved, rarely speaking even to fellow cultivators on night hunts—he had never experienced this kind of physical longing before.
Her biting him… it felt good. Too good.
And more than that—
He wanted to bite her back.
It took him an embarrassingly long time to regain control, and even then, he had to channel spiritual energy to cool himself down. Remembering she was still hungry, he carefully tried to shift her off to prepare food—but the moment he moved, Yu Zhiling frowned.
Mo Zhu immediately froze. Once her expression smoothed out, he attempted again, nudging her lightly.
Her brow furrowed once more, and she nuzzled against his chest, grumbling sleepily, "Stop… moving… my body hurts…"
Mo Zhu didn’t dare breathe.
Many of her meridians were shattered. He had been asleep earlier too, so he had no idea how she had ended up on top of him—he had woken up to her biting him. But given how much she had been squirming earlier, the pain from her injuries must have finally caught up to her.
After a brief hesitation, Mo Zhu placed a hand on the small of her back, channeling warm spiritual energy into her meridians. Following the method Ning Hengwu had taught him, he carefully soothed her injuries.
Sure enough, her frown disappeared. She snuggled deeper into his chest, pouting adorably as she drifted off, her breathing soft and even.
Mo Zhu lay flat on the bed, Yu Zhiling sprawled over him like a human blanket. The quilt had long been kicked to the foot of the bed, so he summoned it back with a flick of spiritual energy, draping it over her to keep her warm.
Once everything was settled, the room fell silent. Outside, the rain continued to fall. The two half-open lattice windows let in the steady patter of droplets, filling the space with a gentle, rhythmic sound.
Mo Zhu could still hear his own heartbeat—so loud it threatened to burst from his chest.
He turned his head slightly, studying her. Yu Zhiling’s skin was pale, almost translucent, but now warmed to a soft pink from his body heat. A faint smear of blood lingered on her lips—his blood, from where she had bitten him.
Mo Zhu reached out, brushing his thumb lightly over her lower lip to wipe it away.
But at that moment, her lips parted—and she clamped down on his finger, biting hard before worrying at it with her teeth, coating his hand in saliva before finally releasing it with a sleepy grumble:
"Damn fried chicken, if you won't let this lady eat you, then don’t dangle in front of her! Otherwise, I’ll throw you back into the fryer!"
The fried chicken: "……"
The fried chicken flinched, pupils shrinking slightly, his barely calmed heartbeat thrown into disarray again.
He stared at the face mere inches from his, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his gaze wandered over her features before settling—inexplicably, irresistibly—on her lips.
Soft. Warm. Beautiful when she smiled. And painfully sharp when she bit.
He… he kind of wanted to…
The moment Mo Zhu realized what he was thinking, he jerked his head away and shut his eyes.
No. He couldn’t. This was crossing a line. She’d be furious.
Mo Zhu took a deep breath, his entire body burning. He wanted to get up and douse himself under cold water, but the little menace was sprawled on top of him. He didn’t dare push her off, afraid even the slightest movement might aggravate her damaged meridians. So he endured, forcing himself to stay still.
A long, long time passed—so long that the sky outside darkened completely.
Three or four hours had slipped by. At some point, he’d dozed off.
Yu Zhiling, meanwhile, slept soundly on top of him, cozy as if she’d curled up on an electric blanket. She woke up refreshed, her body humming with a steady flow of spiritual energy that gently mended her shattered meridians.
If her pillow hadn’t been a living person, she’d have happily slept a few more hours.
She lifted her head stiffly, her gaze landing on a slender neck, a prominent Adam’s apple, and a sharply defined jawline.
But none of that was the main issue.
The real problem was—
What the hell were all these bleeding bite marks?!
Yu Zhiling smacked the sleeping figure beneath her.
"Who dared bite you behind my back?! How vicious! Was it the Zhongli Family? Did they send someone to gnaw on you?!"
Mo Zhu, abruptly jolted awake: "…………"
He pinched the bridge of his nose, baffled yet again by his master’s uniquely bizarre thought process.
Still perched on him, Yu Zhiling reached out to trace the bite marks on his collarbone, grinding her teeth in outrage. "Who did this?! A real warrior fights with their hands, not their teeth! This is dishonorable!"
Mo Zhu quickly caught her wrist, terrified she’d accidentally shatter her own meridians with another reckless slap.
"Master, the Zhongli Family hasn’t done anything to me."
Yu Zhiling glared up at him. "Then explain these bite marks on your neck and collarbone! You—"
Her words died in her throat, her dark eyes widening.
Mo Zhu swallowed hard, suddenly tense. Had she remembered? What would she do?
Would she… reconsider their relationship?
But the next second, his dear master clapped a hand over her mouth, gasping in shock. "You’re dating someone?!"
Mo Zhu: "……?"
Her reaction only confirmed her assumption.
"When did you charm some female cultivator? Was it Zhongli Yang or Zhongli Xun playing matchmaker? Wait, no—we’ve only been at the Zhongli Family for seven days! You haven’t even met many people, let alone female cultivators! You’ve been with me this whole time…"
Oh, so she did notice he’d been glued to her side.
Mo Zhu tried to explain. "Master, I’m not—"
Yu Zhiling cut him off. "Don’t tell me you’ve been tending to me by day and sneaking off to your little girlfriend at night?"
Her eyes widened in disbelief. Did this kid never sleep?!
Mo Zhu turned his head away, laughing bitterly.
Yu Zhiling’s mind was a whirlwind, torn between "He’s grown up, let him live his life" and "No way, he’s only seventeen! This is underage romance!"—completely oblivious to the fact that she was still sprawled atop him.
Mo Zhu closed his eyes, struggling to suppress the sour ache in his chest.
She’d rather believe he was involved with some random female cultivator than consider the possibility that she was the one who’d left those marks. She’d always see him as a child, their relationship forever confined to master and disciple.
When he opened his eyes again, his expression was blank. He offered his wrist to Yu Zhiling.
"Master, bite."
Distracted by her internal crisis about underage dating, she absentmindedly obeyed, clamping her teeth down.
Yu Zhiling: "……"
She yanked her head back. "What are you doing?!"
Mo Zhu raised his wrist, displaying the clear imprint of her two slightly pointed canines.
Yu Zhiling frowned. "Wait, this looks familiar…"
She pressed his wrist against the bite marks on his neck, scrutinizing them side by side.
Fifteen minutes later.
Yu Zhiling: "I feel like my neck is missing something."
Mo Zhu: "?"
Yu Zhiling: "Go fetch me a rope. Yes, that beam over there. Hang your master from it."
Mo Zhu laughed bitterly again.
Yu Zhiling mused that death came for everyone—some with glory, others with insignificance. She didn’t care how she died, but—
Not like this!!! Not from sheer embarrassment!!!
Hadn’t she been gnawing on fried chicken last night?! Fried chicken?!
How did it turn into her sweet, obedient, slightly unhinged disciple?!
She scrambled to climb off him, wincing at the pain, but the moment she moved, Mo Zhu’s hand settled firmly on her waist. She froze, meeting his darkened gaze.
"Master, your meridians are still injured. Don’t move recklessly."
Yu Zhiling: "……How thoughtful."
Mo Zhu sat up slightly, carefully laying her down on the bed. He loomed over her, his tall frame casting her entirely in his shadow.
He watched her in silence, his eyes inscrutable, his gaze like a serpent fixated on prey—suffocating, oppressive.
Was… was he angry?
If someone had pinned her down, bitten her twenty times, then woken up to wild accusations, she’d be furious too. And this was Mo Zhu, the protagonist who, according to the original novel, despised his villainous master enough to dismember her 108 times. As a devoted reader, she knew exactly how much he hated her.
Mo Zhu studied her for a long moment, his Adam’s apple bobbing before he finally spoke. "Master, you—"
"Tiny mouth." Yu Zhiling clapped a hand over his lips, dead serious. "No talking."
Don’t kill her yet!!!
Senior brothers and sisters, save me!!!
Mo Zhu: "……"
He gently pulled her hand away, meeting her terrified stare as he said, "Master, you bit me over twenty times."
He tugged his collar lower, revealing the full extent of the bite marks scattered across his neck and collarbones.
Yu Zhiling couldn’t help admiring her own dental work. Such neat, even impressions.
But the moment her eyes met Mo Zhu’s pitch-black gaze, all pride vanished. She mentally calculated whether Yan Shanqing and the others would avenge her by slicing Mo Zhu to pieces after her death.
Good. At least she’d have someone to pay with their life. Not a total loss!
Yu Zhiling squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the feel of teeth tearing into her throat.
After waiting for a long time, all she received was the quiet yet expectant question from her young disciple.
"I... I’ve never been close to any other woman, Master... What are you going to do about it?"
Yu Zhiling: "???"
Yu Zhiling: "!!!"
Yu Zhiling opened her eyes: "Are you expecting me to take responsibility for you?!"
The moment those scoundrel-like words left her lips, the smile on Mo Zhu’s face instantly vanished. His dark pupils gradually took on a hint of dark gold, his voice laced with a threat: "What?"
Why wasn’t she planning to?
Did she look down on him?
He was perfectly pure, and quite good-looking too. Many times, he had caught her staring at his face in a daze. She had even praised him before, saying he was the most handsome person she had ever seen—aside from herself, of course.
Or was it because he was a demon, unworthy of her?
But the Flying Serpent was no ordinary demon race. They carried half the bloodline of divine beasts, and every part of their body was a treasure. A single scale of his could be worth an entire city, and his reverse scale could even shield her from a killing strike from a cultivator transcending tribulation.
A single drop of his heart’s blood, if she drank it, could save her a decade of cultivation.
And if they dual-cultivated for a year, both their cultivations could leap an entire major realm.
He...
What was he thinking?
Mo Zhu’s eyes suddenly widened, his throat tightening until he could barely breathe.
Take responsibility? Dual cultivation?
Was this the kind of thought a disciple should have toward his master?
She had only bitten him a few times, and yet his mind had already wandered this far?
Yu Zhiling was no less shocked than he was. She carefully recalled whether she had done anything more than just bite him last night—she certainly hadn’t stripped him or done anything else, right? In her severely injured state, even if she had the desire, she lacked the strength!
A few bites, and now it warranted taking responsibility?
Their eyes met, silence stretching between them.
The quiet was so profound that they could hear each other’s breathing, along with the gradually easing rain outside.
Mo Zhu’s mind felt as if it had been struck. A young man who had never interacted much with women couldn’t decipher this unfamiliar emotion. He wanted to take care of her, enjoyed taking care of her, and wished to keep doing so forever—but was this reverence and admiration for his master, or a man’s affection for a woman?
He stared at her blankly, finding equal confusion in her gaze.
Then he heard her tentative voice: "Mo Zhu, you... you’re too young. Master... Master really needs to give you some proper education on these matters. Let’s find some time, and I’ll have Zhongli Yang teach you. The truth is, we didn’t do anything like that. I wasn’t in my right mind, and it was wrong of me to take liberties with you, but..."
But it didn’t warrant responsibility, right?
Was the kid just too conservative?
Seeing his expression darken further, Yu Zhiling gritted her teeth and added, "If you want to date someone, Master has no objections. If you ever have that kind of intimate contact with a girl, Master will absolutely make you take responsibility. But... but we’re master and disciple. I wasn’t conscious yesterday, and our relationship isn’t that of a man and woman. There’s no need to talk about responsibility—"
"Enough."
Mo Zhu abruptly cut her off. He stood up, tall and straight-shouldered, his narrow waist accentuated by his robes—on any other day, Yu Zhiling would have happily admired the sight.
His hands trembled slightly as he pulled on the outer robe that had fallen beside the bed.
Yu Zhiling, unable to move, could only sense his anger—the little brat was so furious his shoulders were shaking. This was the first time she had ever seen him so visibly upset with her.
Beneath that anger, however, swirled a storm of other emotions she couldn’t decipher, and a sliver of unease crept into her heart.
"Hey, little brat, you—"
Mo Zhu fastened his belt, then suddenly turned to interrupt her: "Master."
Yu Zhiling: "I... I’m here..."
His lips pressed into a thin line, his breathing uneven, a faint redness creeping into the corners of his eyes.
"Stop calling me ‘little brat.’"
Couldn’t she see him as a man?
Seventeen—he didn’t know what that age meant in her eyes, but during his travels in the Central Continent, many commonfolk his age were already betrothed, some even married with children.
Even among cultivators, engagements at seventeen were hardly rare.
Why did she insist on treating him like a child?
Mo Zhu turned and strode out of the room. If he stayed any longer, he might not be able to hold back his emotions.
The door shut behind him, leaving Yu Zhiling stunned. This was the first time he had ever walked out on her. If not for the lingering warmth on the bedding and his scent still in the air, she might have thought it all a dream.
Ever since her little disciple had "lost his mind," he had never once been angry with her. No matter how much she pestered or ordered him around, he had always been endlessly patient, indulging her every whim. So why had he gotten so upset just now?
Yu Zhiling muttered under her breath, "Fine, no more ‘little brat.’ But why the anger?"
Just because she called him that?
Seventeen-year-old boys were truly incomprehensible. A man’s heart was as unfathomable as the ocean—this master couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
Yu Zhiling lay still for a while longer.
About half an hour later, thirst finally drove her to attempt moving. The moment she shifted, a sharp pain lanced through her.
Damn it! That ink-black rascal had left her here, half-crippled, unable to even get herself a drink of water!
Yu Zhiling flopped back, staring despondently at the ceiling. "Senior Brother, Senior Sister, someone come help! I’m so thirsty!"
As soon as the words left her mouth, the door creaked open.
She strained to lift her head and saw the young man step inside, his black robes nearly blending into the night. In his left hand was a tray, which he carried over before methodically arranging bowls and chopsticks on the table. The rich aroma of chicken soup soon filled the room.
Yu Zhiling’s eyes instantly sparkled. "Good boy, is that chicken soup?"
The youth didn’t turn around, only giving a muted, "Mn."
Still angry, it seemed. Yu Zhiling sighed inwardly. People always said girls were hard to placate when upset, but boys were just as bad!
Mo Zhu finished setting the meal, then returned to the bed and bent to lift her.
Her meridians were even more damaged than before, leaving her practically immobile. Mo Zhu held her as gently as possible, but even the slightest movement tugged at her injuries. He noticed her faint wince, though she didn’t voice any pain.
He adjusted his hold, softening it further.
At the table, he didn’t seat her in a chair—her lower body’s meridians were too injured for sitting upright. Instead, he settled onto the chair himself, cradling her in his lap, one arm supporting her back so she wouldn’t have to strain a single muscle.
Yu Zhiling felt a little awkward, but knowing she couldn’t sit up on her own, she didn’t protest. Facing her disciple’s expressionless face, she feared saying the wrong thing again and opted for silence.
Mo Zhu ladled out some soup, his tone neutral. "Second Uncle said you shouldn’t eat anything too greasy. No one in the Zhongli Family knew what ‘fried chicken’ was, so I had them make soup instead. The dishes aren’t spicy either—you can’t handle heat right now."
Yu Zhiling nodded meekly. "That’s... that’s fine. I’m not picky."
She ate whatever he served without complaint.
Perhaps because of the minor conflict they had not long ago, she was unusually quiet during the meal today. She barely spoke, and whenever her gaze accidentally landed on the bite mark on his neck, she would awkwardly look away, as if the word "guilt" were practically written on her face.
By the time the soup had cooled enough, he fed her two more bowls. Only then did Yu Zhiling turn her head away and shake it slightly. "I'm full, no more."
"Mn."
He responded in a low voice, setting her bowl down before picking up his own and finishing it in one go, then eating the remaining dishes she had left.
Curled up in his arms, Yu Zhiling mused to herself—this little rascal… no, Mo Zhu was a good boy, at least he didn’t waste food.
After he finished eating, instead of clearing the dishes first, he lifted her and carried her to the bathing chamber.
"It's late, Master. Time to wash up and rest."
Yu Zhiling nodded meekly.
But once they reached the bathing chamber, she fell silent again.
Before, when her injuries weren’t as severe—when she couldn’t walk but could still sit up and lift her arms—things had been easier. But now, with over two-thirds of her meridians shattered, even sitting was impossible, and the slightest movement tugged painfully at her damaged channels.
Yu Zhiling murmured, "I’ll just use a cleansing spell. It’s fine."
In this world, cultivators typically relied on cleansing spells to stay clean. Once one stepped onto the path of cultivation, impurities no longer clung to the body. But Yu Zhiling, being from the modern world, was accustomed to washing up before bed and after waking.
Mo Zhu didn’t respond. Instead, he filled the bathing pool with warm water and lined the wooden chair with layers of soft padding to ensure she wouldn’t feel any discomfort.
Yu Zhiling looked up and noticed his eyes—now a deep, unfocused gray.
He said, "I’ve sealed my five senses. I’ll help you undress."
Yu Zhiling: "..."
Yu Zhiling, horrified: "No!"
Only after speaking did she remember—he couldn’t hear her.
Panicked, she quickly transmitted her words through spiritual energy: "Don’t! I’ll just use a cleansing spell!"
Mo Zhu replied calmly, "You don’t have to endure hardship. Even injured, you should live as you’re accustomed to."
Having spent so much time with her, he knew she had habits others might consider unnecessary or troublesome. But no matter how much she had tested his patience in the past, he had never once been angry or found her burdensome.
Yu Zhiling clung to her last shred of dignity: "I said no! I… I can change my own clothes!"
Her tone was so resolute that Mo Zhu pressed his lips together and asked, "Why? I’ve sealed my senses. As your disciple, serving you is my duty."
Yu Zhiling, flustered: "I—I said no means no!"
Didn’t this brat understand the concept of propriety between men and women?!
Mo Zhu fell silent for a moment before finally relenting in a subdued voice, "Fine."
He turned his back to her and said softly, "Master, go ahead and undress. I’ll stay here to guard you. I can’t see or hear anything."
Yu Zhiling cautiously confirmed that he had indeed sealed his senses—after all, the male lead wouldn’t stoop to taking advantage of someone like this.
She had been caught in the rain earlier and felt grimy all over. Now, all she wanted was a good soak. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she slowly raised her arms and peeled off her clothes, using a bit of spiritual energy to support herself as she slipped into the warm water.
Yu Zhiling: "Heavenly!"
She glanced at the figure sitting across from her—his back was rigidly straight.
Well, since he couldn’t hear her anyway, Yu Zhiling happily hummed a little tune, reveling in her private bathing time. Playfully, she splashed the water, sending droplets flying onto the stone floor—and a few onto the young man’s ponytail and black robes.
Serves you right for throwing a tantum at your master!
She flicked more water his way, and soon, his robes were damp in large patches.
Since his senses were sealed, he had no idea his master was behaving like a mischievous child.
After a blissful soak, Yu Zhiling finally decided to get out.
She transmitted her voice to Mo Zhu: "I’m done. Bring me my qiankun pouch."
Only then did Mo Zhu stir, unfastening the pouch from his waist and handing it over without turning around.
Yu Zhiling carefully reached out, retrieved her fresh clothes, and then—grimacing—hauled herself out of the pool, hissing in pain as she struggled into the new garments.
It hurt, it hurt so much! Bathing felt like torture!
Once she was finally dressed, she wiped away the tears that had welled up from the pain and glanced at the young man still sitting obediently across from her.
Yu Zhiling: "..."
She lamented—why couldn’t she have a sweet, adorable female disciple instead?!
Mo Zhu, estimating that she was done, unsealed his senses and turned around—only to find his petite master sprawled inelegantly on the couch by the pool, staring right at him.
He strode over and bent to pick her up, but before he could, she sniffled and said:
"Mo Zhu… I think I want a female disciple."
The air around them instantly turned frigid. Yu Zhiling shivered and lifted her head, meeting her disciple’s darkened gaze.
Yu Zhiling: "???"
Was he throwing another tantrum before the last one had even cooled down?
Mo Zhu gritted his teeth. "Master wants another disciple?"
Yu Zhiling: "..."
Ah, right. When considering a "second child," one had to consult the "firstborn," especially since he was old enough to have his own opinions.
With a strong sense of self-preservation, she backtracked: "N-no, never mind! You’re enough… just you is fine..."
Mo Zhu lifted her without a word and carried her back to her chambers, tucking her into bed before turning to leave.
Finally, Yu Zhiling couldn’t hold back any longer. "Mo Zhu," she called softly.
He stopped but didn’t turn around.
After a hesitant pause, she asked in a small voice, "Why… why were you angry today?"
Mo Zhu suddenly felt exhausted. He couldn’t even explain why he was angry—was it just because she still saw him as a child?
No, it was more than that. There was something else.
He turned back to face her, taking in her bewildered expression, and asked the question that had been weighing on him.
"Master, what am I to you?"
Yu Zhiling tilted her head. What a strange question—he was her disciple, wasn’t he? What else could he be?
But Mo Zhu pressed again, his voice firm: "Master, answer me."
He seemed determined to hear her response.
Was he really so upset about her joking remark about taking another disciple?
Yu Zhiling sighed and tried to reassure him: "You’re my disciple. What I said earlier was just a joke—I only need you. One disciple is enough to wear me out; I couldn’t handle another."
Mo Zhu closed his eyes, feeling something inside him shatter.
A surge of anger rose in him, and before he could stop himself, he took a step forward, kneeling beside the bed and leaning in close. He took her hand and pressed it to his face.
"Master, what do you think I am?"
He didn’t wait for her answer, guiding her hand downward—past his lips, past the sharp line of his jaw.
"Am I just a little brat to you? Is that all I am—a child in your eyes?"
Yu Zhiling was utterly flustered: "You... you..."
At that moment, he pulled her hand to his neck, where her fingertips brushed against the distinct ridge of his Adam's apple—marked by the faint imprint of her teeth from when she had dozed off.
He leaned in close, their noses nearly touching, breaths mingling, their scents entwined.
Mo Zhu’s lips parted slightly, his dark eyes fixed intently on her. "Am I nothing more than a child to you, Shizun?"
Yu Zhiling tried to pull her hand away, but his grip was unyielding. Gone was his usual gentleness; today, he seemed driven by a fury that stripped away reason, forcing her to acknowledge him anew.
"Mo Zhu, I... I..."
Beneath her fingers, his Adam's apple bobbed. He was tall—so tall that when he bent down, he eclipsed everything behind him, leaving only him in her sight.
A seventeen-year-old youth, yet his stature rivaled that of grown men like Yan Shanqing and Zhongli Yang, standing nearly six feet three. His imposing height alone was enough to overwhelm her—his scorching breath, the taut muscles beneath his robes, the raw vitality of his youth, his robust health, and...
The depth of desire in his gaze.
Suddenly, Yu Zhiling realized: she was no longer in the modern world. Here, in this realm of cultivation, seventeen was an age when common folk wed, and even among long-lived cultivators, betrothals at sixteen were not uncommon—Yan Shanqing’s own disciple had been engaged at that age.
In this world, he was no longer a child.
He was...
A man.
