Mo Zhu cupped her face, answering her with action.
He kissed her again, gently pecking at her lips—so light, so tender.
Yu Zhiling’s waist suddenly went weak, the alcohol fully taking over. Mo Zhu held her close, one hand pressing against the small of her back.
Kneeling on the bed, he leaned over her, enveloping her in his embrace. His dark, ink-like eyes fixed on her before he dipped down to brush his lips against hers once more.
Yu Zhiling clutched his collar nervously, and Mo Zhu guided her arms to loop around his neck, patting her back to signal her to hold onto him.
Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him entirely. Now freed, Mo Zhu cradled her cheek with one hand, tilting her face up, while the other rested at the back of her head. He kissed her lightly, then pulled back to study her expression.
Yu Zhiling’s gaze grew increasingly unfocused. Mo Zhu noticed her body softening further, her lack of resistance—only the deepening flush on her cheeks telling him:
She didn’t dislike it.
Even drunk, she had initiated this. She knew who he was, and she knew what she was doing.
Reassured, Mo Zhu laid her down on the bed, hovering over her as he carefully kissed her lips again. The citrus scent on his breath mingled with the wine on hers, and he tasted the bitterness of alcohol. Spicy, harsh—he didn’t understand why she liked drinking it.
He truly didn’t know what he was doing, only pressing soft, fleeting kisses to her lips, watching her face redden further. His own heartbeat grew frantic, their pulses syncing, their mutual nervousness laid bare.
Yu Zhiling suddenly turned her head away, leaving Mo Zhu’s lips to land on her cheek.
He paused, propping himself up so he wouldn’t crush her.
Mo Zhu pressed his lips together, equally flustered. He knew little about such matters, and Yu Zhiling was even more inexperienced. Two clueless souls fumbling together—awkwardness was inevitable.
Her reaction… did she dislike it?
"Master, I’m sorry. I couldn’t hold back."
Yu Zhiling’s disheveled hair partially hid her face. Her gaze drifted to the wine bottle that had rolled to the floor, knocking over empty bottles along the way. She had drunk thirteen bottles—Zhuo Yu’s tolerance was strong, but even she couldn’t handle such recklessness.
Now thoroughly drunk and weakened by Mo Zhu’s advances, she had no strength left.
Her hands, still looped around his neck, unconsciously tangled in his silky black hair. She felt the heat radiating from him as he hovered above her.
Uncertain of her feelings, Mo Zhu didn’t dare continue—nor could he bring himself to pull away. He waited for her response.
He saw her lashes tremble, heard the wild pounding of her heart. The Flying Serpent’s heightened senses made every detail of her vivid to him.
Yu Zhiling looked up at him, the alcohol blurring her vision until his face swam before her.
Her voice was a soft murmur, as if she’d only just realized what was happening.
"Mo Zhu… you’re kissing me…"
He couldn’t stand it—her flushed cheeks, the way she held him, her eyes fixed solely on him, as if no one else existed.
"Yes, I’m kissing you, Master." He leaned closer, pleading. "Look at me, okay? Don’t think about Gui anymore. Just me, Master?"
"Gui?"
"Anything Gui could give you, I can give you too. Whatever I can’t do now, I’ll learn. I’ll do whatever you ask. You like my face, don’t you? You can look at me as much as you want."
Yu Zhiling frowned, confused. "What does Gui have to do with this?"
Of course it mattered. She was always thinking about Gui—it drove Mo Zhu mad with jealousy.
He leaned in again, pressing a coaxing kiss to her lower lip before murmuring, "I care. I just… I want you to only look at me. Is that okay?"
Yu Zhiling couldn’t resist his pleading, doe-eyed gaze. It made her heart melt.
Her usually carefree self giggled, the wine loosening her tongue. "But Gui treats me so well."
Mo Zhu nearly choked on the blood rising in his throat. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to stay calm. "Don’t think about him. Let’s move forward, okay? Look at the person right in front of you."
"Master, tell me—what don’t you like about me? I’ll change anything."
He kissed her lower lip again and again, testing her limits when she didn’t react.
In truth, Yu Zhiling was too drunk to see clearly. Mo Zhu’s face was just a blur to her now.
She mumbled, "Why are you kissing me again?"
Mo Zhu brushed his lips against the tip of her nose. "Because I like it. Because I like you."
Yu Zhiling freed a hand to pinch his cheek, scowling. "Do you like kissing, or do you like me? Get your logic straight."
Mo Zhu hurried to explain to the drunk woman: "I like you, Master. That’s why I like kissing you."
"Then if you liked someone else, would you kiss them too?"
"I wouldn’t like anyone else. I wouldn’t kiss anyone else. Only you, Master."
"Master is peerlessly beautiful, right? A stunning, graceful, celestial beauty, unmatched in elegance?"
"Yes."
Amused by her sudden eloquence, Mo Zhu nuzzled her nose. She spoke so clearly—hard to tell she was drunk, except for the fact that she hadn’t pushed him away.
"You’re so good. A little reward for you."
Yu Zhilian pecked his lips repeatedly, like a woodpecker tapping a tree—quick, playful kisses.
Mo Zhu didn’t resist, leaning into her.
Delighted, Yu Zhiling nipped at his lip, drawing a low, husky groan from him—a sound that vibrated with pleasure as much as surprise.
Yu Zhiling: "!!!"
This was her first time hearing a man make such a noise!
She pulled back to study him, her tipsy mind trying to decipher his reaction.
Mo Zhu’s eyes were tinged red, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he leaned in again.
"Continue, Master?"
Grinning, Yu Zhiling closed the distance, tasting the citrus on his lips, her tongue darting out tentatively.
Mo Zhu’s arms, braced on either side of her head, nearly gave out. His body sagged, almost collapsing onto her before he caught himself at her frown.
His face burned, his entire body feverish. His heart pounded so loudly he could barely hear anything else. At seventeen, he’d never experienced anything like this—he’d thought kissing was the limit, but then she…
Unable to hold himself up any longer, he sat back, pulling her into his lap instead. He kissed her in small, tender presses, amused when she drunkenly kissed him back—competitive even now, returning two kisses for every one of his.
After his third kiss, she clapped a hand over his mouth and swatted his shoulder. "Stop! You’ve kissed me more times now. It’s my turn!"
Mo Zhu quickly appeased her. "Then Master can kiss me back?"
She repaid him double, cupping his face and pecking at his lips like a little woodpecker.
Mo Zhu noticed the faint glimpse of her teeth as her lips parted slightly, recalling how she had licked him earlier.
The young man’s Adam’s apple bobbed as her woodpecker-like kisses left him restless and feverish, a vague dissatisfaction stirring in him—he wanted her to do it like before.
He cupped her face in his hands. Yu Zhiling sat in his lap, about to cling to him and resume her pecking when her little disciple stopped her.
"Master."
"What are you doing? I’m not done yet!"
Mo Zhu wasn’t particularly keen on this back-and-forth pecking. His calloused thumb brushed over her lips as he kissed her softly, murmuring against her mouth, "Let me kiss you instead, Master. You’ve kissed me too many times—I haven’t had my turn yet."
Yu Zhiling patted his shoulder. "That’s because you didn’t seize the opportunity. Chances are—"
"—for those who are prepared," Mo Zhu finished for her, his darkened gaze fixed on her slightly parted lips, his voice low and suggestive. "I understand now."
Yu Zhiling: "?"
What did he understand? Why wasn’t he telling his master?!
Her disciple wasn’t one for words—he always acted more than he spoke.
He pressed his lips to hers carefully, noticing her dazed expression. Tentatively, he licked her lower lip, drawing a soft whimper from her as her lips parted further.
What followed felt almost inevitable—instinct took over as he slipped past her teeth.
The taste of strong liquor lingered in her mouth, bitter at first but sweet on the aftertaste, mingled with a hint of citrus. The more he savored it, the more intoxicated he became—and so did his master.
Yu Zhiling was stubborn by nature. At first, she didn’t understand why her disciple was sucking on her tongue or why he was lightly nipping at her. But she did notice how her body grew weaker, how his grip on her waist tightened, how his breathing turned ragged and scorching.
She learned quickly, though, and began responding—though it felt more like a competition, a battle to see who was better at this. Her master had to be first in everything.
But the alcohol won in the end. After a while, her head spun, and she slumped against him, tilting her face up to let him kiss her as she grew drowsy.
A long, long time passed—so long that she started feeling sleepy. She patted his shoulder with a muffled whimper.
Mo Zhu, thinking she was suffocating, forced himself to pull back, pressing his forehead to hers as he panted heavily.
"Master, breathe first."
Master didn’t want to breathe. Master wanted to sleep.
She draped herself over his shoulder, her slender legs wrapped around his waist as she sat facing him in his lap. Closing her eyes, she looked ready to doze off right then and there.
Mo Zhu didn’t know whether to laugh or sigh. He kissed the tip of her nose and coaxed, "Just another fifteen minutes, alright? You like it so much."
Master cracked one eye open. "Tomorrow."
Tomorrow, she might not even let him kiss her. The drunkard seemed coherent now, but in reality, she had already abandoned all rational thought.
Her disciple wheedled, "A reward. You still owe me for retrieving the Wuhui Sword."
Yu Zhiling’s sluggish mind struggled to recall—she owed him far too many rewards.
Master opened her other eye and tilted her head up magnanimously. "Fine, fifteen more minutes. Consider this your little reward."
Mo Zhu kissed her again, capturing her lips in a slow, deep rhythm, exploring her mouth with increasing hunger.
He had said fifteen minutes, but when the time came, he didn’t stop. Lost in the moment, who could keep track? Especially when she seemed to enjoy it just as much—her arms wound around his neck again, her occasional drowsy responses only spurring him on further.
All the jealousy from earlier had vanished, soothed away by her kisses. He lifted her into his arms, carrying her toward his room while still kissing her. Once inside, he shut the door behind them and laid her on his bed, continuing to taste her, listening to her soft whimpers, feeling her tentative kisses and the occasional playful nip when she got carried away.
Their breaths mingled, their flavors entwined. He loved her taste—and he wanted more.
Yu Zhiling clung to him, her inhibitions washed away by the alcohol, leaving only raw desire—and the flicker of affection she had long suppressed.
Mo Zhu stroked her waist with one hand, keeping his eyes open as he kissed her, watching her half-lidded gaze and flushed cheeks, feeling her body grow even softer beneath him, listening to her shallow breaths.
She lay on his bed, nestled in black silk—his most precious treasure.
What did Gui matter?
Right now, the one kissing her was him.
Mo Zhu closed his eyes and kissed her harder, his movements growing surer. The fifteen minutes had long since passed.
She didn’t tell him to stop—and he had no intention of doing so.
The Zhuqing Sword nudged the Wuhui Sword beside it.
Zhuqing: "What did your master and mine do last night? My master is practically smothering herself."
Wuhui: "I was asleep in my sheath yesterday—I have no idea!"
Zhuqing: "I was asleep too!"
The two swords, prone to long slumbers, fell into silent resignation.
Yu Zhiling still hadn’t moved, her face buried in the blankets. The quilt covering her wasn’t her usual green silk, and the scent in the air wasn’t the orange blossom fragrance of her own room.
The young man’s bed was firmer than she was used to—Mo Zhu disliked soft mattresses and didn’t layer his bedding with three plush quilts like she did.
His room felt slightly oppressive too. Mo Zhu only wore black robes, as if he had a particular fondness for the color. Even his blankets were ink-dark, but the space carried his distinct, clean scent—a cool, woody sandalwood that suited his personality perfectly. She had always found it pleasant.
Who could understand the feeling of waking up in their disciple’s bed? Her first thought wasn’t whether Mo Zhu had taken advantage of her—but whether she, in her drunkenness, had taken advantage of him.
Her little disciple couldn’t overpower her yet. If Master wanted to do something to him, it would’ve been all too easy. Hadn’t she been drinking on the couch in his courtyard yesterday?
After a long moment of recollection, she remembered—Mo Zhu had helped sober her up. She didn’t have a headache, at least. Yu Zhiling lay still for a while longer, piecing everything together.
Zhuo Yu had a high alcohol tolerance, but his behavior while drunk was unknown. After last night, however, Yu Zhiling was certain of one thing—her own drunken conduct was far from exemplary. She could talk a good game, but her actions were utterly thoughtless.
She hadn’t blacked out, either. She remembered everything she’d done.
She had kissed him. She had initiated it. She had cupped Mo Zhu’s face and pecked at him over and over, then challenged him to a kissing contest, shamelessly declaring herself the winner while her disciple conceded defeat—or perhaps he had just humored her, not resisting in the slightest. He had seemed more than willing.
Yu Zhiling threw off the blankets, her forehead damp with sweat. The heat had gotten to her. She kicked the quilt away and sprawled across the bed.
The door creaked open as someone entered.
Mo Zhu’s room didn’t have beaded curtains, and since no one usually visited, their eyes met without obstruction.
Yu Zhiling: "..."
She struck first: "You—Mo Tuanzi—don’t you dare criticize me! I might’ve started it, but you kissed back! You’re no saint either!"
Mo Zhu laughed, setting a tray down on the table before approaching the bed and sitting beside her.
"I didn’t mean to blame you, Master. I was the one who kissed you."
Yu Zhiling shrank further into the inner side of the bed, tilting her chin up like a little tyrant as she commanded him, "I was drunk. Drunkards act without reason—you know that. I’m almost two hundred years old. A high-level cultivator like me… it’s normal to have some physical urges. I don’t practice the Path of Emotionlessness, so there’s nothing strange about it."
Mo Zhu nodded. "Mm, I know. I have them too."
Yu Zhiling: "?"
She kicked him in the waist. "What kind of urges could a little brat like you—"
Mo Zhu narrowed his eyes slightly.
Yu Zhiling quickly retracted her words. "What kind of urges could a little snake like you have? You’re only seventeen—that’s just precociousness!"
Mo Zhu caught her ankle and pulled her skirt back down over her calf where it had slipped.
"Flying Serpents come of age at sixteen. My father was married by seventeen," Mo Zhu said calmly. "Besides, haven’t you heard the saying, Master?"
Yu Zhiling pulled her foot back, her face burning as she buried herself under the brocade quilt. "W-what saying?"
Mo Zhu replied earnestly, "Snakes are lustful by nature. You should be grateful you fell asleep early last night. If we’d kept kissing, I might have lost all self-control."
Yu Zhiling’s face turned crimson, and she kicked him again. "Shut up! This isn’t a ride for kindergarteners!"
Mo Zhu didn’t understand her words, but seeing her flustered reaction amused him. Smiling, he leaned over her, bracing himself above her.
"There’s no need to be embarrassed. It’s normal to desire someone you like. I adore you, Master, and I won’t hide how much I crave you. Didn’t you… feel the same?"
Yu Zhiling’s eyes widened in shock. "Nonsense!"
But as soon as the words left her mouth, a memory flashed through her mind—
"I’m so hot—why are you still wearing clothes? Take them off! What’s there to hide from your master? Am I an outsider?"
"Master, no… I can’t. Please don’t undo my belt—"
"Off, off, off! I don’t like you dressed. You look best without clothes!"
In the end, her stubborn disciple had held his ground, refusing to undress, and her drunken self had been coaxed to sleep with kisses.
Yu Zhiling’s face paled. She covered her face and rolled onto her stomach, wishing she could retreat into her shell—only to find that Mo Zhu had rolled the quilt to the foot of the bed.
Mo Zhu chuckled, stroking her hair.
"It’s fine. I didn’t mind."
Of course she knew he hadn’t minded. He’d kissed her back eagerly, his rough breathing sending shivers down her spine.
Mo the fisherman had barely cast his bait before his master took the hook.
Her disciple was undeniably alluring, and she was a master with shaky resolve.
She stayed silent. Mo Zhu waited patiently, knowing full well that Yu Zhiling’s affection for him wasn’t deep enough yet. Last night’s wine had simply amplified her emotions—she liked his face more than she liked him.
He knew. But he’d shamelessly taken advantage of her wavering heart. And he couldn’t deny that, more than anything, he’d surrendered to his own hunger for her.
Once she made the first move, he couldn’t—and wouldn’t—refuse.
After a long silence, Yu Zhiling murmured, "Close the bed curtains."
Mo Zhu didn’t understand why, but he obeyed, rising to push open the window first, flooding the room with daylight. Then he returned to the bed and drew the curtains shut.
Thankfully, he’d never changed them since moving in. They weren’t the heavy black of his old quarters but the same translucent green as hers, allowing soft light to filter through.
The enclosed space seemed to comfort her. Mo Zhu sat at the edge of the bed, and Yu Zhiling finally emerged from her shell.
She looked up at him. The dim light inside the curtains softened his sharp features.
Sitting up cross-legged, she faced him, clad only in a thin green inner robe, her slender neck exposed.
Mo Zhu glanced at it, then quickly averted his gaze, afraid of losing control again.
Yu Zhiling hesitated before speaking. "I admit I feel something for you that goes beyond a master-disciple bond. I’m not a frivolous person. Those kisses last night were my doing. The wine lowered my inhibitions and magnified my feelings. It makes people reckless, and maybe…"
She peeked guiltily at her disciple’s profile before adding in a small voice, "Maybe there was some shameless lust involved too. I won’t deny it—your face is exactly my type. I believe in speaking plainly. No point hiding things."
She was a woman who spoke her mind and hated stubborn silence. If she felt something, she said it. Conflicts needed resolving, and affection deserved to be voiced.
Mo Zhu met her gaze, his voice low. "Mm. What else?"
He kept his tone gentle, not wanting to pressure her, giving her space to voice her thoughts freely.
Yu Zhiling thought for a moment before continuing. "I was drunk, but not so far gone that I didn’t recognize you. I knew it was you, and I knew I wanted to kiss you. I’ve always followed my heart, and I don’t regret my actions."
Her blunt honesty made Mo Zhu guess what was coming next—yet, strangely, he felt no disappointment.
Sure enough, she met his eyes and said firmly, "But Mo Zhu, my feelings aren’t strong enough for us to be together. It’s normal to develop slight affection for someone you’ve spent time with, especially of the opposite sex. And besides… I just don’t think a relationship between us would work."
Because Mo Zhu couldn’t give her the same sense of security that Gui could.
She couldn’t believe someone who’d only known her for two months could be so deeply attached. To her, this was just a youthful infatuation—how long could it possibly last?
At Yingshan Sect, everyone cherished "Yu Xiaowu." What if they discovered she wasn’t the real Yu Xiaowu?
Yu Zhiling couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in Yan Shanqing’s eyes, nor could she face their accusations. Even less could she entwine herself with the protagonist of the original story—the one who’d annihilated Zhuo Yu’s soul. Two months of affection wasn’t enough to make her cast aside all her fears.
Her plan had always been to live freely after completing her mission, far from the plot’s reach.
She watched Mo Zhu anxiously, unsure if her words would wound his pride.
But Mo Zhu remained composed. "Is that all you wanted to say, Master?"
Yu Zhiling nodded meekly. "Yes."
Mo Zhu acknowledged it, then asked, "You said you don’t like me enough—I understand that. But why do you think being with me would be difficult?"
His expression darkened slightly before he added, "Is it because of Gui?"
Yu Zhiling: "What does this have to do with Gui? My feelings for Gui aren’t romantic."
To her, Gui was family—someone she relied on. Whether male or female, young or old, Gui was her dearest friend and the safe harbor she considered home.
Mo Zhu didn’t answer her question but instead countered, "If it’s not romantic, can you truly be certain, Master?"
Yu Zhiling replied firmly, "Absolutely not."
Good. If she said it wasn’t, he would believe her.
Mo Zhu leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers, one hand cradling her face.
The distance between them closed completely as he gazed into her eyes.
"No one can predict the future, but I will strive for it. I’m not forcing you to be with me, nor do I think a mere kiss alone should define our relationship. That would be too careless—for both of us. Last night, my own selfish desires played a part. I longed to be close to you. That you didn’t reprimand me for it… I’m already grateful."
"So, Master, we have time. There’s still so much ahead. I will prove myself to you."
His throat bobbed as his thumb brushed her cheek. His voice was soft, but his words were resolute.
"Before we commit to anything, if you desire my face or this body, you may do as you please. I won’t hold you accountable, nor will I use it to pressure you into a relationship. Love can breed desire—and the reverse is also true."
Mo Zhu knew she must be reeling, sensing her shock.
He chuckled and pressed a light kiss to her forehead.
"There’s no need to be shy. What happens here stays between us. Once the gates of Listening Spring Cliff are closed, we can do as we wish. The sect leader and the others won’t know. By day, I train. By night… you may cultivate with me. It would benefit your cultivation greatly—and mine as well."
"If you like this skin of mine, then indulge your heart’s desires. No matter how far things go, I will take responsibility for you. But what you choose to give me… that is entirely up to you."
"In this between us, Master… you hold the power to decide everything."
