Returning to the Yingshan Sect on the afternoon of the second day, Yu Zhiling disembarked from the mustard seed boat and hurried straight to the Teaching Hall.
Mo Zhu, knowing her urgency, didn’t stop her. After storing the mustard seed boat, he followed her.
Yu Zhiling pushed open the doors of the Teaching Hall. "Eldest Senior Brother!"
The person who usually sat there handling affairs was nowhere to be seen. The hall was empty. She stepped forward and noticed a thin layer of dust on the desk—it had been at least several days since anyone had been here.
"You're back?"
Hearing the voice, Yu Zhiling turned around.
A young man in red robes swaggered in from outside. Upon seeing Yu Zhiling, he looked her up and down. "Now that you’ve reached the Tribulation Transcendence stage, it’s different. Just standing here, the pressure around you is uncomfortable."
Yu Zhiling recognized him—she had seen him once before outside the Spirit Artifact Pavilion.
Fu Zhao, the Taixu Crimson Rhinoceros.
Frowning, she asked, "Where’s my eldest senior brother?"
Fu Zhao replied lazily, "He went to the Immortal Alliance. Probably hasn’t returned yet."
"When did he leave?"
"A few days ago."
"Did he go alone?"
"No, he took disciples with him."
Yu Zhiling immediately grew anxious and rushed outside. "I told you all not to leave the mountain before I returned. Why didn’t you stop him? You scared me to death!"
Her heart was in turmoil. She didn’t even hear Fu Zhao calling after her as she lifted the hem of her skirt and broke into a run. The news that Yan Shanqing hadn’t returned in days only worsened her panic.
Distracted, Yu Zhiling moved swiftly and didn’t notice someone approaching around the corner. Unable to dodge in time, she collided headfirst into the person’s chest.
"Master?" Mo Zhu quickly steadied her. "What’s wrong?"
Yu Zhiling rubbed her forehead but didn’t have time to explain. She pushed him aside and made to descend the mountain, but after a single step, she froze.
A figure approached from afar—a man in blue robes, his hair tied in a crown, walking with an imposing air. When he spotted Yu Zhiling, his steps faltered briefly, as if surprised to see her back.
Ignoring Mo Zhu, Yu Zhiling ran to Yan Shanqing’s side.
"Eldest Senior Brother!"
"Xiaowu?"
Yan Shanqing seemed to have just returned as well, his appearance travel-worn. Before he could ask anything, Yu Zhiling grabbed him and spun him around, inspecting him closely.
"Xiaowu, what are you doing?"
Yu Zhiling confirmed he wasn’t injured, then channeled spiritual energy to check his meridians. His pulse was steady, with no signs of recent exertion.
"Do you recognize me?" Yu Zhiling leaned in. "Who am I?"
Yan Shanqing rolled his eyes. "Yu Xiaowu."
"And who is Yu Xiaowu?"
"Yu Zhiling."
"Which senior brother or sister does Yu Zhiling like the most?"
"Me." Yan Shanqing flicked her forehead with a resigned expression. "Yu Xiaowu clung to me the most as a child. She liked me best."
He hadn’t been replaced. The past events hadn’t repeated.
His demeanor and gaze were still Yan Shanqing’s—the fondness in his eyes wasn’t faked. Affection like that couldn’t be acted.
Yu Zhiling exhaled in relief, then clung to his arm and scolded him, "I told you all not to leave the mountain before I returned! Why didn’t you listen? You scared me half to death!"
Yan Shanqing ruffled her hair. "There were matters to handle. I took many disciples with me, and on the way to the Immortal Alliance, we traveled with powerful cultivators from noble families. It was fine, Xiaowu."
Yu Zhiling was still shaken. She feared You Zhou would target the Yingshan Sect to get to her.
Yan Shanqing understood her worry and bent down to console her. "This senior brother was wrong. I’ll listen to you from now on and won’t leave the mountain again, alright?"
Yu Zhiling lowered her voice. "I know it’s unfair to confine you all, but he’ll definitely strike at you to hurt me. I can’t rest easy. Senior Brother, please wait a little longer, okay?"
Yan Shanqing pinched her cheek reassuringly. "Alright, I’ll listen to Xiaowu."
Straightening, he pulled her into an embrace and patted her back gently. "Zhao Yan told me about your parents. Xiaowu, we’ll avenge them. Don’t be sad. Your senior brothers and sisters are all here for you."
The grief she had suppressed surged again. With family by her side, his words alone made her eyes sting.
She nodded quietly. "Mm. Okay."
"You didn’t use Frostblade this time. Xiaowu did well, listening to your senior brothers and sisters. I’ll reward you with a feast tonight."
Yu Zhiling chuckled softly. "I won’t use it ever again. I’ve reached Tribulation Transcendence now. But you still owe me that feast."
She hugged him back tightly—this elder brother who had raised her. Now that she understood her connection to Yu Xiaowu, her feelings for the Yingshan Sect had grown even stronger.
Seeing Yan Shanqing and the others made her feel safe. She would protect them with her life.
Yu Zhiling murmured, "I won’t use Frostblade again, Eldest Senior Brother."
A hundred paces away, atop the green stone steps, a young man stood tall and poised, arms crossed as he leaned against a pillar.
An arm draped over Mo Zhu’s shoulder.
"You’ve reached the mid-stage of Divine Transformation? You’re a monster. Your cultivation speed is even more absurd than Yu Zhiling’s."
Mo Zhu coldly shrugged off Fu Zhao’s arm and glared. "Who gave you the right to address my master so casually?"
Fu Zhao raised his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine—the Venerable Zhuoyu. Happy now? But kid, I’m thousands of years older than you. I could be her ancestor’s ancestor’s—alright, alright, I’ll stop!"
Under Mo Zhu’s increasingly frosty gaze, Fu Zhao swallowed the rest of his words.
Sitting down on the ground, Fu Zhao watched Yan Shanqing and Yu Zhiling conversing in the distance. He couldn’t hear them, but Mo Zhu likely could.
Judging by Mo Zhu’s expression, the two were probably exchanging mundane words.
Propping his chin on his hand, Fu Zhao asked, "You seem off. Haven’t you noticed your cultivation progress is unnaturally fast? The Venerable Zhuoyu’s talent is unmatched in the Central Continent since its creation—except perhaps the first Flying Serpent King, who reached Tribulation Transcendence at one hundred and fifty—"
He shook his head. "No, Zhuoyu is the best. She reached the Great Completion stage at one hundred and ten. If not for… that incident, she wouldn’t have stagnated for so long. She would’ve surely transcended before one hundred and fifty. But now, your talent seems even greater than hers. That shouldn’t be possible."
It shouldn’t. Mo Zhu knew his aptitude wasn’t on par with Yu Zhiling’s. His comprehension of sword techniques and cultivation methods paled in comparison to hers—she grasped even the most obscure concepts at a glance.
He knew something was wrong with him. His cultivation speed was unnatural.
Mo Zhu remained silent, but his silence was confirmation. He was well aware of his own abnormality.
Fu Zhao muttered to himself, "It's like you've already cultivated once before, and now you're starting over—a high-level expert returning to the beginner's village, leveling up as if cheating. The Central Continent's storybooks often write like this, you know?"
His lighthearted teasing struck Mo Zhu like a thunderclap.
"...Starting over?"
Fu Zhao cupped his chin and nodded. "Rebirth, living a second life—'I'll take back everything that belongs to me.' Haven't you heard that before?"
Mo Zhu never read storybooks, so how would he have heard such a phrase?
Seeing his interest, Fu Zhao grew even more excited. He pulled Mo Zhu down to sit on the steps and eagerly explained, "Generally, there are two types. One is where the protagonist was betrayed by villains in their past life, so they seek revenge in their second life. The other is where they had too many regrets and want to protect those around them, keeping everyone close. Do you want to read some? I have plenty here."
Mo Zhu didn’t respond, but Fu Zhao dug out over a dozen storybooks from his qiankun bag.
"This one’s a satisfying revenge story, this one’s a bit tragic, but I also have some cheesy romance novels—do you want—"
"Lend them to me."
Before Fu Zhao could finish, Mo Zhu snatched the books from his hands.
Fu Zhao: "?"
Fu Zhao panicked: "At least leave me one!"
"I’ll return them tomorrow."
Mo Zhu didn’t leave him a single one, taking all the books and walking away.
Fu Zhao: "You people from Yingshan Sect are all robbers—robbers!!!"
From a distance, Yu Zhiling, who had just finished speaking with Yan Shanqing, shot him a cold glare.
Fu Zhao: "..."
Fu Zhao shut his mouth.
Mo Zhu, unusually, did not practice his cultivation techniques that day.
He sat cross-legged in his room, surrounded by the scattered storybooks he had just finished reading.
Closing the last volume, the young man lowered his head slightly, his ponytail brushing against his cheek.
"When you saw my memories before, were you certain they were mine?"
He spoke abruptly, though the room held only him and a sword. The question was clearly directed at the latter.
Wu Hui was still asleep in its sheath, so Mo Zhu tapped the scabbard.
"Wake up."
Wu Hui groaned in protest before replying, "Mhm, yes!"
It had a simple way of communicating with Mo Zhu.
Deep down, Mo Zhu knew that Wu Hui, as a sentient sword, could access his real memories—there was no need to fabricate false ones to test him.
Not to mention, during his tribulation in the Lingyou Path, he had seen her—that female demonic cultivator. He had never laid eyes on her before, so why had her face appeared so vividly? If this was a trial of the heart demons by the Heavenly Dao, perhaps it had sensed the foreign memories imprinted on his soul.
The Heavenly Dao could not be deceived.
If those memories truly existed, and the "him" in them was far more mature than he was now, they couldn’t be forgotten fragments of his past. They had to be glimpses of a future that hadn’t yet happened—at least, that was what he had believed until today.
But Fu Zhao’s offhand remark had given him a new possibility.
His unnatural cultivation speed—just as Fu Zhao had said—was like someone who had already trained once before, effortlessly soaring through the ranks the second time around.
And Yu Zhiling had already undergone her tribulation. The Yingshan Sect had opened the Infinite Realm—how could there still be a massacre looming over them?
The room was dark, unlit. Moonlight spilled through the window as Mo Zhu sat on his bed, separated from Yu Zhiling’s chambers by just a single wall. Her side was quiet.
A chill seeped into his chest, so cold it made breathing difficult.
He stood and pushed open his door, stepping into the courtyard before making his way to Yu Zhiling’s small yard. The gate opened with a light push—she never locked it.
Her room was bright, the entire courtyard bathed in light, the window wide open. He didn’t enter, instead sitting at the stone table outside, watching her through the window.
She was already deep in sleep, slightly flushed from the heat, the quilt covering only her stomach. Yu Zhiling had an odd fixation on keeping her navel covered—no matter how hot it was, she would never leave her belly exposed. It was a habit Mo Zhu had noticed over time.
She had many strange yet endearing quirks.
Asleep, she looked nothing like the revered Immortal Venerable who ruled the Central Continent.
Mo Zhu sat in the courtyard, watching her, reassuring himself that she was here—warm, breathing, alive. The inexplicable unease in his heart slowly faded.
She was still here. She had always been here.
He stayed the entire night, dew settling on his shoulders by the time dawn broke. Just before her usual waking hour, he finally rose and left.
The courtyard was empty, as if no one had ever been there.
Sunlight streamed through the window, falling on Yu Zhiling’s face. She frowned, slowly blinking awake.
Still groggy, her voice was hoarse. "Mo Zhu, water."
Too accustomed to his care, she only realized her mistake when no cup was handed to her. She smacked her own forehead.
"Really, what’s wrong with me?"
Sitting up, she grabbed the teacup from the small table beside her bed—the tea had long gone cold overnight, but she didn’t mind. She had always been easy to please.
After freshening up, she pulled open her courtyard gate—only to find a figure standing beneath the tree opposite her door.
Her arms, halfway through a stretch, immediately dropped as she feigned composure. "You—what are you doing at my door this early?"
Mo Zhu chuckled, stepping closer. "I missed you, Shizun. Couldn’t sleep, so I waited for you."
"Mo Zhu!"
Her face burned crimson, and she raised a fist, ready to scold her unruly disciple—until she noticed the oil-paper bag and food box in his hands.
"Red bean buns, and red bean porridge."
Yu Zhiling’s raised hand changed course, accepting the breakfast with delight, her expression instantly brightening.
"I knew you’d take good care of your Shizun. Heehee."
She was already starving, her appetite spoiled by Mo Zhu’s cooking. The past few days outside had been devoid of proper meals.
Mo Zhu smiled but said nothing, waiting as she sat down in the courtyard to eat.
Yu Zhiling glanced at him. "Aren’t you eating?"
He shook his head. "No, I’m not hungry."
She pushed a bun toward him. "Have one. I can’t finish all this."
It was a flimsy excuse—her appetite was legendary—but Mo Zhu didn’t call her out. Knowing she was just worried, he took a bite.
"Thank you, Shizun."
Between bites, Yu Zhiling marveled at how her little disciple had grown so tall despite his modest eating habits. If he were in their old world, he’d probably be malnourished.
As she ate, she noticed Mo Zhu’s gaze lingering on her.
Her disciple was watching her.
With a sigh, she turned. "What are you staring at? Do I have flowers on my face?"
Mo Zhu’s eyes crinkled with amusement. "Shizun is beautiful."
Yu Zhiling’s cheeks pinked. "Y-You—speak properly! What’s really on your mind?"
Mo Zhu’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly as he set down the half-eaten bun in his hand, his expression hesitant, leaving Yu Zhiling utterly bewildered.
A sense of unease crept into her heart, fearing something grave had happened. She straightened her posture and asked cautiously, “What’s wrong?”
Could it be some terminal illness? Or had something happened to the Yingshan Sect?
Yu Zhiling had already run through every possibility in her mind. She softened her voice as much as possible, afraid of startling this little serpent, lest he clam up again.
She had braced herself for something dire—
But then Mo Zhu suddenly spoke.
“Shizun.”
“Hmm? Go ahead, I’m listening.”
“Do you believe in reincarnation?”
Shizun’s face remained expressionless.
Mo Zhu’s brows furrowed slightly, his lips pressed together. Thinking he had frightened her, he spoke carefully, “Shizun, don’t be afraid—”
Before he could finish, Yu Zhiling’s hand touched his forehead.
Mo Zhu: “Shizun?”
Yu Zhiling took a step closer, pressing her forehead against his, her willow-leaf brows knitting together.
The distance was too close. Her breath brushed against his face, and Mo Zhu’s steady heartbeat skipped a beat.
“Shizun?”
She didn’t respond, cupping his face as their foreheads remained pressed together.
Mo Zhu’s Adam’s apple moved as he unconsciously wrapped an arm around her waist, tilting his head as if to kiss her.
“What are you doing? No kissing.”
Yu Zhiling dodged slightly, and his lips landed at the corner of her mouth instead. The young man stared at her, dazed.
Had he misunderstood? She hadn’t intended to kiss him—so why had she gotten so close?
Yu Zhiling stepped back, putting distance between them, and frowned. “You don’t have a fever.”
Mo Zhu: “…”
Mo Zhu closed his eyes, exhaling deeply to suppress the restlessness in his chest. “This disciple isn’t feverish.”
Yu Zhiling said, “But you sound delirious.”
Mo Zhu worried about burdening her with unnecessary troubles. These matters were still unclear to him, and bringing them up now felt premature.
He guided Yu Zhiling back onto the stone stool and placed a bowl of red bean porridge in front of her. “Shizun, please continue your meal.”
Yu Zhiling took the spoon and resumed eating, not looking at Mo Zhu. She could tell he was truly without appetite—he had been nibbling at that bun for far too long.
Reincarnation?
Yu Zhiling didn’t understand why Mo Zhu would suddenly bring this up. She had her own suspicions before. If Yu Zhiling knew about the Yingshan Sect’s destruction because she had read the original story, then how did Mo Zhu know?
And what about her connection to Yu Xiaowu? Yu Zhiling was beginning to question whether her experiences in another world were just a dream—or if she had truly transmigrated into a book.
If she had transmigrated…
Then why did she and Yu Xiaowu look so alike?
The meal appeared to be finished, but her mind was elsewhere. Yu Zhiling’s thoughts grew increasingly tangled.
Mo Zhu cleared the dishes while she sat waiting, watching him bustle about. He then brought out her bedding to air under the sun—something he often did on fine days, taking care of her needs meticulously.
Resting her chin in her hands, she observed his busy movements and suddenly thought: A person like Mo Zhu was the easiest to fall for.
Outwardly aloof, yet tender-hearted beneath. He repaid kindness tenfold, possessed unyielding resilience, a sharp mind, and a nurturing nature.
When he loved someone, his favoritism was unmistakable—his attitude toward the one he cherished was entirely different from how he treated others.
Yu Zhiling nodded to herself, proud of her good taste. It was no wonder she had fallen for him. Unlike her father, she didn’t cultivate the Path of Emotionlessness.
Wait—her father had practiced the Path of Emotionlessness, yet he had still fallen hopelessly in love with her mother. In matters of the heart, nothing else seemed to matter—not one’s Dao, background, or temperament. Nothing compared to the heart itself.
After tidying Shizun’s quarters, Mo Zhu washed his hands by the pond and saw Yu Zhiling basking in the sunlight with her eyes closed. Her head swayed slightly, and today she wore yellow beaded hairpins and a fresh green dress, giving her a more playful air.
He smiled and approached her. Unaware, Yu Zhiling remained unguarded—she never was, around him.
Mo Zhu cupped her face from behind, his damp palms pressing against her cheeks, startling her with their coolness.
“Mo Zhu!” Yu Zhiling’s eyes flew open as she jerked her head back, glaring. “Have you grown a death wish?!”
Mo Zhu stood behind her, his beautiful eyes curved in amusement as he gently kneaded her cheeks.
“Cold?”
A mature Shizun would never deign to answer—only scold him. “You’re so childish!”
Mo Zhu only acted this way around her. Ordinarily, he carried himself with a steadiness far beyond his years.
Yu Zhiling didn’t pull away. He stood behind her while she sat, their gazes meeting.
He bent down, inching closer, his ponytail brushing against her cheek like a soft brush—though it wasn’t her face that tingled, but something deeper.
Mo Zhu’s eyes held hers, their depths growing darker. Yu Zhiling’s heart pounded wildly, and just as he leaned in, she suddenly shut her eyes.
She thought he meant to kiss her. She wouldn’t deny her own longing for him—when the mood was right, it’d be a waste not to.
But his lips didn’t meet hers.
Instead, a kiss landed on her forehead, right between her brows. The tiny water-drop huadian there warmed under his touch, and Yu Zhiling’s lashes fluttered as he kissed it again—that emblem of her identity.
His lips trailed downward, pressing lightly against her eyelids in tender, reverent pecks.
Yu Zhiling’s fingers curled around his wrist. When he pulled back slightly, she opened her eyes.
Bewildered, she blurted out, “No… kiss?”
She had assumed Mo Zhu wouldn’t hold back. He always sought closeness, and at his age, youthful fervor was hard to suppress—she had felt his desire before. She had even closed her eyes for him, so why had he stopped?
“This disciple enjoys kissing Shizun… and also enjoys kissing Shizun elsewhere.”
Mo Zhu’s lips curved as he gripped her waist, spinning her around and lifting her onto the stone table.
Yu Zhiling’s face burned hotter, her gaze skittering away. “Why do you always say such ambiguous things?”
“Because I love Shizun. The words come naturally.” His hand brushed her forehead again. “Is this a spirit mark?”
Yu Zhiling nodded. “Mhm. I’ve had it since childhood. It must be a remnant of my mother’s spiritual energy before she passed.”
She touched the mark lightly. “It’s also my identity. In the Central Continent, only I bear this huadian. When others see it, they know it’s me.”
This huadian symbolized Yu Zhiling—it was the mark of the Immortal Venerable Zhuoyu.
Mo Zhu leaned in and kissed it again. “So beautiful.”
Yu Zhiling’s heart raced, and she squirmed back. “Stop kissing me so much. You said we’d take things slow—don’t… don’t tempt me.”
Her voice dwindled to a whisper. Mo Zhu chuckled, arms circling her waist. “Don’t what? I didn’t catch that.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“Still too soft. Could Shizun speak up?”
“Don’t tempt me! Are your ears broken?”
Mo Zhu pointed to his own ear and asked, "Master, what exactly are you saying?"
Yu Zhiling lifted her turtle-like head, tugged at his ear, and shouted loudly into it, "Stop tempting me!!"
Mo Zhu was nearly deafened by her voice, laughing until his chest shook.
"Mo Zhu!"
Realizing he had been teasing her, Yu Zhiling kicked him hard and tried to push him away to jump down.
Mo Zhu stepped forward, pressing her between the stone table and his embrace, then leaned down to kiss her lips.
"I changed my mind—let’s kiss now."
Yu Zhiling covered her mouth, mumbling angrily, "You scoundrel!"
The young man grinned brightly, pulling her wrist down to interlace their fingers before wrapping his arm around her waist and drawing her closer.
"Just for a little while, only a little while. We agreed to take it slow, Master. Feel it—how much you like me."
She had just drunk red bean porridge, leaving her mouth sweet. Mo Zhu tasted the sugary red bean flavor, along with the faint hint of orange blossom that was uniquely hers.
How much did she like him?
Her waist grew weak, forcing her to cling to his neck. He liked seating her higher to minimize their height difference, so she wouldn’t have to strain her neck, and he could kiss her comfortably.
In her dazed state, Yu Zhiling heard her own heartbeat quicken—but unlike when her illness flared up, this time there was no pain. Instead, she felt submerged in honey, her entire body sweet and warm.
When their lips parted, a silvery thread stretched between them before breaking. He wiped the moisture from her lips, his breathing heavy, the corners of his eyes tinged red.
Yu Zhiling didn’t dare look down at him, knowing he wasn’t in a normal state. Seeing his flushed lips, an itch rose in her heart, and she leaned in to bite him lightly.
Her voice was so soft it was almost inaudible. "You’re not like how you were as a child."
Mo Zhu pressed his forehead against hers, his voice hoarse. "How so?"
"You’ve grown fiercer, more handsome, taller… and more mature. Ten years have passed—you’re all grown up now."
Mo Zhu tilted his head to kiss the corner of her lips, pecking lightly as he murmured, "Do you like it?"
Yu Zhiling touched the reddened edge of his eye and answered earnestly, "Yes. You’re very beautiful."
The words greatly pleased the childish serpent. Mo Zhu chuckled lowly before kissing her several more times.
"Master, do you remember what I said earlier?"
Yu Zhiling dodged his lips, laughing. "What?"
"If we close the gates of Listening Spring Cliff, no one will know what we do."
Mo Zhu brushed his lips against her earlobe, his voice feather-light. "I know you have reservations, that you’re hiding things from me. We can take our time. If you like me enough… we can do anything."
He took her hand and pressed it to his face, his finely sculpted features working in his favor.
"You like me quite a bit, don’t you?"
Yu Zhiling hugged him tightly, burying her face in his neck. "Don’t say such things… it’s too… too…"
Mo Zhu held her close, nuzzling her collarbone. "Too what?"
"Too… inappropriate for young ears…"
Mo Zhu didn’t fully understand but could guess the meaning. The emotions he had suppressed all night were soothed by her words today.
He fell silent, simply holding her in quiet contentment.
Yu Zhiling loved hugs—she could stay like this forever.
She sniffled, inhaling the sandalwood scent on him, feeling the heat of his embrace and the unmistakable tension in his body. She shifted her waist slightly to put some distance between them.
"Um… Mo Zhu…"
Mo Zhu pulled his master back into his arms, responding gently, "Hm?"
Yu Zhiling hesitated. "I… I wanted to ask you something."
Mo Zhu kept his eyes closed, savoring her presence. "Go ahead, Master."
"Don’t take offense."
"I won’t. Ask freely."
After a long pause, she tightened her arms around him and whispered cautiously into his ear, "So… do serpents have… two…?"
Mo Zhu: "?"
He straightened slightly, trying to look at her face. "What?"
Yu Zhiling clung to him. "Don’t let go! Just keep holding me—don’t look!"
Mo Zhu had no choice but to obey, watching as she buried her face in his shoulder, leaving only her fluffy hair visible.
"What did you say?"
Yu Zhiling, burning with curiosity, wrapped her arms around his neck and retreated into her metaphorical turtle shell before mumbling, "I mean… you know… I read in books that… well, they say…"
"Say what?" Mo Zhu was still lost. "What do the books say?"
She almost wondered if he was pretending.
She smacked his back lightly, raising her voice slightly. "That thing! The part of you that’s… not behaving right now…"
The last part was barely audible, but Mo Zhu heard it.
Combined with her earlier words, his slow-witted brain finally caught on. His cheeks flushed visibly.
Yu Zhiling’s ears burned crimson as she hid in his arms, gripping his clothes tightly.
Mo Zhu cleared his throat, stammering, "I… I can’t control it… I’ll take a cold bath later. S-sorry for offending you, Master."
Yu Zhiling grumbled under her breath, "It’s not your fault. After kissing like that, if you didn’t react, you’d need a doctor."
Mo Zhu had never been asked such a question before. Usually eloquent, he was now at a loss for words.
Yu Zhiling nudged him lightly. "Forget it. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I just thought… since we’ve kissed so much, maybe it’s okay to ask intimate things… Did I cross a line?"
Mo Zhu pulled her back into his arms. "No, not at all."
Yu Zhiling hugged his waist, silent, mentally scolding herself for asking. Why was she so curious?
She’d never considered this before—until after their first kiss, when she stumbled upon an… enlightening book.
Regretfully, she muttered, "Let’s just drop it."
At the same time, Mo Zhu answered, "Well… yes."
Yu Zhiling: "?"
She huffed. "I told you not to say anything, and you just blurt it out anyway!"
Mo Zhu realized she misunderstood and quickly held his restless master tighter.
His voice was rough with embarrassment. "It’s… as your books described."
Yu Zhiling understood immediately, covering her face and pressing it against his chest.
Mo Zhu stayed silent, equally flustered, his ears, cheeks, and neck all flushed red. They held each other for a while, his discomfort unrelenting, yet he couldn’t bear to let go.
Then, the person in his arms spoke again. "So… how do you… you know… with humans? Can you marry a cultivator? Wouldn’t it hurt each other?"
She had assumed that male Flying Serpents were anatomically different from human male cultivators, so perhaps the females were distinct as well—meaning they could adapt to each other within their own kind.
But Mo Zhu tightened his embrace around her, stammering, "It... it's possible. Flying Serpent women are the same as women from the Central Continent."
He lowered his head, pressing a soft kiss to her ear, his voice gentle as he coaxed her, "Not all at once… I’ll take it slow, Master. I won’t hurt you… Do you want to, Master?"
Yu Zhiling, that big fool, understood him all too well.
Mo Zhu hesitated for a moment before whispering, "Right now might not be the best time… Could we wait a few days? My reverse scale hasn’t fully—"
Suddenly, Yu Zhiling pushed him away and turned to flee outside. "I’m going down the mountain for patrols! You focus on your cultivation!"
She vanished in the blink of an eye, escaping swiftly.
Mo Zhu stood there dazed, only realizing what had happened when she was already gone.
After a moment of stunned silence, he suddenly laughed.
Her asking such a question had caught him off guard—but it filled him with joy all the same.
She truly did harbor romantic feelings for him.
