The Jiezi Boat arrived at Tingchun Cliff late at night.
As soon as it docked, the cabin door opened, and a tall young man stepped out, cradling a figure wrapped tightly in a cloak—so thoroughly bundled that not even a glimpse of their head was visible.
Mo Zhu glanced down at the person in his arms, adjusted his grip on Yu Zhiling, and chuckled softly before carrying her into Tingchun Cliff.
He didn’t take her back to her own courtyard but instead brought her to his residence, heading straight for the bathing chamber. In the thick, steamy air, he peeled away the heavy cloak, but before he could even catch sight of her, Yu Zhiling twisted free and rolled straight into the hot spring.
"We’ll bathe separately," she declared, swiftly retreating to a corner and submerging herself up to her neck, her face and exposed skin flushed crimson.
Mo Zhu arched a brow and began undressing without hesitation. "No way. Together."
"Mo Zhu!" Yu Zhiling smacked the water’s surface in protest.
"Right here." His robes had been loosely fastened to begin with, and he shed them quickly, slipping into the spring with ease. "We’ve bathed together plenty of times before."
Trapped in the corner, Yu Zhiling pressed her palms against his chest. "You never listen to me anymore!"
Mo Zhu’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he nuzzled into the crook of her neck, his voice muffled against her skin. "Didn’t you teach me, Master? Sometimes 'no' isn’t really a refusal—a disciple must learn to interpret things for himself."
"You—you little snake!" Yu Zhiling bit down hard on his shoulder.
She’d bitten him before, and Mo Zhu only groaned, pulling her closer until their bodies were nearly flush beneath the water.
"Master," he murmured, his voice small and pleading as he kissed her shoulder. "It’s been so long. I’ve missed this… missed you."
His whining melted her resolve. Her neck arched as she clung to him, breath uneven. "Don’t push your luck."
She remembered all too well how unrestrained he could be in these moments—nothing like his usual aloof demeanor. At his age, the boy was relentless, brimming with energy, and impossible to keep up with.
Mo Zhu agreed readily. "Fine."
The buoyancy of the water made things easier, but after three months apart, Yu Zhiling’s brows knitted tightly as she gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his arms.
Mo Zhu’s forehead glistened with sweat, his heart aching at her discomfort. He kissed her face tenderly, murmuring reassurances even though she never once complained. He knew it must hurt.
"Master," he whispered hesitantly. "Does it hurt?"
Yu Zhiling rested her forehead against his chest, lashes fluttering, her vision hazy. "It’s fine," she managed. "Keep going."
She felt his movements, the pain laced with a growing, tingling pleasure. Her breaths came heavy and uneven—part of her wanted to shove him away, but a stronger urge pulled her closer.
Thrusts and collisions, the fervor of youth unleashed as he pinned her against the spring’s edge, lost in ecstasy. He guided her hand down, pressing her palm against his abdomen, the sensation unmistakable.
"Master," he rasped in her ear, voice rough with pleasure. "Can you feel it?"
Yu Zhiling yanked her hand free and clapped it over his mouth, stammering, "Y-You shameless—!"
"I love this. Love you so much."
Mo Zhu laughed breathlessly, pushing sweat-dampened hair from his forehead, his sharp features fully on display. His lips parted, voice unguarded.
The sound made her dizzy—too intoxicating. He was always freer than her in these moments, never holding back his pleasure, his words, his desires.
Dazed, Yu Zhiling let Mo Zhu bathe her before he carried her to bed. Just as she thought it was over and reached for the covers, he caught her wrist and held her hips in place.
"Not yet," he coaxed. "We’re not done."
Yu Zhiling: "…?"
"Mo Zhu!" she seethed.
He hooked a hand behind her knee, and her thoughts scattered all over again.
It wasn’t until much later that she realized—after that first time, when he’d finished embarrassingly fast, he’d since shattered every expectation she’d had.
By the time he finally relented, dawn’s faint light crept through the half-open window, carrying the scent of orange blossoms on a cool breeze that stirred the bed’s gauzy curtains.
Exhausted, Yu Zhiling couldn’t lift a finger. She lay curled on her side, her bare back marked with traces of their passion as Mo Zhu pressed featherlight kisses along her spine, one hand massaging her stomach.
"Still sore?" he murmured.
She didn’t answer, eyes shut but wide awake, still reeling from the intensity. He’d been too rough toward the end, and she’d started to ache.
Mo Zhu couldn’t tell if she was still uncomfortable. After months of abstinence, he’d lost control, too eager and unrestrained. And Yu Zhiling never used her spiritual power to shield herself from him.
So he simply wrapped around her from behind, one arm beneath her neck, the other draped over her waist, his hand gently kneading her abdomen as he channeled warm spiritual energy to ease her discomfort.
After a while, Yu Zhiling cracked an eye open and grabbed his hand, squeezing hard. "You little snake. Never listen to a word I say!"
Mo Zhu knew she wasn’t asleep—he wouldn’t dare rest until she did, too worried she might be in pain.
Hearing her irritated tone, though, he relaxed. Good. She wasn’t truly angry, just pouting.
He kissed the shell of her ear, leaning over her to whisper, "Sorry, Master. I got carried away. Still hurting?"
Yu Zhiling huffed. "You’re sleeping on the floor tomorrow."
Mo Zhu laughed, nuzzling her cheek. "Nooo, let me stay. I’ll catch a cold."
She shoved at him. "Then freeze to death! Stop clinging to me!"
"Please, Master? My kind, beautiful Master?"
"Ugh, get lost!"
Yu Zhiling giggled as she tried to squirm away, but Mo Zhu was shameless—for every inch she retreated, he pursued, until she was trapped against the wall with nowhere left to go.
He flipped her onto her back to face him, and the moment their eyes met, Yu Zhiling pinched his ear. "No shame at all! I told you to stop, and you just—!"
She wasn’t using much force, but Mo Zhu played along, feigning pain. "Master, it hurts!"
Once their playful bickering settled, Mo Zhu cupped Yu Zhiling’s face, his voice tender. "I didn’t mean to ignore you. It’s just… I love this too much. The way it feels to be so close to you, like we’re one person. I can’t help myself—because I know this is something only the closest people share. And Master… you’ll only ever do this with me."
Every kiss and every gasp belonged solely to each other—each one a whispered declaration of love. So the moment Mo Zhu laid eyes on her, he couldn’t control himself.
Yu Zhiling pinched his cheek. "I haven’t even done anything to you, yet you look so pitiful, as if I’m the one bullying you. When in reality, it’s you who’s bullying me."
Mo Zhu leaned closer, pressing a light kiss to the tip of her nose. "It’s not bullying. It’s love."
Yu Zhiling mumbled, "Your words are too sweet."
And indeed, his words were always sweet. He never held back his praise, as if in his eyes, everything Yu Zhiling did was worthy of admiration.
The embroidered quilt barely covered them past their shoulders, neither wearing a stitch of clothing. Mo Zhu’s palm unconsciously traced circles over Yu Zhiling’s shoulder, his dark eyes locked onto hers, seeing his own reflection in her gaze.
Her eyes held affection, deep love, and unwavering trust—all of it softening Mo Zhu’s heart into a puddle.
He carefully pressed his lips to hers, savoring their softness with gentle licks and kisses, never pushing past her lips.
Yu Zhiling rolled onto her back, and Mo Zhu took the opportunity to part her legs, settling between them. He braced his arms on either side of her face, careful not to crush her beneath his weight.
As he bent down to kiss her again, Yu Zhiling met him eagerly, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him closer.
When his lips brushed the shell of her ear, she murmured, "Do you still feel jealous of Gui?"
Mo Zhu paused, lifting himself slightly to look at her.
Yu Zhiling’s long hair fanned out across the pillow, her cheeks flushed, eyes shimmering like autumn waters.
Her slender fingers traced the corner of his eye as she smiled. "I never imagined you two were the same person. And I never thought that just seven days together would make you give your life for me."
Mo Zhu caught her wrist, pressing his cheek into her palm with a tender nuzzle. "Perhaps Shizun doesn’t understand what your arrival meant to me."
A child who had lost everything, fleeing for two years, surviving countless brushes with death, clinging to hatred and resentment—only to be on the verge of having his heart torn out when the one person who reached out to him appeared.
Young, he saw her as salvation. As family.
At seventeen, when he learned just how brave, steadfast, gentle, and strong she was, the emotions he’d suppressed for so long erupted. Someone so good shouldn’t have met such an end. Someone so pure and kind didn’t deserve to die forgotten.
Yu Zhiling whispered, "During those twenty years of being hunted… did you ever regret it?"
"Never," Mo Zhu answered firmly. "Not once. My life was given to me by Shizun."
Yu Zhiling asked again, "Then, when everything started over… why did you fall for me so quickly?"
"People always gravitate toward warmth." Mo Zhu’s eyes curved as he kissed her lips. "Shizun is a good person. Everyone would love you."
"Such a sweet talker." Yu Zhiling arched up, legs hooking around his waist as she pressed a kiss to his ear. "Since you’re so good with words, I’ll reward you with another round."
Mo Zhu didn’t hesitate. If she said it, then she’d already recovered.
Yu Zhiling never denied herself, especially not in front of Mo Zhu. If she wanted, he was even more eager to give.
Afterward, he carried her to the bath once more. Yu Zhiling rested her arms on the edge of the hot spring, eyes closed, while Mo Zhu carefully washed her.
Outside, dawn had fully broken. Mo Zhu pressed against her back, kissing the curve of her shoulder blade.
"Shizun."
"...Hm?"
"Let’s hold a matrimonial ceremony."
Yu Zhiling stilled, turning to face him. "Why bring this up so suddenly?"
Mo Zhu’s expression was serious. "You should have everything. I have enough spirit stones. I bought a manor at the foot of Ying Mountain. After the ceremony, we can move there."
Before she could respond, he continued, "Or we don’t have to move. Shizun loves Tingchun Cliff, but we should still have our own home. I’ll buy a manor, hold the ceremony there, and afterward, you can choose where to stay. How does that sound?"
He’d thought it all through, worried she might be reluctant to leave Tingchun Cliff.
But living there meant staying in her childhood bedroom—hardly a bridal chamber for the two of them. Since exchanging vows, they’d mostly stayed in his room.
It wasn’t spacious, and Mo Zhu always felt he was shortchanging her.
Yu Zhiling asked, "Do you want to move out?"
Mo Zhu pressed his forehead to hers. "Wherever Shizun goes, I go. I love our home, and I love Tingchun Cliff."
Yu Zhiling’s eyes curved as she pecked his lower lip.
"Mo Zhu, Ying Mountain is vast, and the foot of it is a wonderful place. Buy a manor there. We’ll hold the ceremony there, and it’s only an hour’s journey up the mountain. We can stay wherever we like."
Mo Zhu’s lips lifted in a smile. "Alright."
She’d agreed. To the matrimonial ceremony.
Yu Zhiling asked, "Who should we invite?"
Mo Zhu replied, "I’ll invite the Three Sects and Four Great Families—to give Shizun a ceremony that will be the talk of the Central Continent."
Yu Zhiling arched a brow. "I never realized my husband came back from the Nether Sea so wealthy?"
Mo Zhu played along. "Well, I am a prince. The Tengshe royal family is quite rich."
He had mountains of spirit stones—all hers.
And he had endless love—all hers too.
Because Mo Zhu loved her, and would only ever love her.
