Ninth knew nothing of restraint, openly laying bare the desires of his heart without disguise—so utterly straightforward that it instead came across as refreshingly bold.
But for someone as reserved as Chu'he, her mind went blank.
When Ninth received no answer, the fingers entwined in her dark locks tightened slightly. "Chu'he, did you not hear me?"
In his innocence, he assumed she hadn’t reacted because she hadn’t heard his question, not because his words had struck her like a bolt of lightning.
Chu'he swallowed nervously. "I heard you."
"Then, will you do the things married couples do with me?"
Chu'he: "What if I say no? Will you be upset?"
Ninth thought for a moment. "Perhaps."
Chu'he wanted to cry.
"You said we’ve done it before. Why won’t you now?" His question was guileless, his memory still clinging to the nonsense she’d spun earlier—that they were runaway lovers, secretly betrothed.
Chu'he wanted to slap herself twice over, but she feared arousing Ninth’s suspicion. If he ever decided to settle accounts later, given his lethal skills, she wouldn’t last a single round.
Which mattered more—her chastity or her life?
Chu'he wouldn’t hesitate to choose the latter.
She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again, steeling herself as if marching to the gallows or severing her own limb. With a resigned sigh, she gritted out, "Of course I’m willing."
Ninth’s eyes brightened.
Chu'he, however, looked ashen. She closed her eyes and muttered, "Go ahead."
The next moment, she was pulled into a slightly cool embrace.
Chu'he waited and waited, but no further advances came. Cracking her eyes open just a sliver, she saw the crimson fabric of his robes and the silver ornaments adorning them—pressing uncomfortably against her skin.
Something felt off.
She lifted her gaze. The line of his jaw was exquisitely refined, his slender, pale throat bobbing as he swallowed.
"Chu'he," he called.
"Hm?"
"Do you like being close like this? Skin to skin?"
After a brief silence, Chu'he answered, "Yes."
He seemed slightly unsettled, tilting his head. The white ends of his hair swayed behind him, tracing a youthful, graceful arc.
"Chu'he," he said again.
Now impatient, she snapped, "What?"
"Let’s be even closer."
Chu'he, who had just begun to relax, tensed up all over again.
But Ninth merely tugged open his collar, baring his pale chest. Chu'he had once told him he was too thin, yet the lines of his body were undeniably beautiful—his bone structure so flawless it compensated for any lack of bulk.
He pressed Chu'he’s face against his bare skin.
The moment her cheek touched him, her breath grew unsteadily warm.
It tickled.
Ninth’s eyes curved faintly in satisfaction, his mood visibly improved.
Chu'he waited, minute after minute, but he only held her, making no further moves.
A long while later, she heard the young man murmur to himself.
"This way, our little one will come sooner, won’t they?"
Chu'he: "…"
A sharp pang of guilt stabbed through her.
Her wild lies from their time in the underground world had actually convinced this innocent boy that simply embracing like this was what married couples did—that just holding each other could lead to a child.
Her conscience ached.
The guilt gnawed at her so fiercely that when night fell and it was time to sleep, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him to take the floor. Instead, she resigned herself to laying out a makeshift bed on the ground.
Ninth crouched nearby, chin propped on his hands, his eyes following her every move as she struggled.
Chu'he, a young lady accustomed to a life of luxury, now had to fend for herself—quite the ordeal.
After much effort, she finally managed to spread out the bedding. Exhausted, she knelt atop it, bracing herself on her hands to catch her breath.
When she looked up, Ninth’s idle expression made her guilt waver.
Pursing her lips, she said bluntly, "Listen up—this time, I’ll take the floor. Next time, it’s your turn!"
Ninth asked, "Why?"
Sitting up straight, Chu'he crossed her arms and lifted her chin. "Because it’s only fair."
Ninth tilted his head slightly to one side. As his long, pristine hair nearly brushed the ground, Chu'he swiftly reached out to catch the silken strands, cradling them like handfuls of moonlight.
"If we’re to be married, why don’t we share the bed?"
Chu'he stiffened. He didn’t even understand what "skin-to-skin" intimacy truly was—how did he know married couples slept together?
This wasn’t the kind of common sense he’d grasp!
"How… do you know couples share a bed?"
Ninth replied, "I saw it when killing people."
As a child, whether thrown into venomous forests or snake pits, there was always someone droning in his ear—telling him he was the Witchcraft and Gu Sorcery Sect’s hope, that he had to survive.
Sometimes, annoyed, he’d sneak into the home of the most talkative elder at night.
Back then, the elder had been naked, wrapped around a woman. He hadn’t understood what they were doing, nor found it interesting—so he took the elder’s head instead. The woman’s screams had been far more entertaining than whatever embrace they’d been locked in.
Only recently had Ninth learned they’d been engaged in the kind of intimacy reserved for married couples.
Now, recalling it, their version of "skin-to-skin" seemed different from his and Chu'he’s.
He vaguely remembered—that woman had been undressed too.
Ninth’s gaze drifted to Chu'he’s neck, then lower, tracing the smooth, pale skin to where her collar overlapped.
Strange.
He felt… warm.
But Chu'he’s quick fabrication derailed his thoughts.
"Those must’ve been couples with terrible relationships. Happy couples sleep separately."
Ninth blinked, his confusion almost childlike. Noticing another strand of white hair about to touch the floor, he casually gathered it and placed it into Chu'he’s waiting palm.
"Happy couples sleep apart?"
"Exactly. Proper, loving couples don’t cling to the same bed all the time. There’s a saying—distance makes the heart grow fonder. The closer two people are, the more friction and conflict arise. Like… for example—"
Ninth: "For example?"
"What if you snore and I grind my teeth? Neither of us would sleep well, right?"
Ninth cupped his chin, pondering this before nodding sagely. "I see."
Chu'he wiped sweat from her brow, relieved to have dodged another bullet.
Late at night, silence reigned.
Outside, a sudden gust of wind stirred the trees, their shadows dancing, leaves rustling.
A trace of floral scent wove through the night air, carried by a figure moving soundlessly—adding an eerie weight to the darkness.
The window was quietly pushed open, and the shadowy figure caught sight of the person sleeping inside the room. It was slightly strange that this delicate girl was sleeping on the floor, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that this beautiful girl had been marked as their finest merchandise the moment she entered the city.
The purple flower in the figure’s hand bloomed brilliantly, resembling a peony yet even more radiant.
The bright moonlight chose that moment to spill in, casting the girl’s profile in a glow more luminous than frost, making her look like an immortal from a fairy tale.
The figure couldn’t help but murmur, "So beautiful."
"I think so too."
The sudden voice made the figure whirl around.
Outside the window, the shadows of trees loomed like frenzied ghosts, their branches clawing wildly at the night.
Only then did the figure realize a red-clad, white-haired youth was perched on one of the branches.
Half-hidden among the shadows, his legs dangled carelessly in the air, swinging back and forth. The cheerful jingling of silver bells wove into a lively melody.
The boy’s eyes were a clear, ruby-like hue, sparkling with innocence. The corners of his eyes crinkled with laughter, rippling like water under the stark, almost ghostly moonlight.
His presence was too serene, devoid of any killing intent.
Yet the shadowy figure was filled with dread. Before the boy had spoken, he hadn’t sensed even a trace of his presence—an impossibility.
"You know what?"
"Today, I learned something new."
"Distance creates beauty."
"And sure enough, from far away, she looks even more stunning. But I don’t like it."
"From far away, I can’t touch her."
The shadowy figure tensed. The boy’s nonsensical muttering only made the night feel more surreal. Things that defied reason left only one certainty—danger.
Gripping the flower tightly, he tried to flee.
But in an instant, he realized something was wrong.
The moment he leaped through the window, unseen threads sliced into his limbs, cutting deep into his flesh.
Suspended mid-air, unable to move, he looked up and saw—too late—that he was trapped in an enormous web.
"You know what?"
"Someone as beautiful as Chu'he… should only be seen by me."
"So right now, I’m in a bad mood."
Half-shrouded in darkness, the boy’s silver ornaments glinted coldly. Slowly, he raised his gaze, lips curving into a smile so pure and kind it sent an inexplicable chill down the figure’s spine.
"Please, die for me."
