Chu'he pursed her lips, her face stern. "What, are you afraid of me?"
Ninth nodded, then shook his head.
Chu'he grew even more irritated. "So, are you afraid or not?"
Ninth carefully observed her expression before answering slowly, "Not... afraid?"
Chu'he took one look at his timid demeanor and flushed with embarrassment and annoyance. She turned her face away with a loud "hmph!" "If you're so scared of me, then from now on, you can sleep alone every night. I won't keep you company anymore!"
"No!" Ninth scooted closer, pressing against her, tilting his head to gaze pleadingly at her furious expression. "A'he, I'm not afraid of you."
"Then why were you so nervous earlier?"
Ninth murmured softly, "I just..."
"Just what?"
"...was worried I wouldn't perform well."
Chu'he paused, turning back to stare at him. "Do I really seem that... insatiable to you?"
Ninth gave a slow nod.
Leaving nothing untouched—wasn’t that the very definition of "insatiable"?
Chu'he fell silent for a moment.
The boy had learned everything about intimacy from her—every teasing trick, every lingering touch. Naturally, he was no match for her.
And truthfully, Chu'he was far more interested in pinning him down and stripping him bare.
It wasn’t about release. She simply adored every inch of him, and the act of touching him became an obsession.
Now that she thought about it, she might have been a little too intense sometimes.
A flicker of guilt crossed her face, and she cleared her throat awkwardly—but soon lifted her chin defiantly. "This is all Ninth’s fault!"
Ninth blinked. "My fault?"
"Yes, yours! Who told you to be so damn likable?"
His lashes fluttered slightly.
Chu'he planted her hands on her hips, puffing up like an angry little tyrant. "Ninth’s hair is pretty, his eyes are pretty, his nose is pretty, his lips are pretty—his entire body is pretty! And on top of that, his voice is so sweet, and he smells so good! No wonder I can’t control myself!"
Despite her aggressive stance, she looked more like a proud little mistress surveying her territory—and her "territory" was none other than this boy, feared by others as a specter but treasured by her like a rare gem.
With the haughty air of a young noblewoman, even the stray strands of hair at her temples seemed to radiate arrogance. She shamelessly shifted the blame. "So it’s all Ninth’s fault! If only he weren’t so irresistible, none of this would happen!"
Instead of feeling hurt by her accusations, Ninth’s eyes shimmered, soft as a springtime brook melting under the sun. At a moment when he should’ve been sulking, the corners of his lips betrayed a helpless upward tilt.
Her furrowed brows, her pursed lips, even the irritation in her voice—he found every bit of her utterly flawless.
Joy bubbled up inside him like a sprout breaking through soil, his fingertips trembling faintly with it.
Ninth’s pale fingers curled around the green ribbon on Chu'he’s dress, twisting it idly. He kept his head slightly bowed, lashes quivering, the tips of his ears still dusted pink. Though too shy to meet her gaze, he couldn’t bring himself to let go of that ribbon.
"A'he is right," he murmured, his voice light as if he were floating on clouds. "It’s my fault for being too lovable."
Look at this—this was the result of Chu'he’s relentless spoiling. The boy who’d once crawled out of the mountains now shamelessly praised himself as the most handsome man in the world, as casually as if it were common knowledge.
Chu'he bent down, tilting her head to admire the blush spreading across his exquisite features. Like a jade statue suddenly infused with life, he glowed with newfound vitality.
Her eyes curved into crescents, brimming with delight. "Ninth is so pretty like this too."
The crimson flecks in his eyes glittered, his entire being radiant under her gaze—so mesmerizing that she couldn’t look away, which in turn left him utterly dazed.
He clasped her hand, pressing it against his cheek, nuzzling into her palm with a contented sigh. "A'he, I’m willing."
Chu'he feigned ignorance. "Willing to what?"
His eyelids lowered, bashful. "To... go into the little dark room with you."
The last few words were nearly inaudible, but the moment he finished, Chu'he felt the heat radiating from his face as clearly as if she’d touched a stove.
Unable to resist, he stole a glance at her through his lashes, his red-tinged eyes misty with unspoken affection.
Strangely, even self-proclaimed veteran Chu'he suddenly felt flustered. She yanked her hand back and straightened up, putting on a tough front. "W-what little dark room? Ninth is so naughty, always thinking about such indecent things!"
Ninth, caught off guard by her sudden retreat, pressed closer, stubbornly clinging to her side as he stared at her profile. "A'he, are we not going to the little dark room anymore?"
"What little dark room?!"
The sudden voice startled Chu'he so badly she clapped a hand over Ninth’s mouth, preventing him from spouting something outrageous.
She turned to see Murong Meixin stepping out of the house and forced a laugh. "Oh, we were just talking about our room—it’s so dark, hardly any light gets in."
Murong Meixin had been kicked out for being too noisy, only to stumble upon Chu'he and Ninth whispering sweet nothings.
Luckily, his brain wasn’t sharp enough to catch the subtext. Instead, he sneered at Ninth. "Not much of a Young Master of Miaojiang, are you? Can’t even get a room with sunlight. Back at Murong Manor, even when I got banished to the woodshed for pestering my junior sister during sword practice, at least there was a window!"
Ninth pried Chu'he’s hand off his mouth. "A'he would never make me sleep in a woodshed or chop firewood, no matter how angry she gets."
Murong Meixin: "..."
His brief moment of triumph crumbled instantly.
Soon after, Murong Meifei emerged. "The Manor’s once-every-three-years Sword Trial is about to begin. My senior brother and I must leave ahead of you."
Every generation of Murong Manor’s leaders had been prodigies of the sword—until Murong Meixin came along. Fortunately, Murong Meifei was a worthy successor.
Everyone knew she was the heir apparent. This time, she aimed to claim victory at the Trial and silence any dissenters.
Chu'he understood that the friends they’d met on this journey were free spirits, coming and going as they pleased. Sentimental goodbyes would only feel out of place.
So she tugged Ninth to his feet and, mimicking Fang Songhe’s manner, clasped her fists. "The mountains stand tall, the rivers flow long—till we meet again!"
She discreetly nudged Ninth.
Obediently, he mirrored her gesture. "Till we meet again."
