Chapter 62: Disciple and Wife
Tao Ning, unsure of what was about to happen, sat up straighter. “Master? Why are you here so late…?”
She couldn’t finish her sentence. Cen Dianshuang approached, her cool fingers gently lifting Tao Ning’s chin.
The faint, sweet scent of peach blossoms, characteristic of Three Lives Dream wine, drifted from her wide sleeves.
Standing by the bed, Cen Dianshuang leaned closer, her pale eyes fixed on Tao Ning’s face, her gaze unusually intense.
Tao Ning met her gaze, noticing a flicker of red in her usually cool, calm eyes.
Then it was gone, Cen Dianshuang’s expression returning to its usual serenity.
The rain had stopped completely, a cool breeze drifting in through the open window, but doing little to cool the warmth spreading through Tao Ning’s chest.
She remained silent, watching as Cen Dianshuang drew closer, her breath warm against Tao Ning’s cheek.
But her movements were… unsteady, uncharacteristic of the usually composed and controlled Cen Dianshuang.
If 520 hadn’t been blocked, it would have been cheering, The widow’s second spring has arrived! Lucky you, Host!
Tao Ning would have been enjoying the moment, but the closer Cen Dianshuang got, the more apparent it became that her eyes weren’t focused. She was simply leaning in to see more clearly.
Cen Dianshuang’s fingers shifted, tracing the faint scar on Tao Ning’s left cheek. “How did you get this scar?”
The scar, a faint red line against Tao Ning’s pale skin, wasn’t deep, but the slight swelling made it stand out.
Cen Dianshuang’s voice was sharp. “Who did this to you?”
How did my disciple get injured in just a few hours? I’ve worked so hard to… improve her appearance.
Their faces were now inches apart, Cen Dianshuang’s nose almost touching Tao Ning’s cheek.
Tao Ning smiled, the movement pulling at the wound. She winced, but the smile remained. “It’s… a little itchy, Master.”
Cen Dianshuang was so close that her breath tickled Tao Ning’s skin.
“Does it hurt?”
Tao Ning’s mind went blank, forgetting her carefully crafted story, simply replying, “It’s… okay?”
Cen Dianshuang, instead of pulling away, persisted, her voice suddenly firm. “You haven’t told me who hurt you.”
Who would dare lay a hand on my disciple?
Tao Ning finally understood. Cen Dianshuang had drunk the Three Lives Dream. She wasn’t thinking clearly.
A proper disciple would have settled her drunken master, brewed some sobering tea, and waited until morning to inquire about her well-being.
Tao Ning, however, asked, “What will you do if I tell you, Master?”
Cen Dianshuang, her expression serious, replied, “I’ll retaliate.”
Tao Ning: “Against anyone?”
Cen Dianshuang: “Anyone.”
Tao Ning sighed dramatically. “What if you can’t defeat them?”
Cen Dianshuang scoffed, tilting her chin upwards. “Impossible.”
The unspoken message was clear: There’s no one I can’t defeat.
Her confidence, her unwavering protectiveness, was a hallmark of the Hanshan Sect.
Tao Ning: “Master, did you drink the Three Lives Dream?”
Cen Dianshuang pulled away abruptly, standing up straight, her expression carefully neutral. “I did not.”
Tao Ning reached out, tugging on her sleeve, sniffing it. “Your sleeve smells of Three Lives Dream.”
Cen Dianshuang pulled her sleeve away, her lips tightening. “You’re mistaken. I’m not drunk.”
Tao Ning, suppressing a smile, her eyes downcast, her lips twitching slightly, replied, “I didn’t say you were drunk, Master.”
From Cen Dianshuang’s perspective, her disciple looked…wronged. She felt a pang of guilt.
Her voice softened. “I only had a… small sip. It was unintentional.”
She had forgotten that the Three Lives Dream had been mixed with her sweet water. She had consumed most of the bottle. Where was the rest…?
The wine’s effects were starting to kick in, clouding her already muddled mind. She pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to dispel the dizziness.
Tao Ning sat up, her expression concerned. “What’s wrong, Master? Are you dizzy? Do you want me to massage your temples?”
The gesture, though respectful, made Cen Dianshuang nervous. She instinctively wanted to step back, but something held her in place.
As if retreating would be a sign of weakness.
She placed a hand over Tao Ning’s, stopping her. “No, I’m fine.”
Her usually obedient, bright-eyed disciple seemed different tonight, her fox-like eyes, normally sharp and intelligent, now holding a hint of… allure.
The fox whispered, “Then why are you here?”
She hadn’t used the formal “Master” title, blurring the lines between them.
Cen Dianshuang, hearing the question, felt the weight on her heart lift, a sudden lightness replacing the usual burden of responsibility and propriety.
Why am I here? She couldn’t quite remember, only knowing that being near Tao Ning brought a sense of peace and comfort.
She had once read a poem, a line about finding peace in one’s current surroundings. Back then, she had been too young to truly understand. Now, she felt it.
Her mind adrift, she reached out, her hand resting on Tao Ning’s cheek.
She had wanted to do this for a long time. The fulfillment of a long-held desire brought a sigh of relief.
“I forgot,” she murmured.
Tao Ning, her hand covering Cen Dianshuang’s, rubbing it gently, asked, “Forgot? Forgot why you came here?”
Cen Dianshuang: “Yes. I… I just wanted to see you.”
Tao Ning: “Hearing you say that makes me so happy.”
Cen Dianshuang, confused, asked, “Why?”
“Would you be happy if I sought you out immediately, whenever something was on my mind?” Tao Ning tilted her head, her eyes searching Cen Dianshuang’s.
Cen Dianshuang considered this, her eyes brightening slightly. She nodded. “I would.”
Tao Ning’s smile was dazzling. “Me too.”
Her joy was infectious. Cen Dianshuang wanted to smile back, but her face, usually as cold and impassive as a snow doll, struggled to form the expression.
The soft lamplight illuminated Tao Ning’s face, her skin smooth and delicate like porcelain, her hand holding Cen Dianshuang’s as if it were the most precious treasure.
The faint scar on her cheek resembled a brushstroke of rouge, enhancing her beauty.
Cen Dianshuang’s hand trembled, her gaze fixed on Tao Ning’s face, her mind drifting.
She pictured a mist-shrouded hot spring, a silk-draped screen on the bank.
A slender figure, barely visible behind the screen, the soft splashing of water echoing through the quiet night.
Drawn by the sound, she approached, her heart pounding as she saw the face of the person she had been dreaming of.
Wet hair plastered against her cheeks, the steam rising from the water, the air thick with a sweet fragrance, the obscured image only intensifying her desire.
This person was her deepest, most forbidden desire.
Sensing her presence, the figure swam towards the edge, extending a hand. “Why waste such a beautiful night? Join me.”
Cen Dianshuang’s gaze lingered on the hand, a hand she had seen a thousand times, its slender fingers bearing the marks of a sword cultivator.
She had felt a surge of anger, furious that someone would dare wear Tao Ning’s face to tempt her, even more furious at her own reaction, the flicker of desire in her heart.
Ashamed of her own weakness, yet unable to resist, she had fallen deeper into the forbidden longing, its origins unknown, its depths unfathomable.
Love was an illogical emotion, its beginnings often subtle, an inexplicable fascination, growing stronger with every glance, every shared moment.
Perhaps the seed had been planted the moment that small white bird landed on the grey-clad girl’s shoulder.
By the time she realized it, the seed had taken root, its tendrils wrapping around her heart, its growth unstoppable.
Enraged, she had broken the illusion, slaying the Meiyan. But the demon’s dying words, the threat of exposure and ruin, had struck a chord of fear within her.
She feared Tao Ning discovering her true feelings, feared the world knowing her secret. It was ironic. She had always considered herself fearless, yet a few words from a dying demon had shaken her to her core.
She had seen the signs, but had been too afraid to acknowledge them, clinging to propriety and decorum.
So she had silenced the Meiyan, eliminating all traces of its existence.
Tao Ning knew nothing of this.
On their way back, Cen Dianshuang had resolved to maintain a proper distance, to resist the temptation. Such behavior was unbecoming of a master.
Centuries ago, a master had seduced her disciples, leading to a scandal that rocked the Radiant Realm. One disciple, falling in love with another, had attempted to elope, only to be hunted down and killed by her enraged master. The grieving lover, learning of her death, had exposed the truth during a gathering of cultivators, forcing the sect to execute the master as atonement. The Radiant Realm, already intolerant of such transgressions, had become even more stringent in its condemnation of master-disciple relationships.
As a demon, she didn’t care about such social conventions, but the person she loved belonged to the Radiant Realm. She wouldn’t risk their reputation, their future, for her own selfish desires.
But now, the object of her affections was right here, her voice soft, her eyes filled with warmth and… a hint of something more.
She couldn’t resist.
She had learned to emulate humans for her master and senior sisters. Now, she would become the perfect master for Tao Ning.
“Your eyes…”
Tao Ning had been right. Cen Dianshuang’s eyes were glowing red.
Not the red of demonic corruption, but the red of a predator, a thin, black, vertical pupil appearing in the center of each iris, her gaze intense, possessive, turning Tao Ning into prey.
A Shangxi bird’s eyes weren’t red, but a clear, pure black.
Not all demons were evil. Shangxi birds were considered auspicious, cultivating by absorbing moonlight, never harming anyone, their methods pure and untainted.
Cen Dianshuang’s voice was husky. “What about my eyes?”
Tao Ning, not wanting to prematurely expose her master’s secret, licked her lips, her voice slightly breathless. “They’re… beautiful.”
Cen Dianshuang, no longer content with simply touching Tao Ning, leaned closer, gently kissing the scar on her cheek.
Then, as if that wasn’t enough, her hand rested on Tao Ning’s shoulder, her fingers tightening slightly as she leaned in, her tongue gently licking the wound.
In the inherited memories from her mother, Shangxi birds preened the feathers of their loved ones, their saliva healing wounds. She had never done this before, but the gesture felt… natural with Tao Ning.
Not family yet, but… cherished. Everything about Tao Ning was cherished: her scent, her smile, her voice.
A jolt of electricity shot through Tao Ning’s body, starting at the base of her spine, reaching her mind, leaving her tingling.
Feeling the wetness on her cheek, she reached up, her hand resting on Cen Dianshuang’s shoulder, a silent plea for… more.
Cen Dianshuang, stopped by Tao Ning’s hand, looked at her, a hint of frustration in her eyes. “It’s not healed yet.”
Tao Ning didn’t resist, perhaps unwilling to truly stop her. Cen Dianshuang leaned closer, her tongue tracing the scar, her breath warm against Tao Ning’s skin.
The scar, a result of a flying rock chip during her overly enthusiastic sword practice, hadn’t even had a chance to be used for sympathy before it was kissed and licked into submission.
In a way, Tao Ning had gotten what she wanted.
Cen Dianshuang pulled back, touching the now-healed skin with a satisfied expression.
Tao Ning doubted the City Lord would have added anything to the Three Lives Dream. The only unusual influence recently had been the Meiyan’s lair, its pink miasma and intoxicating fragrances, which, though initially suppressed by Cen Dianshuang, had been amplified by the wine.
Realizing this, Tao Ning murmured, “I think I’m also… intoxicated.”
Cen Dianshuang, still leaning over her, asked, “Intoxicated by what?”
“Not by any demon,” Tao Ning replied, her hand resting on Cen Dianshuang’s back. “That night at the inn… I know the walls are thin. You heard what I said.”
Cen Dianshuang, who had just kissed, touched, and licked her disciple, almost lost her composure, her gaze darting away.
“What did you say?” Why don’t you repeat it? I’d like to hear it again.
Tao Ning, her hand now tracing patterns on Cen Dianshuang’s back, her voice soft and alluring, like a fox spirit’s, whispered, “Lean closer, and I’ll tell you.”
Cen Dianshuang sometimes suspected Tao Ning deliberately lowered her voice, forcing her to lean in, but then she would question her own perception. Tao Ning’s gaze had always seemed so… pure.
But tonight, there was nothing pure about it.
The smile playing on Tao Ning’s lips was a clear warning: This is a trap. Don’t fall for it.
Yet, as if compelled by an unseen force, she leaned closer, and her lips were captured in a kiss.
Cen Dianshuang’s eyes widened, her hands pushing against the bed, trying to pull away, but Tao Ning’s grip on her neck was firm, inescapable.
Tao Ning’s hand tightened, her touch possessive, despite their positions.
Their robes tangled, lilac and pale green intertwined, their positions shifting until Tao Ning was on top, their lips locked in a passionate embrace.
The clouds parted, revealing a full moon, its light bathing the room, illuminating their entangled forms.
Cen Dianshuang’s hand, resting weakly on the bed, was captured in Tao Ning’s, her fingers intertwining, a soft moan escaping her lips.
Tao Ning, lifting a strand of Cen Dianshuang’s hair, kissed it gently. “Do you know what we’re doing?”
Cen Dianshuang, her eyes unfocused, her breath coming in short gasps, couldn’t answer.
Tao Ning kissed her slightly parted lips, a satisfied sigh escaping her own. “Never mind.”
Never mind? What does that mean?
Cen Dianshuang, her hand gripping Tao Ning’s arm, her eyes shimmering, her cheeks flushed, looked nothing like the Ice Beauty, her face now alive with a warmth and passion that was breathtaking.
Tao Ning: “Three Lives Dream. A dream without a trace. I was worried you wouldn’t remember tonight, dismissing it as a fleeting fantasy.”
The words stung. Cen Dianshuang’s pride, her innate competitiveness, made her want to protest, but the words caught in her throat.
I would never… forget tonight.
The wine’s effects finally overwhelmed her, and she closed her eyes, surrendering to the darkness.
In her haste, her inexperience with alcohol, she had forgotten that with her Nascent Soul cultivation, she could easily dispel the wine’s effects with a simple circulation of spiritual energy. Instead, she had stumbled into Tao Ning’s room, her mind clouded.
Tao Ning, sitting on the edge of the bed, her gaze lingering on the overturned table, a casualty of their passionate encounter, touched her slightly swollen lip.
Cen Dianshuang had bitten her, a sharp nip she hadn’t noticed in the heat of the moment, but now throbbed faintly.
She licked her lip, wincing slightly. “I’m just as bad. Just as… lost in the moment. Like a proper married couple.”
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