Incurable Chapter 31 Part 2

Chapter 31 (2/2)

“That’s good.” Qingchan was reassured and returned his attention to the lesson.

Incense drifted in the main hall. White threads of smoke curled before the statues, lending the whole space a sacred, ethereal air.

Mu Wan lifted her eyes toward Liu Qianxiu. He was still explaining to Qingchan, his face as peaceful and composed as ever. Something stirred in her chest, and she lowered her head with a smile.

On the page, the hero and heroine were being intimate, wrapped in sweetness.

Yet the sweetness of someone else’s love could not compare to even a fraction of what she was feeling right now.

The rain drizzled on all day, and they spent the whole day like this too—breakfast, morning lesson, lunch, quiet cultivation, dinner, quiet cultivation...

It should have been terribly boring.

But Mu Wan found endless pleasure in it.

Liu Qianxiu still appeared cold and restrained. On the surface, he was no different from before. Yet he seemed even more devastating now than he had before. One sentence, one gesture, and Mu Wan’s heart would begin racing all over again.

After dinner, Qingchan’s body clock finally struck. Listening to the rain and to stories, he dozed at the table and soon fell asleep. The rain that had lasted all day gradually stopped. Water dripped from the eaves in soft taps. Amid the drifting sandalwood smoke, the temple felt remote and silent.

Liu Qianxiu picked Qingchan up and rose.

Qingchan was not sleeping deeply. Once lifted, he woke at once. Seeing Liu Qianxiu, he rubbed his soft little head twice against him and called out, “Junior Brother.”

“I’m going to put him to sleep,” Liu Qianxiu said quietly to Mu Wan.

The temple light was a soft orange. In the rainy night, the man in a Taoist robe holding the child in a Taoist robe looked like a frame cut from a film—cool, distant, and impossibly refined.

“All right.” Mu Wan nodded and watched them leave.

Getting Qingchan to sleep was not easy. That was the one conclusion Mu Wan had drawn after an entire day here. The stories were interesting enough that she herself could barely keep her eyes open after two of them, but Qingchan had remained bright-eyed and energetic the whole time.

She had guessed correctly. After another quarter hour, she had turned several more pages, yet Liu Qianxiu still had not returned. She had already drawn her feet back and tucked them under herself for warmth. But her own warmth could never compare to his. Usually, whenever she touched him, he felt cool and dry. Yet when he warmed her, there was unmistakable heat in him.

That warmth and the fine texture of his palm still seemed to linger on her feet. An itch stirred beneath her skin, and a blush crept slowly over her face.

What did it feel like for him?

Was it the same as it was for her?

She had always thought her face was quite thick-skinned. Yet when it came to the realm of men and women, something she had never truly touched before, a rare innocence emerged. Mu Wan pinched the corner of her book. Even her fingertips turned pink.

Another quarter hour later, the door to the side hall opened.

Liu Qianxiu stepped out and at once saw Mu Wan still waiting for him in the main hall. Both arms were on the table, her body leaning forward. The moment she saw him, she lifted her head quickly, eyes bright and clear.

To say he felt nothing would have been false. Liu Qianxiu lowered his gaze and walked into the hall.

“He’s asleep?” Mu Wan looked up at him and asked.

“Mm.” Liu Qianxiu went over and sat beside the table. This time, the woman did not extend her feet toward him.

He lifted his eyes.

Across from him, she had slumped back over the low table, like a boneless little serpent demon—slender, soft, and languid. She looked at him with gentle, cool sweetness in her voice.

“I’m sleepy too,” she said, punctuating the words with a tiny yawn. Moisture gathered in her eyes, making them shine.

Without setting aside the book in his hand, Liu Qianxiu looked at her and said, “Go sleep.”

She hummed twice, her long fingers lightly brushing the corner of the book in his hands. Her voice was soft and lingering.

“I want you to coax me to sleep too.”

Her words rose at the end like white smoke drifting from an incense burner. Something moved in Liu Qianxiu’s gaze.

She looked back at him, waiting for his answer. The sleep-heavy half-lidded look in her eyes disappeared as she forced them open again.

Those beautiful eyes, so clearly black and white, so bright and clean—and yet there was also something faintly seductive hidden within.

“All right,” Liu Qianxiu agreed.

Mu Wan smiled.

She straightened from the table, about to rise on her own, but Liu Qianxiu had already come to her side and lifted her into his arms.

Mu Wan let out a small, startled cry, looking at him in disbelief, her heartbeat racing.

The man lowered his eyes to her. His lips were lightly pressed together. His voice was lovelier than the rain.

“The coaxing starts now.”

As he carried her out, a few fine droplets landed on her face. It seemed to have begun drizzling again.

She tilted her head up to the sky. Washed by rain, the night held not a single star, only a purer, deeper blackness.

Mu Wan wrapped her arms around Liu Qianxiu’s neck, resting against his chest, and laughed in a low, sweet murmur.

The room Mu Wan was staying in was dark. When the door opened, a little light from the main hall slipped across the threshold, thinning and softening the blackness enough to make out their silhouettes.

This used to be his room. He knew it by heart. Once he found the bed, he lay Mu Wan down.

As soon as he did, he tried to withdraw his arms.

At that instant, Mu Wan tightened the hands she had looped around his neck, holding him there.

Their eyes met in the dark. Sparks seemed to strike between them like flint on stone, brief and fine, and in a heartbeat, the dim room turned intimate.

She held him. He looked at her.

The air had tightened like stretched cloth—one small movement from either of them might tear it open completely.

His gaze lowered slightly. Liu Qianxiu’s tone remained perfectly steady.

“I should go.”

“Why?” He was hard where she was soft. Tilting her head, she looked at him with a quiet smile. “Why do you have to go?”

His eyes tightened.

Mu Wan did not let go. Holding him, she spoke in a voice like a paw sheathed in velvet—soft on the surface, but with claws beneath.

“Liu Qianxiu, I want desire. Will you give it to me?”

The moment her words fell, a streak of lightning split the black sky.

He wore a Taoist robe, looking like an immortal at the edge of breaking his vows, warned by heaven itself just before the fall—cold, restrained, and impossible not to long for.

His Adam’s apple moved.

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