What She Wants
The rain fell softly all day.
And so did the rhythm of life at the temple.
Breakfast.
Morning lessons.
Lunch.
Quiet cultivation.
Dinner.
More cultivation.
Objectively, it was terribly boring.
Yet Mu Wan found endless amusement in it.
Liu Qianxiu remained as cool and restrained as ever.
On the surface, almost nothing about him had changed.
And yet somehow, he had become even more devastating.
One sentence.
One small gesture.
That was enough to make her heart race.
After dinner, Qingchan’s internal clock finally announced bedtime.
Listening to the rain and another story, he soon collapsed over the low table and fell asleep.
The rain that had continued throughout the day gradually stopped.
Water dripped softly from the window ledge.
Inside the sandalwood-scented temple, everything felt quiet and distant.
Liu Qianxiu stood and lifted Qingchan into his arms.
The little boy was not deeply asleep.
The moment Liu Qianxiu picked him up, he stirred.
Seeing who was holding him, Qingchan rubbed his fluffy head twice against Liu Qianxiu’s chest.
“Junior Brother.”
“I’ll put him to bed.”
Liu Qianxiu lowered his gaze toward Mu Wan.
The temple lights were warm orange.
Against the rainy night, the tall man in Daoist robes carrying a small boy dressed in the same way looked like a scene cut from an old film.
Cool.
Elegant.
Almost unreal.
“All right.”
Mu Wan nodded.
She watched them leave.
Getting Qingchan to sleep was not easy.
That was one thing Mu Wan had learned over the course of the day.
The stories might be interesting, but Mu Wan herself had nearly fallen asleep after two.
Qingchan, meanwhile, had remained bright-eyed and energetic.
Her prediction proved correct.
Fifteen minutes passed.
She had turned several pages of her book.
Liu Qianxiu still had not returned.
Mu Wan had tucked her feet beneath herself again to keep them warm.
But her own body temperature could not compare with his hands.
Usually, whenever she touched Liu Qianxiu, he felt cool and dry.
Yet when he had warmed her feet, his palms had been warm.
The sensation remained.
The heat.
The fine texture of his skin.
A faint itch spread through Mu Wan’s heart.
What had it felt like for him?
Had he felt the same thing she had?
Mu Wan had always considered herself fairly thick-skinned.
But when it came to intimacy between a man and a woman, territory she had never truly entered before, she discovered that she could be unexpectedly innocent.
Her fingers pinched the corner of her book.
Even her fingertips had turned pink.
Another fifteen minutes passed.
At last, the side-room door opened.
Liu Qianxiu stepped outside.
He looked toward the main hall.
Mu Wan was waiting for him.
Both arms rested on the low table.
Her body leaned forward.
The moment she saw him, her head lifted.
Her eyes brightened.
To say he felt nothing would have been a lie.
Liu Qianxiu’s gaze lowered slightly.
Then he walked into the main hall.
“He’s asleep?”
Mu Wan tilted her face up toward him.
“Mm.”
Liu Qianxiu sat beside the low table.
This time, the woman across from him did not stretch her feet toward him.
He looked up.
Mu Wan had collapsed over the table again like some soft, boneless little snake spirit.
Slender.
Languid.
Her eyes rested on him.
Her voice was gentle, carrying a cool sweetness.
“I’m sleepy too.”
She gave a small yawn.
Moisture gathered in her eyes until they shone.
Liu Qianxiu still held his book.
“Go to sleep.”
Mu Wan’s eyelids drooped.
She made two soft sounds of protest.
One slender finger drifted across the corner of the book in his hand.
Her voice became slow and coaxing.
“I want you to put me to sleep too.”
The words lingered like white incense smoke spreading from a burner.
Something shifted in Liu Qianxiu’s eyes.
Mu Wan looked up and waited for his answer.
Her eyes, half closed from sleepiness a moment earlier, opened wider.
Black and white.
Clear and bright.
Yet somehow still carrying an unmistakable allure.
“All right,” Liu Qianxiu said.
Mu Wan smiled.
She straightened and was just about to stand.
But Liu Qianxiu had already walked around to her side.
He bent down.
And lifted her into his arms.
“Aiya.”
Mu Wan stared at him in disbelief.
Her heartbeat accelerated.
Liu Qianxiu lowered his gaze toward her.
His lips were pressed slightly together.
His voice sounded better than the rain.
“We start now.”
A fine drizzle touched Mu Wan’s face as he carried her outside.
Apparently, it had begun raining again.
She tilted her head toward the sky.
The rain-washed night held no stars.
Only a deeper, purer darkness.
Mu Wan wrapped both arms around Liu Qianxiu’s neck.
She settled against his chest.
Then laughed softly and sweetly.
The side room where Mu Wan was staying was dark.
When the door opened, light from the main hall spilled across the threshold, thinning the darkness enough to reveal their silhouettes.
This had originally been Liu Qianxiu’s room.
He knew it without needing light.
He carried Mu Wan to the bed and lowered her onto it.
As he began to straighten and release her, Mu Wan tightened both arms around his neck.
She held him there.
Their gazes met in the darkness.
Something passed between them like sparks struck from flint.
Tiny.
Brief.
Yet enough to make the indistinct night suddenly intimate.
She held him.
He looked at her.
The air between them seemed stretched taut like cloth.
The slightest movement could tear it apart.
Liu Qianxiu lowered his gaze.
His voice remained perfectly steady.
“I should go.”
“Why?”
He was all hard lines and strength.
She was soft.
Mu Wan tilted her head and looked at him with a quiet smile.
“Why do you have to go?”
Liu Qianxiu’s gaze tightened.
Mu Wan did not release him.
Her arms remained looped around his neck.
Her voice was like a paw covered in soft fur.
Gentle on the surface.
Sharp underneath.
“Liu Qianxiu.”
She looked directly into his eyes.
“You said you’d give me whatever I wanted.”
Her voice softened.
“I want desire.”
A breath.
“Will you give it to me?”
The instant the words left her mouth, lightning split the black sky.
Dressed entirely in Daoist robes, Liu Qianxiu looked like an immortal receiving one final warning from heaven before breaking a sacred rule.
Ascetic.
Cold.
And devastatingly tempting.
His throat moved.
— End of Chapter 31 —
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