Chapter 32 (1/2)
Her body had heated up, the warmth passing through her skin into his. Her cheeks were faintly flushed, a clear invitation written plainly across her face.
With both arms looped around his neck, her back hovered half-suspended above the bed in a posture that quickly became tiring. Liu Qianxiu set a hand at her waist. After a rustle of cloth, he drew her fully into his arms.
Mu Wan hooked her legs around his waist and settled onto his lap.
It was an intimate, dizzying position. The man’s eyes remained calm and deep, bottomless and boundless.
They looked at each other.
His hand spread over her back, and his voice came out low and rough.
“Mu Wan, I’m a doctor. There’s nothing here. You could get pregnant.”
It was such direct, bare, utterly serious practical advice that it only added another layer to the desire thickening in the dark. Mu Wan’s body grew even hotter. The restrained sandalwood scent on him, ascetic and clean, was the finest aphrodisiac she had ever known.
“If I got pregnant, then you’d be the father of my child.” Mu Wan tipped her chin up, smiling. “I’m not afraid.”
She had no father, no mother, nothing of her own.
Now Liu Qianxiu was her god, and also her world.
She truly was not afraid—like a little demon who had only just learned to take shape, charging forward with all the ignorant bravery of first love. Her eyes shone when she spoke, sweetness spilling from the corners. For love, she would dare anything, care about nothing. She was so pure in it that it made one want to tear out one’s burning heart and place it in her hands.
Liu Qianxiu watched her smile and said quietly, “I still haven’t given you anything.”
Mu Wan shook her head. “You have. You like me. You gave me love. It’s been a very long time since anyone loved me.”
After saying that, she lifted her face in search of his mouth—bold, reckless, a little clumsy in her eagerness. Her warm, soft lips brushed across his jaw. Fine skin touched fine skin. Something in his gaze wavered, then cleared again like water.
He pulled her into his arms and pressed her face to his shoulder. Resting there, Mu Wan heard him let out a soft sigh.
“That’s what you want,” Liu Qianxiu said. “But what I want to give you is much more than what you’re asking for.”
Light rippled in her eyes. Only then did embarrassment arrive, belated and vivid. She held him tighter, her whole body softening little by little in his arms.
“You’re nothing like a Taoist priest,” Mu Wan said in a voice sweet and soft as strawberry shaved ice. “What kind of Taoist priest is this good at saying things like that?”
Some of the heat and ache between them faded, leaving behind something warmer, more lingering. At her ear, his lips hovered close, every word he spoke turning the delicate shell of it scarlet.
“If I weren’t a Taoist priest, then holding you like this wouldn’t be the only thing happening right now.”
Mu Wan braced both hands on his shoulders. Her body seemed to melt into water, her heart humming and numb. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her and thought that perhaps she was not the demon after all.
Perhaps he was.
Life at the temple was dry and simple. Other than quiet cultivation, there was only reading.
As the days passed, even the pleasure of novels began to fade for Mu Wan. The only thing sustaining her now was the occasional sweetness Liu Qianxiu would feed her, like dropping candy into her palm just when she was beginning to wilt.
The weather had not been good either. The rain fell day after day. But finally, one afternoon after her nap, she woke to sunlight.
Not yet fully awake, she stumbled out of her room, half-bumping her way forward.
Liu Qianxiu, seated in the main hall, heard the door open and looked up. A moment later, he saw Mu Wan trotting toward him. Incense always burned in the hall. She had only just woken, and the fragrance caught her throat enough to make her sneeze softly.
Afterward, she dragged over a prayer cushion and sat down right beside him. Resting her head against his shoulder, she wrapped both arms around his waist.
At a glance, Liu Qianxiu looked slim. But touching him now, through the thin layer of his robe, Mu Wan could feel the tight line of muscle beneath. Her hair was loose, thick, and dark, and her fluffy little head burrowed into him, her small pale face smiling beneath the fall of it.
His waist tickled under her touch. She was openly setting little fires wherever she pleased. Qingchan was still napping and had not yet woken, so for the moment she could be as shameless as she liked. Liu Qianxiu’s lips curved faintly as he lowered his eyes to his book.
Outside, the sky had cleared. Sunlight spread over the still-damp ground, turning the air into something cool and luminous after rain.
“Liu Qianxiu,” Mu Wan said, looking at the Tao Te Ching in his hand, “do you do anything all day besides sit quietly in meditation and sit quietly reading?”
She narrowed her eyes, both arms clinging softly to him. It was three in the afternoon. The rain had just passed, and the wind was still cool. She had put on an outer robe, her long fingers curled inside the sleeves, like two little paws tucked around him.
Without changing posture, the man added, “I also sit quietly and keep you company.”
Mu Wan closed her eyes and smiled, laughing under her breath.
He lowered the book and turned his head toward the woman in his arms. Her hair was thick and dark. Her bangs had fallen against the corners of her eyes, and her curled lashes cast two layers of shadow beneath them.
This was her first time at the temple. Day after day of this kind of life must indeed have become dull. Looking back toward the doorway, he saw the sunlight outside, the brightness of the clouds, and the promise that rain might come again before long.
“Do you know how to catch fish?” Liu Qianxiu brushed her hair behind her ear and asked.
She tipped her head and looked up at him, her face lighting with delight. “There are fish here?”
“Yes. We’ll make fish for dinner,” Liu Qianxiu said lightly.
“Yes!” Mu Wan answered at once.
Whether she actually knew how to catch fish was beside the point. At the very least, it meant she would not have to stay in the main hall watching him meditate. She jumped up immediately and ran to her room to change clothes. Liu Qianxiu rose as well and went to fetch the fishing gear.
A wicker fish basket.
And a casting net.
As Mu Wan followed him toward the back courtyard, she asked, “Can that really catch anything?”
“Yes,” Liu Qianxiu replied. “There’s time. We can catch them slowly.”
They were not really going to the river just for fish.
He was taking her out to play.
Mu Wan’s happiness rose again. She followed Liu Qianxiu through the rear gate of the temple.
The place for fishing lay behind the mountain. Once they opened the back gate, they went down a narrow path, passed through a bamboo grove, and came to a valley.
A long river ran through it—the Qingyuan River, a tributary of the Su River. No one came here year-round, and the water was clear to the bottom, revealing smooth pebbles and clean silt.
The terrain around Qingyuan Mountain was relatively level, but the mountains on the far side of the valley rose steep and sheer. Their roots plunged into the Qingyuan River itself. Near the waterline grew slanting old trees, their branches thick and their crowns lush, casting broad shadows across the river. The wind there carried a coolness that gave the place the air of a hidden retreat for wandering swordsmen.
There was a gravelly bank along the river. Mu Wan went barefoot over the stones, the river sliding over the tops of her feet—cold, clear through to the bone.
A small wooden boat was moored there. Judging by the hull, it had already seen many years. Liu Qianxiu stepped aboard first, then reached out and pulled her up after him.
There were prayer cushions laid inside. Mu Wan folded her legs beneath her and sat, watching as Liu Qianxiu pushed the boat away from shore.
“Do you come here often to catch fish?” she asked.
“Qingchan likes it,” Liu Qianxiu said. In the past, every time he came here, he had brought Qingchan.
This time, he had brought her.
Mu Wan tipped her face up to look at him. The water-blue Taoist robe blended with the near hills and the river beyond, as though he belonged to a wash of ink in a landscape painting. Smiling, she trailed her fingers through the water and asked, “Then why didn’t you bring him this time?”
When the boat reached midstream, Liu Qianxiu set down the oar and looked at her. “Should I go back and get him now?”
“No,” Mu Wan said at once.
Cute as the little Taoist was, he was still a walking lantern bright enough to ruin any mood. A child’s innocence made it impossible for her to do certain things openly in front of him.
After Liu Qianxiu cast the net, Mu Wan went over to help. Once the net sank below the water, she sat down again. The river was so clear that she could not spot a single fish shadow. Leaning along the edge of the boat, she asked, “Are you sure there are fish?”
She lifted her head and looked toward him.
His features were clear and cool. His voice was just as calm when he said, “Come here.”
Something in her chest stirred.
Her heartbeat knocked against her ears. She smiled and got up, walking over to Liu Qianxiu.
Whether there were fish or not no longer mattered.
As long as he was there.
Mu Wan tucked a prayer cushion beneath her waist, stretched out, and lay down in the boat with her head pillowed on Liu Qianxiu’s folded legs.
The valley was secluded and still. The sky was bright. The river murmured beneath them. Birds called in the distance, and insects sang.
Mu Wan narrowed her eyes and tipped her head back to look at Liu Qianxiu above her.
One of his hands rested against her cheek, palm dry and warm, his fingers carrying the breath of the mountain wind. In the other, he held a book, reading as calmly as ever.
Liu Qianxiu had faith in his heart. Even on a drifting boat, he still held a book.
The two of them had come all this way out, only for him to change places and continue reading.
Dissatisfied, Mu Wan reached up, took the book away, and said, “Why are you still reading?”
Liu Qianxiu looked at her quietly.
Feeling a little guilty beneath his gaze, Mu Wan hugged the book to her chest and said, “Look at me instead. I’m much prettier than a book.”
When she finished speaking, he lowered his head and kissed her forehead.
It was only a brief touch, but the softness of it set something alight inside her. Heat climbed into her face. Her ears softened. Her will wavered immediately.
Still holding the book, she hesitated, then reluctantly handed it back to him.
“Fine. Read.”
She lay between his legs, her long dark hair spread out, her small pale face beneath it. Her black eyes were fixed on the deep green valley, her red lips softly pressed together, her brows slender and fine.
She was indeed prettier than a book.
Liu Qianxiu took the book from her, set it beside him instead, and lowered his gaze to her face.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll look at you.”
Whenever he spoke, he always knew exactly how to strike her heart. Something stirred inside Mu Wan again. Her body began to warm.
She covered her eyes with one hand and laughed softly, peeking at the sky through her fingers. White clouds were gathering there, little by little. She thought that if time could only stop here, that would be perfect.
And if it could not stop, then it might at least slow down.
But time did not listen to her.
The clouds thickened. Within a short while, white clouds turned dark, and it looked as though rain would come again at any minute.
When Liu Qianxiu drew the net back in, there really were fish. Mu Wan helped pluck them free from the mesh. There were three in total. Since they could not possibly eat all of them, she released the smallest one back into the river.
They placed the remaining fish in the basket. Liu Qianxiu rowed the boat back to the bank. Once they stepped onto shore again, they started toward Qingyuan Temple.
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