“Why did it have to come to this?”
Shuang Feixue’s face was etched with regret.
The question was directed not only at Nanxi but at herself—at the impulsive woman she had been last night.
Now that the heat of the moment had passed, she had fully entered sage mode and begun to grapple with the consequences of what they had done.
She had defiled her own disciple, the boy she had raised as her son.
If word of this ever got out, Nanxi would never be able to hold his head high again.
Nanxi, for his part, did not seem to care in the least.
He had already dressed and was now seated at the desk, quietly reading one of the new storybooks they had bought.
“Because I love Master, so no matter what happens, it’s fine with me.”
“But… it shouldn’t have been like this…”
Tears were already sliding down Shuang Feixue’s cheeks.
She could not bring herself to accept the truth—that she had ruined the child she had raised with her own hands.
Of course a woman like her had once harbored fleeting, wicked desires for Nanxi’s body.
But those had only been passing evil thoughts.
When it came down to it, she could never have brought herself to act on them.
No one could do something so filthy to the child they had raised.
Except that she already had.
“There’s no need to feel tormented, Master. As many times as you want—I’d be fine with it. You’re my only family. And if I give myself to you, maybe when you remember me in the future, it won’t hurt as much…”
At the boy’s words, Shuang Feixue could no longer hold back her tears.
She began to sob.
Seeing her like this, Nanxi tossed the storybook aside.
His face gentle, he walked to the bedside, sat down, lifted the woman’s upper body, and pulled her into his arms.
He comforted the crying woman with a soft voice.
“Master doesn’t need to be sad. I did it willingly. Because in just a few more nights, Nanxi might end up in someone else’s bed anyway. If that’s going to happen, I’d rather give myself to you.”
At those words, Shuang Feixue only grew more heartbroken.
Choking on her sobs, she managed to force out a question.
“…Did you hear it, Xiaoxi? Last night?”
“I heard everything—from beginning to end. And to think you tried to fool me before by calling me a stray child you picked up.”
When he finished speaking, Shuang Feixue finally broke into loud, wrenching cries, as though trying to pour out all the grievances of the past fourteen years.
“There, there. Rather than Master going off to die alone, it’s better if I spend a few nights with that woman. As long as you don’t start hating me afterward, Master.”
“…No! No! No! The thought of Xiaoxi being touched by another woman—that can only happen twenty years after I’m dead!”
Compared to the woman’s utterly pitiful state, the boy holding her remained remarkably calm.
Even now, he could not resist teasing his master a little.
“You really are embarrassing yourself, Master. Sniffling and crying like this when you’re already past thirty—it’s like you’re a child who never grew up.”
“Because… because… I don’t want Xiaoxi to be with another woman… Just thinking about it… makes me feel like I’m dying…”
Seeing his master in such a state stirred a devilish impulse in the boy.
“I don’t want it either, Xiaoxi. I hate the idea of being pinned down and taken by some other woman. But Master is so useless, so the only thing the Nanxi who loves you can do is put on clothes you’ve never seen before and—”
Before Nanxi could finish describing the acts of service he had imagined, his tear-streaked, snot-nosed master suddenly flipped him over and pinned him beneath her.
“…You’re not allowed… to say such embarrassing things… in front of Master… Xiaoxi can only… belong to Master…”
The woman who had just been wallowing in regret was provoked by his words into wanting another round.
As soon as she spoke, Shuang Feixue’s vermilion lips moved to cover the boy’s cherry ones once more. But this time, the boy did not yield to his master.
He turned his head away.
At that, the tears Shuang Feixue had managed to stop began flowing again.
“…Xiaoxi… don’t do this… just once… let Master…”
“No. A useless master like you can only watch while another woman plays with me.”
“Uwaa… Xiaoxi has suddenly become so mean…”
Nanxi pushed his master aside and lay on his back, his expression turning cold as he voiced his resentment toward Shuang Feixue.
“This is retribution, you know—both what happened earlier and what’s happening now. The thing I cherish most in this world is you, Master, the one who’s like a mother to me. Yet you abandoned me without a word for two whole years. You were right beside me the entire time, but you wouldn’t even show your face.”
“…So Xiaoxi… you’re… angry?”
Shuang Feixue asked through her sniffles, tears and snot still on her face.
“Yes. I get lonely too, you know. The Zhang estate is nice—they give me food, clothes, everything. Things you can’t give me, Master…”
At those words, a dazed look crossed Shuang Feixue’s face.
It was true—she could not provide Nanxi with material comfort.
If anything, she spent her disciple’s money on wine.
Nanxi gently stroked the woman’s face—still enchantingly beautiful despite the years—and a faint smile touched his lips.
“But the Zhang estate doesn’t have the master I love. So food and clothes don’t matter. To me, that place isn’t home just because you’re here—it’s nothing more than an ordinary courtyard.”
Home was not about luxurious living or extravagant mansions.
Home was simply the place where the person you loved was—where the people who cared for you and whom you cared for existed.
A place filled with love was home.
A place without love, no matter how grand, was nothing but cold stone walls.
“But Master… can’t protect Xiaoxi…”
How could Shuang Feixue not want to stay by the side of the boy she loved forever?
Yet being too close to him would only invite unnecessary trouble.
The only way she could truly protect him was by watching over him from afar.
“Xiaoxi, could you forget about Master…? That way… no one would get hurt… and you could keep living a comfortable, wealthy life…”
Tears fell onto the boy’s cheek, as though they were his own.
More and more drops landed on his face.
The boy said nothing.
He simply held his master close, letting her tears flow across his chest.
Like a mother, he comforted Shuang Feixue—even though, by all rights, she was the one who should have been the mother figure.
“What a useless master you are. All you do is cry. But it’s all right—cry as much as you need.”
As if trying to weep out all the grievances and helplessness she had bottled up over the years, Shuang Feixue cried silently in the arms of the one she loved.
For her, this was not a bad thing.
Only by crying out all her pain could a person become truly open-hearted.
Once Shuang Feixue had cried herself out, the boy revealed his plan.
“Unlike my unlucky master, I’m actually quite fortunate. I have a way to keep both you and me safe.”
Nanxi remembered that night two years ago—the night he had been soaked to the bone, and the dragon.
If she could summon wind and rain, killing a mere inhuman woman probably would not be difficult at all.
That was what the boy thought.
Outside the room, the young girl who had been eavesdropping the entire time no longer knew what she wanted to do.