“Forget about changing places. I’ve set up a soundproof barrier. The people outside can’t hear what’s inside, but the people inside… can hear every single thing happening outside loud and clear.”
Qin Shuying’s fingers slid down his sweat-slicked spine and pressed firmly against the small of his back—neither too hard nor too light.
“Listen…” She paused her movements, tilting her head to listen, a smile curling at the corners of her lips.
From the side hall next door, Su Wan’er’s voice drifted faintly in.
She seemed to be talking about something amusing, her tone light.
“…Shuying, do you still remember? That old locust tree at the village entrance? We always used to climb it to steal bird’s eggs. One time you almost fell, scared me to death…”
Then came the clone’s flat but cooperative response—the words were indistinct, but it was clearly a reply.
“No… don’t listen… please…” His fragmented plea came out with a sobbing edge, and at last a cold tear slipped from the corner of his eye, mingling with sweat and vanishing into his temple.
But Qin Shuying let out a low laugh, a sound like a venomous snake slithering over dry leaves.
“Why shouldn’t I listen? How moving… childhood friends, reunited after so long, chatting happily.”
She turned his face, forcing him to look at her. “But your good Wan’er doesn’t know what her beloved good sister is doing right now… hmm?”
“Ah—” Shen Mo’s short gasp was barely out before he bit down hard on the back of his hand, stifling it into a suppressed whimper.
Excitement flickered in Qin Shuying’s eyes—the thrill of trampling a lofty flower beneath her feet.
“Speaking of which, I’m really jealous. How did someone like her land you? Honest, stubborn, average in ability, only passable in looks. I guess the order you meet people really does matter.”
“I forbid you to say that about her!” A spark of anger flared in Shen Mo’s tear-misted eyes.
“Wan’er… she’s a thousand times, ten thousand times better than you! She’s kind-hearted, sincere to others, and she would never, ever—like you—take by force and bully with power!”
Qin Shuying’s movements abruptly stilled.
“Alright, alright, I won’t talk about her anymore, okay?”
Her tone was like coaxing a sulking child, but the hands roaming over his body carried a punishing weight.
“Look at you getting so worked up. The moment she’s mentioned, you’re like a cat with its fur standing on end.”
Shen Mo made a request. “This time… after this, can you… destroy that shadow recording stone?”
“Sure, as long as you… behave,” she drawled deliberately. “Any request you have, I can grant it.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
Shen Mo turned his face away, refusing to look at her. In a voice barely audible, with a rushed, self-numbing tone, he muttered:
“Then… hurry up. Quick, quick, end this…”
In his mind, he frantically, desperately comforted and hypnotized himself.
It’s not her… not Qin Shuying… it’s Wan’er… Wan’er is touching him… Wan’er needs him… Only by thinking that way can he barely endure, keep himself from breaking down entirely.
Qin Shuying let out a low laugh and said no more. She slipped her hands under his knees and lifted him horizontally.
Above the eaves outside the hall hung a copper bell.
Silent for long days, covered in a thin layer of dust.
The wind first merely passed by, causing the bell to tremble so faintly it was barely perceptible.
The hoarse copper clapper lightly struck the inner wall, releasing a muffled, almost exhausted hum.
The wind refused to give up. It gathered, swirling back with deliberate rhythm.
The first touch was a tentative tease. The clapper was pushed, tracing a short arc, striking the cold inner wall.
The wind received its response and began its game.
Sometimes fast, sometimes slow, it poured into the bell’s cavity from different angles.
Sometimes it was a sustained push, making the clapper hit the same spot again and again, producing a regular, clear chime.
The sound echoed repeatedly within the copper hollow, until the whole bell grew slightly warm from the vibration.
Sometimes it was a swift, spiraling invasion, sending the clapper crashing wildly without pattern, producing a fine, dense tremolo.
The bell itself swung and spun violently, drawing an invisible, chaotic vortex in the air.
The copper bell could no longer stay silent.
Completely filled and controlled by that formless force, every chime—its weight, length, clarity, muffledness—was no longer its own.
The wind’s fingers toyed with it, and even after the last gust, the bell would, by inertia and residual tremor, let out a few scattered, moist murmurs, its very core soaked in the wind’s breath.
And just at that moment when his consciousness scattered and his defenses crumbled, a name that Shen Mo had buried deep in his heart—one that should never have surfaced at that moment—slipped out unconsciously, murmured with that breath:
“…Wan’er…”
Utterly soft, utterly indistinct.
Lost in the ragged breathing, impossible to hear clearly.
But Qin Shuying heard it.
She halted all her movements abruptly.
Her icy face seethed with terrifying fury.
She had been trying so hard, and he was still thinking of someone else?
“What did you just call me?” Her voice was as cold as ice.
He opened his eyes. A sharp buzz echoed in his skull. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something.
Qin Shuying watched his guilty look, and the fire inside her burned hotter.
“Shen Mo, look clearly! Who’s holding you now? Who’s making you feel good?! Is it that waste Su Wan’er?!”
She had been reduced to someone else’s substitute at a time like this?
She, Qin Shuying, had never suffered such a disgrace!
“N-no… I… I was saying… f-finished… I mean, it’s over… yes, ‘finished’! Shuying, you misheard!”
Shen Mo tried to bluster his way through.
“Misheard?” Qin Shuying laughed in fury.
She suddenly leaned close, her tone carrying a competitive mindset that only modern young men would have:
“Between the two of us, who’s better?”
“…Shen Mo was speechless.”
Seeing that he didn’t answer, Qin Shuying’s brows furrowed slightly.
Her desire to win was instantly ignited.
A little dissatisfied, she arched her waist and deliberately bumped against that spot.
“Say something! I’m asking you! Isn’t she way better than that wooden dummy who only knows seclusion? Hmm?”
Shen Mo sucked in a sharp breath from that bump, and the corners of his eyes instantly turned red.
If he didn’t admit it felt good, that would be ingratitude, even an insult to the female cultivator’s skills.
His voice was as thin as a mosquito’s.
“Both of you are good…”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt as if he had lost all face from both lifetimes.
“Fine. Can’t decide, huh?”
Qin Shuying stopped questioning.
She took action. With no room for hesitation, she started a new round of conquest—this time to brand herself deep into him, from body to soul, so that he would forever remember who it was that controlled him, who gave him both pain and extreme pleasure.
“Let’s see if you… still call out the wrong name this time…”
On the other side of the wall.
Su Wan’er faintly heard some subtle, unusual sounds.
She stopped talking with Qin Shuying’s clone, turned her head, and tilted her ear.
Puzzled, she asked softly, “Shuying, did you hear something? It sounds like… it’s coming from next door?”
The clone’s expression was calm and undisturbed.
Gracefully, she picked up the teacup, took a sip, and said blandly, “Maybe the wind blew the window frame, or some spirit beast ran by. Around the main hall, there are always trivial noises. No need to mind.”
Su Wan’er nodded at that, not doubting a thing. She let her smile return and continued with their earlier topic.