After all, she had never shared a bed with a man before.
He looked at Su Wan’er, who was still rooted to the spot, her gaze unfocused and her cheeks flushed with an abnormal redness.
“Wan’er?” he called softly, his tone bewitching. “Time to sleep. What are you spacing out for?”
He paused, his eyes glistening as he glanced at her sideways. “Didn’t you say… tonight, we’d conceive a child?”
A child?!
Those two words struck like thunder, blasting Lin Jingzhe’s mind into a buzz.
Con-conceive a child?
With Shen Mo?
In… in this dream?
Seeing that she still made no move, Shen Mo furrowed his brow, a hint of confusion and grievance in his voice. “What’s wrong with you? Usually… aren’t you the one… begging for it?”
Begging for it?!
Was this how her Honored Teacher usually behaved?
That cold, frosty, aloof woman who rarely even smiled?
The existence that in her heart stood as lofty and unattainable as a mountain peak?
She had never imagined that behind that tightly closed door, in those nights she couldn’t see, this was how they were?
Her Honored Teacher would act coy, lose her temper, blush and plead for intimacy—the impact of this realization was a hundred times greater than seeing him disheveled earlier!
The contrast!
Too much contrast!
Lin Jingzhe was so mortified she almost wanted to evaporate on the spot.
No!
Couldn’t look anymore!
She abruptly turned her face away, her heart pounding like a drum.
In her mind, her Honored Teacher’s pure, ethereal face flashed by, and her reason slightly returned.
Wearing her Honored Teacher’s face, doing that to her husband…
Too transgressive, too profane.
She was afraid—afraid that if she let herself go, she would completely drown in this absurd and seductive tenderness, doing something beyond the bounds of propriety that she could never forgive herself for.
“To-to-today…” She stared only at the blurry patterns on the bed canopy, her voice as faint as a mosquito’s buzz, stammering. “We… we’ll just sleep, okay?”
Hearing this, Shen Mo was slightly stunned.
He let go of the hand untying his belt, his night robe hanging loosely.
His aggrieved expression deepened, and a thin layer of mist quickly gathered in his beautiful eyes.
“Wan’er… are you… angry with me? Is it because I went to Heavenly Sword Peak a few days ago and didn’t come back in time? Or… is it something else? Tell me, alright?”
The sorrow was so real that it threw Lin Jingzhe into turmoil.
“Don’t overthink it,” she forced herself to stay calm. “Really… I’m just tired.”
But Shen Mo felt an even deeper distance from this stiff reassurance.
He pulled back slightly, looked up at her, the corners of his eyes reddening. “Tired? Then… shall we do it another day?”
The way he looked was like pinching and kneading the softest part of one’s heart, making it impossible to refuse harshly.
Lin Jingzhe’s reason teetered on the brink.
She opened her mouth but no sound came out. She could only shake her head frantically, then felt that was wrong and quickly nodded, speaking incoherently: “An-another day… yes, another day…”
Seeing her agree to another day, the light in Shen Mo’s eyes dimmed.
“Do you know?” he asked, his voice very soft, as if asking something he already knew the answer to. “That I’m not worthy… not worthy to touch you anymore, not worthy… to have a child with you…”
Lin Jingzhe froze. “What?”
“Nothing.” He lowered his head and began pulling his night robe back up. His fingers paused on the ties, then let go. He turned around, his back facing her, his voice muffled: “Then let’s sleep.”
He turned away, his shoulders trembling slightly.
Lin Jingzhe’s heart felt as if something had gouged it out.
She remembered that day when she returned from her travels and stood at the mountain gate, looking down at him.
He stood among the crowd, his back straight, his face expressionless, simply saying, “It was me.”
Back then, she thought he was just a useless person relying on marriage for protection.
Only later did she learn that he had guarded that peak alone for seven years, suffering so bitterly and so tired, yet never shedding a tear in front of others.
“Mo’er,” she said, her voice trembling a little.
After all… it was just a dream…
Here, to indulge once, to sink once—what harm could it do?
Who would know? Who would blame?
Yes, it was just a dream.
Why hold back in a dream?
Why not do as you please?
After all, when I wake up, everything can be as if it never happened…
After all… he was the one who seduced first…
This thought was the last straw, breaking the dam.
The next second, under Shen Mo’s astonished, tear-blurred gaze, she suddenly reached out.
No longer a tentative touch, but with a pent-up longing, she yanked him fiercely toward her.
Then, amid his short gasp of surprise, she forcefully tackled him onto the soft, wide bed behind them.
The bed curtains swayed, concealing the scene that had suddenly heated up inside.
……
Inside the secret chamber.
The air was thick with an indescribable, ambiguous atmosphere—like the fermented sweetness of ripe fruit, mixed with a faint hint of musk.
At some point, she had shed her Daoist robe on the cushion, her posture shameful.
“Mmm…”
Lin Jingzhe let out an unintentional, soft moan.
A glistening strand of drool hung from her pink lips, her eyes dazed and unfocused, and the corner of her mouth uncontrollably curled into a silly smile.
“Shen Mo… don’t stop…”
She murmured unconsciously, her voice husky and seductive, unaware of how much provocative spring feeling it contained.
After who knows how long, the haziness of the dream was finally pierced by reality.
Lin Jingzhe’s long lashes fluttered, and she slowly opened her eyes.
Her mind had not yet fully pulled away from that absurd, bizarre dream.
She felt as if her whole body had been burned by fire, every meridian screaming with the emptiness after satisfaction.
Her inner robe was already soaked with sweat, clinging tightly to her body, outlining the graceful curves.
The details of the dream surged back, every fragment terrifyingly clear.
A thread of drool connected at the corner of her mouth, and she licked it away with the tip of her pink tongue.
A satisfied, almost dazed smile—completely at odds with her usual stern demeanor—slowly bloomed on her face.
……
At the same time—
Bright Moon Peak’s main courtyard, the sleeping palace.
Shen Mo lay in bed, sleeping restlessly.
His small face was flushed with an unnatural red, his breathing shallow and rapid, as if he were experiencing something.
His body gently twisted, his fingers clutching the corner of the blanket, tightening and releasing, releasing and tightening.
Su Wan’er, beside him, watched his state, froze for a moment, and then blushed.
She was no inexperienced maiden; she knew what this was.
He was having a dream like that.
Dreaming of whom?
She didn’t dare ask.
Then she heard it.
“Wan’er…”
Those two words were very soft, light as a feather falling on water.
A hint of shyness crept onto her cheeks.
They had been separated for seven years, and after reuniting, there had been many twists and turns. Though they shared a bed, there was still a barrier.
Now, seeing her husband so impassioned by her even in his dreams, the satisfaction of being needed overwhelmed her.
She leaned down slightly, her hair flowing like a waterfall, falling beside her cheek.
Her vermilion lips parted, exhaling breath like orchid, like the gentlest spring breeze brushing across a tranquil lake.
Then, with utmost tenderness and deep affection, she placed a kiss on his forehead—lighter than a feather, yet full of emotion.
Shen Mo opened his eyes dazedly, his vision blurry.
That dream had been too real—so real that he couldn’t tell if he was awake now or still in it.