Xiao Menglan’s Deep Feelings

Cao Xueyan had never thought that the first true “rebellion against her master” in her life would actually happen tonight.

They always said a woman’s waist is a deadly blade.

Xiao Menglan was a Golden Core stage cultivator, a land-bound immortal—how sharp must her blade be?

Cao Xueyan personally experienced it tonight and had to admit: it was… smooth.

A little more flesh was plumpness, a little less was thinness.

Xiao Menglan landed perfectly in between—the golden ratio, a miracle bestowed by heaven.

Ordinary people might never see it in their whole lives, but tonight Cao Xueyan not only looked, she touched, and even stood up and used her feet to push!

A fairy others didn’t dare glance at, a Golden Core cultivator of high status, bowing down, willing to be a beast of burden.

At first Cao Xueyan hesitated.

Her reason told her to restrain her desire, but her heart urged her on: if not now, when!

After a moment of struggle, she gritted her teeth, shifted her hips, and sat down.

Xiao Menglan gave a muffled hum.

The weight of her disciple pressing on her felt as light as nothing, like a leaf blown onto her body.

If not for that faint restless squirming, if not for the warmth passing through skin-to-skin contact, she might not even feel Cao Xueyan’s presence.

Of course, this was a bit of an exaggeration.

In truth, it was simply because the body of a Golden Core cultivator was far too strong.

The weight of a living person meant nothing to Xiao Menglan.

Even if someone carved off a piece of a mountain and placed it on her, she wouldn’t frown.

“Yan’er, the child’s already sitting up there, why so well-behaved?” Xiao Menglan thought to herself.

But out of dignity, she kept a stiff face and said nothing.

After a long while, Cao Xueyan grew accustomed to her new “mount.”

Though there was no saddle under her, no reins in her hand, it didn’t hinder her instinctive riding skills.

No words were needed, no large movements.

Cao Xueyan gently gathered a few strands of her master’s dark hair, twisted them together into a cord in her palm as reins, and flicked her wrist.

Feeling that barely perceptible tug, Xiao Menglan blushed so hard she couldn’t speak.

She cursed herself hundreds of times for this absurdity, yet her body still obediently moved forward.

Strange—her back felt almost weightless, yet the moment she started moving, why did it suddenly feel like a thousand pounds pressing on her?

Where had things gone wrong?

Xiao Menglan quietly circulated her spiritual power, but that mountain-like pressure did not lighten in the slightest.

Instead it grew heavier.

She understood then—what weighed her down wasn’t her good disciple at all, but her own sense of shame.

Since when was it a disciple’s place to punish her master?

And since when did a master serve as a beast of burden for her disciple?

This upside-down, rebellious thing had already happened before she could stop it.

Her body, tempered by heavenly tribulations, had already carried her good disciple around the room several times.

A few times Xiao Menglan thought this was enough, that she should stop.

Cao Xueyan was still her disciple after all.

Though their relationship had no formal title yet, in a month they would truly be master and disciple.

Since ancient times, when had a master ever indulged her disciple like this?

Though the two had already been intimate many times, such a thing Xiao Menglan had only read about in worldly storybooks.

Before, when she and Wen Ruyu were Dao companions, they treated each other with respect, like sisters.

Even when they were intimate, it was disciplined and restrained, like cultivation—leaving one feeling regretful.

But now?

How many “playstyles” had she and Cao Xueyan already developed?

And all initiated by her!

Was she truly that hungry?

Like those shameless enchantresses of the Hehuan Sect?

Xiao Menglan couldn’t understand.

All the way she kept thinking, her mind a chaotic mess, losing her composure, moving like one of those palace puppets who only obey their masters without self-awareness.

When the novelty finally passed, Cao Xueyan reluctantly let go of the makeshift reins of twisted hair and slowly rose from her master’s body.

That warmth, that slickness, she still missed it.

But she knew she couldn’t grow arrogant from favor.

Some things were just to taste once.

If she took it too seriously, she might not bear Xiao Menglan’s wrath.

But after she dismounted, Xiao Menglan still looked dazed, as if she hadn’t come back to herself.

Cao Xueyan called a few times.

Seeing no response, she returned to the bed to fetch her master’s clothes and draped them over her.

Perhaps feeling the warmth left in the fabric, Xiao Menglan’s eyes slowly regained their spirit.

She seemed to transform back into that graceful immortal of before, rising as if nothing had happened, dressing herself in her robe.

Under the hem of her skirt, the knees that had kissed the floor dozens of times were still pale and flawless, as though never subjected to any hardship.

“Handled like this—are you satisfied now?” Xiao Menglan’s voice was as cool as her expression, utterly unlike her absent-minded look from moments before.

“Your disciple dares not speak rashly.”

“Say what you have to say.

You’ve already done it; is there anything you still don’t dare to say?” Xiao Menglan leaned closer, staring straight into Cao Xueyan’s eyes.

Her red lips parted, her breath fragrant: “Do you like your master’s body?”

How could she not like it?

In the past, it was always you riding me.

I merely sat for a bit, didn’t even touch much—was I at a loss or a gain?

Cao Xueyan answered honestly: “Of course I like it.”

Xiao Menglan pressed further: “How much do you like it?”

Cao Xueyan was tongue-tied, unsure how to respond.

It was her first time in love; she truly didn’t know how to answer.

Her mind spun, recalling lines from romance novels she’d read in her past life.

Things like “You’re the only one in my life; your appearance made my world dazzling.”

Or “Remember always, in this world, only I can have you.”

Ah, but those were all domineering-CEO lines.

How could she possibly say that aloud?

Those novels had done her no good!

Seeing this, Xiao Menglan stopped asking.

Cao Xueyan was still young, untouched by the mundane world—how could she say anything profound?

But Xiao Menglan was different.

She had gained and lost, tasted every aspect of the world.

Even forbidden emotions she had just now experienced personally.

This feeling—how to describe it?—strange, like a fire burning inside her, yet only warm, not scorching.

Xiao Menglan covertly pressed her lips together, her lilac tongue seeming to savor the memory of that soul-melting taste.

“All right.

You’ve punished your master’s body.

That should cool your anger now, yes?”

The way she said it—why did it sound almost like she was seeking favor?

As if the moment Cao Xueyan uttered a single “no,” this proud immortal before her would once again willingly bow down, letting her disciple humiliate her.

Cao Xueyan whispered, “I wasn’t angry just now.”

Xiao Menglan’s brows arched.

“Your tone was so heavy, and you say you weren’t angry?”

“Master should be stricter with her disciple.

This has upset the order; it’s truly improper.”

Because of Xiao Menglan, Cao Xueyan was beginning to lose sight of the world.

Always drowning in tenderness, she almost forgot this was a cruel, bloody cultivation world that devoured people whole.

Twenty years from now, the seemingly flourishing Qingyun Sword Sect would be attacked by demonic cultivators.

By then, corpses would fill the mountain, rivers would run red.

Xiao Menglan said seriously, “Your master cannot accompany you for life.

If you are weak, in a hundred years you’ll become a handful of yellow earth, while your master is still here.

If you are strong, in several hundred years, you’ll be the one here, while your master lies in that earth.

Your future ending is all in your own heart.

Your master asks for nothing else, only for the mornings and evenings we spend together.”

Cao Xueyan felt as though a great bell had struck her heart, its long toll deafening.

She hadn’t known this feeling weighed so much!