Chen Xueli, We’re Even Now

“…”
Su Wanqing was dazed by Chen Xueli’s touch, yet her grip on the towel never loosened.

She feared it was an act—to lower her guard, yank the towel, and ogle her fully!

Sometimes a perfect figure was a burden; now it paralyzed her.

She’d grabbed the largest towel from her ring—barely covering essentials.

Without clutching, two steps back would’ve unraveled it.

Staring at the undergarment-clad Chen Xueli, Su Wanqing froze—advance or retreat impossible.

First time seeing her disciple so exposed; even in childhood, no oversteps.

“Master…”

Chen Xueli’s eyes hazy, words slurred like candy in mouth.

Suddenly she swayed, collapsing toward Su Wanqing.

To avoid a tackle scattering the towel, Su Wanqing freed one hand to catch her.

Knowing it was drunken innocence, she lacked usual resistance—treating it as elder caring for tipsy junior.

“Hehe~ hehe… Master.”

Chen Xueli leaned into her embrace, head on Su Wanqing’s collarbone—like a spoilt child.

Gently sniffing her neck’s fragrance, the scent muddled her already foggy mind.

“So fragrant.”

“You’re drunk, disciple.”

Su Wanqing spoke with eyes closed, enduring something.

“I… am not.”

Hearing the denial, Su Wanqing dropped the faking idea.

Fine—all drunks say that. This would be tough.

She closed eyes not from disdain—even drunk, she wouldn’t ignore.

But the angle—she glimpsed forbidden places.

Soaked dudou loosened; more visible, more felt on contact.

Wet hair tickled her neck.

Su Wanqing felt droplets trail from collarbone, into cleavage, to navel.

As she pondered solutions eyes shut, Chen Xueli nuzzled like a kitten.

Even kissed her neck—light, but enough for a mark.

Spoiling had limits—

“Stop random biting…”
“Or I let go.”

“Mm…”

Unexpected obedience to her panicked threat?

Truly surprising.

First time seeing this side; Su Wanqing, used to post-confession groping, felt unmoored.

No spoiling experience—already flustered, now panicked.

Even pre-confrontation, Chen Xueli was icy.

Never like this; drunk collapses, not crazes—first time.

“?”

Suddenly Chen Xueli’s hand on her tightened; she spilled secrets.

Pent-up too long; alcohol loosened tongue in confusion.

“Master, I’ve secretly trained my tolerance.”
“To one day get you drunk, ask your heart.”
“But… I’m afraid…”

“Afraid of what?”

Now Su Wanqing understood the unusual stamina.

“Afraid… I’d get drunk first, beg you…”

Voice faded mid-sentence—maddening itch in Su Wanqing’s heart.

Why stop? Better unsaid.

“Beg me for what?”

She shook closed-eyed Chen Xueli—only whimpers, no response.

“…”

Utterly speechless—heart chaotic.

Expected revelations; cut off at climax?

“Never a moment’s peace.”

She abandoned questioning—pretend nothing happened. Body cleaned; time to leave.

“Sigh—”

Helpless at the fully collapsed disciple—can’t leave her.

Foundation Establishment resisted common ills, but wet overnight? Even that wouldn’t hold.

Golden Core needed for mortal detachment.

Splash—

Unresponsive to shakes—Su Wanqing ceased worrying about towel slips.

Didn’t bed her immediately—sopping wet.

She fetched another towel, dried herself, changed—scents gone.

Adapted or charm only affected others—she never smelled it.

Curious: flower-like, per descriptions—indistinguishable bloom.

“Always trouble.”

Clothed, she eyed limp Chen Xueli on the chair—new towel to dry her.

“Urgh…”

But paused—wiped all accessible spots.

Soaked clothes kept her wet.

Dilemma: leave wet—conscience no; change and dry—morals no.

“Woo~”

Chen Xueli whimpered, shivering—temperature dropping post-spring.

Hesitation gone—one thought.

Sighing, recalling her own exposure (drunk, unaware)—some comfort.

“Sigh—”
“Chen Xueli, we’re even.”