Night Color Deep

Cao Xueyan sometimes felt that living forever beneath Xiao Menglan’s feet wasn’t such a bad thing.

Through her fingers, she looked at that face with its faint, knowing smile, the slight curve of the lips like the soul-hook held by the Black and White Impermanence, hooking away her soul.

Wherever those lips curved, her soul followed, foolish and dazed, to the point that if she were sold someday, she might not even realize it.

And yet, even so, she was still willing.

She didn’t know why such a thought crossed her mind, when above her came that cool, quiet voice:

“Why did you stop?”

“Mm?”

“There are still other places not cleaned properly. If I see them later, I will have to punish you.”

Cao Xueyan quickly closed her eyes and resumed her task.

The owner of that cool voice seemed to be enjoying herself, letting out light, soft hums — and for Cao Xueyan, who was currently working hard, those sounds were the greatest encouragement.

The room grew silent except for faint, wet sounds.

From outside, one could see under the flickering candlelight, the absurd silhouettes of master and disciple.

After a long while, Cao Xueyan was finally granted a short rest.

She reached for the milk tea prepared earlier on the table, but her hand paused halfway.

The milk tea made in the Inviting Moon Palace’s kitchen had no additives or tricks, but the ingredients were definitely of high quality.

The tea leaves were the finest, the milk was pure and rich — together they left a lingering flavor in one’s mouth.

But her mouth was already filled with the scent of Xiao Menglan.

Somehow, she was reluctant to wash that taste away — it was neither good nor bad, but it was hers.

So instead, she poured a cup of lighter tea and swallowed it quickly.

But because she drank too fast, the cool liquid irritated her delicate throat, making her cough softly.

“Why so hurried?”

Even the strands of hair beside her temple were messy, still clinging with faint, crystalline moisture.

“Are you that reluctant to keep tasting your Master? That shouldn’t be. This body of mine has been unsullied for hundreds of years. It should not offend you.”

“It’s not Master’s fault.”

“It’s me being careless.”

“Then… shall we stop here for tonight?”

“Mm.”

Cao Xueyan nodded, tidied her disheveled clothes, and swiftly climbed into bed.

This motion — she had practiced so many times it was second nature.

Xiao Menglan, already reclining on the bed, extended a long, elegant leg earlier. Now that things were finished, she retracted it to make room for her disciple.

On the bedding where Xiao Menglan had lain, warmth and faint fragrance still lingered.

Cao Xueyan lay down, and an arm naturally wrapped across her waist, pulling the blanket over her and resting a hand gently atop her lower abdomen — the softest and warmest place.

Xiao Menglan had spent many nights discovering that precise spot.

Having magical ability was convenient — without moving, the candles in the room extinguished themselves.

Curtains fell softly on both sides of the bed.

In the darkness, the hand resting on her lower abdomen began to move again — just like always.

Not excessive — only light circles and lazy scratches, like a cat kneading its paws.

Cao Xueyan was used to it. She simply burrowed closer into Xiao Menglan’s embrace, and the movements gradually quieted.

The two didn’t need to speak or see each other’s faces.

Even after such play, they could wordlessly settle together.

Suddenly, Cao Xueyan felt something soft touching her lips.

She resisted, burying her face in the pillow.

Xiao Menglan did not give up. She never truly slept — for hundreds of years, meditation had long replaced sleep.

But Cao Xueyan was different. She still needed rest.

The two struggled lightly — no spiritual power, just like a cat chasing a mouse.

Cao Xueyan yielded first — because Xiao Menglan used her “bad hand.”

The hand at her lower abdomen began to move in teasing patterns — fast, then slow — pushing her to the edge.

Her face flushed bright red as she unwillingly lifted her head from the pillow.

And Xiao Menglan was not one to waste opportunity.

She leaned forward and kissed her — many times, everywhere — searching for sweetness.

“Master!” Cao Xueyan tried to protest, but her voice softened pitifully. “Disciple’s mouth isn’t clean… just now I…”

Xiao Menglan replied without hesitation:

“How could I ever dislike my own body?”

“But… but that place is… private…”

“Nonsense. Even so, it is still fragrant.”

Well, fair enough. A little fairy would not have foot odor, and with Xiao Menglan’s cultivation, she was no little fairy — she was a great one.

Cao Xueyan could not resist and closed her eyes, letting Xiao Menglan do as she pleased.

Xiao Menglan savored her with satisfaction — not only was there no unpleasant taste, it was sweet to the point of cloying.

She disliked the milk tea Cao Xueyan made — neither tea nor milk, awkward and strange.

But the taste in her disciple’s mouth — that, she adored.

No one knew how long Xiao Menglan kissed her.

Her touch was gentle, and before long, Cao Xueyan drifted into sleep.

—

The next morning, Cao Xueyan awoke refreshed.

Upon opening her eyes, she saw Xiao Menglan resting her cheek in her hand, lying beside her and watching her quietly.

“Master didn’t sleep again?”

“At my realm, even meditation doesn’t require closing the eyes.”

Xiao Menglan smiled.

Cao Xueyan didn’t fully understand — closing one’s eyes during cultivation was simply to help concentration. For those with profound cultivation, that formality was unnecessary.

“Master’s cultivation is profound. Disciple admires you greatly.”

She murmured sleepily, reluctant to get up, rolling under the blankets for a while before finally sitting up.

Water had already been prepared. Xiao Menglan, despite being the elder, ignored her own needs first.

She picked up a comb and had Cao Xueyan sit in front of her, gently combing her hair.

Her hands were skilled — neat, precise, practiced — and in moments she had arranged a clean, elegant hairstyle.

Cao Xueyan looked in the bronze mirror and praised:

“Master’s technique gets better every day.”

“You and your sweet mouth.”

“Disciple speaks only the truth. Master must believe me~”

After a few laughs, Xiao Menglan suddenly pressed a hand below Cao Xueyan’s navel — the location of her dantian — and silently felt her cultivation.

Her expression turned both pleased and complicated.

“Your cultivation has indeed improved — though only a little,” she said.

Cao Xueyan replied calmly:

“Disciple will never let Master down.”

“From now on,” Xiao Menglan’s voice lowered, soft yet tyrannical, “you may do such things only with me.”

In her tone was possessive love — absolute, unshakable.