Betrayed - Chapter 2

The wine cup hit the ground, and the crisp shatter was painfully sharp.
I never imagined such disgrace would happen-a friend of many years slipped Passion Poison into my wine.
“Yun Xiu…” He crawled a few steps to clutch my skirt hem, his jade crown askew. “Look at me…”
His eyes were hot and sticky, almost pleading in their confession: “I love you. I really can’t hold back anymore. I truly admire you…”
Clinging to my skirts, he tore at them in a frenzy, his indecency below the waist laid bare.
“I’m sorry, I just love you too much…”
I closed my eyes deeply. He and I… comrades in life and death, how many perils we had weathered together.
How could it end like this?!
When I looked up again, my sword was already drawn.
This strike cleaved straight at his Primordial Spirit; a red line split open at his dantian. He fell to the ground, staring straight at me, and even on the brink of death he kept saying he loved me.
Love? What a terrifying poison that is.
It could warp the face of a friend of many years into something unrecognizable.
The heat in my body did not abate. Stumbling, I searched for a cold pool; after holding out as long as I could, I finally collapsed over a blue stone, spent.
Waves of heat surged again and again. I tried to ease it myself, but had no way.
“…Master?”
In a daze I heard a familiar voice. With difficulty I lifted my head and saw Shen Jihan standing at the pool’s edge.
“Don’t look…” I instinctively gathered my loosened collar, but saw he had already turned away to take off his outer robe.
The jacket, bearing the scent of pine, settled lightly over my shoulders. He stood with his back to the cold pool, his voice colder than the water: “This disciple will go kill him.”
“No need.”
I lowered my eyes, my voice hoarse and rough: “He’s already died under my sword.”
Droplets slid from my hair, darkening the stone beneath.
I couldn’t control my breathing; the more I tried to act composed, the more ragged my breaths became.
“Leave.”
Seeing my anger, worry deepened between his brows. “Master… shall this disciple find you a furnace dual-cultivation partner, to ease it somewhat?”
This vicious Passion Poison could not be relieved by cold water; plainly, only intercourse would work.
I tightened my grip on my sword hilt, tried and failed to steady myself, and finally said: “Fine.”
What followed felt wrapped in mist.
The furnace dual-cultivation partner was fair and clean, with red lips and white teeth, a faint mole on the bridge of his nose, and a hint of youthful air between his brows.
Yet he was very tall, with broad shoulders and strong arms, able to hold me steadily.
Judging by his bone signs-an augury of age-he was more than two hundred years old, at the late Golden Core stage.
Up close, I could smell him: very clean, like frigid pine, with a faint, elusive warmth.
In my haze I almost thought he was… I shook my head to drive out the transgressive thought.
He led me through the corridor into an elegant room.
A light curl of Soothing Incense drifted in the air; mountains and waters were inked upon the screen-simple and refined.
We faced each other in silence. His long, jointed fingers lightly touched my sash. In a low voice he said, “Master, let me help you…”
I flinched on instinct, clutching my collar, breath quickening.
He seemed to sense my wariness and obediently stepped back half a pace, still soft-voiced: “Master, rest assured-I’m still clean.”
I looked up at him. His gaze was lowered; under the candlelight, his lashes cast a shadow, making him seem especially well-behaved.
The Passion Poison had burned my reason to ashes; in the end, I let go.
He moved gently; his fingertips were as if afraid to break something, carefully loosening my sash.
His palms were warm; when they pressed to my fevered skin, there was a strange comfort.
I had thought it would be hard to endure, but he was very patient-first lips and tongue, then those long, jointed fingers, and finally…
The pain of the poison’s flare was gradually replaced by another sensation-numbing tremors, even… pleasure.
Whether it was the Passion Poison or his skill, I did drift for a brief moment.
When the poison had fully dispersed, my mind finally cleared. I put on my inner robe and sat at the bedside.
Too much had happened in a single day; I was utterly exhausted.
Just as I was about to rise, he leaned in, affection between his brows, voice tinged with flirtation: “Master…”
And where it shouldn’t have, it had… again.
Remembering he was a young man, I merely stepped back two paces.
Even that slight movement, and fluid slipped down between my legs…
I couldn’t bear it and used the Dust-Cleansing Technique. In the misted air his gaze flickered. “Master… that’s my vital yang essence. You… don’t need it?”
I turned my head away, unwilling to answer. After a moment’s silence, I took a bottle of Superior-grade Elixir from my storage ring and handed it to him. “A thank-you.”
He didn’t take it; his long lowered lashes trembled. “Master, there’s no need for this. Being able to help you is my blessing.”
I frowned. “You should know, I don’t like owing favors.”
He paused, then finally reached out to accept it, softening his tone to say quietly, “If in the future… Master needs me, you can seek me anytime.”
I made no comment, arranged my robes, and walked out the door.