The moon hung low over Jade Sect, casting silver light across the tiered roofs and hanging bridges that wound between its peaks. Beneath the soft glow, disciples practiced sword forms, whispered incantations, and walked hand-in-hand beneath the plum blossoms in bloom. It was the kind of night made for lovers.
And Lin Mu was in love.
He stood barefoot on the polished balcony of his private residence in Cloudveil Hall, overlooking the mountain lake below. His robes were neatly folded inside, a low-burning spirit lamp bathing the room in warm light. The air smelled faintly of incense—jasmine, her favorite.
Tonight was their night.
Xue Lan was inside, preparing.
They had been promised to each other since they were inner disciples—an arrangement of mutual affection, not just cultivation alliance. She had always looked at him with warmth, had always reached for his hand first when the elders paired them during training.
He loved her.
Truly, deeply.
And tonight, after months of restraint and meditation, of slow courting and meaningful touches, he would finally have her.
Lin Mu stepped back inside, his heart pounding. The room was perfect—silk cushions, fresh linens, even spiritual wards on the walls to silence outside noise and keep their Qi in harmony. Everything had been prepared.
And then she entered.
Xue Lan wore a pale lilac robe that shimmered like morning mist. Her long black hair was unbound, falling down her back like ink across silk. Her lips were soft with balm, her eyes bright but nervous.
He swallowed.
She was beautiful. Breathtaking. He could hardly believe she was his.
"You lit the lamp," she said softly, fingers brushing over the lacquered table. "And the incense I like."
"I want everything to be right," Lin Mu said, his voice quiet, but firm. "You deserve that."
She stepped closer, close enough for him to see the slight tremble in her hands. "Are you nervous?"
"Yes," he admitted, eyes lowering. "But only because… I want to make you happy."
Her expression softened. "You always do, Mu'er."
They kissed.
Her lips were warm. Soft. Willing. Her hands slid around his neck, and his heart surged. Their bodies met, chest to chest, breath to breath.
He led her to the bed.
Her robe slipped away like mist under moonlight. She lay back among the cushions, legs parting shyly, her breath shallow.
Lin Mu undressed, nerves flaring. He had trained his body to perfection—lean muscle, graceful posture, flawless skin. But between his legs…
Even soft, it was small.
And hard—it barely improved.
He climbed over her, trembling slightly. She smiled up at him with affection, brushing a thumb across his cheek.
"I love you," she whispered.
"I love you too."
He entered her.
And in three shallow thrusts, he came.