The moon was high over Jade Sect, casting silver light across the polished courtyards and winding skybridges. The world outside Lin Mu's chamber was still. Disciples meditated. Teachers slept. And the quiet night should have brought him peace.
But it didn't.
Lin Mu sat cross-legged on a cushion in his side chamber, attempting to cycle his spiritual energy. The faint glow of the moonstone lamp lit the edges of the room. The incense was fresh. His posture was perfect.
But his heart was unsteady.
Because the walls were thin.
From just three doors down, a rhythm had begun. Slow at first—thudding against the wall, almost imperceptible. But soon came the breathing. Then the gasps.
Then her voice.
"Ah… deeper—yes, gods, right there!"
Lin Mu's fingers tightened on his knees.
He knew that voice. He had heard it whisper love into his ear, laugh in the garden, promise to stay by his side.
But he had never heard it like this.
She was louder than she had ever been with him. Bolder. Unrestrained.
Each cry of pleasure spilled through the walls like wind through an open window. Her moans weren't gentle. They were raw. Wrecked.
He tried to focus on his breath. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.
But her voice pushed into every space inside him.
"Oh fuck—don't stop—Jin—yes—ah!"
The bed thudded against the wall. Once. Twice. Rhythmically. He could almost feel the vibrations through the floor, like distant thunder.
He didn't need to imagine what was happening. He had seen it before. He had tasted it.
His small cock pressed awkwardly against the inside of his robe, twitching again with a mix of shame and arousal. He wasn't touching himself.
He didn't need to.
She was touching every part of him… without even being in the room.
A cry shook the wall.
She was cumming. Hard. Loud.
Like it was her first time all over again.
The chamber door creaked open just past midnight.
Xue Lan stepped in without urgency, robe loosely tied, hair mussed, her lips slightly parted from the trail of lingering breaths. Her skin shimmered in the low light, a faint flush blooming across her cheeks, collarbone, and thighs. The lanterns didn't make her glow.
Being fucked did.
Lin Mu remained on the meditation cushion.
He had heard everything.
She paused when she saw him, her fingers adjusting the hem of her robe, though not in modesty. She smiled—slow and knowing.
He stood.
"Who was it this time?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Xue Lan's head tilted slightly, a lock of hair falling over her shoulder. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
She stepped closer. The heat of her body radiated between them.
Then she leaned in, lips brushing against his ear.
"Jin Rui again," she whispered. "I didn't think I could take him a second time so soon. But my body didn't even hesitate. I was already soft. Already open."
Lin Mu closed his eyes.
Her breath ghosted over his cheek. "He said I was still loose from last time. I didn't even deny it."
She pulled back, watching the shiver run through his spine.
Then she dropped her robe.
It fell to the floor with a whisper.
Her body stood bare in the soft glow. Her breasts rose and fell gently, nipples pink and slightly tender. Her thighs still glistened faintly. Between her legs, her pussy was red and swollen, lips parted slightly, still twitching in the aftermath.
A slow trail of thick, creamy seed glistened from deep within, leaking out in a steady line.
"Would you… clean me?" she asked, as if offering him something sacred.
Lin Mu dropped to his knees.
He placed his hands on her hips and pressed a kiss to her lower belly. Then lower. He inhaled—shame and arousal mixing into a single breath.
Her scent was stronger than before. Not just sweat and sex—but the rich salt and musk of another man's climax, clinging to her folds, tucked between the tender creases of her slickened skin.
He began at her thighs, licking slow, reverent strokes from her knees upward. He kissed the bruises gently, the faint finger marks Jin Rui had left behind. Then, he reached her core.
And he worshipped.
His tongue lapped carefully over her folds, collecting the cool, thick residue dripping from her pussy. The taste was bitter, heavy, and unmistakably not his. His own release had never clung this deep. Never soaked her so thoroughly.
She moaned quietly—more a sigh than a sound of pleasure.
"Slower," she murmured. "Get all of it."
And he did.
He cleaned her lips. Her entrance. Her inner thighs. The sensitive spot just above her slit where a faint stickiness remained. He swallowed everything. Not because it tasted good—but because it was his place.
And by the time he was done, she looked truly relaxed for the first time all night.
She lay back in the bed, stretched, and smiled.
"You missed a spot," she teased.
He bowed his head.
And returned to work.