Le ciel au-dessus des rivières et des lacs est dégagé

Chapitre 97

Such leisurely moments were actually few and far between, because Pei Niang couldn't be separated from him for a moment. Often, after he had sat on the artificial hill for a while, maids would come running up to him, panting and begging him to go to Pei Niang's place immediately. She would fly into a rage, scratching the maids' faces until they bled, and any maids with even a little bit of beauty would be driven out, for they were terrified of her.

So he could only go along with her wishes time and time again, rushing to her small courtyard, facing her tears and smiles that seemed both angry and happy, and gently comforting her.

Finally, they had a falling out when she tried to get rid of a young maid named Fulan. Fulan had beautiful, bright eyes, a lively and innocent demeanor, and a graceful air about her. He liked this younger sister-like maid very much because she was the only one who didn't feel awkward or uncomfortable in his presence and would chat with him with a smile.

When the accident happened, he was leaning against a tree, half asleep. The mournful cries of the maids below startled him. By the time he arrived at Pei Niang's place, Fu Lan's eyes had been gouged out, her face was covered in blood, and she was unconscious on the ground.

He couldn't utter a single word, his face grim. Pei Niang cried bitterly, covering her face and murmuring, "This little maid offended me. What's so good about her? Is she better than me?"

He remained silent, only sending Fulan out of the mansion and asking someone to treat her. Unfortunately, she was too young and died in less than three days.

He didn't visit Pei Niang for almost half a month, letting her cause a ruckus. She drove all the young maids out; the servants couldn't stand her, some left, some ran away, and those who remained were trembling with fear. He ignored her, feeling that the world was becoming increasingly insane, and he couldn't understand it at all.

Perhaps he understood what Pei Niang wanted, and vaguely knew something about it. But he dared not think about it, and was even less willing to accept it.

Perhaps he was even secretly hoping for something even crazier to happen. Life in the deep mansion was too terrifying; frozen there, they were just a group of dead people with anger, a stagnant pool without ripples.

He harbored a sliver of malicious hope, waiting for something to happen, watching something beautiful crumble before his eyes—a vulgar yet supremely pleasurable experience.

Finally, he got what he was waiting for.

A month later, Pei Niang finally couldn't resist and went to his room alone in the middle of the night.

He was taking a bath in a large, steamy tub. His long hair, like blooming black lotuses, cascaded across the water's surface. Glistening water droplets, reflecting an ambiguous light in the dim light, clung to his fair skin, sliding from his chest to his lower abdomen. He remained motionless, his deep eyes fixed on the alluring figure standing by the pool.

She slowly squatted down and began to sob, her voice trembling as she said, "You must hate me so much, you hate me, right? I just can't take it, I really can't take it... Jianyu, can't it just be the two of us? Please..."

He didn't move or speak, but just stared at her quietly, his dark eyes seeming to absorb all the light.

"Say anything to me, just say anything, please don't ignore me, Jianyu, I beg you..."

Her face was covered in tears, and she looked so pitiful.

His throat bobbed slightly, and his voice was hoarse: "Do you... know what I'm doing?"

Pei Niang paused for a moment, looking at the boy's strong and slender body, and suddenly couldn't say a word.

He swam slowly to her feet, his heart filled with tenderness, and lifted a wisp of her crimson gauze skirt that hung by the water's edge. He whispered, "What are you doing barging in at this hour?"

She took a step back, noticing the obvious change in the boy's body. It seemed he was about to flee, but he only took one step before suddenly stopping.

There was no sound in the bathroom. After a long while, she suddenly raised her hand and took off her clothes. The crimson gauze flashed briefly before falling to the ground, and the pearl hairpin tinkled in the water. Her body was full and shapely, and the red, white, and black colors suddenly became so vivid.

She jumped into the bathtub, coiled around me like a snake, and wouldn't let go.

He seemed hesitant for a moment, then slowly raised his hands, finally grabbing her shoulders and pulling her close. Every inch of her skin pressed against him, undulating, and the water in the bath felt like it was about to boil.

He was the hottest, most intense flame, yet he could never quite figure out how to vent it.

Pei Niang nestled against him, caressing him and guiding him, her legs wrapping tightly around his strong waist, trying to draw him into her body. He gripped her smooth shoulders tightly, paused for a moment, and a drop of water slid down his chin, which she caught in her bite and licked off with her tongue.

He thrust into her so recklessly and brazenly that both of them trembled violently at that moment, gazing at each other for a long, long time, until she softly called out: "Jianyu."

So he began to rampage recklessly, understanding nothing, only acting on instinct. The water in the bath splashed violently, scattering everywhere, and she screamed unrestrainedly, probably because of the immense pain, her fingernails scratching countless bloody marks on his body. The pain was driving her almost insane.

It was over in an instant. He was panting heavily, lying on her soft body, feeling utterly empty and lost.

Her arms wrapped around his, kissing his face little by little, finally landing on his lips. His face turned pale, he abruptly shook her off, rushed out the door and vomited, almost bringing up his bile as well.

He only realized that everything was beyond repair when he had truly shattered something beautiful.

There's no way to undo it.

He learned how to tease, using his long, beautiful fingers to roam seductively over her smooth, white skin, little by little. He knew how to caress every part of a woman's body, from its curves to its hollows.

Pei Niang prefers straightforward, even rude, treatment, but he insists on seducing and teasing her, never satisfying her.

He parted her thick hair and wanted her to be lost in a trance on his fingertips, sometimes tight, sometimes loose, sometimes lightly touching, sometimes kneading. Each time, she would let out a moan that sounded like a sob, grab his wrist, and beg him to give her more.

Sometimes he even felt like he was an outsider, a detached observer, watching her toss and turn, moaning and crying without any emotion or impulse.

Is she happy? Does she like this? In her eyes, her role is just that of a man, an organ, someone who can satisfy her? Her demands are so simple. He is not a person. The purpose of raising him is for that organ. She just wants him to have sex with her, to have sex with her to death.

At first, he was also enjoying it, making love to her passionately, without any inhibitions. Sex is wonderful, making one forget all troubles, and in one woman one can find the highest heaven of pleasure.

Later, however, he began to feel disgust, not only for her, but also for himself, and by extension, for this crazy and gloomy world.

After Pei Niang and her father died, he set fire to the deep courtyard. Looking at the towering flames, he felt an urge to cry.

He was alive, yet already dead. The red flames and black smoke, the deep, scorched courtyard, were like a heavy cocoon, enveloping him from head to toe, suffocating him inside.

He followed his master and became his puppet, obeying his every word and living like a corpse.

His master often praised him for his aloofness and detachment from the world, saying that he was destined for great things. He didn't love anyone, not even himself, and didn't understand what liking someone meant.

My master was fierce and violent, yet kind and gentle. It's impossible to describe him in words. He was a man more insane than the world itself.

Now that he has defied him time and again, he is bound to face even greater punishment.

He wasn't afraid of punishment, but rather of the unknown future. He had been cocooned for too long, longing to break free, yet afraid to venture out. In this bleak world, who can live freely, decisively, and fearlessly like the wind?

Some splendor was destined not to belong to him; the consequence of his yearning for it was death.

Tianquan stood up.

The night was deep, and the snowflakes had turned into large flakes, falling softly onto the windowsill. He opened a window and stared intently at the dark sky in the distance. A cold wind rushed in, ruffling his long hair and ruffling the ink-wash gauze curtains.

The person inside the tent made a "hmm" sound, probably because they felt cold. Tianquan was stunned for a moment before he remembered who she was and what he was doing.