Shudu felt her fingers linger on his lips, the touch sending a shiver down his spine. He instinctively jolted back, the movement slight but enough to break the contact. She withdrew her hand slowly, almost deliberately, and pressed it against her own lips.
"So," she began, her voice soft, a deceptive sweetness masking the venom beneath. "Who is this venerable one who has captured your heart? Surely it isn't my little Xiao Hua."
Her words cut through the air like a blade wrapped in silk, and Shudu stiffened. His head dipped low, shoulders curling inward as though to shield himself from her piercing gaze. "The Madam misunderstands," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "This lowly one is simply tired."
Her response was immediate and ruthless. She seized his chin, her nails biting into his skin as she forced his head up to meet her eyes. Her grip was unyielding, her expression a chilling mix of amusement and contempt.
"Very well," she said, her lips curving into a smile that sent a chill through him. "The night is long. Two hours—that is all I grant you. After that, you will serve me well tonight."
She released him with a flick of her wrist, as though discarding something unworthy of her attention. Turning toward the door, she paused in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the dim lantern light. Her grin widened, a glint of sadistic delight flashing in her eyes. Slowly, her tongue darted out to brush over her lips.
"I'll be waiting," she purred, her voice heavy with mockery. Then she was gone, the sound of her retreating footsteps echoing in the silence.
The moment she left, Shudu doubled over, retching violently to the side. The sour tang of alcohol burned his throat as he expelled it, his body convulsing with the force of his nausea. Tears streamed down his face, hot and uncontrollable, mixing with the bile as he clutched his stomach in utter disgust.
From the shadows, Xiao Zongzi emerged, her spider legs clicking softly against the ground as she descended. The creature's small frame trembled with worry as she approached her master, her beady eyes fixed on his trembling form.
Shudu wiped the bile from his lips with the back of his sleeve, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. He looked at Xiao Zongzi, his eyes red and glassy but filled with a cold, resolute fire.
"Tonight's the night," he said, his voice low but steady, the words carrying the weight of years of suppressed anguish.
His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. For years, he had endured this torment, paralyzed by a mixture of fear and twisted loyalty. Madam Hua had taken him in, taught him the forbidden arts of demonic cultivation, but her cruelty and the depravity of this place had festered in him like an open wound.
This place—a realm of nightmares, a crucible of horrors—had birthed something monstrous in him, yet it was here that his resolve was forged.
He glanced at Xiao Zongzi, she sighed softly, her legs skittering closer as if offering comfort. He rose to his feet, unsteady but determined. The nightmare that had haunted him for so long would end. Tonight, it would end.
"Welcome to my humble abode." Long Shuiguo's smile was warm, his dimples carving soft hollows in his cheeks. His charm was effortless, but as Xue Tuzi stepped inside, he was struck by the contrast between the man's boastful demeanor and the modesty of his home. The space was unremarkable—plain walls, simple furniture, and an air of quiet solitude.
Long Shuiguo held Xue Tuzi's hand, his touch light but insistent, as he guided him through the dimly lit rooms. With a quick motion, he lit a few candles, the warm glow chasing away the shadows of the night.
"The paintings?" Xue Tuzi asked, his voice curious as his gaze flitted across the space.
"Ah, yes." Long Shuiguo's grin widened. He led Xue Tuzi further inside, finally stopping at the bedroom. The walls were alive with color, adorned by various works of art.
Peach blossoms exploded in vibrant pinks, their delicate petals caught in an eternal spring breeze. Lotus flowers floated serenely on a pond, frogs leaping joyfully between them. A crane, majestic and graceful, soared mid-flight over lush greenery.
But one painting arrested Xue Tuzi's attention entirely—a valiant white cat, its claws buried in an ugly black rat, hoisting the vermin into the air. The cat's sharp fangs gleamed, poised to strike.
A smile tugged at Xue Tuzi's lips. "They're beautiful," he murmured, his tone sincere.
Long Shuiguo's eyes lit up, his expression softening as he gazed at Xue Tuzi. "You're the first to say that," he admitted, his voice tinged with a mix of pride and sadness. Unable to resist the warmth he felt, Long Shuiguo stepped closer, his grin turning mischievous. "No one has ever appreciated my true art."
He sighed deeply, breaking the moment by releasing Xue Tuzi and moving to a nearby drawer. As he rummaged, he continued, "All they ever want me to draw are those dreadful Ukiyoe paintings."
He pulled out a worn booklet, its edges frayed from use, and returned to Xue Tuzi's side. "Ukiyoe is all the rage," he said, the words carrying a bitterness that dulled his previous enthusiasm. "It's the only thing that sells these days."
Xue Tuzi's brows furrowed, his curiosity shifting into unease. "What do you mean?" he asked, watching as Long Shuiguo flipped through the booklet.
"Allow me to explain," Long Shuiguo said softly, clearing his throat. He held up a page, the illustration unmistakably obscene. A woman, her features stylized yet lewdly detailed, posed provocatively amidst an array of salacious scenes.
"Ukiyoe," Long Shuiguo explained, his voice low, "is an art form from the far east. It depicts the erotic—the pleasures of the floating world."
As Xue Tuzi turned the pages, his unease deepened. Scene after scene unfolded, each one featuring young women in compromising positions, their youth unmistakable.
Long Shuiguo noticed his discomfort and, misreading it entirely, sighed. "I've always wanted to draw men," he confessed, his tone wistful.
Before Xue Tuzi could respond, Long Shuiguo clasped Xue Tuzi's hand, his fingers firm but trembling. Slowly, he brought the hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it. His eyes met Xue Tuzi's, burning with longing.
"Gongzi," he whispered, his voice almost reverent, "you fascinate me. If I could please have the honor…" His words lingered, heavy with suggestion.
His gaze fixed on Xue Tuzi with an intensity that felt both earnest and unnerving. Long Shuiguo's eyes glimmered with longing as he let the moment stretch, his hand releasing Xue Tuzi's reluctantly. "I will, of course, reimburse you for your time," he added, a smile curling his lips, smooth yet calculated.
The candlelight flickered around them, the shifting shadows on the walls casting an almost spectral glow over Long Shuiguo's face. His smile deepened, equal parts charm and something darker, as if the light itself conspired to reveal the layers of his intent.
"Ehh…" Xue Tuzi hesitated, his mind racing. This man, he thought, probably lures unsuspecting girls with his flamboyancy, charming them into modeling for his so-called 'art.' They fall for his schemes, only to be captured and sold to foreign ships. If I agree, I might finally expose this operation.
Long Shuiguo, oblivious to Xue Tuzi's suspicions, busied himself at his workstation, preparing ink and paper. The flickering candlelight casted playful shadows on his face, accentuating his dimples as he worked with an almost childlike enthusiasm.
"I haven't agreed yet, and Long Gongzi has already decided to paint me?" Xue Tuzi's voice cut through the air, sharp with irritation. His eyes narrowed, glaring at Long Shuiguo, who looked up and met his gaze with a weak but unwavering smile.
"Such beauty is irresistible," Long Shuiguo said with a soft sigh. "I must paint you."
Xue Tuzi exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing as he decided to play along. "Very well," he said, stepping closer to the light.
Long Shuiguo's eyes glinted with excitement, his lips curling into a grin that deepened his dimples. "Strip," he commanded without hesitation, his voice steady, yet thick with anticipation.
Xue Tuzi's fingers hovered over the sash of his robe, slowly loosening it. The fabric slid down his shoulders, revealing his bare chest. In the dim light, the jewels adorning his nipples caught the flickering glow, casting tiny, dazzling reflections. Long Shuiguo's breath hitched, his eyes transfixed.
"These are…" Long Shuiguo began, his hand lifting as though to touch the gleaming jewels.
Xue Tuzi's expression hardened as he quickly covered himself. "I was a former sex slave," he said flatly.
Long Shuiguo froze, the weight of the confession rendering him momentarily speechless. His gaze fell, and his voice softened. "I see… I'm sorry," he murmured, reaching out again, this time brushing his hand against Xue Tuzi's face. His thumb lingered on the corner of Xue Tuzi's lips, caressing the small mole nestled there.
Suddenly, a sharp hiss broke the moment. From Xue Tuzi's sleeve, Jiao Jiao emerged, the little Gu worm's bulbous eyes narrowing as it fixed a venomous glare on Long Shuiguo. The artist recoiled, startled by the tiny creature.
"Xiao Jiao, it's alright," Xue Tuzi said soothingly, patting the Gu worm's head. The touch was tender, almost maternal, as he praised him.
Long Shuiguo's face twisted in disgust. "I'd never expect a beauty like you to have a bug as a pet," he said, covering his nose and mouth with his sleeve as though shielding himself from the sight.
Xue Tuzi gave Jiao Jiao a gentle kiss on its fat, wriggling head, cradling it in his arms like a child. "I think it's rather cute," he said with a soft smile, his lips puckering for another affectionate kiss.
Jiao Jiao's tiny heart seemed to swell. His big, watery eyes turned heart-shaped as he blew bubbles of joy. "Mama, Xiao Jiao is cute. Xiao Jiao is cute, Mama!" he gurgled, foaming at the mouth with unabashed adoration.
"Did that thing just call you its Mama?" Long Shuiguo's tone dripped with revulsion.
Xue Tuzi turned sharply, his glare so fierce it sent an involuntary shiver down Long Shuiguo's spine. Ignoring the artist's disdain, Xue Tuzi whispered sweetly to Jiao Jiao, "Be good, okay?" He swaddled the little Gu worm into a snug bundle and gently placed him on the bed.
"Now, where were we?" Xue Tuzi turned back to Long Shuiguo, who quickly composed himself.
"Stay there," Long Shuiguo said suddenly, his hands moving as though framing a perfect moment. "Yes, that's perfect."
He adjusted his easel in front of the bed, his brush moving delicately across the paper. But his brow furrowed in frustration as he stepped back to evaluate his work. "It's just not right," he muttered with a heavy sigh.
He glanced up at Xue Tuzi hesitantly. "Could you… perhaps reveal a little more?"
Xue Tuzi's eyes widened, a mix of disbelief and indignation flashing across his face. Long Shuiguo stammered, attempting to backtrack. "It's only for the sake of the art! To capture your essence fully…"
With a roll of his eyes and a dramatic sigh, Xue Tuzi stood and let the robe fall to the ground, leaving him completely bare. The dim candlelight kissed his flawless skin, emphasizing every curve and angle of his ethereal form.
Long Shuiguo's jaw dropped, his breath catching in his throat. He struggled to tear his eyes away but couldn't. "Don't forget to capture my good sides," Xue Tuzi said with a smirk, reclining on the bed, his confidence as radiant as his beauty.
Long Shuiguo swallowed hard, his hands trembling slightly as he picked up his brush again. With every stroke, his eyes remained locked on Xue Tuzi, the image of perfection burned into his mind.
Then he reached for a dry brush, his fingers brushing over its worn handle. With precise movements, he dipped the bristles lightly into Xue Tuzi's delicate skin. He began to stroke his chest with deliberate care. The brush moved like a whisper, its dry tip dragging faint, textured lines across Xue Tuzi's bare skin forcing him to moan.
"It's lacking emotion," Long Shuiguo murmured, his voice low and intimate. His breath was warm against Xue Tuzi's ear, carrying a faint trace of tea. The closeness of his presence sent a ripple of unease down Xue Tuzi's spine, though he didn't let it show.
Long Shuiguo's gaze lingered, his eyes tracing the curve of Xue Tuzi's exposed collarbone which tinted a peach pink. Each stroke seemed to caress his body, as if coaxing Xue Tuzi to become more aroused. The subtle friction between bristles and skin produced a soft sound, almost hypnotic in the quiet of the room.
With a flick on his wrist, his brush tickled Xue Tuzi, from the chest all the way down to his most intimate area. Xue Tuzi's eyes were hazy, a dazed sheen clouding their usual sharpness. His flushed cheeks carried a delicate shade of crimson, the color deepening with every breath he drew. A bead of saliva clung to the corner of his plump lips, shimmering under the flickering candlelight before sliding down, pooling where the small mole rested near the edge. His chest rose and fell in a rhythm that matched the tension thickening the air, each inhale shallow and unsteady.
"Yes… that's the face," Long Shuiguo snarled, his voice trembling with a mixture of exhilaration and fervor. His hand tightened around the brush, the wood creaking faintly under his grip as his eyes drank in the sight before him. The raw, unguarded expression on Xue Tuzi's face sent a thrill through him, and his lips parted in a wolfish grin. He traced the brush along Xue Tuzi's hidden crevice, twirling it around forcing the man to twitch whine and moan.
"Hold it—don't move," Long Shuiguo commanded, his tone sharp with urgency as though the moment might shatter if not immediately captured. His brush flew across the paper, strokes bold and desperate, his excitement transforming into a frenzied need to immortalize the vision before him.