Chapter 33: Spring Passions Amidst the Lotus (Part Two)

Fine drizzle fell softly and densely, and for ten miles the lotus pond was as green as jade, misty as smoke, ethereal as fog.

Beneath a broad lotus leaf held like an umbrella, Daidai pressed down on Ji Ye, refusing to let him rise. Her laughter was clear and sharp, her face mischievous.

"Your Majesty, it's raining," she said.

"Obviously!" Ji Ye rebuked lightly, turning his head to see countless ripples stirred by the raindrops falling on the water's surface.

"Your Majesty, will you lie here with me and listen to the wind and rain? It will be far better than tiring yourself over endless documents. Let's just remain entwined like this, embracing each other, closing our eyes to hear each other's breath, opening them to see you right by my side. And then, let's stay together for a very, very long time..."

Daidai propped her elbows on his chest, resting her chin in her hands, gazing longingly, her eyes bright and serene. Ji Ye looked at her, his heart dull and heavy.

"But how long is 'very long'?" Daidai murmured softly, her bright eyes turning confused. She lowered her head, gazing at Ji Ye's face as pure as a lotus, and blurted out, "Your Majesty, I've really seen you somewhere before."

In that instant, his heart felt barren, aching, Daidai chuckled quietly, frowned, and buried her head in Ji Ye's neck. "Your Majesty, I'm ill."

The hands that governed the world trembled, and again he felt that nameless pain from a night past—a longing, not quite love. Love, once understood, disperses, but this longing clung to his heart, transcending mountains and seas, reaching even the depths of the netherworld; as long as he drew breath, he could not set it aside.

Longing, light as a thread, fine as a hair, quivered on the tip of his heart; a single breath could send it soaring to the heavens, yet when he turned away, closed his eyes, and meditated in silence, it landed back without a sound. It was not the deep, entangling pain of love, but lighter than dust.

As if his body were the Bodhi tree, his heart a bright mirror, always diligently wiped, never letting dust settle.

Yet the Bodhi tree does not truly exist, nor is the mirror a pedestal; there is nothing from the start—so where could dust alight?

He held Daidai in his arms, silent for a long time, his thoughts scattered, unsure what day it was.

"Your Majesty, hold me, kiss me," Daidai pleaded, her voice full of grievance. Her red lips trembled like petals battered by wind and rain. She clung to Ji Ye, pressing close, as if she wished to melt herself into his bones.

Her soft, ungraspable red jade brushed against the cornelian at his chest, making him shudder and his mood sway.

"Stop fooling around." For a moment, he felt his soul return to the mortal realm, and he spoke with mild reproach.

But his anger had long since vanished, and he could not tell how.

"Your Majesty..."

Her tone was sweet and inviting, seductive in both sound and look, leaving him at a loss whether to laugh or cry.

"Daidai, we're on a small boat, exposed on all sides," he relented, gently patting her back.

"So what? Heart and body are here, why care about place? Isn't following one's heart the joy of living?"

Seeing her so unconstrained, he admired her yet rebuked, "Without rules, there can be no order."

"Who cares about order? Your Majesty, just hold me," she whined, her agile tongue licking his Adam's apple.

He swallowed, and suddenly heard a chilling hiss. The desire just rising in him evaporated, and his whole body stiffened.

The Imperial Serpent slithered silently onto Ji Ye's head, tilting its triangular head to study him as if saying: "Well done, you've managed to tame the ancestor of snakes. Hurry up, let me watch."

"Daidai!" Ji Ye barked coldly, "Didn't I tell you to return that damned creature to the serpent garden?!"

Daidai, feeling she had uncovered a great secret, giggled mischievously. "Your Majesty, ignore it."

With that, she set her hands to exploring Ji Ye's rigid body.

"You Yudai, stop this instant!" he ordered.

Somehow, he felt forcibly dominated, yet a surge of pleasure accompanied it.

Enough was enough.

This mad little demon.

His dragon robe half undone, revealing bronzed skin, Daidai traced kisses downward, reaching between his thighs, reverent as if worshipping the Buddha.

The soft flesh in her mouth grew instantly firm, and Daidai's cheeks flushed with excitement, as if she had seized a priceless treasure, playing with it between her hands and deep in her throat.

He pressed her head, his resistance feather-light, soon turning from pushing to gripping, clutching her hair, forcing her lower, thrusting. His rational gaze became tinged with red by desire; in that moment, there was neither emperor nor god, only himself wholly captured by her mouth, her hands, her heart.

Magnetic moans spilled from his lips, rising and falling—ah, could a man's cries on the bed really be so criminal?

In another patch of lotus, Li Fuquan abruptly straightened his back, his thin face flushed with excitement, trembling all over, inwardly cursing Daidai to death. Alas, his perfect imperial master!

That shameless, reckless sound—was it truly his? He—he actually cried out like a woman, and so much enjoyed it!

Ashamed and furious, Ji Ye growled, "You Yudai!"

His rigid arousal dripped clear dew; he endured, then grabbed Daidai, pinning her beneath him. His reddened eyes glared at the person below, who showed no remorse—her seductive eyes slanted like peach blossoms, lips overflowing with longing.

He was mortified by his loss of composure, anger surging in his chest—he hated her so much, yet his body was more honest than his heart, his hands no longer his own. Beneath his cold, angry face, he gently stroked Daidai's moist red lips, captivated by their beauty.

Her tongue flickered between lips and teeth, enticing him to invade, to seize, to savor.

His mouth dry, throat parched, the friction against her lips grew rough, tinged with anger. Daidai moaned, seductive, her tongue teasing his fingertips, her brows and eyes radiating endless charm.

Alluring beauty is often exaggerated in women, but for Daidai, it was an understatement.

She was a demon before she was a demoness; the charm in her gaze as she frowned was truly beyond mortal women.

Yet her outward allure was secondary; what drew him most, what made him unable to let go, was the way she looked at him—as if she would pour out the world for him alone. However wild or seductive she was, all of it existed for him alone.

Such deep, intense feeling was not what he wanted, yet he could not escape, powerless to resist.

"Daidai..."

When he spoke again, his mind was chaotic, his soul adrift; he abandoned all the conflicting, troubling thoughts. Life, when at its height, must be savored to the fullest.

His heart surged; he kissed her, harshly, as if devouring her. She wore only a thin nightgown, his hand lifted the hem, fingers disappearing into the slippery petals between her thighs—she was ready for him, mind lost in ecstasy.

When the great shaft entered her, filling her completely, she moaned with discomfort, her slender white legs raised high, between them his wild thrusts.

He truly hated her—this madwoman, this little monster.

The boat rocked, sending half the lotus pods tumbling into the water, the rest rolling about on deck, leaving the Imperial Serpent no place to rest its tail.

With several disgruntled hisses, the serpent, proud as ever, flicked its tail, twisted its triangular head, and swiftly slipped into the water, weaving through the lotus stems. Encountering a koi that surfaced, it opened wide and swallowed it whole. Li Fuquan watched the serpent climb aboard, trembling, hurriedly making room, serving it as an ancestor.

Ancestor, Poison King, just don't bite me—this was Li Fuquan's most sincere wish. He dared not even listen to the joyous singing of his master and mistress.

Clutching Daidai's tender hips, he kneaded and slapped them fiercely; Daidai gasped, blushing and begging, "Gentler, please... too fast, so full."

She wept, clinging to him, sobbing pitifully.

Poor old eunuch, eavesdropping at the boat's edge, terrified on one side by the Poison King, stirred on the other by passionate cries. Judging by the mistress's voice, should the Emperor fall, he would not regret it.

Alas, he could not be reborn; alas, he was already rootless; alas—ah! Poison King Ancestor, don't get too close!

Li Fuquan's face was streaked with wide tears, squatting wretchedly at the stern, occupying only a corner of the small boat.

The Imperial Serpent hissed in delight, its tail curling and tossing lotus pods at him, again and again, believing its intentions clear. Yet the old eunuch, muddleheaded, could not fathom such a frightful thing as a snake eating vegetarian—nor imagine the serpent's fondness for lotus seeds.

Snakes, born with terrifying forms, are either stoned to death or skinned and brewed into soup. Alas, a snake is but another creature, its fearsome appearance not of its choosing.

The world is blinded by appearances; ugliness is evil, to be shunned by all.

Where is the love, the kindness, the dignity?

With a cry, the lotus leaf tilted left and right, the boat nearly collapsing, the water surface rippling wildly.

He panted hoarsely, holding her slender legs, his expression lost in delirium.

The insides of her thighs ached, her body limp as water, yet Daidai felt her head filled with stars and seas.

He lingered within her, unwilling to withdraw, caressing the lips he had bitten, his gaze full of tender affection.

One pair of legs bronzed, another milky white; four legs entwined, gently stroking, everywhere intimacy.

Daidai nestled in his arms, blissfully narrowing her seductive eyes.

It felt so familiar.

She harbored a ludicrous dream—that this man, this chest, was her ultimate home, their tails entwined, tangled together for thousands or tens of thousands of years, so that whenever she opened her eyes, he would always be there.

Thus, no matter how desolate the years, she would never again be afraid.