I don’t like being underneath.

Chapter Title: 016 I Don't Like Being Underneath

They were clever, and the men in black were by no means fools either. All of them lived with their heads hanging over the blade every day; who would let a clue slip by so easily?

The three captains and their companions appeared to stand respectfully to the side, but in reality, the position of the Taoists perfectly blocked all directions around the hot spring.

Such a gentle knife, so insidiously wielded!

Fang Rulai’s heart jolted, instinctively reaching out with two fingers to the spot she had pinched earlier, then pinched again for the third time: Young Master Ke, your illusion doesn’t work at all.

Young Master Ke grimaced in pain once more, but he’d learned to bear it, not uttering a single sound: Even the wisest make mistakes; that’s understandable, right?

Understandable? Nonsense! If she stood up, her bald head would be exposed. He might survive long enough for her to realize, but she would hardly live to understand.

Fang Rulai, frustrated, pressed her fingers harder, ready to pinch again.

Young Master Ke, quick-witted, half-crawled upright before she could: “Wolf in sheep’s clothing? Fine, solve it yourself.”

He made it clear he didn’t want to endure such a morally questionable rescue any longer; his move to get up was unmistakable.

“Husband,” Fang Rulai called out in her coquettish voice.

Young Master Ke turned his head in response, and Fang Rulai reached out, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him down, making him lie flat again.

This time, it wasn’t for show; he was caught off guard and pressed down thoroughly, instantly stiffening.

What a graceful figure, as lofty as mountains and deep as valleys—soft as cotton to the touch, yet every curve and contour pressed enticingly against him.

For a robust young man deprived of romantic privileges due to his physical condition, such an unexpected blessing was enough—his stiffened body without a nosebleed was already a triumph.

Fang Rulai didn’t care whether he was stiff or not; in fact, his stiffness suited her next move.

“Husband,” she called out again, her voice even sweeter. “You haven’t given me the pleasure you promised.”

Her words lingered, sugary and drawn out; Young Master Ke’s ears reddened and his body grew tenser.

Little Ten felt a tickle in his heart, his gaze rising, ready to sneak a peek.

The third captain quickly gave a muffled cough, silently signaling: Remember your roles!

Ah, they were dignified Taoists now!

Little Ten and the others immediately understood, dropping their heads without delay, afraid their lingering lust would betray their identities.

In that instant, as they lowered their heads, Fang Rulai flipped her wrist, revealing the dart she’d been clutching in her palm.

“Husband,”

Her tone remained coy, but her hand moved swiftly. One hand gripped the dart, the other seized the hair at the back of Young Master Ke’s head. With a swift motion, two locks of his hair were severed.

Young Master Ke sensed something was off, “You—”

“Ah, I understand!” Fang Rulai pressed a finger to his lips, stopping him. “Sorry, husband, Honghong was slow to catch on. Don’t blame me.”

Young Master Ke tilted his head, a few strands of hair fell onto his moon-white robe sleeve.

Fang Rulai promptly adopted a righteous, public-minded tone, lightly patting Young Master Ke’s shoulder. “Husband, we need to get up; the Taoists are waiting.”

Young Master Ke smoothed his hair and stood, waves of emotion in his eyes, but his voice was infinitely tender. “Honghong, I’ll make up for the pleasure I owe you—every bit of it—later!”

Fang Rulai shook out a cloth, draping it over her head, and coyly stood behind Young Master Ke. “Husband, with your teasing words, I can’t face the Taoists.”

Saying this, the two walked toward the waiting carriage.

Young Master Ke led, Fang Rulai followed, covering her head and face, seemingly embarrassed at flirting openly in front of others.

The third captain lifted his gaze slightly, focusing only on Fang Rulai’s chest: he didn’t care if she had face, only whether she had hair.

As they passed, the two locks of long hair on Fang Rulai’s chest swayed clearly into his sight.

His gaze departed instantly—it seemed he’d been mistaken. But...

“Boundless Heavenly Honored One, brothers, prepare the sedan!” the third captain ordered, quietly signaling Little Ten: check the bottom of the hot spring.

Inside the carriage, as the curtain fell, Fang Rulai pressed herself atop Young Master Ke, dart poised at his throat, silently mouthing: Who are you?

The first time she sent away the men in black, he claimed to be invited by Master Sanfeng; she thought it was a spontaneous lie to save her and didn’t believe him. But now, the men in black returned with another identity, confirming he was indeed invited by Master Sanfeng. The men in black clearly had some connection to Sanfeng; so, what of him and them?

Fang Rulai was on full alert, ready to strike at the slightest hint of collusion.

Young Master Ke glanced down, not alarmed or afraid—instead, he chuckled lightly. “Honghong, I told you I’d make up for the pleasure. Why so eager now?”

His words echoed, stirring ambiguous murmurs outside.

Fang Rulai scoffed inwardly, unmoved by his attempts to disrupt her focus, bringing the dart closer—Speak!

Young Master Ke raised an eyebrow, hooked his finger, and lifted the locks of hair hanging from her chest—the very hair that used to be his, as if to say, “Is this how you treat your savior?”

Fang Rulai gave a hollow smile, mouthing silently: Savior or hidden enemy, that’s still up for debate.

“Honghong!” Young Master Ke feigned a coquettish tone. “If you keep wavering, I might not be able to handle it.”

The gasp from outside grew louder.

Fang Rulai pressed her lips together; men were all the same. No matter how refined his silhouette, every time he met a girl, he couldn’t help but tease.

Young Master Ke twisted his body, failing to find a comfortable position, finally grumbling, “Honghong, I don’t like being underneath.”

The gasp outside swelled to a crashing wave.

Fang Rulai abruptly withdrew the dart and sat up—she was done playing. Since he wouldn’t confess, and she had no interest in letting him take advantage for nothing, she’d simply stop.

Young Master Ke rolled to his side, propping his head on one hand, earnestly, “Honghong?” What’s wrong? He wasn’t done playing.

Fang Rulai leaned back into the corner of the carriage, casting a sidelong glance—Still not finished?

Young Master Ke blinked innocently, “You started it. How can you not see it through?”

Fine, she would take responsibility! Fang Rulai smiled slyly, reached out, and tore off the two locks of fake hair from her chest, handing them forward. “Husband, I love your jet-black hair the most.”

Young Master Ke’s casual, bantering expression instantly turned dangerous: She dared! Not only did she cut his hair, now she was flaunting it?

“Honghong, dawn is coming soon.” She’d fooled others in the dark, showing some cleverness. But when daylight broke, the fake hair would be obvious, and the long robe she wore would be hard to explain.

Fang Rulai laughed dismissively, carefully tucking the fake hair into her collar. So what if day came? This life was borrowed, a second chance; at the next deadly moment, if she killed just one, it would be pure profit.

The two fell silent, the quiet night broken only by the leisurely creaking of the carriage.

After an unknown stretch of time, with sunlight faintly piercing the curtain, the carriage stopped.

Outside, a familiar voice called, “Young Master, you’ve finally arrived. I was waiting to death for you.”

Fang Rulai suddenly opened her eyes from feigned sleep—this voice?

Thank you, dear readers chenqing2008 and c Banxia/Like Smoke, for your flower support. It’s wonderful to have you all here!

And: Can anyone guess who will appear next?

Also: If you like this book, please be sure to add it to your bookshelf~

First published here.