Chapter 113

She spoke so candidly that Mu Qian Tan almost got fooled by her expression, thinking the Spring Palace Diagrams were just some ordinary books. But just looking at the covers made it obvious they were anything but!

“You bought them?”

“Yeah!”

“What did you buy them for?”

“You explained it so vaguely last time, I didn’t get it, so I was still curious. I never imagined there were books like this in the world! So I bought some.”

Recalling the bulging package on this stupid dragon’s back before the barbecue feast—that was way more than “some”—Mu Qian Tan’s throat went dry: “How many did you buy?”

Unexpectedly, her master took an interest and even followed up with questions. Shang Shan happily grabbed the package, which was as big as four of her heads: “Look, these are all of them. A whole set.”

The room fell silent for a moment. Mu Qian Tan leaned back against the headboard.

After a beat, she seized on the key point: “Where did you get the money?”

This stupid dragon’s money had long been confiscated by her. She’d been at the sect for so long without going out to catch rats for cash again. No matter what kind of books they were, a whole set couldn’t be cheap. Where had she gotten the money for these? She’d even claimed to hand over all her money before, but she’d secretly stashed some away?

Shang Shan fished out a handful of copper coins from her book pouch: “Borrowed from Qin He. This is what’s left.”

With her intelligence, she probably hadn’t even thought of hiding it. That explained it. Mu Qian Tan was speechless: “Qin He lent you money to buy this stuff?”

Shang Shan said: “Why call it ‘this stuff’? These are books that teach knowledge, you know? Textbooks. Super impressive ones.”

Mu Qian Tan said: “You told her you wanted to buy these, and what was Qin He’s expression at the time?”

Shang Shan said: “Just like yours right now.”

Mu Qian Tan said: “What did she say?”

Shang Shan said: “Just like what you said two sentences ago.”

Mu Qian Tan pictured the scene in her mind. These two probably hadn’t gone straight for the Spring Palace Diagrams while shopping. They’d stumbled upon them by chance, and out of shock and curiosity, she’d bought them. Qin He must have gone through a rocky mental process from stunned disbelief to convincing herself to accept it before lending the money.

Seton City actually sold pornographic books to minors? Wasn’t that illegal? Then again, maybe they didn’t even have that concept here…

The pure-hearted female protagonist reading little porn books—even Li Biyuan couldn’t stay silent: ‘I’m impressed. I thought she’d have to wait for the male protagonist to teach her this stuff later, but she’s already figuring it out on her own? Could our female protagonist be a natural talent in this area too? What a lucky girl…’

Mu Qian Tan said: ‘Watch it with the dirty talk to a minor, or you’ll get struck by lightning.’

Li Biyuan wouldn’t take the blame for that major sin; she had her reasons: ‘Strictly speaking, the female protagonist isn’t actually a minor, you know.’

‘You always have some excuse.’

‘I do, I do. Listen, Sister Tan, does this make sense? She was born sixteen years ago, but that doesn’t mean she came out sixteen years ago. Those are two different things. Before she hatched, she was in an egg. If you count age from when she detached from the mother body, you’d have to add in her egg age. She might even be old enough to call you her ancestor! Super generation skip!’

‘…What egg age, what ancestor. That’s ridiculous.’

Li Biyuan continued: ‘Taking ten thousand steps back, even if you count from hatching day, she’s not human—she’s a dragon. A divine being with infinite lifespan to come. Does she even have a concept of being a minor?’

That actually sounded reasonable. Even if the female protagonist wasn’t following the original plot, as the last dragon in the world—the most spiritual and mythical legendary great demon—she had no lifespan limit. Unlike mortal cultivators like them, who could only live a few centuries at the peak before turning to dust.

For a being like that, what did “coming of age” even mean?

Li Biyuan said: ‘Taking another ten thousand steps back, this is ancient times. Girls marry at thirteen or fourteen. That’s nothing.’

Mu Qian Tan said: ‘Enough. You talk too much.’

‘Hee hee, let me say one last thing. It wouldn’t count as me dirty-talking to the female protagonist, but the female protagonist has thrown plenty of dirty talk your way. Sister Tan, replacing the male protagonist to this extent—you really worked hard. The male protagonist should give you a little red flag for your labor.’

‘Shut up. Go lust after your paper husband. Can’t even control your creepiness.’

‘Poof, I’m out. See you tomorrow!’

After scolding her off, Mu Qian Tan realized the issue too. Even if they were both women and there was no taking advantage, she couldn’t let this stupid dragon casually spew lewd words every day.

But the stupid dragon had no sense of shame and truly didn’t understand. How was she supposed to discipline her? What excuse to use?

She thought for a long time before snapping back to reality.

Excuse? Since when did she need a reason to hit someone? She always just hit whenever she felt like it.

Looked like she’d been living too civilized lately; it had even softened her personality.

She crooked a finger to beckon her over for a beating when Shang Shan started flipping through the pages rapidly: “Master, you know so much. You’ve probably seen these too, right?”

Mu Qian Tan coughed lightly: “Obviously.”

Shang Shan scooted to the edge of the bed, flipped to a page, held up the book, and turned it for the woman to see: “Have you seen this one?”

A large color illustration jumped into view—excessive flesh tones and intertwined limbs forming an intensely impactful scene. Mu Qian Tan’s breath hitched for an instant, her hand on the blanket trembling slightly, though her face remained calm: “Entry-level stuff, and you’re asking me about it?”

The girl’s eyes filled with instant adoration: “Wow, Master really knows everything! Looks like I need to study fast too.”

Mu Qian Tan’s brows furrowed: “What do you need this for? To beat people with it?”

Her finger traced the image as Shang Shan looked up at her silently. After a long moment, she tilted her chin up slightly, her gaze dropping, and moved her lips: “Feels like it’ll come in handy later.”

It would indeed come in handy later, but that was still far off—no need to learn so early. And honestly, this stuff didn’t require studying; it just happened naturally when the mood struck, right? Mu Qian Tan didn’t voice that. She didn’t want to deal with this person anymore. Hopeless. Let her do whatever.

“There’s people and animals too!” Shang Shan discovered a new continent and exclaimed: “This, this, this— is this really okay?”

“Whoa, this one’s a group thing! How does she handle it? Does it feel good? Too bad I can’t split myself. Is there an immortal spell for that?”

“Huh! Why’s it going in the back too…”

“Oof, don’t like this one. Too rough—it’s bleeding! That hurts! Can’t hurt.”

“So mouths work too. Oh, and there are techniques. Everything worth doing has its knowledge.”

“Does it always have to start with kissing?”

“That final hug is so sweet. Love it! Hugging to sleep with your wife must be total bliss.”

Mu Qian Tan had switched to reading a different book, but the dragon’s exclamations kept drilling into her ears relentlessly. Even though her own book was perfectly proper, the lines of text gradually warped into indecent shapes. Unbeknownst to her, a flush crept from her neck, behind her ears, to her cheeks. Her fingers fidgeted on the book’s spine.

She closed her eyes to banish the images and mocked herself: Nearing thirty, while her peers were on their second kids, and she was losing it over some mildly erotic audio commentary?

She bit her lower lip lightly then released it. Though she figured it was nothing, she still tuned it out automatically. Her blanket rejection meant she missed how all of Shang Shan’s exclamations revolved around the women in the Spring Palace Diagrams—and what she was learning was almost entirely about the men.

Lost in her own world, Mu Qian Tan gradually tuned out the girl’s voice. After some unknown time, a hot breath brushed her ear. She turned to see Shang Shan had climbed onto the bed at some point, tilting her head slightly and whispering: “Master, your face is so red.”

“…” With a snap, Mu Qian Tan slammed the book shut and backhanded her across the face, the slap echoing like thunder from the girl’s flesh. The entire room rang with the crisp sound.

She withdrew her hand, tone calm: “Am I red? Or are you?”

Shang Shan nearly toppled from the hit, clutching the blanket to steady herself. She turned her face away, and it quickly swelled. Poor thing—the mark from the last slap hadn’t even faded, and now there was a fresh layer. Red? It was very red.

While she was dazed, Mu Qian Tan quickly lowered her gaze and tested her cheek with the back of her hand. It was indeed a bit hot.

Time to destroy the evidence.

As the girl started to turn back, she swiftly yanked open the blanket, wedged the edge around the girl’s neck, looped it over to completely cover her head, then propped herself with one hand, rose, and pinned her down with a knee, pressing her firmly into the mattress.

“Getting ahead of yourself, huh? Did I say you could get on the bed?” Mu Qian Tan gripped the blanket tight with one hand while the other moved at her neck: “All day with nothing normal in that head of yours, always stupidly provoking me. Forgot to respect your master already? Killing you would be easy. Dare to show up in front of me again, bother me one more time—try it.”

With her head and above muffled in the soft blanket and her abdomen pinned by the knee, Shang Shan’s clothes had loosened some, red flushing from her chest to her slender neck. She raised her hands, loosely clasping the woman’s wrists—neither resisting nor responding, just staying silent.

Mu Qian Tan leaned down, her long hair cascading like an inky waterfall from her face, framing her coldly flushed features like plum blossoms on a branch. Her chest rose and fell shallowly. Time ticked by, her knee unrelenting. She’d started out wanting to give this stupid dragon a memorable lesson, but now she worried she’d smothered her. She lifted the blanket for a peek.

Shang Shan’s long curls splayed messily. She stared at the ceiling with round black eyes.

Oh no, she’d gone dumb. But could she get any dumber?

Mu Qian Tan held the blanket, about to check her pulse, when the girl whispered: “I just saw that move in the book.”

“…Heh.”

Cold air hissed through her teeth. Mu Qian Tan laughed coldly, her pulse-checking hand dropping to seize her collar. She dragged her off the bed toward the door: “Get out.”

But perhaps the direction was off—Shang Shan’s head smacked the bedpost as she was pulled down. She shuddered, curled up, and burst into loud wails.

“Hm?” Mu Qian Tan thought she’d misheard and looked over to confirm it was the bundle in her hand clutching her head and crying, tears falling like crystal beads, quickly soaking her chest and the carpet.

Wait—this was the emotionally numb female protagonist who’d never cried through a whole book? What was going on?

Mu Qian Tan stood frozen for a good while before asking: “You touching porcelain?”

Shang Shan sobbed in accusation: “You hit my head.”

Unbelievable. She’d taken injuries a hundred times worse before. That earlier slap had been louder without even breaking skin—what was there to cry about? Mu Qian Tan nearly laughed in anger: “Didn’t kill you. Why the funeral face? Stop playing pitiful.”

Rubbing her head with both hands, Shang Shan curled her legs and kept shedding tears. Mu Qian Tan rolled her eyes and resumed dragging her out, tossing her outside before slamming the door. Her ears were finally clear.

She turned back to the bed. Spring Palace Diagrams scattered everywhere—utterly an eyesore. She stepped over the books with long legs, climbed into bed, burrowed under the covers. No more reading; time to sleep.

But perhaps from hearing too much junk, she couldn’t fall asleep right away. She tossed and turned without regaining her drowsiness. As night deepened and all grew quiet, a faint, kitten-like sob penetrated the door from outside.

Someone heard the noise—probably a maid—and asked: “Guest, what’s wrong?”

The floor was cold. The maid tried to help her up, but her hand was slapped away. Shang Shan cried out: “Don’t want you!”

Mu Qian Tan had rarely heard this stupid dragon snap so fiercely at someone with good intentions. She opened her eyes, worried the maid would fetch more people and escalate things, so she got up to check at the door.

The maid stood awkwardly nearby and sighed in relief at her appearance. Mu Qian Tan eyed the huddled girl by the door: “Did someone wind you up? Crying that long—didn’t you see you’re troubling others?”

Shang Shan turned to her, face buried in her knees, voice stumbling: “My… head hurts.”

It didn’t look fake. Someone who’d never cried wouldn’t suddenly fake it with tears. But that bump hadn’t been that hard. Maybe something on the bedpost?

Mu Qian Tan gripped the doorframe and peered inside. The post had carved rings—not sharp, but with some raised decorations that might be the culprit. But this was someone who got more excited from knife wounds—how could she fear that?

Before she figured it out, her wrist was seized. She looked down to see Shang Shan grabbing her hand and pressing it to her own head: “Master, check it for me.”

Under her palm was the girl’s soft, warm hair. Mu Qian Tan slid her hand around—no wound, but her fingertips and palm base each brushed a protrusion about half a finger joint high.

She went silent for a moment, then it dawned on her.

Dragon horns.

She recalled the various settings about dragon horns: sturdy, durable, sharp, blue-gold coral-shaped long horns that were extremely fragile before fully growing out. Additionally, when touched by someone close, the dragon horn’s owner would become extremely sentimental and dependent on others.