Chapter 127: Never Forget (Part 2): The First Time Part 1

The severed tail brushed across the bedsheet, wiping away the bright red bloodstains. Red Satin’s eyes trembled, the three plum blossoms on her forehead blazed like fire, and her originally writhing slender body coiled around the woman’s wrist, as if begging for mercy.

Mu Qian Tan remained unmoved and squeezed harder: “Your answer?”

At that moment, urgent footsteps sounded from outside the door. In the next instant, Shang Shan pushed open the door and jumped in: “I’m back! Pretty fast, right? I…”

When she took in the scene inside the room, she fell silent for a moment before her joy plummeted into shock and anger: “What are you doing!”

She rushed forward and grabbed Red Satin, trying to snatch her away, but the snake’s body tensed into a straight red cord, immovable. The woman gripped it too tightly—any harder tugging would simply tear Red Satin in half and kill her.

Shang Shan had no choice but to pry at her hand, her fingertips slipping into the woman’s palm to try to pry the fingers loose. The skin she touched was smooth and taut; even a little force might injure it. She could only hold it loosely and cried out: “Let her go! You’re drunk out of your mind!”

Mu Qian Tan stared fixedly at her, her brows arching slightly as she squeezed even tighter in provocation, her knuckles turning white. Red Satin’s mouth gaped wide as she teetered on the verge of death. Shang Shan grew frantic with sweat pouring down her face, but in that instant, her mind suddenly cleared—as it always did when matters involved her master.

The drunken master was probably just as defiant as the sober one and hated taking orders. Whatever she wanted her to do, the opposite would likely happen instead. So, reverse psychology it was. She clapped her hands encouragingly and said solemnly: “Master, you need to grip her even harder! If she survives, I’ll be very displeased!”

A spiritual power dagger coalesced once more in her hand. Mu Qian Tan’s eyes remained fixed on her as she aimed the dagger at Red Satin’s head, ready to slice it off. The girl timely seized her wrist: “Master!”

That didn’t work!

Time was too urgent. Shang Shan racked her brains until her mind overloaded into a blank.

Just as the dagger was about to pierce Red Satin, in the nick of time, an idea flashed. Without time to consider if it would work, she leaned down and gently pressed her lips to the woman’s.

It was more of a light brush than a kiss. In that fleeting moment when the four soft, slightly cool red lips met, it was as if butterflies fluttered by, hovering above swaying flowers—the light wings and delicate petals colliding in a gentle mix of different scents and fragrances.

After the brief, quick contact, Shang Shan feared a beating and immediately pulled back, her heart pounding wildly.

She had expected the woman to erupt in violence, but unexpectedly, the spiritual power dagger dissipated in an instant. The woman touched her lower lip with a fingertip, her provocative expression gradually shifting to one of bewilderment and confusion. Her grip on Red Satin actually loosened.

Red Satin escaped death by a hair and didn’t dare utter a word. She slithered headlong into Shang Shan’s sleeve without looking back, trembling.

Shang Shan watched the woman’s pale pink lips nervously, her spirit returning only after sensing the red snake’s presence. She backed up a few steps, slamming hard into the bedpost. Rubbing her butt, she retreated toward the door: “Sorry, it wasn’t on purpose! I just wanted you to let go. I… I’ll go take Red Satin to the physician first.”

Her shoulder bumped the door frame. Shang Shan spun around and fled in a panic.

The room fell extremely quiet, with snowflakes drifting outside the window. Mu Qian Tan sat stunned for a moment before the headache swept over her again.

She frowned and rubbed her forehead. When she brushed her eye corner, she noticed the blood on her hand and the red stains on the bed. Her mind rapidly flashed through what had just happened, but it was shrouded in a hazy fog, not entirely clear. She only remembered being very annoyed with that red snake, and then…

Then, what had that stupid dragon done?

Li Biyuan was dumbfounded for a half moment before speaking first: ‘…Heavens, my world shattered.’

Mu Qian Tan said: ‘Hm?’

‘Nothing…’ For the sake of the female protagonist’s life, Li Biyuan quickly gave her an excuse to deflect blame: ‘That stupid dragon just tried to hit you, but luckily she gave up midway. Otherwise, she might not have seen tomorrow’s sun.’

After a silent moment, Mu Qian Tan said: “You call her a stupid dragon too.”

Her hand moved to her waist, intending to untie her belt for a bath, but she grasped at empty air. She looked down and saw the belt was gone. She glanced around, but it was nowhere.

Could she have lost something like that? Or had she already taken it off? Where to, then?

Even a slight mental effort brought dizziness that made her head spin. Mu Qian Tan let out a low groan of pain, lay back, and covered her face with her hand. She regretted drinking so much; her mind was a chaotic kaleidoscope, unable to distinguish dream from reality.

She lay there for a while and gradually drifted into slumber. Someone ran to the door again—it was Shang Shan: “Master.”

Having run back and forth at top speed, she panted heavily when she stopped. Standing at the door, she glanced inside and saw the woman asleep, offering no response. So she clambered onto the bed on her own and rummaged around frantically: “Where’s Red Satin’s tail? They said if we bring it now, it can still be reattached!”

She yanked back the sheets, checked under the bed, pushed aside pillows—only bloodstains up top, no severed tail. Shang Shan’s breathing hadn’t steadied; she scratched her hair roughly in frustration. After searching everywhere without luck, her gaze finally settled on Mu Qian Tan’s tightly clenched left hand.

Blood still trickled from there; the tail was probably in her grasp.

“You…” Shang Shan cradled that hand, troubled again: “Let go, please. Give me her tail. I don’t want to hurt you.”

At the word “give,” Mu Qian Tan’s dream shattered instantly. She tore through her drowsiness, yanked her hand back, and snarled: “You want to rob me while I’m asleep?!”

“It’s not robbing! This belongs to Red Satin to begin with!”

They were waiting over there to reattach it; any delay risked it being impossible. Anxiety burned in Shang Shan’s chest, fueling her anger: “Even if you don’t like me using Red Satin to tie you up, you shouldn’t take it out on her. If you’re upset, come at me—she’s innocent! But you’re drunk and can’t control yourself, so I get it. I won’t blame you for now, but give me her tail first, or else I won’t care about you anymore!”

Mu Qian Tan snorted coldly, pressed her hand to her chest, rolled over, and turned her back: “Dream on.”

Shang Shan tried to seize it but couldn’t pry those hands open no matter what. Her ear caught the woman’s faint murmur, and she froze. The voice was muffled and indistinct.

To hear what she said, Shang Shan leaned over her, one hand braced in front of her body, the other behind, and brought her ear close to the woman’s lips. The repeated murmur was: This is mine.

This is mine.

Shang Shan lifted her body slightly and examined the woman’s profile. Her features were sharp, partially obscured by stray hairs. Her crow-feather lashes trembled faintly, brows perpetually furrowed.

She knew her master had a fondness for wealth; if it were some precious treasure, it would make sense for her to clutch it so tightly. But why refuse to let go of a worthless severed snake tail?

Had her master simply forgotten it was a snake tail and was just habitually gripping what was in her hand?

But why?

Had she been robbed too many times that even in a muddled state, she wouldn’t let go?

That didn’t add up. Even with her notorious reputation, she was the hall master of the First Immortal Gate, with formidable strength and a foul temper. Who would be foolish enough to rob someone who refused to suffer any loss?

The thoughts spiraled uncontrollably, but Shang Shan couldn’t delay any longer. She bit her lip hard, planning to snatch it first and apologize properly later. But as her fingers just touched it, the woman suddenly surged up, slapped her hand away, grabbed her shoulder, and pinned her body down into the bedding with a long leg. Shang Shan saw a pair of reddened eyes.

“Didn’t I warn you…”

Long hair slid from her shoulder as Mu Qian Tan roared: “Didn’t I warn you!”

This was the first time since they met that Shang Shan heard her master’s anger completely unrestrained, like the crisp echoes reverberating through heaven and earth as ice shattered— so powerful and furious that it shook her to the core. She forgot to push her off, nailed in place by those turbulent eyes.

Mu Qian Tan’s chest heaved violently. Her hands slid from the girl’s shoulders to her neck, gradually closing around the skin. In her blurred vision, that young face distorted into another— an aged, terrified one with sunken cheeks, repulsive to behold.

She began to tremble, her grip loosening for an instant before snapping back with a hundredfold force, laced with intense killing intent.

Shang Shan tensed rigid, her throat gurgling. She flailed and grabbed the woman’s wrist but couldn’t pry it loose. Instead, she stared into those ruthless yet cowardly eyes, trying to discern the truest thread amid the tangle, until her breathing grew labored, her vision blackened, and she instinctively clawed marks into the woman’s wrist.

“Urk…”

The pressure on her neck suddenly released, air flooding her chest. Shang Shan gasped and hunched over coughing. When the darkness cleared from her eyes, she found the woman lying beside her, hands clutching her left chest with a pained expression.

‘You probably won’t remember tomorrow, Sister Tan,’ Li Biyuan wiped sweat from her brow: ‘I had no choice. The female protagonist was about to be strangled to death and wouldn’t fight back, so I had to use punishment again—just a pinch. It shouldn’t hurt too much….’

“Master?” Unaware of the situation, Shang Shan asked anxiously: “What’s wrong?”

This expression looked familiar; she’d been unwell earlier today in front of the Capital Beastfighting Arena too. So it was her heart again—what exactly was wrong?

Perhaps the sensation faded. Mu Qian Tan lowered her hand, lay flat staring at the ceiling, and breathed quietly. Not a trace of expression remained on her face, only emptiness, as if she’d given up.

Seeing this look, Shang Shan’s heart tugged. Something lightly tapped her hand; looking down, she saw the severed tail from their earlier scuffle, dropped beside the woman’s face. It still held some vitality, wriggling like an earthworm.

She grabbed the tail, glanced at the woman then the tail, gritted her teeth, and slid off the bed first: “I’ll be right back—wait for me, Master!”

She practically flew to the physician, handed over the tail, comforted Red Satin for a bit, and got confirmation it could be reattached. She sighed in great relief. She grabbed some stomach-soothing sobering pills and hurried back. Upon entering, she saw no one, only scattered clothes on the floor by the bed and the sound of water from the private bath.

She’d gone to bathe after all?

Shang Shan hesitated at the private bath door, unsure whether to enter.

The last time she’d seen her… was in Pot City. Back then, she could only admire her as a beauty, her heart stirring but unsure how to vent it. But now, after a mountain of erotic enlightenment, Shang Shan knew she could hardly keep her mind pure.

But what if her master was hurt and she wasn’t watching?

She was that drunk, after all, and she still needed to give her these pills.

The green pills rolled in her palm. After an internal struggle, Shang Shan decided to push open the door. The physician said they’d help a lot, and drunk people shouldn’t bathe too long—she had to check.

The heavy door creaked open to a room thick with steam, white mist floating over the water surface, instantly making her sweat thinly.

With mental preparation made, Shang Shan looked up. The woman squatted at the pool’s edge, her skin flushed rosy from the wine and steam, pink at the joints. Thick black hair veiled her side face, some draped over her back, breaking the blue mark there into fragments.

She dangled one hand in the water to test the temperature but stayed motionless for ages, as if she’d fallen asleep while squatting.

Shang Shan swallowed, her heartbeat thundering painfully in her chest, blood boiling, an itchy impulse surging through her bones.

She gripped the door frame, took a deep breath to calm down, suppressed her wild thoughts, and stepped inside, closing the door behind her. She silently told herself: You’re too beautiful, but after you apologize to Red Satin, I’ll thank you then. For now, you owe me—hmph.

Step by step to the woman’s side, Shang Shan squatted too. Before she could speak, she heard: “The water’s too cold.”

“Too cold?” Shang Shan tested it herself—it wasn’t cold; if anything, it was a bit hot to her.