BAAF Chapter 88

Suppressing what—

 

Zhou Xuanlan didn’t answer, only holding the person in his arms a little tighter.

 

The person he had yearned for since his youth was suddenly his. After wild joy came inevitable anxiety.

 

It was as if he had prepared ample patience, planning to set a trap and lure his master in step by step. He never expected that halfway through, his master would step in voluntarily. But what now? Faced with this seemingly defenseless person, Zhou Xuanlan momentarily didn’t know what to do.

 

What he wanted deep down… was naturally to hide his master away, letting no one else see him.

 

Even if he did let him out, he wanted his master to be constantly covered in his scent from head to toe. This way, everyone would know his master belonged to him, and they would retract any inappropriate thoughts.

 

Such ideas kept clamoring in his mind, but ultimately, rationality prevailed.

 

He couldn’t bear to treat his master that way.

 

Zhou Xuanlan lowered his head, resting his chin on Shen Liuxiang’s shoulder, displaying his usual obedient demeanor, and said slowly: “Afraid of frightening Master.”

 

Shen Liuxiang: “Huh?”

 

Did he seem so timid that a single embrace would scare him away?

 

Shen Liuxiang pondered briefly before suddenly realizing his disciple wasn’t the Lord Xuan from the original story—now he was just a simple little black dragon. Perhaps in his mind, hugging and embracing constituted overstepping boundaries, a blushing matter difficult to express openly.

 

So he could only proceed stealthily.

 

Thinking of this, Shen Liuxiang felt his task was arduous.

 

Well, he would just have to be more proactive. If he made more effort now, he’d have more confidence when fighting for dominance in bed later.

 

Once these competitive thoughts arose, Shen Liuxiang couldn’t control himself and became uncomfortable in Zhou Xuanlan’s embrace. “Let me show you a technique.”

 

Zhou Xuanlan acknowledged, and in the next moment, the figure in his arms transformed into a pile of withered leaves, which scattered into the air with a rustling sound when the wind blew.

 

“…”

 

Using the technique as a legitimate excuse to slip away, Shen Liuxiang emerged from under a tree and walked back, completely changing his previously casual demeanor. “Just learned it. Impressive, isn’t it?”

 

Zhou Xuanlan shook off the leaves stuck to his clothes, looking up to meet the slightly bright phoenix eyes, laughing softly: “Star Shifting? Master is naturally impressive.”

 

Shen Liuxiang was surprised: “How do you know?” Wasn’t this a secret technique never taught outside the Imperial Palace?

 

Zhou Xuanlan picked up the nearby scroll recording the lightning punishment technique. “How the Emperor knows it, I’m uncertain, but this disciple’s secret techniques came with me.”

 

Shen Liuxiang looked confused—what did “came with me” mean?

 

He had asked Zhou Xuanlan before why he knew some ancient secret techniques. At that time, Zhou Xuanlan seemed reluctant to explain, only saying that if he wanted to learn, he could teach him.

 

“Could it be that you were born knowing these techniques?”

 

Seeing his expectant expression, Zhou Xuanlan was silent for a moment before saying: “I’ll show Master, but Master must not laugh.”

 

Hearing this, Shen Liuxiang nodded vigorously: “Mm-hmm.”

 

His curiosity grew stronger, his eyes fixed without blinking. In a moment, a dark light flashed in front of Zhou Xuanlan, and an object appeared on the ground.

 

“Pfft—”

 

The moment he saw what it was, Shen Liuxiang couldn’t help but laugh, hurriedly covering his mouth. He blinked innocently at Zhou Xuanlan, whose expression had slightly stiffened, then: “Hahaha!”

 

Zhou Xuanlan: “…”

 

It wasn’t Shen Liuxiang’s fault for laughing; he really couldn’t hold it back. Who would have thought that after such hesitation, Zhou Xuanlan would produce half of a blackish eggshell?

 

Although in the night, golden streaks of light flowed over the black eggshell, giving it a mysterious and noble appearance, it didn’t change the fact that it was an eggshell.

 

Imagining the scene of Zhou Xuanlan, still a confused little black dragon, breaking out of the dragon egg, Shen Liuxiang tried hard to bite his lip, desperately controlling his laughter, with tears even welling up in the corners of his eyes.

 

Zhou Xuanlan resisted the urge to take back the eggshell, explaining dryly: “After returning to the demon realm years ago, some memories vaguely awakened, and I found the eggshell, though half of it remains missing.”

 

Shen Liuxiang managed two difficult “mm-hmm” sounds.

 

His mouth corners, raised for too long, began to ache. He rubbed them, coughed lightly, and said seriously: “Earlier, you said your techniques came with you. Is it that your shell… no, your… baby chamber? It has secret techniques recorded on it.”

 

Zhou Xuanlan’s finger touched the black shell, and golden light suddenly appeared, with complex patterns emerging. “This disciple has decoded some of it, and it is indeed so.”

 

Shen Liuxiang marveled, raising his right hand to place his slender fingers on the black shell. Under the moonlight, his five fingers appeared even more jade-like.

 

The dragon eggshell was hard, feeling cool to the touch, quite comfortable.

 

Shen Liuxiang’s fingertip traced over it, his index finger bending to tap it lightly. Somehow, a feeling of familiarity suddenly crossed his heart, as if he had done this before.

 

He froze, recalling that when trapped in the nightmare, a complete large black egg had appeared in his memory. What was originally just a suspicion now had solid evidence—that was a dragon egg, and nestled inside was Zhou Xuanlan.

 

The original body had always protected it, saying his master told him this was his destined love…

 

Shen Liuxiang frowned, suddenly lowering his hand.

 

Zhou Xuanlan keenly sensed his emotional change: “What’s wrong, Master?”

 

Shen Liuxiang pointed at the eggshell, narrowing his eyes. “Why did you travel thousands of miles from the demon realm to the cultivation world, choose Qingling Sect among many immortal sects, and specifically select me as your master?”

 

These were all things that weren’t in the original story but had truly existed.

 

Shen Liuxiang ground his teeth, thinking it couldn’t be that the original body had saved Zhou Xuanlan as a hatchling, becoming some kind of idealized love, causing this dragon cub to travel thousands of miles in pursuit!

 

Zhou Xuanlan felt a chill down his spine, becoming inexplicably alert, feeling that one wrong answer would have unimaginable consequences.

 

He pondered carefully, like someone avoiding lightning, answering cautiously: “This disciple was young at the time and doesn’t remember much. Finding the eggshell was also based on fragments of memory.”

 

Shen Liuxiang touched his chin: “The truth?”

 

Seeing his expression soften slightly, Zhou Xuanlan immediately nodded. Shen Liuxiang pondered for a moment—since he didn’t remember, he probably didn’t like him because of the original body.

 

Shen Liuxiang breathed a sigh of relief, though he still felt somewhat dejected.

 

Zhou Xuanlan’s gaze focused slightly, falling on the lowered dark eyelashes and tightly pressed lips. He immediately frowned.

 

Not knowing what Shen Liuxiang was thinking or why his expression had suddenly changed to one of unhappiness, Zhou Xuanlan pondered briefly before lowering his head and lightly touching his lips against the tightly pressed mouth.

 

Meeting the suddenly widened phoenix eyes, his handsome face revealed a smile.

 

Shen Liuxiang hadn’t yet reacted; only a warm breath remained at the corner of his lips. Though the light, soft, ticklish sensation was fresh in his memory, repeatedly playing in his mind.

 

His earlobes reddened: “Why do that so suddenly?”

 

Zhou Xuanlan stared at him, the corner of his lips curving into a smile: “Master is unhappy, so naturally this disciple must comfort you.”

 

Shen Liuxiang raised an eyebrow: “I’ve never heard that other people’s disciples comfort their masters like this.”

 

“Because other people’s disciples aren’t called Zhou Xuanlan,” Zhou Xuanlan moved closer, his deep voice sounding by his ear, “and other people’s masters aren’t the one and only Shen Liuxiang.”

 

Shen Liuxiang’s ears, which were already slightly red, instantly turned crimson. He hurriedly created distance between them.

 

Not good.

 

He seemed to have been seduced; the back of his neck was starting to feel hot.

 

Shen Liuxiang took out a Clear Meteor Pill from his storage pouch, poured one out, and swallowed it in one gulp. Just as he was about to speak to Zhou Xuanlan, whose expression showed he wanted to say something but held back, he felt movement from his Nascent Soul.

 

Shen Liuxiang was startled and said to Zhou Xuanlan: “Why don’t you run now?”

 

Zhou Xuanlan: “?”

 

***

 

In a spacious, bright room, the palm-sized Nascent Soul stood on a writing desk, both small hands holding an ink stick, circling around the inkstone.

 

Its mouth was downturned, its expression quite aggrieved.

 

Out of the tiger’s mouth and into the wolf’s den—this wasn’t play at all, but clearly forced labor as a little ink grinder.

 

After an unknown amount of time, Di Yunyu shifted his gaze from the scroll to the small figure grinding ink, seeing it open its mouth slightly, exhaling deeply from exhaustion.

 

Though its face showed grievance, it had been diligently grinding ink the whole time.

 

The corner of Di Yunyu’s lips curled up slightly. The three-year-old Shen Liuxiang’s behavior was more obedient than the current one.

 

The Nascent Soul noticed his gaze and blinked its eyes: “Thirsty.”

 

Di Yunyu: “Nascent Souls don’t get thirsty.”

 

The Nascent Soul puffed its cheeks: “Then I’m hungry.”

 

Di Yunyu: “Nascent Souls don’t get hungry.”

 

The Nascent Soul instantly drooped like a frost-bitten eggplant, mumbling dejectedly: “But I want to taste something.”

 

Di Yunyu stared at it for a while. He was about to say that Nascent Souls couldn’t taste anything, but the words disappeared at his lips. He rose to bring over a fruit platter: “What would you like?”

 

The Nascent Soul leaned the ink stick against itself, freeing one hand. It extended its short, tender white index finger, pointing to a golden orange.

 

Di Yunyu offered it, then saw the Nascent Soul open its small mouth: “Ah~”

 

“…”

 

Di Yunyu was silent for a moment, his light-colored gaze falling on the miniature version of Shen Liuxiang. He found the other looking at him in puzzlement before continuing: “Ah~~”

 

Di Yunyu: “…Hold out your hands and hold it while you eat.”

 

The Nascent Soul looked at the orange, so close yet seemingly so far, and its eyes reddened. Its soft voice carried a crying tone: “I only have one hand… can’t-can’t hold it.”

 

Di Yunyu’s gaze traveled from the Nascent Soul’s free right hand to the other side, where the left hand was still holding an ink stick almost as tall as itself.

 

“Put down the ink stick.”

 

The Nascent Soul wrinkled its nose tip: “It’s not fully ground yet.”

 

It hugged the ink stick tightly, mumbling: “Didn’t you say without properly ground ink, Imperial Father can’t write?”

 

Di Yunyu was taken aback, and after a long moment, he brought the orange to its mouth: “I remember you don’t peel it.”

 

Seeing this, the Nascent Soul’s previously aggrieved little face instantly bloomed into a smile. It lowered its head to bite vigorously, leaving light teeth marks on the orange peel.

 

After a moment, it looked up with curved eyes and brows: “Sweet.”

 

Di Yunyu said: “Lying again. You can’t taste it.”

 

The Nascent Soul giggled: “No need to taste. An orange fed by Imperial Father must be sweet.”

 

As the words fell, silence enveloped the surroundings. After a moment, Di Yunyu laughed: “You certainly have a sweet tongue.”

 

Hearing this, the Nascent Soul froze briefly, asking in confusion: “How does Imperial Father know? Only this lord’s brother knows this.”

 

Di Yunyu’s smile faded as he asked: “Who is this lord’s brother? Zhou Xuanlan?”

 

Seeing Shen Liuxiang’s Nascent Soul nod, Di Yunyu asked: “Why does only he know?”

 

The small Nascent Soul blinked, demonstrating to Di Yunyu by tilting its head back and pursing its lips.

 

“Because only he has tasted it.”

 

The spiritual energy in the room solidified, as if under some extremely powerful pressure, suspended in mid-air.

 

After a long while, the surrounding spiritual energy finally resumed flowing.

 

Di Yunyu put down the orange, glancing at the small figure still grinding ink with “heave-ho, heave-ho,” and casually wiped his hands.

 

He seemed to have been too gentle just now.

 

 

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