[To Become a River of Stars] Dong Xiange - Chapter 49

Rain began to fall outside, noisily pattering against the windows. A hazy dampness seeped through the cracks.

The air carried a moist, stifling heat that inexplicably stirred restlessness in the heart.

Li Xuanci sat by the table, his knuckles rhythmically tapping the wooden surface—tap, tap, tap—a dull and monotonous repetition.

He replayed the day’s events in his mind, certain that the strangeness lay with the woman on the bridge.

Sorcery, gu poison, possession, curses—all seemed possible.

But now, the only one from a Taoist background who understood these mysteries had turned into a fool.

What was more puzzling was that they were bound by a Fate-linking-curse, fated to live and die together. Yet, while Shiliu had lost her wits, he remained completely unaffected. Was this aimed at the little Taoist, or was it directed at him?

Li Xuanci had been dragged into a fog by Shiliu.

In this world, there was nothing he couldn’t accomplish. He had always been unstoppable; nothing could truly trap him. All obstacles were merely remnants destined to be crushed under his feet.

But now, it felt as if he were holding a thin hemp rope. The more he pulled, the more he realized it was coiled around himself, tightening inch by inch.

And the troublemaker before him was that very rope, waiting for him to make a mistake and become entangled by his own actions.

The culprit sat barefoot on his bed, eating the lüdagun she had bought during the day. Her hands were covered in soybean flour, which she didn’t spare either, licking each finger with delight.

Li Xuanci walked over and looked down at the little fool amusing herself. She looked up at this King of Hell, her eyes curving into smiles as she cheerfully offered him her half-licked fingers. “Brother, have some.”

Amid such a headache-inducing situation, Li Xuanci actually felt a flicker of amusement. This little Taoist, whether in her right mind or not, certainly knew how to provoke him.

Shiliu tried to hug him with her dirty hands, but Li Xuanci pushed her away with a finger, stating bluntly, “Go back to your own room.”

Just then, lightning flashed outside the window, followed by a loud clap of thunder, startling Shiliu so much that she immediately clung to him like twisted dough.

“I want to sleep with my brother,” she pleaded softly, pressing against Li Xuanci’s chest, her small face pale.

“No.” Unfortunately, Li Xuanci had little patience for children.

But the current Shiliu wasn’t the sensible, obedient, and timid Shiliu of the usual. Now, her brain operated on a single track. If she couldn’t get her way, her eyes would well up with tears instantly.

“Cry, and I’ll dig your eyes out,” Li Xuanci warned with a cold expression.

However, this tactic worked on the timid Shiliu, not the foolish one. She cried, tears and snot streaming down, burrowing into Li Xuanci’s embrace while sobbing and coaxing, begging for her brother to hold her.

Li Xuanci was probably encountering such an indestructible, scold-proof, un-hittable, and un-intimidatable “bronze pea” for the first time—one that also incessantly shed “golden beans.” It was truly a headache.

He decided to call Jin Zhan to watch over this little fool, but as he tried to break free from Shiliu’s tight grip, he glanced down.

The thin inner garment on the person in his arms had loosened considerably, revealing smooth skin beneath. The parted collar hinted at a gentle rise, like a crescent moon, pale as solidified mutton fat.

Her hair lay loosely over her shoulders, and traces of soybean powder lingered on her lips, which she licked away with the tip of her tongue, leaving a moist sheen at the corner of her mouth.

Looking further up, the corners of Shiliu’s eyes were red from crying, ambiguously tinged as if brushed with rouge. Her round eyes, glistening with tears, looked at him timidly.

Like a lamb that had fallen into a trap—soft, glossy, and pure white, plump with baby fat, ignorantly awaiting the hunter’s blade.

The groundless trust and dependence in her eyes were enough to ignite the darkness in anyone’s heart. Only by devouring this ignorant, innocent, fragile life could the violent malice within be slightly quelled.

Li Xuanci fell silent for a moment, then cursed under his breath.

In the past, when he was displeased, he always found a way to deal with the person causing his displeasure—whether through drawn blades and bloodshed or intricate schemes, he handled it cleanly and efficiently.

But cursing? That was a first.

He swiftly wrapped Shiliu tightly in the quilt and warned, “Don’t move, don’t speak. Close your eyes and sleep.”

Then he added, “If you don’t obey, I’ll throw you out.”

Shiliu immediately closed her eyes obediently and, before long, actually fell asleep. Left behind, Li Xuanci felt an inexplicable surge of emotion, suppressing a rising urge to kill someone.

By the time Li Xuanci finally went to bed, he didn’t know what watch of the night it was.

He slept restlessly, trapped in a shallow chaos—neither fully awake nor truly dreaming. It felt as if a thread of concern had been planted in his heart, tugging at his peace of mind.

In his drowsy state, vivid colours flashed before his eyes, leaving ambiguous afterimages.

Those colours seemed to solidify, transforming into layered, surging waves that gently licked every inch of his body.

Even the nerves in his brain grew numb, intoxicated by this absurd and overwhelming pleasure.

His bones corroded one by one in those waves, dissolving completely. His entire body felt weak and limp, leaving only desire—soft as a woman’s hand—washing layer by layer into the gaps of his bones, seeping into his marrow, wrapping around him until he nearly suffocated.

Li Xuanci’s breath unconsciously hitched, as if drowning. His consciousness drifted between lucidity and delirium, unable to distinguish pain from pleasure, feeling only boundless ecstasy amid suffocating intensity.

Just as he was about to sink completely into those depths, a sliver of reason emerged from the absurdity. He struggled fiercely, fighting with all his might to reclaim his awareness.

Suddenly, he sat up in the darkness, his back drenched in cold sweat, his lower body still painfully erect. The ambiguous afterimages continued to flash behind his eyes.

But then, rustling sounds came from beside him. Li Xuanci instinctively turned alertly toward the noise and saw Shiliu—wrapped up like a silkworm cocoon—drenched in sweat, her face flushed red as she squirmed within the blankets, emitting soft, trembling moans.

His heart tightened. He freed her from the layers of quilts and slapped her cheek without mercy, calling out, “Wake up.”

Shiliu opened her eyes dazedly, but they lacked clarity. Seeing only his reflection, she threw herself at him.

In the darkness, Li Xuanci felt an extremely hot body fall into his embrace—soft, as if molded from cream, so pliable it seemed even his bones would deform upon impact. And so warm it felt as though it might melt him.

Alive, radiating heat, with patches of smooth skin exposed, touching his own—each contact sent a thrilling pleasure coursing through him.

Soft, tender flesh pressed against his chest, pliant and delicate, creating ripples in his embrace as she twisted and struggled recklessly.

Below, a damp, warm softness brushed against his still-aroused member from the dream, evoking ambiguous sensations that spread like mist. With just a light touch, the sound of lingering water echoed, heating his ears.

And the person in his arms let out a soft cry—a voice tender enough to squeeze water from, yet carrying an improper seductiveness that trembled and hooked into madness.

“Brother,” she called out tremulously.

“Shiliu feels so strange. Shiliu wants to pee.”