Haven't Been a Senior Sister for Many Years - Chapter 18

Chapter 18:  The Kiss

While snow still blanketed Fuxian Town, a small town in the southern part of Jiuzhou had already embraced a warm and gentle spring.

Young girls had shed their heavy winter coats in favor of brightly colored spring dresses, strolling along the lakeside, chatting about which family’s spring wardrobe was the most fashionable.

A few paper kites danced in the azure sky, and crisp laughter drifted from the grassy banks of the lake.

A small boat floated gently amidst lotus leaves and blooms, carving shimmering ripples across the calm, clear lake.

The spring breeze lifted a corner of the boat’s curtain. Blue and white intertwined—ambiguous and inseparable.

The woman whom countless cultivators across Jiuzhou wanted to hunt down was at this moment drinking and reveling in the tender, romantic water town.

A small green snake nestled lazily in Chu Zhiqin’s arms, refusing to move. Her pale arm swayed a jug of peach blossom wine, her pallid cheeks tinged faintly pink from the alcohol, lips moist and red.

The drunken snake would occasionally lift its head to sneak a kiss, leaving Chu Zhiqin flushed with embarrassment.

“Stop messing around.” Before her heart gave out, Chu Zhiqin grasped Leng Junzhu’s mischievous hand, trying to rescue her crumbling self-control.

But the little snake turned the tables. That boneless, delicate body shifted with the momentum, going from lying on her back to laying chest-down in Chu Zhiqin’s arms. She cooed softly, “Sister is so rough, you’re hurting my hand…”

The person in her arms was like a ripe peach, or perhaps a clingy piece of glutinous rice cake. Her neckline had unknowingly fallen open, revealing blindingly pale skin that stirred Chu Zhiqin’s heart.

“Why won’t you look at me?” At some point the wine jug had been thrown to the ground, soaking a large part of her skirt. Soft hands cupped Chu Zhiqin’s face, and a wet kiss landed on her chin—then on her lips.

What followed was a light nibble and lick. Full lips enveloped hers wantonly, and something even hotter and softer pried open her mouth, slipping inside. She felt wrapped in the mellow intoxication of aged peach blossom wine.

Chu Zhiqin tasted the scent of peach blossoms.

She chased that slippery little “snake,” crystal droplets of un-swallowed moisture trickling down her chin and onto their tightly pressed chests, their breath scalding hot.

Chu Zhiqin melted into that deep kiss. The cunning snake took the opportunity to pin her down, hands held above her head, forced to look up and continue enduring her kiss.

The snake’s icy tail never tired of exploring her body. Her clothes scattered to the floor, soft petals were ravaged without mercy, weeping tears of arousal.

“Mm…” Scorching tears slid into her jet-black hair. Chu Zhiqin couldn’t help letting out a soft whimper, yet the person on top of her had no intention of letting go, coldly watching her unravel.

“What if someone sees us?” Icy breath blew against Chu Zhiqin’s flushed earlobe. She shook her head and tried to recoil, desperate to escape the suffocating embrace.

Leng Junzhu grabbed her chin and forced her gaze upward. “What about that boat at ten o’clock? A pretty young girl gathering lotus flowers. I’m sure a Sword Immortal like you would love her.”

“No…” Even with her clothes disheveled, cheeks still crimson, and her chin held in a threatening grip, Chu Zhiqin showed no fear. Her eyes looked directly into Leng Junzhu’s, unflinching despite the tears at their corners. They only made her look more stubborn.

Leng Junzhu’s hand trembled uncontrollably.

Those eyes.

She remembered them from that day, amid the sea of flames. Eyes that haunted her in the depths of her memory, tormenting her emotions, making her suffer and yearn for a touch she could never have.

They were so close now—yet still out of reach.

Because those eyes had never once lingered for her.

A chill spread from Leng Junzhu’s limbs to her heart.

She let go, wiping away Chu Zhiqin’s tears with false tenderness. “How could I bear to see you upset? I was only teasing. There’s no lotus girl.”

Indeed, there was no such girl. The lake was vast, with only a few distant boats, the nearest over a hundred meters away.

Leng Junzhu had only said that to make Chu Zhiqin look more pitiful. Unfortunately, her twisted amusement didn’t pan out.

“This place is boring. Let’s go somewhere else,” she said, snuggling into Chu Zhiqin’s lap just as she sat up. “I heard there’s a temple fair tonight. Let’s go together.”

Chu Zhiqin knew she was changing the subject but had no way to refuse.

She never could stay angry at Leng Junzhu.

“Alright,” Chu Zhiqin agreed.

The boat was left among the lotus leaves as Chu Zhiqin wrapped her arm around Leng Junzhu and flew across the lake toward their inn.

The locals along the lakeside barely glanced at them—flying cultivators were nothing new. They had no idea that the ones passing overhead were the very people who had disrupted the stability of Jiuzhou that had taken centuries to build.

“I don’t want to go back yet,” Leng Junzhu tugged at Chu Zhiqin’s sleeve as they neared the inn. “I’m tired of wearing the same clothes every day.”

Clearly, she wanted to go shopping.

“Alright.” Chu Zhiqin changed direction and brought her to the market district.

The two fugitives, wanted by the righteous sects of Jiuzhou, merely used a light illusion to disguise themselves, strolling boldly through the streets of Anning Town.

The town was already bustling in anticipation of the night’s temple fair. Stalls lined the streets, shops were brightly decorated, and everyone wore cheerful smiles.

It was too late for custom tailoring, so Chu Zhiqin skipped the fabric shops and stopped at a ready-to-wear boutique.

The clerk was a young girl just past coming-of-age, with a sweet, round face, almond eyes, and dimples when she smiled.

Seeing the two women at the door, she beamed brightly, “Would the ladies like to come in? We just stocked new spring styles—beautiful designs and the finest fabrics.”

Leng Junzhu strolled right in. After browsing a bit, she pointed decisively. “Not that one, or that one—but I’ll take all the others. And those few over there, wrap them up too.”

She was bold and generous—a merchant’s dream customer.

The girl quickly did the mental math but kept her hands steady, efficiently wrapping the clothes.

Soon enough, everything Leng Junzhu pointed to was neatly packed. “Here you are, miss.”

“Mm.” She nodded, then turned to Chu Zhiqin with a smile.

Chu Zhiqin dutifully stored the purchases in her storage ring and paid the bill—every bit the obedient sugar mama.

The girl beamed as she saw them out.

This one sale earned her a month or two’s wages. She silently hoped for more customers like them.

After that, Leng Junzhu dragged Chu Zhiqin into a jewelry shop called Yu Xuan Pavilion.

The store was filled with fragrant incense. Glass cases displayed dazzling jade and gold ornaments in every hue imaginable.

A new clerk stepped forward. “Welcome! What can I help you with today?”

Leng Junzhu tilted her chin slightly. “Everything.”

And so the clothing shop scene repeated itself in the jewelry store.

Before the shocked eyes of the shopkeeper and staff, Leng Junzhu practically bought out every visible piece of jade. She even asked for their most prized treasure, only to be told the owner had taken it away.

“That’s fine. I’m tired anyway.” She was especially fond of a snake-shaped hairpin—green jade carved into a coiled serpent with a diamond-shaped white mark on its forehead.

She slipped it into her bun. “How do I look?”

“Beautiful,” Chu Zhiqin replied sincerely.

Leng Junzhu looked pleased.

After paying, they stepped outside. The sky was now dyed with the brilliant reds of sunset, lake shimmering in golden hues. Red lanterns lit up one by one. The air filled with the sweet scent of candied treats and savory lamb broth.

“I want that,” Leng Junzhu pointed to a vendor selling candied hawthorn skewers.

“Alright.” Chu Zhiqin took her hand and walked over.

“One skewer, please.”

“Two copper coins.”

Chu Zhiqin handed over the coins. Leng Junzhu, who had never tried candied hawthorn before, curiously examined it and took a bite.

Its tart sweetness barely passed her standards. After a few bites, she grew bored. Her hands became sticky from the syrup.

“Ugh, so sticky.” She frowned in disgust.

Chu Zhiqin pulled out a handkerchief and some clean water, carefully cleaning each of Leng Junzhu’s fingers. “All done.”

“Hmph. At least you’re useful.” She generously handed over the half-eaten skewer wrapped in the handkerchief. “Here, your reward.”

Such shamelessness.

But truly—like pot and lid, shamelessness suited one who never minded.

Chu Zhiqin took the sticky skewer without complaint, calmly munching what was left.

Leng Junzhu smiled and asked, “Is it sweet?”

Chu Zhiqin swallowed and answered, “Very sweet.”

She hadn’t tasted such sweetness in over a hundred years.

The last time had been when her senior sister brought one back after a training trip—sticky and half-melted from her warm hands. Chu Zhiqin had eaten it without hesitation, smiling as her senior sister fretted. “It’s very sweet,” she’d said.

Now, in the golden sunset amidst the crowded street, Chu Zhiqin was momentarily transported—seeing that past senior sister, the one who always worried whether her little junior had enough to eat or wear, always bringing back small trinkets from her travels.

Leng Junzhu’s smile slowly faded, her magically hidden snake eyes faintly visible in the dusk.

She hated seeing that nostalgic expression on Chu Zhiqin’s face.

Senior sister. Senior sister.

She, Leng Junzhu, was not Chu Zhiqin’s senior sister.

“Let’s go. I want lamb soup,” she said coldly, voice unreadable.

Chu Zhiqin, snapped out of her memory, immediately sensed her displeasure. She didn’t know what she’d done wrong, and could only follow behind, anxious and unsure.

The swelling crowd gradually pushed the two apart. Chu Zhiqin wanted to grab Leng Junzhu’s hand at her waist but feared being shaken off. She could only stare at her back, afraid she’d disappear if she looked away.

Night had fallen completely. The only light came from countless lanterns and a bright moon.

More and more people flocked to the fair. Children shrieked as they ran between stalls, their candied skewers brushing strangers’ clothes, enraging some—but they just laughed and chased the dragon dancers.

One little boy, still missing teeth, ran straight into Chu Zhiqin’s leg. She caught him before he fell, and he quickly thanked her before darting away.

When she looked up again, the woman with the snake-shaped hairpin was gone—vanished into the crowd.

Chu Zhiqin stared blankly at her empty hand.

She had lost her senior sister again.