Haven't Been a Senior Sister for Many Years - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Leng Junzhu (Cold Lord Bamboo)

Twilight deepened, and the wind howled as snow fell relentlessly.

The heavy clouds loomed like mountains and oceans, casting the entire sky into darkness. Chu Zhiqin walked through the snow-covered path; the snow had reached her ankles, and each soft step made a crunching sound. Snowflakes as sharp as blades dissolved midair before they could even touch her.

She exhaled a puff of white mist, softly coaxing the sulking little snake.

“Alright, don’t be mad anymore. We’re almost at the inn.”

“It’s my fault, I admit it. But you can’t keep biting me. You’ll hurt your teeth.”

Snakes hated the cold.

Since Chu Zhiqin had left the tavern, the green snake hiding in her sleeve had been frantically trying to burrow deeper inside, hissing in fury. Whenever the cold became unbearable, it would bite her pale arm to vent its frustration.

Chu Zhiqin treated this as a form of affection, continuing on at a steady pace.

With her cultivation level, even her physical body was so strong that most spiritual tools couldn’t harm her — let alone a green snake whose powers were sealed.

Those tiny fangs biting into her were no more than a tickle.

A warm, yellow glow from lanterns shone through the paper windows and onto the snow. Finally, wrapped in cold air, Chu Zhiqin stepped into an inn that was still lit and open.

The room’s temperature, though only slightly warmer than outside, was already a great relief to the green snake, which loosened a little but still clung tightly to Chu Zhiqin’s arm, absorbing warmth through their skin.

This inn was more spacious and well-lit than Qing Niangzi’s tavern, with many more customers drinking and eating in the hall.

As soon as Chu Zhiqin entered, several subtle glances swept over her. A few patrons whispered to each other in the corner, seemingly having recognized her identity.

She paid them no mind and walked straight to the front desk.

“One Tian-class room.”

The innkeeper didn’t even look up. “Apologies, but we’re fully booked.”

Clang! A jade token landed in front of the innkeeper with a crisp sound.

The innkeeper raised his eyes, saw the token, and immediately changed demeanor, carefully picking it up and examining it through his glasses.

In just a moment, the previously indifferent innkeeper hurried out from behind the counter, smiling obsequiously. “Of course we have a room! Forgive me, honored guest — your room has been reserved all along. Please, allow me to show you the way.”

This was a token reserved for elders and above from the Sword Pavilion!

Their boss had the good fortune of establishing a partnership with the Sword Pavilion, receiving a handsome sum of spirit stones each year. In return, the inn was required to always reserve one Tian-class room for anyone bearing this token — Sword Pavilion disciples could not be turned away.

This particular jade token was one that every innkeeper under their boss had to memorize. They recognized the token, not the bearer. Anyone possessing it must be treated with utmost care.

Remembering how dismissive he’d just been, the innkeeper broke into a cold sweat. Hopefully the guest would not hold it against him…

“I didn’t know you’d be arriving. Please forgive my lack of welcome,” he said as he led the way.

“Mm.” Chu Zhiqin didn’t seem to care about his shift in attitude. She simply wanted to find a room quickly — her arm was nearly out of safe places for the green snake to bite.

Seeing that she had no interest in small talk, the innkeeper quieted down.

“Here we are.” He stopped in front of a door, pushing it open without entering. “If it’s not to your liking, we can switch rooms.”

“No need,” Chu Zhiqin replied with a shake of her head.

“Very good. There’s a bell by the bed. If you need anything, just give it a shake. If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave.”

“Mm.”

The moment she entered the room, warmth enveloped her. A faint scent masked the heaviness of the charcoal heat. Chu Zhiqin removed her cloak and hung it on the rack.

As soon as the innkeeper left, the snake wrapped around her wrist eagerly transformed into a woman.

With eyebrows like distant mountains and seductive, almond-shaped eyes, she wore a smoky green robe that dragged across the floor like a blooming flower. Her hair was styled in a coiled serpent bun, adorned with jade earrings that shimmered against her pale earlobes.

“Aiya, I’m freezing. Should’ve stayed at that tavern instead of freezing myself half to death.”

“But you were quite generous—handing over a sixth-grade pill like it was nothing, and offering your storage pouch without blinking. Don’t tell me you’re acquainted with that tavern owner?”

It was the season when snakes were meant to hibernate. Though Leng Junzhu was no ordinary snake, she still detested the cold. As soon as she saw the warming brazier, she slouched lazily against it, her tone laced with mock complaints — though they sounded more like flirtation.

Chu Zhiqin wasn’t annoyed by the questioning. She answered each one calmly. “It was a small favor. I met her once as a child.”

Leng Junzhu scoffed. She didn’t bother probing further. When Chu Zhiqin said “as a child,” she meant when her oh-so-perfect senior sister brought her there once.

“Was what the Sword Immortal did to me also a ‘small favor’?” Still upset, she decided to poke at Chu Zhiqin’s wounds.

Suddenly, the woman leaning against the brazier fell into Chu Zhiqin’s arms. Boneless arms wrapped around her shoulders, their cheeks nearly touching — close enough that their breath mingled and the tiny hairs on their faces were visible.

More brazenly, the long trailing skirt turned into a smoky green snake tail, coiling around Chu Zhiqin’s body, rendering her immobile.

Though her cheeks burned, Chu Zhiqin didn’t resist. She let the snake tail idly brush against her calves.

“Back at the tavern… did you hear what they said?” Leng Junzhu gently cupped Chu Zhiqin’s face, her hands soft and smooth — nothing like the calloused hands of a swordswoman who’d held a blade for over a hundred years.

Each gentle stroke across her cheek felt like silk gliding on skin — slightly ticklish.

“They said the Sword Immortal had long forgotten her duties to the world, frolicking day and night with a demon realm enchantress like me.”

“They said the Sword Pavilion of the Nine Provinces was no longer your concern — only your pleasure with me.”

“Were they right, Sword Immortal?”

Chu Zhiqin pursed her lips. “Don’t call me that.”

Leng Junzhu, hearing no denial, grew more pleased. She smiled and brushed her thumb over Chu Zhiqin’s soft lips.

She had tasted them before.

Soft, sweet — something one would want to savor over and over.

“So what should I call you then?”

“Zhiqin?”

“Qin’er?”

“Or… Miss Chu?”

Her cold lips pressed down before Chu Zhiqin could answer.

The brazier crackled steadily, releasing waves of warmth. Yet cold hands snuck beneath her sleeves.

In her daze, Chu Zhiqin wondered — were all snakes naturally cold-blooded? Even though they were so tightly embraced, breaths intertwined, she still felt a chill deep within.

Ambiguous sounds filled the room. The faint scent of incense brushed past her nose. As the deep kiss nearly robbed her of air, her hands clutched unconsciously at Leng Junzhu’s shoulders, letting out soft, syrupy gasps.

She heard a quiet chuckle. Her breath finally returned. The wandering hands no longer roamed but instead gently tidied her messy hair.

“Junior sister.”

Junior sister.

Her dazed eyes refocused. Chu Zhiqin’s mind returned, and she looked up — straight into a pair of golden serpent eyes.

Instantly, she felt like she’d fallen into an icy abyss.

“No…” she shook her head, pleading, “At least don’t…”

Leng Junzhu ignored her, body cold as frost, pressing down. Her lithe snake tail slowly peeled away Chu Zhiqin’s clothes.

“Junior sister, your senior sister is so cold…”

The smoky green melted into a sea of white, whispering like spring rain.

The snow kept falling.

Time passed.

So long that the candles burned out.

So long that Chu Zhiqin drifted off to sleep.

In the darkness, a pair of golden serpent eyes opened.

Leng Junzhu raised her arm — on her pale wrist, a faint silvery chain shimmered.

Months ago, she had been the newly crowned Demon Sovereign, revered across the lands. Her bedmate? The aloof and noble Sword Immortal of the Sword Pavilion.

One duel. One defeat.

The Demon Sovereign became a prisoner. The Sword Immortal became a traitor in the eyes of the righteous.

This chain on her wrist sealed all her cultivation. She could no longer move freely. She had to rely on Chu Zhiqin — reduced to a parasitic vine. It was laughable.

Leng Junzhu sat up. Her bedmate still slept soundly.

This woman had shackled her, crushed her pride, then put on a righteous facade, begging for forgiveness.

Forgiveness.

Forgive what?

Forgive her for mistaking Leng Junzhu as her deceased senior sister and keeping her bound?

What a joke.

The victor rules, the defeated suffers. She had lost. She accepted it.

Leng Junzhu toyed with a lock of Chu Zhiqin’s hair that had fallen on the pillow. Silky strands slid between her fingers, reminding her of the moment they’d intertwined hands.

She lowered her head, her gaze tracing every feature of Chu Zhiqin’s face.

Round eyes. A delicate nose. Asleep, she looked less aloof and more innocent.

She should hate Chu Zhiqin.

But that hatred was always tangled with a shattered kind of love — so diluted it couldn’t be pure hate, and so faint it couldn’t be deep love.

It tormented her — too painful to love, too hollow to hate. Every time she saw Chu Zhiqin’s tear-streaked face, all her anger dissolved, and her heart ached uncontrollably.

She didn’t understand where this pain came from, or why her hand instinctively reached out to wipe away those tears.

Leng Junzhu gently caressed her face. The sleeping woman instinctively nuzzled her palm, murmuring softly like a small animal.

If I stay by your side, will I find the answer?

She sighed, gave up thinking, and slipped into Chu Zhiqin’s embrace.

This winter was just too cold.