The mirror surface was cool, but Nezha's body burned with alarming heat—his fingers too. His mouth said "help me dress," but in truth, the undergarments, long skirt, top robe, and outer garments had all been tossed aside among the wooden racks. The shopkeeper and customers outside made not a sound.
Shuanglian realized belatedly—the gold ingot Nezha had given was enough to send them away.
Her hands tried to cover as much as possible. Naively, she thought that if she covered herself, the code wouldn't be too exposed, right?
But Shuanglian clearly underestimated the person before her. Nezha's brows arched slightly, arms crossed, leaning askew against the wooden rack, his gaze fixed on her flustered face, on the body that couldn't be hidden no matter how she moved.
She covered herself, but her arms weren't long enough. She crouched, but her back would show. She reached for her clothes, but that meant letting go.
The more Shuanglian blocked, the more Nezha watched. Like a cat spotting a swaying feather—unable to look away, until its paw pressed the feather beneath its cushion.
Pressed beneath—then what?
Nezha didn't do anything for a moment. His hands followed instinct, gripping the Clam Spirit's wrists and pulling them outward.
The Clam Spirit froze, completely exposed, not even a single feather left. He didn't use force, like prying open a child's fingers to reveal the hidden candy.
That pitiful bit of cover vanished, and Nezha found his candy.
Nezha's past life was born in Chentang Pass, spending seven carefree years. He had once asked Li Jing and Lady Yin for candy. It had been many years since he'd had sweets—so long it felt like another era—but fortunately, Nezha still remembered what candy tasted like.
He lifted his eyelids to glance at the Clam Spirit and asked, "Was what I gave you before tasty?"
The Clam Spirit nodded.
"Let me have a taste." Nezha lowered his head. His thin lips parted slightly, just like the Clam Spirit eating the Alchemy Pill—first touching, then holding it in his mouth, grinding it carefully.
As a child, getting candy made him happy. Now Nezha had grown up, but his nature remained the same—a child eating candy didn't ask "will you give me some" or "I want to eat." He just felt it was soft, sweet, and took another bite. The Clam Spirit trembled violently, letting out a tiny sound from above his head.
Nezha didn't listen, focused on eating his candy.
He squinted his eyes in satisfaction, while the little Clam Spirit's dazed expression was welded to her face, motionless.
He was earnest, his expression holding no danger. Even because of his youthful features, he looked somewhat naive and adorable.
After all, children had no ill intentions. Adults didn't stop eating candy; they would keep eating. She didn't resist him, thought it tasted good, hadn't had enough.
The candy wrapper was torn open, the taste sampled. When one piece was finished, he would naturally reach out for more.
Nezha had no reservations—greedy from head to toe, an insatiable abyss.
He mumbled "the other side." Shuanglian's back suddenly pressed against the mirror surface. Two strands of hair fell from the sides of her face, brushing against her skin, tickling.
Shuanglian bit her lip. But… but Nezha wasn't a child anymore; he had grown up.
He was taller than her, needing to bend down, one hand gripping her waist to arch her body backward. He wasn't candy either, yet he was held in his mouth, clutched in his palm—couldn't melt away, couldn't escape.
The claim that children had no ill intentions was a lie!
Nezha's head was resting against her chest, like a child nestling in a harbor. But when she inadvertently looked down, she saw Nezha's eyes rolled upward, lashes raised, lips wrapped around—his expression was completely different from moments ago.
His dark, murky pupils stared straight at her—that was clearly the expression of a grown man. He released his mouth, lips wet, Adam's apple bobbing, his eyes locked on her the entire time.
Shuanglian forgot all her shyness, meeting his eyes, receiving the signal he released. Nezha was telling her—he'd tasted the flavor.
And then, you know what comes next.
I want more. Are you ready?
He ignored her dazed stillness and continued. This time, he wasn't eating candy anymore, because he pinned her hands above her head against the mirror, the Clam Spirit's toes barely touching the ground. The youth was fully dressed, only his lean waist and hips pressed against the Clam Spirit's legs. His kisses were fine and dense, nibbling as he kissed.
The immortal's lower robes were elaborate, not easy to remove. It seemed he hadn't thought to take them off first—he just pressed the Clam Spirit directly, lips kissing her mouth, hands wandering.
The lower robes hung like a skirt, various ornaments clinking and clanging. The noise irritated Nezha to no end. Just as he was about to tear them off, a familiar voice came from outside the fitting room.
"Nezha, third brother! Where have you gone off to again? The Great Heavenly Lord is hosting a banquet, summoning us all to celebrate the capture of the demon monkey!"
Nezha looked up, loosening his grip. The poor little Clam Spirit hung limply on him, covered in marks, sobbing softly.
He gathered the Clam Spirit's limp arms, slipped her undergarments back on, and deftly tied the red cord with his fingers. Then, lifting her legs, Nezha knelt on one knee to put on her shoes and socks, attending to her like a servant, dressing her piece by piece.
Outside, Muzha grew impatient, thinking Nezha was up to mischief again: "Third brother, why have you been going down to the mortal realm so often lately? Something on your mind?"
Nezha said nothing. He lifted the curtain and led out a Clam Spirit with red-rimmed eyes. She wore a pink-blue long skirt, like a mortal daughter, following behind Nezha without daring to raise her head.
Muzha was not as sharp-edged as Nezha. Now a disciple under Guanyin, his temperament was steady and loyal. Seeing this scene, he was naturally both shocked and angered—a god and a demon joining together, willingly debasing themselves. If this reached the Jade Emperor and the Queen Mother, it would be the Crime of Divine Mortal Longing.
But the person before him—even their father couldn't control Nezha back then, so what could a second brother do?
Muzha silently summoned the Auspicious Clouds, stepping aboard to leave, dropping only a single line: "Do not be negligent." Nezha pinched Shuanglian's cheek, and she turned her face away.
He had the Wind and Fire Wheels, but Shuanglian did not. Nezha conjured up several magical artifacts—his collection of treasures was vast, rivaling an armory. There were countless flying implements: blades, ropes, and more, each radiating a heavy malevolent aura, stained with who knows how much blood.
Nezha rummaged through them, picking and choosing, until he pulled out a soft, white cloud. "Here, take this one—the ugliest of the lot."
The auspicious cloud was actually beautiful, so beautiful it seemed out of place. The moment it landed in her palm, it grew larger, like a little lamb. Shuanglian climbed onto the cloud—it was incredibly soft, cradling her with a weightless float.
Shuanglian let out a startled gasp, her fingers clutching the cloud tightly as she drifted up into the air.
Nezha stepped onto his Wind and Fire Wheels, the wind howling past as he flew to her side. He could have gone fast, but he didn't rush—he lingered lazily beside her.
Shuanglian floated higher and higher, fear creeping into her heart. The cloud sensed her fright and slowed its pace.
Gradually, towns and villages shrank smaller and smaller below. She craned her neck, curiously gazing at the great rivers and lakes on the ground, where specks of people moved like beans.
Nezha's tone carried impatience: "Why so slow?"
With that, he darted around—one moment reaching out to touch her drifting hair, the next tugging at her sash. He flitted back and forth in the air, and Shuanglian couldn't catch him at all. Her hand waved through empty space, grasping only a wisp of wind.
Nezha flew ahead, turning back with a grin.
Shuanglian grew a bit flustered. She reached down and patted the cloud's rump, urging it: "Hurry up!"
The cloud picked up a little speed, but still lagged. Shuanglian was certain Nezha was doing this on purpose. Frustrated with no outlet, she slapped the cloud again, harder: "Faster, faster! Don't slack off!"
Nezha kept laughing, and his laughter made her blush. Combined with the strong winds at high altitude, Shuanglian bent low, burying her face into the soft cloud.
As it happened, Muzha wasn't around. Nezha flew back and gave a light smack on her arched lower back.
Shuanglian: "…"
How could he be this mischievous!
She stretched out her arm to grab Nezha's hand, but the sluggish cloud couldn't catch up at all.
Shuanglian slapped the cloud once more, and it shot forward, darting right up to Nezha. She reached out and pinched his cheek, not hard: "What, not convinced?"
Shuanglian clumsily tried to tug at the long hair hanging over his chest, but Nezha dodged, and she stumbled along with the cloud instead.
Nezha laughed without restraint. When she couldn't catch up, he stopped and waited, and the two of them advanced slowly together.
Muzha had waited for quite a while without seeing them, so he could only hover ahead. Finally, he spotted the two of them chasing each other.
He let out a sigh and flew ahead, matching their pace.
The Heavenly Peace Assembly was urgent, but there was nothing he could do. Muzha didn't know how to discipline his third brother. If he had to say one thing to Nezha, he'd look at the lawless Nezha, then at the little clam spirit, and just mutter "99."
The three of them wasted considerable time before finally arriving at the Heavenly Peace Assembly.
Muzha, his face tinged with shame, descended from the cloud first and bowed in turn to the Jade Emperor, Ruyi, Guanyin, King Li, and the others.
The Jade Emperor asked, "Where is Nezha?"
Muzha hesitated before speaking: "He'll be here shortly. Only… he brought a young lady—a clam spirit from the sea."
The rules of heaven did not permit immortals to harbor mortal affections. Had it been any other deity, this would have sparked another spectacular catastrophe.
But the protagonist of this story was Nezha—the divide between god and demon, an immortal's longing for the mortal world—none of these were rules before Nezha. The Third Prince was utterly fearless, utterly lawless.
Muzha glanced at the expressions of the high gods above, and to his surprise, they were calm—even pleased.
After all, the three realms had long suffered under Nezha's antics.