The Universe-Overturning Silk wrapped so tightly that Shuanglian's brows furrowed slightly. As she twisted her body, the red silk wound even tighter, as if alive, pressing into her fair skin and leaving red marks.
When she cried out in pain, the Universe-Overturning Silk sensed its master's intent and loosened its grip.
Shuanglian had no clothes to cover herself, able only to use the Universe-Overturning Silk and her long hair to conceal parts of her body. Nezha played with the ends of her hair, touched her face—but when his hand brushed her cheek, Shuanglian had just freed herself from the silk's binding, the red ribbon draped carelessly over her body like a restraint, or like flowing crimson waves.
Startled by his touch, she tried to retreat. But her clam shell had been pushed into the water by Nezha, leaving Shuanglian with nowhere to hide, perched awkwardly in his arms.
Retreat? That meant sitting naked before him draped only in the Universe-Overturning Silk. Move forward… wouldn't that mean burrowing straight into Nezha's embrace?
Caught between a rock and a hard place, Nezha had already tired of her hair—soft and cool to the touch, pleasant to stroke—and his hands moved on, poking at her cheek. The person hiding in his arms protested, and Nezha poked again, a little harder this time.
Shuanglian made a miserable face. "Third Prince Nezha, please don't bully me."
Nezha: "Who's bullying you? Let me hear."
They were close now. Nezha's lashes were long, his face beautiful beyond what should belong to a boy, lowered as he looked at her, arrogance born of heaven hidden deep in his eyes.
He had no concept of bullying in his heart. He only wanted to study her thoroughly, to understand why this tiny Clam Spirit made his mouth water, afflicted him with this strange and rare ailment.
Nezha's fingers pinched Shuanglian's cheek, smiling. "Little Clam Spirit, your face is so soft."
He smiled, his strength controlled, kept within just the right range. If she turned her face away to struggle, she would feel a faint sting of pain.
Shuanglian inexplicably shrank her neck. The look in Nezha's eyes wasn't that of a tyrant bullying men and women—more like a child determined to have his way, who would turn heaven and earth upside down if refused.
Seeing her flinch away, Nezha blinked. Today his hair was tied in twin buns, red shadow at the corners of his eyes slanting toward his temples, his gaze fixed straight on her.
Since becoming a god, Nezha had shed many human traits. His pupils were colder than they had been in Chentang Pass, looking at everything as if it were lifeless. But now, staring at her, sparks of flame seemed to kindle in his eyes: "Hiding?"
Shuanglian dared not move again, letting him pinch the soft flesh of her cheek.
Having touched her face and hair, his next step was to claim her entirely. Such was Nezha's nature—what he wanted, he took. His palm pushed the person in his arms slightly away, cold air and his gaze flooding into Shuanglian's exposed skin, making her squirm and burrow back into his embrace.
"Third Prince Nezha, I… I don't have any clothes…"
Nezha paid it no mind: "Who isn't born naked into this world? Don't I usually eat and sleep with you like this?"
Shuanglian: "That's different."
Nezha wore a puzzled expression: "How is it different?"
His eyes traveled downward. Her body was naturally fair, loosely wrapped in the Universe-Overturning Silk, covering most of her. At his gaze, her neck and face flushed pink.
Red, white, and pink, set against her waterfall of ink-black hair—Nezha felt these colors together made a remarkably pleasing sight.
Nezha: "It's not different."
Pretty. Adorable. He could swallow her whole in one bite.
Nezha poked the grown Clam Spirit. With a cry of "ah ya," she hugged him, looking so pitiful that his throat went dry.
Nezha turned his face away, and for once showed mercy to the pitiful Clam Spirit, easily lifting the one in his arms.
Shuanglian was suddenly hoisted into the air. Afraid of falling, she could only wrap her legs around Nezha's lean waist. The moment her legs locked on, she regretted it.
Nezha's waist was adorned with red cords, golden rings, and other ornaments she couldn't name—cold and rough against her skin. As he walked toward the couch, the uneven protruding surfaces chafed and made her tremble, so she clung to Nezha even tighter.
Nezha found it strange. His hand reached down to feel, asking: "What's wrong with you? Why do you keep wetting me?"
The pink on Shuanglian's skin deepened. Shame and humiliation overwhelmed her, and she pressed her lips together, sobbing. "No… I'm not… I'm not sick."
Nezha first brought his nose to sniff, then his thin lips—usually pressed downward—parted, taking the tip of his finger into his mouth, before saying: "The life-water that a Clam Spirit guards with her life has all been scared out of you."
Shuanglian: …Wuu.
Nezha, however, thought the Clam Spirit was truly delicate—he'd only carried her two steps without holding her properly, and she was scared half to death. "I'm really unlucky, getting stuck with you."
The poor little Clam Spirit had grievances she couldn't voice, and could only accept her fate, yielding to the Third Prince's privilege.
Nezha set the Clam Spirit on the couch, and she hurriedly pulled the blanket over herself. That blanket had been chosen from the Jade Emperor's gifts, woven from Kraken Silk, and Nezha had made it into a nest for the Clam Spirit.
Nezha looked back at the clam shell left behind—there was no pearl inside. He turned to look at Shuanglian on the couch, covered in Kraken Silk, the Universe-Overturning Silk dangling loosely around her slender ankle. There was nowhere to hide that pearl.
"Where's the pearl?" Nezha asked.
Shuanglian's eyes darted away: "It's gone."
Fine. Nezha knew that if she dared lie once, she'd dare lie twice. For now, he wouldn't press the Clam Spirit on it—he'd settle the account later.
There were no women's clothes in Yunlou Palace. Nezha rummaged out one of his own underrobes and tossed it onto the couch: "Either wear this, or the Universe-Overturning Silk."
Shuanglian shook her ankle—the Universe-Overturning Silk was wrapped around her calf, refusing to fall off. She grabbed the oversized underrobe and changed into it. Because the garment was too large, the collar hung open, revealing a stretch of skin.
When Nezha turned back, he saw Shuanglian wearing the loose white underrobe, a small expanse of skin visible at the collar, rolling up her sleeves to reveal her forearms.
The Universe-Overturning Silk revealed only one end, the other tucked beneath the bedclothes, perhaps wrapped around a leg, or slipped beneath the undergarments.
Nezha: "Freshly born, can't even fit into the clothes I wore to the Heavenly Court?"
Shuanglian lowered their head, buttoning up, while Nezha's sharp tongue spared no one, yet their gaze followed like a shadow, watching for a long while, until their heart began to race.
Neither spoke a word. Nezha threw back the covers, climbed into bed, pulled the Clam Spirit into their arms, and buried their head in the hollow of Shuanglian's neck.
Shuanglian dared not move: "Third Prince Nezha, there is a difference between men and women."
The breath exhaled was warm, spilling into Shuanglian's neck hollow, but Nezha wasn't listening at all: "Mm, mm."
After shape-shifting, the body was even cooler to the touch. Nezha held tight, one leg pressing against Shuanglian's bare leg. Today, dressed neatly, separated by only a thin layer of fabric.
Shuanglian felt Nezha go quiet, their breathing steady, as if asleep. Longing for the treasure given to them, Shuanglian slowly closed their eyes.
Once Shuanglian was fast asleep, Nezha lifted their head from the neck hollow and gazed for the time it takes to burn a stick of incense. Fine brows, eyes closed in smooth arcs, pale lips slightly parted, breathing steady, the chest pressed close rising and falling gently.
Nezha had seen enough. Opening their mouth, they bit gently into the soft flesh of Shuanglian's cheek. The taste was different from the fingers—soft and cool. Nezha ground it with teeth, without force.
The next morning, when Shuanglian rose from bed, there was a red mark on their face. Rubbing it with a hand did nothing.
Looking at Nezha, who had returned from training: "Third Prince, are there flying insects in the Heavenly Court?"
Nezha stripped off the upper garment, revealing a youth's lean, strong torso: "How dare you—a mere Clam Spirit—accuse me of being a flying insect?"
"?" Shuanglian, "Huh?"
Nezha: "I sucked it."