Ling Ru Takes the Pill
Liu Zichu wandered the streets of Chun Xue Cheng until nightfall. This city was likely where he'd be settling down for the long haul, so getting familiar with it couldn't hurt.
From the original owner's memories, his aunt loved green plums—the sour kind. Who knew what that was about.
So Liu Zichu bought a bag of them. He personally sampled several vendors before finding ones so tart they nearly made his teeth ache.
The vendor was thrilled, figuring his stock was done for, only to discover someone actually liked that flavor.
With the green plums in hand, Liu Zichu wondered if he should pick up some flowers for his aunt too. Weren't women back home into that sort of thing?
But on second thought, she didn't seem the type.
As he meandered aimlessly, he spotted a group of street performers doing tricks. They peddled a local specialty called Da Li Wan pills.
Without a word, Liu Zichu bought a bottle. He dumped out the pills, compared their size to his Huan Chu Dan, and found them a match. He kept two Da Li Wan and tossed the rest, slipping the Huan Chu Dan inside.
Bag of tooth-tingling green plums in one hand, a bottle holding two Da Li Wan and one Huan Chu Dan in the other, Liu Zichu reviewed his plan one last time. Seemed solid. Time to head back to that godforsaken Beilu Street.
On the way, he gritted his teeth and punched himself in the face—twice. Hard.
For the sake of his own skin, he didn't hold back. Might as well pretend he was beating the crap out of that scumbag.
After half a year of brutal training, his fists packed a punch. The first swelled his cheek; the second drew blood from his nose, nearly breaking the bridge.
He grabbed a thick stick next and smashed it into his shin a few times. The pain made him hiss.
Too much. He couldn't go that far—gotta take care of the body. No breaking his own leg.
Still, he limped toward Chunxiao Pavilion, favoring the leg.
Spotting the brothel from afar, his heart skipped. The front gate lay splintered across the street, cleaved by some furious demoness.
A chill ran through him. Without his drastic measure, that could've been him scattered there.
He wiped the crusted blood from his nose, but his cheek stayed puffy, nose red, streaks of blood lingering. Limp pronounced, paper bag crumpled and dirtied.
This look screamed "just got the shit kicked out of him."
At least that's what Ling Ru thought when she saw Liu Zichu hobble in, looking like death warmed over.
Someone finally beat him? Good riddance. Whoever did it was doing the world a favor.
After being ignored all day, her rage had cooled from "pound him to paste" to "leave him a whole corpse, for sister's sake."
She was furious. Treating her like a whore? Outrageous. Sure, her private life was... loose, but not that loose. Not whore material for this scum.
Liu Zichu spotted his aunt in the hall, her icy gaze appraising him like roadkill. He mustered a pitiful look—hurt but stoic—and thrust out the bag.
"Auntie, I was wrong. Really wrong. That was just me messing around—don't take it seriously. Look, I got the finest green plums just for you, as an apology."
As he spoke, he dropped to his knees like in the memories—proper contrition for elders—holding the bag aloft with both hands.
First things first: sincere groveling. He knew he was in the wrong.
Sure, the brothel needed girls to open, so he'd listed her in the system out of desperation. But that excuse wouldn't fly. It was an insult, plain and simple.
He wasn't that scumbag Liu Zichu. He was the model youth from back home—virtuous, talented, fit, beautiful, and hardworking.
So own it quick and beg humbly.
Ling Ru was taken aback by the sincerity, but her face stayed frosted. No favors for this trash nephew.
Still, the earnest apology nagged at her. This wasn't the Liu Zichu she knew.
Hers was lecherous, brutish, spoiled, reckless, heartless, soulless—ten thousand deaths too few.
He'd grovel after big screw-ups, sure, but only after Grandpa Liu beat him with a stick. Crocodile tears, back to bastardry once healed.
This one? Kneeling, sincere, even knew her plum preference and brought them as amends.
Had Liu Zichu really changed?
Her heart stirred. Personally, she couldn't care less if he reformed. Changed or not, his crimes warranted endless deaths.
But her sister... how many tears, how much heartbreak for this wretch? If—just if—he showed a glimmer of remorse...
Of course, beyond the kneeling, those bruises helped douse her fury. Women were emotional creatures; pity stirred at misery. And Liu Zichu needed that pity—it was life insurance.
No way she'd kill him now, anger cooled, apology landed, pity engaged. At worst, maimed.
Her cold eyes fixed on the kneeling boy. She sighed. Scum like him? Heaven would handle it. His nature would doom him soon enough, no help from her.
She skipped the whore business—childish nonsense, not worth dignifying—and turned to leave.
"Auntie! Believe me, I know I messed up. These plums? Picked special for you. Try 'em."
She paused, glanced back at his battered, wincing face. No interest in the fruit.
But: "What happened to your face?"
Classic Liu Zichu—stirring trouble. Backed by thugs before; now alone, beaten. Fair enough.
Liu Zichu inwardly cheered. Finally!
Pulling a aggrieved face: "Mugged. They roughed me up. But don't worry, Auntie—I chased 'em off."
Her fine brows furrowed. Those muscles from the other day? Could fend off a few punks.
"Robbed?" Skeptical. Ragged clothes, buff build—who'd target that?
"Maybe I flashed some cash."
He set the bag down gently, fished out the bottle, and showed her. "See this? Bought it special for you. Probably when I pulled out the hundred-tael note, they spotted it."
Her gaze locked on the plain porcelain vial.
"Nonsense!"
Bought her mystery pills, flashed cash, got jumped? Plausible tale, but from him? Scum buying her meds? Aphrodisiacs, maybe.
Ludicrous.
Liu Zichu panicked. "Auntie, it's true! That old Daoist said it'd beautify, keep you young forever, extend life—perfect for a stunning young lady like you. I... I felt so bad letting you down, had to make it right. Fifty taels, gone."
Ling Ru: "……"
Beautify, eternal youth, longevity??? Obvious quackery. If pills did that, why bother cultivating?
Daoist scam, plain. But this idiot bought it? Spent fifty taels?
Complex feelings stirred. She'd given him 120 total; half on junk "for her"?
Anyone else that dumb, even her icy heart might thaw a bit.
But Liu Zichu? The scum? Only motive: fuck her. Drug her. Unrepentant.
Her eyes chilled further.
Yet his aggrieved puppy face softened her edge.
He was aggrieved—a model youth saddled with this bastard's sins. Anyone would gripe.
His recent behavior chipped at her walls. No arrogance, no crude flirting. Like a new man.
Day one, yeah, he'd ogled her cleavage, tented his pants.
But her allure was potent; normal for men. Sect brothers, uncles—plenty fantasized, jerked to her portraits.
Hate them all? What about the ones who'd actually pinned her, plowed her holes raw?
She exhaled deeply. Let him fantasize. Disgusting from scum, but if he behaved, no need to dwell.
The "pill"? Laughable.
Laughable, but fifty taels wasted on a con. Irked her.
"Daoist trickery," she said coldly.
She turned again; he yelled: "Auntie, no scam! I'm not dumb. Tested it—smells amazing."
To prove it, he uncorked the bottle, stood despite the limp, and thrust it high. "Smell for yourself."
Instinctively, she stepped back. Poison gas? Knockout fumes to rape her?
Not ego; he'd done worse—cum in sisters' tea, drugged women endless times. Nothing beneath him.
But her cultivation shrugged off mortal toxins.
The retreat? Pure revulsion at his approach.
Yet a rich, soothing fragrance wafted out. Thick, soul-refreshing. Her eyes widened in surprise.
Sect life meant pills aplenty. Cultivator elixirs differed from mortal trash—one hallmark: pill fragrance.
Premium ones had it strong. This? Undeniably cultivator-grade, high quality.
Inconceivable. This fool got a real pill? So potent too.
Unlike newbie Liu Zichu, she knew premium pills' worth. She snatched it mid-air, corked it fast—fragrance loss hurt potency. Idiot nearly ruined it.
Liu Zichu blinked—gone!—but grinned inwardly. Hands behind back: not taking it back, ever.
When he'd pulled the Huan Chu Dan from the system, its intense scent hit him. Even he knew: powerful stuff.
Auntie was sharp; she'd spot it. Hence the scheme.
Rare hesitation cracked her frosty mask. His gift, sure, but... what did it do? That scent promised something.
Eternal youth? Nah, hype. But effects? Guaranteed.
He hopped back, grinning ingratiatingly. "See, Auntie? Old Daoist was legit. Knew he wasn't scamming."
Her gaze complicated, but: "I don't need it." She raised her arm to toss it.
He spun, arms crossed, back turned. "Auntie, it's my apology. Throw it if you want—let it shatter."
Ling Ru: "……"
She yanked back—nearly wasted treasure.
As she wavered: "Auntie, I get you're wary—poison fears. But I've changed. Not that guy anymore. I'll stay out till tomorrow. Safe now?"
He bolted without looking back, limping into the night. Glanced at the wrecked gate: dodged a bullet.
Pill's charm? Up to fate.
He vanished, leaving Ling Ru clutching the vial, flustered by his antics.
She glided to the door, watching his limping silhouette fade into the dark. Mixed emotions churned.
This nephew... really different? True remorse, reform? Or theater?
She shook her head. Couldn't read him anymore.
But the vial...
She uncorked gently, inhaled. The intoxicating fragrance flooded her, body clearing like mist burned away.
Corked, she returned to her room. Tipped out the pills: two mundane mortal ones, one premium cultivator-grade.
Why mix them? Daoist's quirk?
Baffling. But no wasting that scent. She inspected her way—confirmed harmless.
Eyes closed, she popped it in, sat cross-legged, hands forming seals. True qi circulated, dissolving the power.
Simplest ID: swallow, feel changes.
Down it went. Under qi, potency surged, flooding her body, nourishing flesh and bone.
Beauty pill after all? Shock.
Then—most power dove southward.
Face stiffening in meditation, heat bloomed below. Pussy warming, ass softening pleasurably.
Blissful. Her folds quivered, leaking arousal like heat.
In-drug? Targeting holes—fooled again!
No—dismissed. Sect abusers dosed her for fun often. Aphrodisiacs scorched hotter, muddled minds.
Hers stayed clear, no fevered lust. Just gentle throbs, warm comfort. Pure pleasure.
What... was this pill? So improper.