Exposed! Encounter with the Childlike Beauty
Yang Zhurou returned to the hospital and headed toward Song Lianwei's room. It was deep into the night; she'd just handled an emergency at the company and was feeling a bit worn out, yawning as her steps quickened with anticipation.
Tap, tap, tap... The sharp clicks of her high heels echoed loudly and abruptly through the silent hospital lobby, rhythmic as they carried into the distance. Her slender, straight, porcelain-white calves were bared to the air, swaying noticeably with each stride.
Click-click— Finally, she stopped in front of Room 17, casually pushing the door open.
Click. With the sound of the door swinging shut behind her, Yang Zhurou stepped inside and closed it.
"Hm?" As she entered, Yang Zhurou was about to shrug off her coat and flop onto the spare bed for some rest when a strange smell hit her. She couldn't decide if it was pleasant or repulsive, but it made her deeply uncomfortable all the same.
And... it felt a little familiar?
Yang Zhurou frowned and looked toward the bed. There sat Song Lianwei at the headboard, covered by a thin blanket, her eyes flickering with a hint of panic and helplessness.
Yang Zhurou's confusion deepened. She glanced at Xu Ruizhi, who was sleeping soundly on the other bed.
He was out cold, breathing steadily, his posture unchanged.
The whole sequence had taken no more than a minute or two, though it felt drawn out in her mind.
Yang Zhurou turned back to Song Lianwei, about to ask how she was feeling, when Song Lianwei seemed to swallow something hard. A drop of milky-white liquid trickled from the corner of her mouth, vanishing in a blink.
Gulp—gulp—gulp— Song Lianwei's throat bobbed fiercely. She'd forced it down too hard, triggering a violent spasm, and she burst into coughs.
"Cough, cough..."
Yang Zhurou hurried over, bending to steady Song Lianwei's smooth back and help her catch her breath. "What's wrong? Where does it hurt? I'll call the doctor."
...
Having finally swallowed the semen, Song Lianwei shot a resentful glare at Xu Ruizhi, who was feigning sleep beside her. Damn brat, you some kind of donkey? So much cum—you nearly choked me to death.
She looked up at Yang Zhurou's worried face and put on a frail, weak act, rasping in a hoarse, broken voice, "N-No... problem... Just... just... got... choked... on... my... own... saliva..."
This is miserable! Song Lianwei fumed inwardly.
She shot another glare at Xu Ruizhi, the corpse-playing faker. You got yours, but now I've gotta clean up your mess. Just you wait—I'll get you back when I get the chance!
"Talk less. You need rest—it's past midnight. Why aren't you asleep?"
Yang Zhurou tucked in Song Lianwei's blanket while softly chiding her. But as she did, that odd smell grew stronger, stirring a bad premonition.
She felt like she'd overlooked something crucial, like she'd lost something vitally important.
Yes—that feeling exactly!
Yang Zhurou racked her brain, replaying every recent moment. A spark of realization flashed.
That weird smell—it came from...
Her eyes flew wide, locking onto Xu Ruizhi and Song Lianwei.
They... they...
"C-Couldn't... sleep..." Song Lianwei, oblivious to the shift, kept up her weak act and murmured softly.
Yang Zhurou pursed her lips. Maybe I'm overthinking. Lianwei and Ruizhi are worlds apart in age—it couldn't happen.
She knew Song Lianwei's character best: conservative, traditional. She'd even told Yang Zhurou she rejected premarital sex. Her clothes were always modest, covering everything but her ample chest.
Surely Lianwei wouldn't do anything improper with Ruizhi. And he's only fifteen—a kid.
Right?
She shook her head, shoving the jumbled thoughts aside and looking away to distract herself.
Suddenly!!!
Yang Zhurou spotted a diaper in the trash bin, back-up, with faint dark red stains seeping through. This was...
Her pupils dilated in disbelief. Isn't this the diaper I just changed for Lianwei? Why's it in the trash?
Unless...
She whipped around to Song Lianwei on the bed, heart clenching.
Trembling, she approached the bin, bent down, and slowly reached out with her right hand to pick up the soiled diaper.
Song Lianwei's eyes widened in horror—too late to stop her.
We're done for!!!
Song Lianwei squeezed her eyes shut.
She hadn't expected Yang Zhurou's observation skills to be this sharp. She'd hidden the inside well; anyone else would've mistaken the seeped blood for urine.
But she...
Yang Zhurou's hands shook as she gripped the outer layer and peeled it open.
Seeing the vivid bloodstains inside, her mind went BOOM—she froze like stone.
Xu Ruizhi was stunned too. Shit! Mom's perception is insane—how'd she spot that?!
Doesn't Mom have single-track mind syndrome?
No... maybe that's why her insight's superhuman.
Too late now. Xu Ruizhi decided honesty was best.
But first... pants.
Clutching the diaper, Yang Zhurou's face twisted in complex emotions. Her gaze darted between Song Lianwei and Xu Ruizhi before settling on Song Lianwei, voice dry. "Lianwei, tell me—what the hell is this?"
Song Lianwei bit her lip, cursing her carelessness inwardly. Should've had Ruizhi toss it right away.
No regrets in this world. Gritting her teeth, she rasped, "That... um... actually... this... was... me... I..."
"Don't tell me you got your period!!!" Yang Zhurou exploded, roaring in fury.
Her heart shattered. On one hand, their age gap made it unthinkable—Ruizhi with her best friend? On the other, she couldn't accept her denial crumbling.
Her son, raised through years of toil, stolen by her closest sister-in-arms. It pierced her soul.
Others might cry, ban them from seeing each other, cut ties.
But Yang Zhurou was different.
Her love for Xu Ruizhi bordered on obsession, transcending motherly bonds into something twisted, romantic.
She was furious, heartbroken.
"Zhurou, hear me out..." Seeing Yang Zhurou's livid face, Song Lianwei dropped the weak act, anxiously pleading, "Sit down. I'll explain everything from the start. Calm down first."
"Your... throat doesn't hurt anymore?" Yang Zhurou blinked in surprise.
Song Lianwei coughed lightly, rubbed her throat, and grinned. "All good ages ago. That was just an act."
"You little brat—knowing I'd worry, and you tricked me!!!"
Yang Zhurou glared, exasperated. She wondered how Song Lianwei recovered so fast—the sleeping pills' side effects were brutal, especially at that dose. She'd been gone barely two hours.
But anger burned hotter; no time for questions. Face stern, she tossed the diaper and marched to Xu Ruizhi's bed.
"Xu!"
"Rui!!"
"Zhi!!!"
No rage, no hysterics—just calm recitation of his full name, laced with icy frost and restraint.
Xu Ruizhi sensed danger. Pants forgotten, he scrambled up to sit on the bed's edge, staring anxiously at Yang Zhurou.
"M-Mom..." he stammered timidly, heart pounding, at a loss.
Yang Zhurou's fury peaked at his gaze. Noticing the blanket over his lap, she yanked it away.
Xu Ruizhi lay exposed.
"You..." Yang Zhurou's eyes widened in shock, pointing.
Even flaccid, dangling at fourteen centimeters, it stunned her. Then realization hit—face flushing crimson with shame and fury.
This punk—no underwear, no pants even. So he just finished... and I walked in, so he dove under the covers too scared to dress?
Then when Lianwei choked on "saliva"...
That milky drop...
She'd dismissed it as spit.
But...
"Having quite the fun, huh!"
Yang Zhurou laughed bitterly in rage. Xu Ruizhi sneaking forbidden fruit with her best friend? Betrayal stung—grief, hurt, a twinge of jealousy.
"I... Mom..." Xu Ruizhi stammered, words failing.
No excuse. It happened.
Telling the truth? Worse—she'd demand details on dual cultivation, guess his prior partner...
No way out. Can't spill now.
Yang Zhurou flushed deeper at his fluster—and that exposed monster. How big when hard? How'd Lianwei fit it?
Indecent images flooded her mind, heart racing.
"Put your damn clothes on!" Yang Zhurou snapped her focus, ordering coldly.
Xu Ruizhi obeyed fast, dressing under two beauties' eyes.
Once decent, Yang Zhurou eyed Song Lianwei, head bowed silently.
"Lianwei, what happened?" Face darkening, she demanded, "Explain today—now!!"
Xu Ruizhi glimpsed his mom's expression—gut dropping. He jumped in front of Song Lianwei, blocking her. "Mom, cool it. My fault—all mine."
Seeing her boy shield her, Yang Zhurou's rage boiled, jealousy overflowing. She shoved him aside. "Get out of the way!!!"
Get—out!!!
The words echoed in Xu Ruizhi's ears like curses, squeezing his chest, heart twitching.
Yang Zhurou had always cherished him—first time she'd been so harsh.
Mood plummeting, pale with pain, regret, guilt, shame—he sighed. "Fine. I'll go. I'll go!!!"
He turned, headed out, closing the door gently.
Song Lianwei was naked—he wouldn't let others see.
Bang!!!
"Rui..."
As Xu Ruizhi vanished, Yang Zhurou's nose stung with regret. First time snapping at her son.
But...
Song Lianwei watched him go, brow furrowed. She turned coldly to Yang Zhurou. "You've never scolded him. Great—now you've broken his heart."
She sighed dramatically, sniping, "I'm cursed. Shouldn't have dual cultivated with him. Who'd I piss off? Lost my virginity, you grill me without hearing me out, he runs heartbroken. Should've let him implode and die. Or maybe luckier—meridians shatter, cripple survives. Then you nurse him forever, no worries... no wife needed. Bargain..."
Yang Zhurou snapped alert. Me, acting like that? Gentle me?
Never so crude!!
Song Lianwei's barbs hit during her daze.
Yang Zhurou blinked suspiciously. "Dual cultivation? What's that?"
Song Lianwei scoffed. "Tell you, you won't believe. Too fantastical."
Yang Zhurou sensed wrongness.
"Spill it."
"Sure you want?"
Yang Zhurou nodded firmly. What happened those two hours?
Song Lianwei spilled everything.
...
Yang Zhurou sat stunned, face shocked, doubtful.
The tale upended her worldview—like a TV drama or xianxia novel.
Song Lianwei stood, blanket sliding to ankles, baring flawless skin.
Yang Zhurou's pupils shrank.
Song Lianwei's skin gleamed jade-like, supple, lustrous—like years of medicinal baths. Peaks heaved with breaths, snowy orbs swaying fragrantly. Slim waist willow-light, baby-soft. Hips perfect, plump, wave-ready. Thighs clamped a dewy pink flower, petals glistening from first time.
And! Excess semen oozed from the tight depths, trickling down pale thighs in lewd trails.
Yang Zhurou gaped. She'd seen Song Lianwei's body before—pale, but not this. Now, goddess-like—defiled by mortal lust.
Song Lianwei spotted the flow, flushed, dove under blanket.
Yang Zhurou flushed too, furious. Pointing shakily, "You... let him inside!!!"
Song Lianwei blushed. "Not my choice! Told him no creampie—he couldn't stop."
She muttered, "Your boy's a raging bull—couldn't hear me!"
Yang Zhurou spat. Shameless! Spilling secrets!
Punk knew dual cultivation can't pause. If no work emergency, tonight I'd be...
Shame burned. Done deal—only choice: accept.
"Chase your precious boy?" Song Lianwei suggested.
Yang Zhurou gritted teeth. "No. He's big enough—knows home, keys."
"If he doesn't go?"
Yang Zhurou paused, odd feeling stirring.
"Hmph! He dares!" she huffed proudly.
Song Lianwei chuckled inwardly—no worry. Xu Ruizhi said cultivators, even Qi Refining Early, had survival arts. Plenty escape tricks.
The night was deep and dark, stars twinkling above a crescent moon casting silvery haze.
Wide roads nearly empty, streetlights glowing peacefully.
Xu Ruizhi wandered alone, gaze vacant, heart churning.
Never imagined it'd end like this—scenes replaying.
Get! Out!
Irritation gnawed.
"Sigh..." He exhaled wearily.
Soon, his dantian felt empty—qi near gone. He sought a secluded spot to meditate.
Street corner: open lawn, perfect.
Sitting, eyes closed, he circulated the technique, drawing qi.
Sudden light footsteps behind.
Eyes snapping open, he turned—a black shadow approached, clarifying.
Brow furrowed. Nanrong City, tier-3/4, safe—no robberies. Who at this hour?
Closer: stench of garbage assaulted him. Clear now—a filthy beggar.
Face grimed, hair matted, baggy gray coat like oversized worker's garb from last century. Only eyes sparkled childlike, pure.
Stopped a foot away, head low. Timidly: "No place to stay? Grandma said sitting on ground's unhygienic—makes you sick."
Voice crisp, melodic—woman! Oddly childlike.
Unafraid of him, unlike strangers. Felt kinship.
Xu Ruizhi stared, especially those eyes—shocked.
Beautiful: clear, pure, infant-like, impurity-free. Yearning to protect.
Pity swelled. "So late—where's your parents?"
Her eyes too innocent—definitely impaired.
Expression unchanged, soft smile. "Grandma said they went far, far away." Pointed at brightest stars. "Grandma said that's Mom and Dad. They talk when I sleep."
Xu Ruizhi frowned deeper.
"Your grandma?"
"Grandma... lemme count."
Head down, dirty right arm waved, sleeve slipping—blackened skin. Fingers counting.
"One day, eight days, one month..."
Xu Ruizhi puzzled.
She looked up, innocent smile. "Grandma's gone one year, three months, fourteen days. She said in a few years, when I grow tall, I can find Mom, Dad, Grandma, Grandpa."
Xu Ruizhi's heart ached at her grimed face.
Sensing his mood, she tilted head. "Big brother, no home? Come to mine. I'll share my bed. But promise—no bully me, okay?"
He started to refuse—saw longing in eyes. Throat tight, nodded solemnly. "Okay. Won't bully. No bed—I'll floor it."
She shook head. "No! Floor's cold—you'll freeze."
Eyes blinking. "We squeeze. Share bed—you mind?"
"Mind? No way." Xu Ruizhi waved.
"I'm Xu Ruizhi. You?"
"Fang Hanmeng." Smile. "Grandma named me. Said Hanmeng will wake someday."
Hanmeng touched him oddly. Nod. "Eaten?"
"No." Honest. "Dug trash for food—nothing edible."
Stunned, noted her garbage bin. Heart sour. "Tonight, my treat. What ya want?"
"Eat?" Eyes wide, thrilled. "KFC?"
"Sure—but tomorrow. Too late, shops closed. We'll scout open spots, eat, then your place."
"Yay!" Beaming happily.
Xu Ruizhi took her hand, strolling roadside.
Night streets empty, shops dark, lamps blue-glowing.
Soon, barbecue stall ahead—owner packing.
Seeing Fang Hanmeng's hunger, he led her over. "Xiaomeng, only this open. Pad stomach, then home."
At stall: "Boss, food left?"
Boss set rag, welcoming. "Plenty! Pick what ya want. Leftover lamb skewers—no customers, on the house."
Flattered, Xu Ruizhi demurred. "Can't—pay fair."
Boss waved. "No biggie. First day—burnt some. See?"
Skewers charred but edible; boss saving for family.
Xu Ruizhi pulled 50-60 yuan. "Take it—no freebies."
Boss refused. "Kid, no need. Drink beer?"
Never had, but sensed need company. "Little."
Boss grinned. "Then perfect. Keep money—these burnt ones yours. Chat, help pack—deal?"
No more refusals—agreed.
Boss smiled, seated them. Simple setup: grill, rickety stools. Poured half-beers, served skewers.
Fang Hanmeng's eyes lit at skewers, drooling expectantly.
Xu Ruizhi chuckled, plated charred lamb, sauced, offered. "Eat, Xiaomeng."
She grabbed, devoured. "Yummy! Big brother, you too."
Her innocence warmed him. Bit one—crisp, savory. "Delicious."
Boss sat, swigged beer, sniffed, eyed Fang Hanmeng, then Xu. "Bro...?"
She ate obliviously. Low voice: "Fang Hanmeng. Found her dumpster-diving—pitied her, brought here."
Boss nodded—rags explained hardship.
"Family?"
"Dead, probably." Hesitant. "Had grandma—gone over a year. Alone."
Boss frowned, thumped chest. "My stall open—she eats fresh anytime."
"Thanks." Relieved—school-bound, couldn't babysit. Stall perfect.
"Money for her tabs—I'll pay."
Boss adamant. "Underrating Zhong Weijun?"
Bitter laugh. "Misunderstanding. I..."
"Feels bad. Poor? Skewers cheap—how much one girl?"
"Fine."
Xu plated more, sauced. "Slow, Xiaomeng—no choke."
Happy nod, munched ravenously—like starved kitten, messy.
Xu sipped beer—bitter chill wrinkled nose.
They ate, chatted till done. Helped pack, more talk, then left.
On road: "Xiaomeng, home where?"
Blinked, thought, pointed. "There."
Abandoned building—aged, mossy, weedy, cluttered roof.
Heart sank. Remote dump—how's she surviving?
Strolling, chatting.
"Xiaomeng, age?"
"Lemme count." Fingers. "Two, eight, sixteen..."
Laughing inwardly—silly but accurate.
"Got it!" Grin. "Thirty-two."
Xu Ruizhi stumbled; she steadied. "Thirty... two?"
"Yup!"
Speechless. "Big brother" to a 32-year-old sis. Awkward as hell.