Zhu was happy. Marrying his mother was better than any prize.
Mei was gentle, like a loving wife. Her body needed him, pulling him to bed. Their bond was perfect.
Zhu beamed. Mei was his mother and his wife, filling him with joy.
In the mountains, alone, they gave in to desire, coupling freely.
Once, Mei washed clothes by a stream. Zhu practiced sword moves nearby, perfect in form.
Seeing Mei bend, her round hips swayed like fruit. Desire surged. He pulled her to a rock, lifted her hips, and thrust his cock inside.
"Oh!" Mei gasped, scolding his roughness. But she loved him. She moved her waist, lifting her hips, moaning to guide him.
After Mei's climax, Zhu kept going. He stripped her clothes, ignoring her complaints, laying her bare on the rock.
Her body glowed in the sun, bold and shameless. Her face mixed shyness and desire, like a painting.
He thrust hard, making Mei moan. He accidentally pushed her clothes into the stream.
Zhu froze, but Mei held him, lost in passion. The clothes vanished in the water.
When done, they had no clothes. Mei was embarrassed, wanting to cover herself with leaves.
Zhu urged her on, and their home was close. They walked back naked, hand in hand.
The sun warmed their bare bodies, like a return to nature. They felt calm.
The breeze touched Mei's nipples and pussy, making her eyes flutter.
"Mother, you're bold naked. No shame?" Zhu teased.
"I've seen you naked since birth," Mei said. "What's to be shy about?"
Zhu grinned. "I never tire of your naked body."
Their bare forms were funny, but the stains between their thighs made them blush.
Zhu's soft cock swayed, cute to Mei. At his hopeful look, she nodded.
For the first time, she took his cock in her mouth, tasting a new pleasure.
They shed all restraint, loving the thrill. At home, they wore little, then nothing.
When desire hit, their eyes met. Zhu thrust, Mei welcomed, and they coupled.
They made love everywhere, inside and out, in the wild.
Under trees, by streams, in flowers, under waterfalls, with vines…
Every place held their love, each with its own charm, endlessly romantic.
Six months passed. The Joyful Divine Art, joyful yet tragic, was complete.
Mei stood in the capital, her heart heavy with memories.
Almost a year had passed. The city had changed greatly, but the transformations in her own life were even more profound.
On the road to the capital, she learned that she and her son, Zhu, had become the martial world's focus for months. Rumors spread like wildfire. People claimed she was a protector of the Joyous Sect, a vile cult. They said she murdered her husband after he uncovered her sins and fled, now lurking with sinister motives.
The martial world, from black and white paths to water bandits and common folk, buzzed with these tales, relentlessly pursuing her and Zhu.
Being slandered as a Joyous Sect member was no surprise. The cult's evil reputation made it a scapegoat for all crimes.
Fate, however, was cruel. Mei had failed to resist her inner demons. She and Zhu had fallen into a forbidden, sinful love, becoming the very monsters the rumors described.
Tonight was Weiting's birthday. He hosted a grand banquet, inviting martial artists from all corners. It was the perfect chance to infiltrate.
Mei and Zhu planned to use this night to avenge the Song family's blood debt.
In the capital, Mei dared not contact her old Hongmen allies. The rumors were too loud. Many Hongmen disciples despised her and Zhu for tarnishing their name.
Weiting's influence grew, and their former allies now followed him. They were no longer her support.
Holding Zhu's right hand, Mei felt a pang of sorrow. The world was vast, yet there was no place for them.
They had only each other to rely on.
They should have visited the Song family's ancestral temple to pay respects, but shame held them back. They could not face the ancestral tablets.
Instead, they prayed silently in their hearts.
Without thinking, they wandered to the capital's famous matchmaking temple, a place vibrant with incense and young lovers.
Disguised as a middle-aged scholar, Mei stepped out of the main hall with Zhu. She saw the longing on his face and felt a twinge of pity.
Alas, foolish child, she thought. Even the merciful Buddha would not bless a mother and son like us.
The sun burned fiercely. Mei felt unwell. Since losing nearly all her inner strength, she grew tired easily.
She knew Zhu drained not just her cultivated energy but also her life's essence and blood each day. She kept this secret, letting it pass unspoken.
She wanted to find a place to rest when a cry of pain cut through the air. A fortune-teller at a stall was being beaten. His table lay overturned, and he wailed on the ground.
"Mother, shall we go see?" Zhu asked.
The fortune-teller was fat and greasy, his appearance repulsive, like an oily frog. Mei hesitated, unwilling to indulge Zhu's curiosity.
She did not want to disappoint him. They approached the fortune-teller's stall.
The fat man cursed as he fixed his table. Seeing two handsome scholars, he eyed them and chuckled. "Are you two ladies here to ask about love? Or to interpret a sign? Test a word?"
Mei froze. The fortune-teller had seen through her male disguise but mistook Zhu's beauty, thinking them both women.
Irritation flared in her chest. She wanted to leave.
"Fine, let us test a word," Zhu said, his mood strangely high since entering the city. He grabbed her hand playfully. "Sister, let us pick a word!"
He picked up a branch from the ground and pressed it into her hand.
Mei felt uneasy at his actions. Without thinking, she wrote the character "branch" on the ground and handed the stick back to Zhu.
Zhu sneered. "My sister and I are about to travel far. Tell us if this journey is auspicious or not. Answer well, and you will be rewarded. Answer poorly, and you will regret it."
He flicked his wrist, and the branch snapped into pieces.