Chapter 3132: My Wife and I Enact Daily Life 17

Chenshu's hand braced against Jin Chen's side, supporting his own weight. He breathed lightly, a flush from the alcohol rising on his face, his gaze somewhat unfocused. He seemed to sense something wrong, and as his consciousness was about to be drowned by drink, he murmured softly, looking down at the beauty beneath him who had suddenly taken on a hint of aggression.

"My dear……this doesn't seem right……"

Jin Chen seized the wrist he was trying to push away, placed it to his lips and gave a light kiss, his eyes smiling, his voice low, continuing to coax the person already muddled by drink and affection: "It ought to be like this. I cherish you……my husband."

He furrowed his brow slightly, put on an annoyed expression, and shattered Chenshu's last vestiges of reason.

Chenshu lifted his face, using his tongue to pass the last drop of alcohol to Jin Chen; the already loose wedding robes slipped completely open with the fall of the sash, exposing his skin to the candlelight. He lay back, sinking into the brocade quilt, his high ponytail half-loosened from its cap, black hair spreading over the brocade blanket, making the red trace that spread from behind his ear to his jaw all the more vivid.

Jin Chen wore a spiritual ring on his right hand, but beneath the wedding robes it gathered a sheen of moisture as Chenshu trembled uncontrollably.

He happily displayed his slender fingertips to Chenshu, then gave a soft laugh.

Chenshu seemed a little embarrassed, turning his head away, his face flushing even more.

"It's fine." Jin Chen gently turned his chin back, tolerantly soothing him, then leaned in closer, his voice tinged with teasing.

"Could you clean it up?"

He coaxed Chenshu, pressing his fingertip to Chenshu's equally damp lips, the two thin lips slightly parted, glistening with the moisture of a kiss.

Chenshu gazed at Jin Chen in a daze, then opened his mouth and drew in that water‑colored finger.

Seeing him like that, Jin Chen's jealousy finally dissipated, and he thought of something fun; he took off the spiritual ring, turning the band from his finger into a narrow loop, then lowered his hand and slipped that loop onto Chenshu's thigh.

Unlike ordinary body cultivators who are bulky, Chenshu's lean muscle was just right; only his thighs had a bit of flesh, which the leg ring squeezed out a little, giving a pleasant feel.

Jin Chen pressed again, shamelessly coaxing Chenshu while gripping his waist.

Coaxed, Chenshu lifted his face, soft and pliant, letting himself be kissed; Jin Chen stroked his back, and Chenshu clung to him, initiating a kiss, their affection mingling in lips and tongue, lingering and inseparable.

Meanwhile, outside the bridal chamber.

After the wedding rites, the servants and guests in the courtyard began to gradually reveal their ghostly visages.

The guests who had just been chatting and laughing now showed varying degrees of decay and mutilation; the maidservants who poured tea staggered, their heads lolling to one side; even the musicians playing the wedding tunes, as they played, turned into a white bone clutching a suona.

Senior brothers and sisters slaughtered ghosts while waiting for the corpse spirit that controlled this illusion to appear.

But that corpse spirit simply would not show up.

That's strange.

By rights, they are the masters of the illusion and should be closely watching everything inside it. Now the marriage is complete, the rites performed, the bridal chamber entered—the story of the illusion should have reached its climax, exactly when they ought to appear. Yet they refuse to show themselves.

Moreover, this marriage makes no sense at all; they still haven't pieced together a full story. Who is Huan Niang? Who is she to marry? Why did she hang herself? Who is that corpse spirit? How are all these connected?

There's too little information to guess at all.

Besides……half the night has passed—has Jin Chen managed to wake Chenshu yet? There's not a stir!

A few senior brothers and sisters found a hidden corner to hide in, clearing away the endless stream of little ghosts while anxiously waiting. Zhao Tiezhu finally couldn't hold back, pulled out a sound‑transmitting talisman from his bosom, and contacted Jin Chen inside the room.

"Chen'er! Chen'er……can you hear me?"

In the flickering candlelight, Jin Chen slightly sat up, one arm around the slender, supple waist of the person beneath him, and slipped the spiritual ring back onto his finger. His breathing was a little unsteady, but his voice remained steady: "Brother Zhao? What's wrong?"

Shen Guiyan took over the communication channel of the sound‑transmitting talisman, his voice low: "Outside are nothing but wild ghosts, no trace of the illusion's master. Have you awakened Chenshu yet?"

Jin Chen lowered his gaze and glanced.

Chenshu, drunk and hazy, held the finger he had slipped into his lips; seeing Jin Chen pause, he looked over, seeming puzzled.

His eyes were brimming with moisture, like ripe fruit that would burst with juice at the slightest touch.

He lifted his waist, sat on Jin Chen, then kissed his lips, gently kneading his earlobe to soothe him, coaxing him to continue.

Jin Chen returned the kiss; just as he lowered his head to press his lips to Chenshu's, a flash of gold flickered in Chenshu's downcast pupils, releasing the trapped corpse spirit.

In that instant, the sound‑transmitting talisman carried Shen Guiyan's grave voice: "The corpse spirit has appeared! It seems we must keep advancing the illusion, keep playing our roles. Leave this to us to ambush together—you and Chenshu, come out quickly!"

Jin Chen faintly felt something off, but in the instant his attention drifted to think, Chenshu had already hooked his neck and kissed him again, stroking his back. Jin Chen immediately stopped pondering outside affairs.

He heard Chenshu whisper, "My dear, you're amazing," then raised an eyebrow, tempting Chenshu to call him husband.

Indulged by Jin Chen's every whim, worn down until he could not utter a full sentence, only broken cries of "husband" leaked from his lips.

The red candle burst into another blossom; its tears ran down the wax, pooling on the holder as a small patch of translucent red.