Chapter 3151: My Wife and I Role‑Play Daily Life 37

Jin Chen had tasted the flavor of visiting neighbors; the next day he couldn't help but, after breakfast, slip out to Myriad Phenomena Peak, wander along the mountain path for a while, then turn into the territory of Hunyuan Pavilion.

Qian Duoduo often drew talismans in the Study on the east side of the main hall; a few old elm trees outside the window cast large patches of shade, and when the wind blew through the leaves it brought a rustling sound. Qian Duoduo was busy drawing talismans, the table full of cinnabar and talisman paper, with stacks of finished talismans piled on the floor, and he greeted Jin Chen without looking up.

"Chen'er! You play by yourself over there, wait till I finish drawing!"

Jin Chen nodded solemnly, as if he had received an important task, and sat up straight beside the desk, propping his chin with his palm. He watched Qian Duoduo draw talismans for a while, then suddenly had his own idea.

He took a piece of talisman paper, laid it before him, picked up a brush, dipped it in ink, and began to draw. He drew whatever he wanted, as he pleased.

Jin Chen drew with focus; when he grew tired sitting, he crossed his legs on the floor, laid the talisman paper before him on the floor, supported his face with one hand, and continued drawing.

After a while, finding the colors monotonous, Jin Chen looked up and asked Qian Duoduo, "Do you have any other colors?"

Qian Duoduo, focused on the talisman in his hand, replied absentmindedly, "Changing colors… there's only red and black ink here… wait, wait. Why would you need to change colors for whatever talisman you're drawing?"

He put down his brush, walked around the desk to Jin Chen's side, lowered his head to look, and felt a tightness in his chest.

Jin Chen's cuff was stained with ink, the floor beneath him covered in talisman paper, his masterpieces scattered everywhere—a jumble of chaotic lines and abstract patterns, completely unrecognizable as anything.

Only the paper in the center still showed something relatively clear; between the brows one could faintly make out Chenshu's likeness, somewhat similar, and the whole sheet gave off a feeling of dissonance—as if the person who drew it was on a completely different level from the others.

Qian Duoduo looked at those ruined talisman papers with heartache—those were top‑grade talisman paper bought with premium spirit stones! One sheet cost several spirit stones! Now Jin Chen had covered them in meaningless lines, his heart bleeding; if he'd known Jin Chen would turn out like this, he'd have just given him scrap paper to draw on!

Jin Chen still looked at him innocently, looking disappointed. "No other colors?"

Qian Duoduo wanted to sharpen his knife and squeeze out a voice: "……No."

Jin Chen glanced at the ink stain on his sleeve, then at the ink smudge on his hand, sighed disappointedly, picked up the most carefully drawn portrait from the table, rolled it up, and held it in his hand.

After the time it takes to burn one incense stick, Chenshu came again to complain, arriving at Hunyuan Pavilion and seeing Jin Chen in white robes splattered with ink spots, even a speck of ink on his cheek.

He reached out to wipe that speck of ink from Jin Chen's face, let Jin Chen pull his hand back and forth, turned his head and asked Qian Duoduo, "What's going on?"

Qian Duoduo pointed at the pile of ruined talisman paper on the floor and said anguishedly, "Just one unsupervised! Jin Chen's turned my place into an art studio!"

Jin Chen took out the paper with his drawing of Chenshu, handed it to Chenshu as a gift.

He had played himself tired, but still didn't forget to clear his name: "That's not scribbling talismans."

Qian Duoduo said weakly, "Chen'er, even scribbling talismans would look better than this."

Jin Chen was unconvinced, but no one could understand his art; those talisman papers actually had greater power than Qian Duoduo's drawings, yet he decided not to stoop to Qian Duoduo's level.

After being brought back to Unending Peak by Chenshu this time, Jin Chen dug something else out of his memory.

He had, it seemed, perhaps once drawn on Chenshu's body.

"Did I used to draw on you?" This memory excited Jin Chen.

Chenshu: "……" Uh‑oh.

Jin Chen earnestly expressed his demand: he wanted a brush, ink, and to draw.

Chenshu looked at Jin Chen's earnest expression, sighed helplessly, and still agreed.

That night in the sleeping chamber, Chenshu leaned against the bedhead, his clothes half‑undone and open, Jin Chen sat cross‑legged before him, holding a brush whose tip was dipped in specially prepared ink infused with spiritual power, emitting a faint glow—as if spiritual power had been condensed into a liquid ready for the brush.

He lowered his eyes, began to brush from below Chenshu's collarbone, drawing fine ink lines outward across the chest. The brush tip, coated with ink carrying Jin Chen's spiritual power, wandered over Chenshu's skin.

The sensation of the brush tip carrying spiritual power was completely different from ordinary ink—it seemed to seep beneath the skin's surface, leaving faint tingles; as the brush glided over the skin, it occasionally brought a tingling numbness to the chest.

Occasionally Jin Chen's brush tip would pause at a spot, press a little harder, as if he were drawing something that needed special emphasis; each pause made Chenshu's waist and abdomen tighten slightly.

Chenshu's neck gradually tilted back, enduring it with great difficulty; his waist had already gone limp, and he stayed upright only by sheer willpower, not collapsing.

Jin Chen finally put down the brush, stepped back half an inch to examine his work for a moment, then tossed the brush aside and lunged forward, pressing himself into Chenshu's embrace, fingertips guiding Chenshu's hand to touch himself.

"My drawing feels so uncomfortable."

Chenshu almost laughed in anger; the ink marks dried in a moment, though his clothes remained unfastened, he propped himself up and poked Jin Chen's chest, saying, "You deserve it."

Chenshu could only support his shoulder and lean in; his wet eyes lacked focus, made dazed by Jin Chen's teasing. Jin Chen, however, loved this dazed Chenshu, constantly kissing the spots he had drawn, murmuring indistinctly as he felt them.

Every part of Senior Brother was soft; the tip of his tongue gathered, sweet, making one want to retract it at a lick, stirring the heart.

The next day, the body‑cultivation disciples were already lined up on the training field when they suddenly discovered that Senior Brother Chenshu was wrapped up in an austere, tight‑fitting manner.

From neck to ankle, his belt was tied higher than usual, and below the waist he was wrapped so tightly that not an inch of skin was exposed—truly strange.

Chenshu feared that if he loosened his clothes the ink painting extending from his neck to his groin would show; coincidentally, during this period Jin Chen liked to cling to him, would soon slip away to wander about, pressing his lips to the exposed skin at the back of Chenshu's neck to rub, and from time to time wanted to check the drawing—quite the excuse.

In just a few days, even Lin Wang, who had been tricked by his beloved disciple, knew that Jin Chen's return to simplicity seemed to have unexpectedly sparked a rebellious curiosity he'd never had in his youth—and only Chenshu could keep him in check.

Lin Wang made a snap decision, overnight having people roll up Jin Chen's bedding and dump it on Unending Peak for Chenshu.

Now Jin Chen was delighted; that night he hugged his pillow and entered Chenshu's room, looked around, then sat on the edge of the bed, swung his legs twice, glanced left and right, then contentedly tucked himself into the blankets and patted the spot beside him: "Hurry up."

——

Recently on the mainland, rumors spread that the Demon Emperor was about to be born, and demonic ghosts frequently stirred, causing disturbances of various degrees everywhere.

All major sects and forces dispatched disciples down the mountain to protect the populace; the Free and Easy Immortal Sect was no exception. But as the foremost sect placed under great expectations, the Free and Easy Immortal Sect's primary task was still to guard the seal, a joint lockdown laid down by several powerful beings, the key to suppressing the Demon Emperor.

The sect had already sent out several teams, each led by a peak master, to guard the seal. As the day of the Demon Emperor's birth drew nearer, the nine peak‑transmitted disciples who had been stationed inside the sect were finally redeployed by the Sect Leader.

Their mission was to first go to Shenfeng Town to resolve the demonic disturbances there, then meet with several peak masters at Seal Mountain.

Nine people received the order, flew downhill on their swords, and half a day later arrived at Shenfeng Town.

Shenfeng Town is a remote ancient town surrounded by mountains, with only one official road leading out; the town is small but complete with inns, taverns, and markets, looking quite lively. Most of the townsfolk are ordinary people, with some low‑level cultivators living among them.

As soon as the nine entered the town they sensed an unusual atmosphere: lanterns and banners were hung, every household's door bore a red lantern, the street‑side stalls had three sticks of incense planted, thin blue smoke curled up to the sky, people came and went, and vendors' cries rose and fell.

Shen Guiyan and his companions found a street‑front inn to settle in. The innkeeper, a round‑faced middle‑aged woman, took the spirit stones and lowered her voice: "Tomorrow is the day of the god festival; you few Daoists have come at a bad time—better not go out at night."

Shen Guiyan asked again, "Which god is being honored?"

The innkeeper glanced left and right, lowered her voice further: "The Mountain God Temple east of town. No one used to worship it, but in the past half year it has become miraculous—people pray for anything and get what they ask for."

All nine saw the same judgment in the innkeeper's eyes: this so‑called deity is probably problematic.

They found an inn to stay in, planning to observe for one night before deciding what to do.

That night, the moon was high in the sky.

Throughout the journey Jin Chen leaned on Chenshu's shoulder, dozing off; upon entering the room he flung himself onto the bed, turned over and lay face‑up, eyes half‑closed. Chenshu sat on the bed's edge, removed his outer robe and hung it up, then bent down to gather Jin Chen's long hair scattered on the pillow; his fingers had just passed through the hair tips when he suddenly stopped.

Faint arguing voices came from the next room, growing louder, mixed with shouting and scolding, though the occupants were their own people.

Chenshu and the dazed Jin Chen exchanged a glance, then got up and went out to check.

They came to the courtyard and discovered that Shen Guiyan and the six others were all arguing for some unknown reason, each person's face bore a heavy hostility.