Chapter 155 My dear older sister...is she jealous?

Twilight gathered as the last traces of sunset were swallowed by the deep blue curtain of night, and a few sparse stars quietly began to twinkle. Mu Changge steered his Flying Sword and landed silently in his courtyard.

As soon as he landed, his senses keenly captured a slender figure quickly retreating behind the half-open window in the side room, followed by an almost imperceptible huff.

The corners of Mu Changge's mouth curled up almost imperceptibly, and he understood. His "good sister" had likely been "waiting" for him here for quite some time.

Mu Changge sat down at the stone table in the courtyard, poured himself a cup of spirit tea that had long since gone cold, and sipped it slowly, as if savoring a memory. Moonlight spilled down, stretching his tall, upright figure and illuminating the languid, slightly satisfied expression on his face.

Inside the side room, Mu Wanning leaned against the cold wall, her stunning face flickering in the dim light. Watching that infuriatingly comfortable expression on Mu Changge's face, she muttered to herself, "I don't know what tricks that scoundrel used to get so close to the Sect's Saintess, Yun Qingyao. He keeps running over to the Saintess's place, staying for half the day each time."

At first, Mu Wanning was happy to see this happen and even secretly rejoiced. It was good that this plague god had left; surely he would bother her less now? She could finally enjoy some peace and quiet, no longer needing to live in daily trepidation, guarding against his annoying teasing and pranks. Yet, for some reason, after only a few days of this quiet life, she felt no relief as she had expected; instead, an indescribable, indefinable sense of annoyance began to grow within her.

Seeing him leave in high spirits and return humming a tune, she would inexplicably feel a wave of frustration. Especially today, he had returned later than usual, and there was actually a faint, lingering scent of a woman on him... It made her feel as though her heart was blocked by a ball of cotton, leaving her inexplicably agitated.

"What is wrong with me?" Mu Wanning shook her head vigorously, a flash of annoyance and confusion crossing her pale golden eyes. "Who he provokes or gets close to has nothing to do with me! I wish that scoundrel would stay as far away from me as possible!" She tried to convince herself with her usual coldness and disgust, but that strange, sour feeling of displeasure in the depths of her heart coiled like vines, refusing to go away.

It must be this damned "servant" status! Being forced to live under the same roof with him every day, serving his every need, was why she was developing these improper, messy emotions! Mu Wanning found a reason for herself, forcibly suppressed the waves in her heart, took a deep breath, and put back on that cold, aloof, and arrogant expression that kept people at a distance.

However, when she pushed open the door and walked toward the main room where Mu Changge was staying, her steps felt involuntarily heavy. Under the moonlight, her shadow was stretched very long, appearing somewhat lonely.

Inside the main room, Mu Changge had changed out of his outer robe and was wearing only a comfortable set of Core Disciple casual wear. He was reclining on a soft couch, his eyes unfocused, as if he were deep in thought. Hearing footsteps, he lazily lifted his eyelids and looked toward the door.

Mu Wanning walked in carrying the prepared warm tea and a clean cloth, eyes fixed straight ahead, as if this were just a routine task that needed to be completed. She placed the basin on the stand, soaked the cloth, wrung it out, and then walked over to Mu Changge. Her voice was flat and waveless, devoid of any emotion: "Raise your hand."

Mu Changge cooperatively extended his arm, letting her wipe his fingers with the damp cloth. Her movements were skillful, the pressure just right, and her fingertips occasionally and unavoidably brushed against his skin, carrying a cool sensation. They were very close, and the unique, exotic fragrance on Mu Wanning's body wafted out.

Mu Changge lowered his eyes, looking at her stunning profile just inches away. Her thick, long lashes were lowered, casting a small shadow under her eyelids. Her nose was elegant and straight, and her lips were slightly pursed, conveying a hint of stubbornness. Even while performing the duties of a servant, the innate, cold arrogance on her did not completely fade; instead, beneath this deliberate plainness, it appeared uniquely charming.

In the midst of this silent service, Mu Wanning's wiping motion paused almost imperceptibly. She seemed to smell something, and her delicate nose twitched slightly, barely noticeably. It was an extremely faint, clear, and distant cold fragrance... It was the scent on that woman. Yun Qingyao.

The name flashed through Mu Wanning's mind, causing that inexplicable sense of agitation in her heart to surge again, even more intensely than before. She subconsciously furrowed her brows, but her hands did not stop, continuing to wipe his other hand.

However, that lingering, unfamiliar fragrance pricked her nerves like a tiny needle. Finally, as she put the cloth back into the basin and turned to retrieve a clean outer robe, she seemed unable to hold it in any longer, or perhaps she was just asking casually. With an indifferent, flat tone, she said softly, with her back to Mu Changge: "Why do you... have the scent of another woman on you?"

As soon as the words left her lips, Mu Wanning regretted them. What kind of question was that! It sounded like she cared a lot! She forced herself to remain calm and picked up the outer robe, but her fingertips tightened involuntarily.

On the soft couch, Mu Changge (Xiao Ming) heard this, and his eyebrows arched imperceptibly, a flash of understanding and amusement quickly crossing his eyes. He sat up unhurriedly, looked with composure at Mu Wanning's back—which was feigning calmness but was actually slightly tense—and the corners of his mouth curled into his usual playful and teasing arc. He drew out his tone and said slowly: "Oh, oh, oh?"

He paused deliberately, leisurely admiring Mu Wanning's stunning back, before continuing in that infuriating tone: "My good sister, are you... jealous?"

He enunciated the words "jealous" with extra clarity, full of teasing implications, which sounded exceptionally loud in the silent room.

Mu Wanning's heart skipped a beat, and she immediately turned around abruptly. Her stunning face still showed no expression, but a flash of embarrassment and annoyance at having her inner thoughts exposed, as well as a forced coldness and disdain, quickly flickered in her pale golden eyes. She lifted her chin and retorted quickly, in a tone bordering on a sneer: "W-who cares about you!"

Her voice was slightly higher than usual, and her speaking speed was faster, carrying a sense of trying to cover up the truth. As if to prove that she really didn't care at all, she deliberately curled her lips, threw the outer robe in her hand somewhat rudely onto Mu Changge, and looked away, refusing to look at him.

"Go wherever you want, see whoever you want, what does that have to do with me? I was just asking, so stop being so full of yourself!" She finished in a rush, as if this could cover up her momentary loss of composure and her racing heartbeat.

However, her slightly reddened earlobes and the fingers tightly clutching the hem of her clothes betrayed the lack of calm in her heart.

Mu Changge took the outer robe, watching her appearance of being fierce on the outside but weak on the inside, feigning composure, and found it extremely amusing. He knew that one should stop while ahead; if he continued, this "sister"—who was arrogant on the surface but actually sensitive and easily flustered on the inside—might really become angry from embarrassment. He decided to quit while he was ahead, not continuing the topic, and just leisurely put on the outer robe, his tone returning to his usual languor: "Alright, alright, it was me being full of myself. I misunderstood you, Sister... right? I understand, I understand."

His perfunctory tone, as if he were coaxing a child, made Mu Wanning feel even more frustrated, but she had no way to vent. She could only glare at him fiercely, drop a "Who cares about you!", and turn to leave the main room with slightly hurried steps, her back radiating an aura of "I'm very annoyed, don't mess with me."

Not until her figure disappeared outside the door did Mu Changge let out a low laugh, shaking his head with a glimmer of pleasure in his eyes.

It seems that occasionally teasing this arrogant "sister," who has such a strong contrast, and watching her reveal her true, claw-baring yet helpless self, is quite an interesting pastime in this boring life of Cultivation.

Back in the side room, Mu Wanning leaned against the door panel, listening to that guy's low, pleasant laughter faintly drifting from the main room. She felt her cheeks burning, and the nameless fire in her heart, mixed with an indescribable sense of grievance and annoyance, burned so fiercely that she couldn't sit or stand still.

"Scoundrel! Rogue! Lecher!" She cursed in a low voice, though she didn't know if she was cursing Mu Changge, or herself for being so agitated just because he carried the scent of another woman.