Zhu Zhu

The spring sunshine poured over the thatched roofs of Gao Village like warm honey, making the muddy paths gleam and the peach blossoms tremble. Eight-year-old Zhu Pengchun lay on his bamboo cot, his small body wracked with a fever that refused to break. His grandmother dabbed his forehead with a damp cloth, her wrinkled hands trembling. His grandfather paced outside, muttering prayers to whatever god might listen.

Inside the small room, the air was thick with the smell of bitter herbs and something else—something faintly sulfurous that clung to the child’s skin. Zhu Pengchun’s breathing grew shallow, his lips cracked and pale. The village doctor had come and gone, shaking his head. There was nothing more to be done.

High above the clouds, a streak of silver light paused in its journey across the heavens. Taibai Jinxing, the Golden Star of the West, adjusted his long sleeves and peered down through the veil of mist. His clairvoyant eyes pierced through rooftops and saw the dying boy on the cot. He saw the flickering candle of the child’s life, nearly spent. He also saw something else—a faint, residual aura clinging to the air above the village. It was the essence of a pig demon he had slain three days prior, a mortal beast that had terrorized a nearby county. The essence had dispersed but not dissolved, lingering like a forgotten echo.

“Fate,” Taibai Jinxing murmured to himself. “Fate ties this child to that beast’s remnant. I cannot let such a thread go untended.”

He descended in a flash of golden light, landing silently before the cottage. The door swung open without a touch. Inside, the grandmother had dozed off in her chair, exhaustion claiming her. Taibai Jinxing approached the boy and placed two fingers on his forehead. The heat was fierce, the pulse almost gone. With a soft sigh, he drew a small vial from his sleeve. It held a drop of liquid the color of tarnished copper—the pig demon’s condensed essence, purified and neutralized of malice but still potent.

“You are a mortal child, but the path ahead is long,” Taibai Jinxing said softly. “I give you this second chance, though it will come with a price.”

He let the drop fall onto the boy’s lips. The essence seeped in like water into dry sand. Instantly, Zhu Pengchun’s body convulsed once, twice, then stilled. His skin flushed, then paled, then flushed again. The fever broke in a single, violent wave of sweat. His eyes flew open—one brown, one suddenly golden with a vertical slit. He gasped, then fell into a deep, healing sleep.

When Zhu Pengchun woke three days later, he was alive. But his grandmother screamed when she saw him. His face bore patches of rough, bristly skin. His ears were slightly pointed and tufted with coarse hair. His nose had flattened, the nostrils large and round. When he spoke, his voice came out half-grunt, half-word. The village children ran from him. The adults whispered: pig demon.

But the essence had fused incompletely. Over the next two years, the pig-like features receded partially. By the time he turned ten, Zhu Pengchun looked almost human again—a homely boy with a broad nose and a certain heaviness in his face, but not monstrous. He had learned to hide his pointed ears under a cloth cap and to keep his mouth shut when he felt a snort coming on.

One summer afternoon, he wandered to the river that ran past the eastern edge of the village. The water was clear and cool, the banks dotted with reeds and wildflowers. He was skipping stones when he heard a splash, followed by a small yelp. He ran toward the sound and saw a girl about his age, maybe a year younger, floundering in the water. Her clothes were fine—silk brocade, the kind only nobles wore—but they were tangled around her legs, dragging her under.

Without thinking, Zhu Pengchun plunged in. He grabbed her by the collar and pulled her to the shallows. She coughed and sputtered, her long black hair plastered across her face. When she looked up, her eyes were a startling blue—not the pale blue of some outlanders, but a deep, oceanic blue like the heart of a wave.

“You… you’re a monster!” she gasped, scrambling backward in the water.

He looked down at his reflection. The water showed a boy with a broad, piggish nose and ears that were poking out from under his wet cap. His eyes—both human now, thankfully—were round with hurt.

“I’m not a monster,” he said, his voice thick. “I saved you.”

The girl stared. He was breathing hard, his hand still extended from where he’d pulled her. There was no malice in his face, only fear—fear that she would run, fear that she would scream. She was a dragon girl, the third daughter of the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea. She had run away from the palace because she was tired of etiquette lessons and pearls and being told she must obey. She had expected the mortal world to be frightening. She had not expected to be saved by a pig demon’s son.

“What’s your name?” she asked finally, her voice small.

“Zhu Pengchun.”

She considered this. “I’m Ao Ling’er.”

He smiled, and despite his odd features, the smile was genuine, warm. “Are you lost?”

She nodded. “I ran away. I don’t want to go back.”

They sat on the riverbank as the sun dried their clothes. He showed her how to skip stones. She showed him how to hold his breath underwater for a full minute, which astonished him. When she laughed, the sound was like silver bells. For the first time since his transformation, Zhu Pengchun felt that the world might not be such a lonely place.

For two years, they met at the river. Every afternoon when the chores were done, he would slip away and find her waiting by the old willow. They built small dams, caught fish with their hands, and told each other stories. She spoke of coral palaces and giant turtles that carried gardens on their backs. He spoke of his grandparents, his absent parents, and his fear of the villagers who still stared too long. She never flinched when he accidentally snorted while laughing. He never asked why she smelled faintly of salt and sea.

But all childhood idylls end. One afternoon, as they were chasing dragonflies, a swirl of water rose from the river. Out stepped two shrimp soldiers in green armor and a crab general in red, their pincers gleaming. Ao Ling’er went pale.

“Third Princess,” the crab general boomed, “your father commands your return.”

“No,” she said, stepping behind Zhu Pengchun. “I won’t go.”

Zhu Pengchun spread his arms, his heart pounding. “She doesn’t want to go with you!”

The shrimp soldiers laughed, a high-pitched chitter. “Little pig boy, you think you can stop the Dragon King’s will?”

They moved with supernatural speed. One shrimp soldier grabbed Ao Ling’er by the arm. The other shoved Zhu Pengchun to the ground. He scrambled up, trying to fight, but the crab general’s claw caught him by the collar and lifted him effortlessly.

“Do not harm him!” Ao Ling’er cried. Tears streamed down her face. “Zhu Pengchun! I’ll find you again! I swear it!”

The crab general set him down with a dismissive flick. “Be grateful we do not eat you, little swine.”

A swirling vortex opened in the river. The shrimp soldiers dragged the crying dragon girl into it. She reached out a hand, and he reached out his, but the gap between them grew. Then she was gone. The river was still again.

Zhu Pengchun stood on the bank, alone. He did not cry. He stood there until the sun set and the stars came out, and then he walked home with a stone in his chest that would never fully dissolve.

Time passed, as it does. He turned fourteen. His grandparents had both passed on—his grandmother first, then his grandfather, who simply stopped eating one day. His parents had left for the south when he was a baby and never returned. The village gossips said they were dead. His father’s younger brother, Zhu Lihai, moved into the family compound with his wife and two sons, claiming it was to help the orphan. But they took the best rooms, stored the grain for themselves, and let Zhu Pengchun sleep in the old shed.

On the night of the Harvest Moon Festival, Zhu Lihai hosted a banquet for the village elders. The table was piled with food: braised pork, steamed fish, glutinous rice cakes, and jar after jar of wine. Zhu Pengchun was told to serve the guests. He carried platters, refilled cups, and kept his head down. The warmth of the room, the laughter, the mingled smells of meat and alcohol—it stirred something in him, a restlessness he didn’t understand.

One of the guests, a wealthy widow named Madame Qiu, sat at a nearby table. She was perhaps thirty, with a round face and a mole above her lip that drew the eye. Her robes were low-cut, and as she laughed at a joke, she leaned forward, revealing the pale curve of her bosom. Zhu Pengchun stared. A heat rose in his chest, then lower. He felt dizzy. His skin prickled.

“Boy! More wine!” someone called.

He grabbed a jar, but his hands were shaking. The smell of the wine was intoxicating, sweet, inviting. He lifted the jar to his own lips and took a long pull. The liquid burned going down, but the heat felt good. He took another, then another.

Madame Qiu turned and caught his eye. She smiled, a lazy, knowing smile. “My, the orphan boy is growing up,” she said, her voice honey-thick. “Come, sit with me.”

He stumbled toward her. The room spun. The other guests murmured, laughed. Someone said something about the boy needing a woman. He reached out, his hand hovering near her shoulder. His fingers trembled.

Then the change hit him like a thunderbolt.

His face exploded outward. His nose broadened into a snout, his ears lengthened into leathery fans, and coarse black bristles burst from every pore. His clothes tore as his body swelled, his hands becoming hooves, his back arching into a hulking, porcine form. He let out a grunt that was half-pig, half-sob.

Madame Qiu screamed. The table overturned. Dishes shattered. Men shouted, women fled. Zhu Pengchun looked down at his own monstrous hands—hooves—and roared in horror. He crashed through the door, knocking down a wall, and ran into the night.

The village bells rang. Men with torches and pitchforks hunted him through the fields. But he was faster than he had any right to be. He ran until the torches were distant sparks, until the shouts faded, until he collapsed behind a stone wall near the old temple on the hill.

When dawn came, he was human again, but only barely. The pig features lingered—the snout, the ears, the bristles. He looked in a puddle and wept. His face was a nightmare.

He returned to the village, hoping for mercy. He found the doors barred. Through a window, he heard his uncle’s voice: “That creature is not my nephew! The real Zhu Pengchun died of fever years ago! This is a pig demon that took his form!”

The village elders agreed. They posted guards. When he tried to approach his own home, Zhu Lihai’s wife threw his few belongings out the door—a bundle of clothes, a broken toy from childhood. She spat at him. “Be glad we don’t call the exorcist!”

There was nothing left. His parents were dead or gone. His grandparents were buried. His uncle had stolen his inheritance. And he was a monster. Zhu Pengchun took his bundle and walked away from Gao Village, never looking back.

He found the dilapidated temple on the hill, its roof half-collapsed, the statue of the earth god cracked and toppled. He swept a corner clean, huddled there, and let the darkness take him. He did not know what to do. He did not know where to go. He only knew he could not live like this.

A soft glow filled the temple. Taibai Jinxing stepped out of the light, his white robes immaculate, his beard flowing like a waterfall of silk. He looked down at the weeping boy with something like pity.

“Zhu Pengchun,” he said.

The boy looked up. “Who are you?”

“I am the one who saved your life six years ago. And I am the one who cursed you, though I called it a gift.” Taibai Jinxing sighed. “The pig demon’s essence fused with your s

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The years passed quietly, and before he knew it, Zhu Pengchun had turned twenty-three. He stood exactly 167 centimeters tall, lean but sturdy, with a face that still held traces of the boy he had been. The twenty taels of gold that Taibai Jinxing had given him had served him well. He used them to purchase a modest inn in the bustling port city of Haizhou, a place where merchants and travelers came and went like the tides. He hung a simple wooden sign over the door—though he never bothered to give it a fancy name. To him, it was just his inn, and that was enough.

Every morning, Zhu Pengchun would rise before dawn, light the oil lamps, sweep the floors, and set the tables. He did everything himself, for he was the owner and the only employee. He cooked when guests were hungry, boiling noodles or stir-frying a few simple dishes with the fresh vegetables he bought from the market. He made the beds, washed the linens, and even mended the roof when it leaked during the heavy rains. It was a frugal life, but it was honest work, and he was content.

He never forgot to wear the bracelet that Taibai Jinxing had given him. It was a simple silver band, warm against his wrist, and as long as it was there, he could drink with the rowdiest sailors, laugh at their crude jokes, and even gaze upon the most beautiful women without fear. No transformation would seize him. No pig demon would surface. He was just Zhu Pengchun, a man running a quiet inn by the sea.

One afternoon, as the sun hung low and the streets grew hazy with the golden light of dusk, a knock came at the door. Not the casual rap of a passing customer, but three sharp, eager taps. Zhu Pengchun wiped his hands on his apron and went to answer. He pulled the heavy wooden door open, and before he could even speak, a figure darted forward and threw herself into his arms.

“Brother Zhu! Is it really you?”

The voice was soft, familiar, and filled with unrestrained joy. Zhu Pengchun stumbled back a step, caught off guard by the sudden embrace. A sweet fragrance—like lotus flowers after rain—wrapped around him. He looked down at the woman clinging to him and blinked.

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice cautious but not unkind.

The woman pulled back, a delighted smile on her face. She reached up with slender fingers and removed the wide-brimmed hat and the sheer veil that had hidden her features. As the cloth fell away, Zhu Pengchun’s eyes widened.

Two pale, elegant dragon horns rose from her temples, curving back through her long black hair. Her skin was fair, almost luminous, with a few delicate dragon scales scattered along her collarbone and the sides of her neck. She was tall—178 centimeters, easily—with a figure that made his breath catch. Her white gauze dress left little to the imagination, the upper half of her immense breasts swelling above the deep neckline, a shadowy cleft between them. Her waist was slender, her hips wide and full, a perfect curve that drew the eye. And her face—her face was like a celestial maiden’s, soft and beautiful, with gentle eyes framed by round glasses. She looked at him with the warmth of a long-lost friend.

“Don’t you recognize me, Brother Zhu?” she said, her voice a whisper of pure happiness. “It’s me. Ao Ling’er.”

Zhu Pengchun’s mouth fell open. Memories flooded back—a little girl with tiny horns, splashing in a mountain stream, laughing as she chased after him. The daughter of the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea, his childhood playmate. They had played together for years until her father had taken her away, back to the deep palaces beneath the waves.

“Little Dragon Girl?” he breathed. Then a grin spread across his face, wide and sincere. “Ao Ling’er! By the heavens, is it really you?”

She nodded, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “I’ve been looking for you for so long.”

He stepped back and gestured for her to come inside. “Come, come. Sit down. Tell me everything.”

They sat at a small table near the window, and Zhu Pengchun poured her a cup of tea. She held it with both hands, the steam curling around her face, and told him her story. After her father had taken her back to the Dragon Palace, she had been confined, trained in etiquette, and groomed to be a proper princess. But her heart had never been there. She had missed the sky, the land, and most of all, she had missed him.

“So I fought,” she said simply. “I fought hard. My father tried to stop me, but I was stubborn. In the end, he couldn’t keep me locked up. I told him I would find my own path.”

Zhu Pengchun laughed and shook his head. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

“Neither have you,” she said, and her smile was like sunrise.

From that day on, Ao Ling’er stayed. She moved into a small room at the back of the inn and began helping with the chores. She was strong, quick, and surprisingly good at soothing grumpy customers with her gentle voice and soft laughter. The inn’s business improved. Merchants who had once passed by now came in to eat, and word spread that the inn at the end of the street had a kind owner and a beautiful waitress with eyes like stars.

They fell into an easy rhythm, just as they had when they were children. Zhu Pengchun still treated her like a younger sister, teasing her when she was clumsy, praising her when she did well. And Ao Ling’er, for her part, still looked at him with the same wide-eyed admiration she had always had. She called him Brother Zhu, and he called her Little Dragon Girl, and they spent their evenings sitting on the inn’s porch, watching the moon rise over the sea.

Secretly, in the quiet places of her heart, Ao Ling’er felt something more. A flutter when he laughed. A warmth when his hand brushed hers. But she was too naive, too straightforward to recognize it for what it was. She only knew that being with him felt right, and that was enough for now.

Sometimes, on days when the weather was fine, they would close the inn early and go on outings together. They walked along the shore, collecting shells, or climbed the green hills behind the city to watch the clouds. They talked about everything and nothing, like old friends who had never been apart.

Then came the day that changed everything.

It was a quiet afternoon. The inn was empty, and Zhu Pengchun had been cleaning the upstairs rooms. He was tired, his mind elsewhere, and he needed to wash his hands. The bathroom door was slightly ajar, and no light came from inside. He assumed it was empty.

He pushed the door open without thinking.

Steam billowed out, thick and fragrant with the scent of flowers. And there, in the wooden tub, was Ao Ling’er.

She sat in the water, her hair wet and clinging to her shoulders, her skin flushed from the heat. Her huge breasts rose above the surface, the water lapping at their generous curves. The dragon scales along her sides caught the dim light, gleaming like scattered jewels. Her figure was perfect, her waist slim, her hips broad and beautiful even half-hidden by the water. She looked like a goddess from an ancient painting.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Ao Ling’er’s cheeks turned crimson. She sank down into the water until only her eyes and horns were visible, her glasses fogged with steam.

Zhu Pengchun’s face burned. He yanked the door shut so fast it rattled on its hinges. He stood outside, heart pounding, and pressed a hand to his forehead.

“I’m so sorry, Little Dragon Girl!” he called through the door. “I thought it was empty! I didn’t mean—I’m sorry!”

A long pause. Then her voice came, soft and flustered. “It’s… it’s not your fault, Brother Zhu. I forgot to lock the door.”

He stood there, not knowing what else to say. He still thought of her as a younger sister. He had never looked at her that way. But now, that image was seared into his mind—her beauty, her vulnerability, the way the water had clung to her skin.

Inside the bathroom, Ao Ling’er sat in the cooling water, her face burning. She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling her heart hammer against her ribs. She didn’t know why she felt so flustered. It was just Brother Zhu. He had seen her. He had seen her.

And for the first time, she realized that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want him to see her as just a little sister anymore.

The morning sun cast a pale golden light over the cobblestone street, but the usual bustle of merchants and pedestrians was absent. Zhu Pengchun pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the inn, the hinges groaning in protest, and stepped onto the threshold. He blinked, expecting to see the familiar flow of early risers heading to market or the clatter of carts delivering fresh produce. Instead, the street stretched empty before him, silent as a held breath. A faint breeze stirred the dust, and nothing else moved.

“Odd,” he murmured, turning back to glance at Little Dragon Girl, who was wiping down the counter with a damp cloth. She paused, her ears catching the note of unease in his voice.

“What is it?”

“No one’s out. Not a soul.”

Little Dragon Girl set the cloth aside and walked to the doorway, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the quiet lane. Her nostrils flared slightly, and a flicker of something—wariness, recognition—passed across her face. Before she could speak, a soft rustling sound came from the shadows beneath the eaves. Then another, closer. Zhu Pengchun stepped back as a gray tabby cat emerged from under a parked cart, its eyes glinting in the morning light. It sat down, tail curling around its paws, and stared directly at him.

More cats followed. A black one leaped from a windowsill. A calico padded out from an alley. Within moments, a dozen cats of all sizes and colors had gathered in a loose semicircle at the inn’s entrance. They did not meow or hiss. They sat in perfect stillness, watching him with an eerily intelligent gaze.

“What in the world…” Zhu Pengchun started, but Little Dragon Girl stepped forward, her hand resting on the hilt of a concealed dagger at her belt.

“Stay behind me,” she said, her voice low and sharp. Her eyes swept over the assembly of felines, and she tilted her head as if listening to something beyond the range of ordinary hearing. “There’s a flow of magic here. Demonic energy—but mixed with celestial aura. Unusual.”

The cats did not react to her words. They simply continued to sit, as if waiting for something. Then, from the rooftops across the street, a figure rose into view. She had been crouching behind a chimney, and now she stood with the easy grace of a creature accustomed to heights. She was a woman, tall and striking, dressed in a flowing red gown that billowed slightly in the breeze. A white apron was tied over it, clean and crisp. On her head sat a red hat shaped like two pointed cat ears, and beneath its brim, her long black hair hung straight and glossy. The corners of her eyes were painted with a vivid red eyeshadow that gave her gaze a sharp, almost predatory allure.

Little Dragon Girl’s hand tightened on her dagger. “Who goes there? State your name!”

The woman laughed—a light, trilling sound like wind chimes. She leaped from the rooftop, landing silently on the cobblestones in front of the cats. Her high-heeled shoes clicked once, then still. She stood at least a head taller than Zhu Pengchun, her figure long and fluid beneath the red dress. Though her chest was not as generously endowed as Little Dragon Girl’s, it was still full and shapely, and the way the fabric draped over her hips revealed a waist that was sleek and a backside that was notably round and beautiful. Her face was a curious mix of cuteness and seduction, with eyes that sparkled like a fox’s, clever and inviting, and a mouth that curved into a smile shaped like a cat’s—adorable, mischievous, and quick.

“I am the leader of the Dahongshan Cat Demon Clan,” she announced, placing a hand over her heart. “The cat demon Miaomiao!”

The cats behind her let out a synchronized purr, as if to confirm her identity. Miaomiao turned her gaze directly to Zhu Pengchun, and her expression lit up with delighted recognition. “Mr. Zhu!” she exclaimed, and before either of them could react, she darted forward and seized his hands in hers. “I’ve found you at last!”

Zhu Pengchun blinked, utterly bewildered. “I’m sorry, do I—have we met?”

“Not formally, but I owe you my life,” Miaomiao said, her eyes shining. “Three moons ago, you unknowingly broke a cursed trap that had been set for my clan in the northern bamboo grove. I tracked the residue of your aura here. Please allow me to repay this debt by working as a helper in your inn.”

Little Dragon Girl stepped between them, her expression guarded. “Wait. A cat demon seeking to work in a human inn? Why should we trust you?”

Miaomiao released Zhu Pengchun’s hands and turned to face Little Dragon Girl, her demeanor respectful. “I possess both demonic and celestial energy, as you sensed. I have cultivated for three hundred years without harming a single innocent. My oath is to protect, not to prey.” She lifted her chin, meeting Little Dragon Girl’s gaze steadily. “If you allow me to stay, I will serve this inn with all my skill and loyalty.”

Little Dragon Girl studied her for a long moment. She could feel the truth of Miaomiao’s words—the celestial energy wrapped around her demonic core like a cloak of good intent. Finally, she nodded. “Very well. You may stay. But if I detect any mischief, you’ll be out before you can blink.”

Miaomiao’s face broke into a radiant smile. “You won’t regret it!” She turned and clapped her hands at the gathered cats. “Disperse! Report to your posts. I’ll check in tonight.”

The cats rose as one and padded away into the shadows, disappearing as silently as they had come. Miaomiao brushed off her apron and strode into the inn, already examining the layout with keen eyes. “The counter needs a fresh coat of varnish, and the window lattices could use a dusting,” she murmured. “But the bones are good. Mr. Zhu, where do you keep the cleaning supplies?”

Zhu Pengchun, still slightly dazed, pointed toward the back storeroom. Miaomiao nodded and set to work immediately, humming a cheerful tune.

The days that followed transformed the inn. Miaomiao’s warmth and quick wit enchanted the customers. She remembered everyone’s names, their favorite dishes, and the little details that made them smile—a child’s love for honey cakes, an old man’s preference for tea with three sugars. She charmed even the grumpiest patrons with her playful banter and catlike antics, sometimes balancing trays on her nose or telling fortunes by reading tea leaves. The inn’s business flourished, and the atmosphere grew lively and bright.

Little Dragon Girl watched her closely at first, but even she had to admit that Miaomiao was genuine. She worked tirelessly, never complained, and treated Zhu Pengchun with an almost worshipful respect that bordered on endearing. Whenever he walked through the dining hall, Miaomiao would pop up beside him, eyes sparkling, and chirp, “Mr. Zhu! Can I get you some tea? Are you tired? Shall I rub your shoulders?”

Zhu Pengchun would laugh and wave her off, but Little Dragon Girl noticed the way his shoulders relaxed around her, the easy smiles that came more often now.

One night, after the last customer had stumbled home and the lanterns were dimmed, Little Dragon Girl stood at the back window, looking out into the dark garden. She saw shadows moving among the trees—the cat demons, gathered in a respectful circle. Miaomiao stood in their center, her red dress vivid in the moonlight.

“Boss,” one of the cats said, its voice a low growl. “The patrols are quiet. No humans have entered the sacred grove.”

“Good,” Miaomiao replied, her tone firm but kind. “Keep the watch. Protect the borders. And remember—if any demon seeks to harm those under this roof, report to me immediately.”

The cats bowed their heads and melted into the night. Miaomiao turned and caught sight of Little Dragon Girl in the window. She waved cheerfully, then trotted back inside.

“Checking on your subjects?” Little Dragon Girl asked dryly.

Miaomiao grinned, unfazed. “They’re loyal. And they know that Mr. Zhu’s inn is now under my protection. No harm will come to this place.”

Little Dragon Girl studied her for a moment, then nodded slowly. “See that it doesn’t.”

As Miaomiao passed by the kitchen, she spotted Zhu Pengchun cleaning the stove. Her face lit up. “Mr. Zhu! Still working so late? Let me help!”

She hurried to his side, and the inn settled into the quiet rhythm of the night, filled with the soft sounds of companionship and the promise of many more days to come.

Zhu Pengchun wiped the sweat from his brow as he pulled the heavy cart through the narrow streets of the town. The wooden wheels groaned under the load of fresh rice, leafy vegetables, ripe fruits, and cuts of meat wrapped in oiled paper. He had made good time from the market, and the inn would be well stocked for the evening guests. The sun was beginning its descent, casting long shadows between the buildings.

As he turned into a quieter alley, a shortcut to the inn, he heard raised voices and the thud of fists against flesh. He slowed, peering ahead. In the dim light of the alley, two men stood over a third who was curled on the ground. The victim was massive—fat, with a thick neck and a half-bald head slick with grease. His clothes were filthy and torn. The two men kicked him, laughing.

“Stop that!” Zhu Pengchun shouted, his voice carrying authority.

The two men turned. They were lean, wiry, with eyes that held a flat, predatory gleam. One had a scar running from his temple to his jaw; the other had yellowed teeth bared in a snarl. They said nothing, but their stares were a threat. Zhu Pengchun’s instincts prickled. These were not ordinary men. The air around them felt wrong, charged with a feral energy.

The scarred one glanced at his companion. “No one’s around. Let’s eat this cart-pulling mortal. No one will know.”

The words struck Zhu Pengchun cold. Eat him? Mortals? That phrase revealed everything. These were demons, and they spoke of consuming him as easily as one might speak of a meal.

“He’s seen us,” the yellow-toothed one growled. “Finish him.”

They lunged, but before they reached him, their forms twisted and swelled. Skin rippled into tawny fur, limbs elongated, and snouts pushed forward. The scarred one became a sleek leopard, muscles coiling under a spotted coat. The other became a gray wolf, its hackles raised and drool stringing from fangs.

Zhu Pengchun did not hesitate. He yanked the leather bracelet from his wrist and tossed it into the cart. His hand went to the gourd at his hip, and he took a long swallow of strong wine—a rule broken. Then he forced his mind to that image he had seen years ago, the pornographic scroll hidden in a market stall, the crude but effective drawing of a man and woman entwined. Another rule broken. The two prohibitions shattered, the seal on his true nature dissolved.

His body convulsed. Bones cracked and reknit. Skin darkened to a coarse hide, bristles sprouted along his spine. His face elongated into a snout, tusks curving up from his lower jaw. He grew taller, broader, his hands becoming cloven hooves that could crush stone. The pig demon stood in the alley, snorting steam.

The leopard and wolf skidded to a halt, eyes widening. They had not expected this.

Zhu Pengchun did not give them time to react. He charged, lowered his shoulder, and caught the leopard in the chest. The demon flew backward, slammed into a wall, and crumpled. The wolf tried to circle, but Zhu Pengchun spun with surprising speed, his massive fist catching the wolf’s jaw. There was a sickening crack, and the wolf tumbled, whining. Within moments, both demons lay groaning, their forms flickering between beast and man as they struggled to hold their shapes.

Zhu Pengchun picked up his bracelet from the cart and slid it back onto his wrist. The change reversed, his body shrinking and smoothing, the tusks retreating. He stood again as the simple cart-puller, breath evening out. He walked over to the huddled mass on the ground.

The fat man was trying to stand, hands pressed against the grimy cobblestones. His face was broad and lumpy, with a huge mouth that seemed too wide for his head. His skin was dark and dirty, and he smelled of cheap liquor and sweat. He blinked up at Zhu Pengchun with watery eyes.

“Thank you, kind sir,” he said, his voice a low croak. “I am Wang Geda. Those bastards cornered me.”

Zhu Pengchun offered a hand. Wang Geda took it and pulled himself upright, swaying. Then, without warning, he seemed to shimmer. His form bloated, skin turning warty and greenish, his mouth widening until it split nearly from ear to ear. A giant toad stood before Zhu Pengchun, its bulbous eyes gleaming.

“I too am a demon,” Wang Geda said, his voice still the same croak. “I was drinking in this alley, and I bumped into one of them. Said something I shouldn’t have. They ganged up on me. I’m weak when I’m drunk. I have nowhere to go. Please, take me in. We are both demons. We can help each other.”

Zhu Pengchun shook his head. “I am partly human. I am not a true demon.”

Wang Geda did not seem to hear. He begged, his large hands clasped together. “Just for a little while. I will find my own place soon. I swear I won’t be a burden.”

Pity stirred in Zhu Pengchun’s chest. The toad was pathetic, ugly and beaten, with nowhere to turn. “Fine,” he said. “But only for a few days.”

Wang Geda smiled, revealing a mouth full of small, sharp teeth. “Thank you, thank you.”

Zhu Pengchun gestured to the cart. “Help me with this. The inn is just ahead.”

The toad demon shifted back to his human form, and together they pulled the cart the rest of the way. When they reached the inn, Little Dragon Girl and Miaomiao came out to greet him. Their smiles faltered when they saw Wang Geda. Little Dragon Girl’s eyes narrowed. Miaomiao took a step back.

“Who is this?” Little Dragon Girl asked, her voice cool.

“His name is Wang Geda,” Zhu Pengchun said. “He needs a place to stay for a short time. Please be tolerant.”

Little Dragon Girl’s gaze lingered on Wang Geda, but she said nothing more. Wang Geda shuffled behind Zhu Pengchun, but his eyes slid sideways, resting on Little Dragon Girl. His tongue flicked out, wetting his lips, and a glint of ill intent passed through his gaze before he looked down.

At dinner, the three sat together. Wang Geda ate messily, shoveling food into his mouth. At one point, he yawned, and from his throat shot his long, forked toad tongue, covered in greasy stains. It licked around his lips before retracting. Zhu Pengchun pretended not to notice. Little Dragon Girl stared at her bowl, expression stony.

Later that night, when Little Dragon Girl went to bathe in the small wooden tub behind the inn, Wang Geda announced he would sleep in the woodshed. Zhu Pengchun nodded, tired, and retired to his room.

But Wang Geda did not go to the woodshed. He crept around the back of the inn, his bulky form surprisingly silent. He found a crack in the wall of the bathing enclosure and pressed his eye to it. Inside, Little Dragon Girl sat in the tub, her bare shoulders glistening with water. She was beautiful, ethereal. Wang Geda’s breath quickened.

Little Dragon Girl paused. She felt a strange gaze upon her, like a crawling sensation on her skin. She turned her head, scanning the shadows. But Wang Geda had mastered concealment magic, and he melded into the darkness, invisible to her sight. After a long moment, she shrugged, thinking herself paranoid. She continued bathing, humming softly.

Wang Geda stayed, watching, his tongue flickering in the dark.

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the courtyard of the inn when the sound of hooves and carriage wheels reached Zhu Pengchun’s ears. He had been dozing behind the counter, but the noise roused him instantly. He straightened his robes, smoothed his hair, and stepped out the front door just as a handsome carriage pulled up.

A man dismounted first. He was enormous—easily eight feet tall, with shoulders like boulders and arms thick as tree trunks. His skin was dark as polished obsidian, and his face bore a perpetual scowl that made him look as though he had just bitten into a sour persimmon. His muscles bulged beneath a simple tunic, and he moved with a heavy, deliberate tread that shook the ground.

Zhu Pengchun swallowed hard. This was no ordinary traveler.

But then the carriage door opened, and a woman stepped out. The man—Wu Gang, as he would later learn—extended a hand, but she waved him off gracefully. She wore a flowing robe of pale silk that seemed to shimmer like moonlight on water. A veil covered her face, but her form was exquisite, her movements fluid and elegant.

Zhu Pengchun’s breath caught in his throat.

The woman reached up and slowly removed her veil. Her face was revealed, and the world seemed to hold still. She had skin as white as jade, eyes like deep pools of starlight, and lips the color of cherry blossoms. Her hair fell in cascading waves, dark as a moonless night. She was, without question, the most beautiful woman Zhu Pengchun had ever seen.

His heart pounded. His mouth went dry. He forgot everything—the inn, his duties, even the fact that he was supposed to be a demon of some standing. All he could see was her.

“Welcome,” he managed, his voice cracking slightly. “Welcome to my humble inn.”

The woman smiled, and it was like watching dawn break over a mountain peak. “Thank you, innkeeper. I am Chang’e. This is my companion, Wu Gang.”

“It is my honor,” Zhu Pengchun said, bowing so low he nearly toppled over.

From behind him, he heard a soft snort. Little Dragon Girl and Miaomiao had come out to greet the guests. Little Dragon Girl’s eyes were narrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line. She had seen the way Zhu Pengchun looked at that woman—like a starving man gazing at a feast.

Chang’e, however, seemed to notice none of the tension. She stepped forward gracefully and addressed Little Dragon Girl directly. “And you must be the renowned Little Dragon Girl. I have heard much about you from Taibai Jinxing.”

Little Dragon Girl blinked, startled. “You know who I am?”

“I know more than you might think,” Chang’e said with a knowing smile. “The three of you—the innkeeper, the dragon, and the cat—are no ordinary beings. But do not worry. The Star Lord has assured me you mean no harm.”

Miaomiao twitched her ears and offered a polite nod, while Zhu Pengchun puffed out his chest, pleased that his reputation had preceded him.

Wu Gang remained silent, his dark eyes scanning the courtyard as if expecting an ambush at any moment. He stood close to Chang’e, his massive frame a wall of protection.

Once they were seated inside with tea, Chang’e explained her purpose. “There will soon be two suns in the sky,” she said, her voice grave. “The Jade Emperor has commanded me to descend to the mortal realm and find Houyi’s divine bow. Only that bow can shoot down the extra sun and save the world from destruction.”

Zhu Pengchun leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “Houyi’s bow? That’s been lost for centuries.”

“I know,” Chang’e said. “But I knew Houyi. We were… close. I believe I can find the bow by memory, but I need clues. I have heard that the mountains of Changqing hold some secrets.”

“Changqing Mountain?” Wang Geda, who had been lingering near the doorway, suddenly spoke up. He stepped forward, his toad-like face breaking into a grin. “I know that area like the back of my hand. I can help.”

Zhu Pengchun’s eyes lit up. This was his chance. He could impress the beautiful Chang’e with his bravery and resourcefulness. “I will go as well,” he declared, standing tall. “You need someone with strength and courage to accompany you.”

Little Dragon Girl’s eyes flashed. She saw right through him. He wasn’t thinking about courage or strength—he was thinking about spending time alone with that celestial beauty. Her blood boiled.

“No,” she said, stepping between Zhu Pengchun and Chang’e. “I will go. Wang Geda knows the terrain, and I know how to handle myself in the wild. Brother Zhu, you must stay here and mind the inn.”

Zhu Pengchun’s face fell. “But—”

“It’s settled,” Little Dragon Girl said firmly.

Chang’e observed the exchange with amused interest, but she said nothing. Wu Gang simply grunted.

And so it was decided. Little Dragon Girl and Wang Geda would journey to Changqing Mountain. Miaomiao would remain at the inn with Zhu Pengchun and the new guests.

As Little Dragon Girl packed a small bag, she fumed inwardly. That lecherous Brother Zhu, drooling over that woman like a dog. She felt a pang of jealousy so sharp it surprised her. Why should she care? He wasn’t hers. But the way he looked at Chang’e made her want to slap him.

Wang Geda watched her from the corner of his eye, a sly smile playing on his lips. He had seen the tension between her and Zhu Pengchun. Good. If she was distracted and angry, she would be easier to manipulate. He thought of her slender figure, her flawless skin, and his heart raced. All he needed was the right opportunity.

The journey to Changqing Mountain took half a day. The path wound through dense forests and rocky slopes, and the air grew cool and damp as they climbed higher. Wang Geda led the way, his heavy frame surprisingly agile on the uneven ground.

Little Dragon Girl followed in silence, her senses alert. She didn’t trust this toad demon. There was something slimy about him—not just his appearance, but his manner. He kept glancing at her in ways that made her skin crawl.

They reached a small village at the foot of the mountain and began asking around. An old man with a long white beard sat outside his hut, whittling a piece of wood. When they mentioned the divine bow, his eyes widened.

“The flying arrow,” he said, his voice trembling. “I saw it three days ago. It flew across the sky like a streak of light, heading north. It went straight into the deep forest, into the old woods where no one goes.”

Little Dragon Girl’s heart leaped. “Are you sure?”

“As sure as I’m sitting here,” the old man said. “An arrow that flies on its own—that’s not natural. That’s the work of gods.”

Wang Geda’s mind churned. The northern deep forest was known to be the territory of an ancient tree demon. Dangerous, but also full of hidden snares. An idea took shape.

“I know the way,” he said, offering Little Dragon Girl what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Follow me.”

She hesitated, then nodded. They set off into the forest.

The trees grew thicker and taller as they walked, their branches intertwining to form a canopy that blocked out the sun. The air grew heavy with the scent of moss and damp earth. Strange sounds echoed through the woods—the rustle of unseen creatures, the creak of ancient wood.

After hours of walking, Little Dragon Girl’s legs ached. “We should rest,” she said, sinking onto a fallen log.

Wang Geda nodded, sitting opposite her. “Just a short break. We’re close.”

They closed their eyes. The forest was quiet, too quiet. Little Dragon Girl’s instincts screamed at her, but exhaustion dulled her wariness.

That’s when she felt it—a strange sensation on her skin. It started as a tickle, then became warm and wet. Her eyes flew open. A viscous liquid was oozing from the bark of the tree beside her, dripping onto her clothes. Before she could react, the fabric began to dissolve, melting away like frost under sunlight.

“What—” she gasped, scrambling to her feet. But it was too late. Her clothes were gone, reduced to nothing but puddles of silvery goo. She stood there, naked, the cool air brushing against her bare skin.

Her hands flew to cover herself. One hand clamped over her private area, the other pressed against her chest, but her breasts were too large to hide completely. The nipples were covered, but the soft curves were fully exposed, pale and inviting.

Wang Geda stared. He had been caught in the same trap—his clothes were gone too, revealing his massive, powerful body. Fat and muscle covered his frame, but his muscles were the most prominent, rippling across his chest and arms. His skin was dark and rough, covered in patches of warty texture from his toad nature.

“Don’t look at me!” Little Dragon Girl shouted, her face burning with shame and rage.

Wang Geda turned away, but he had already seen everything. And he had seen something else—his own body’s reaction. His penis had become erect, huge and thick, reaching a full thirty centimeters in length. It was covered in engorged veins, and the shaft was unwashed, caked with years of smegma. The glans was dark and swollen, and his massive testicles hung low, filled with thick toad sperm that seemed to churn of its own accord.

The smell was overwhelming. A musky, animalistic scent filled the air, mingling with the strange liquid’s residue. Little Dragon Girl’s nostrils flared despite herself. The odor triggered something deep and primal within her, a feminine instinct that made her knees weak. She forced herself to look away, but her eyes kept darting back, drawn by the sheer size and grandeur of the organ. It was grotesque, yet undeniably impressive.

“We… we have to keep moving,” Wang Geda said, his voice strained. “The flying arrow went north. We can’t stop now.”

“We have no clothes,” Little Dragon Girl hissed.

“Neither do I. But the gods don’t care about our modesty.”

She had no choice. They could not stay here, naked and vulnerable. Gritting her teeth, she began to walk, her arms still crossed over her chest. Wang Geda followed, his erection bobbing obscenely with each step.

The forest watched them in silence, two naked figures moving through the shadows, searching for a lost arrow that might save the world—while one of them plotted a very different kind of conquest.

The forest grew denser as Wang Geda and Little Dragon Girl pressed deeper into the undergrowth, their naked bodies brushing against ferns and leaves. The cool air raised goosebumps on her pale skin, but she paid it no mind. Her focus was entirely on the faint hum of divine power she felt pulsing through the earth.

"I think we're close," she said, pausing to close her eyes and concentrate. "The arrow… it's somewhere ahead. I can feel it calling."

Wang Geda lumbered beside her, his massive toad-like frame casting a long shadow in the dappled sunlight. He scratched his belly idly, feigning disinterest while his eyes roved over her curves. "If you say so, little dragon. I just hope we find it before some other demon does."

She nodded, taking another step forward. The ground trembled beneath her feet.

Then it shook again—harder this time.

"What's happening?" Little Dragon Girl grabbed for a tree branch to steady herself, but the earth lurched violently. Her bare foot slipped on a mossy rock, and she toppled backward with a startled cry.

Wang Geda lunged to catch her. His thick arms wrapped around her waist, but the momentum sent them both stumbling. He crashed into her, and for a moment, their bodies pressed together with alarming intimacy. His broad chest flattened against her soft breasts. His massive thigh wedged between her legs, and his huge, semi-erect penis—a monstrous thing, thick as a child's arm and covered in warty lumps—pressed hard against the entrance of her tender, plump vagina.

Little Dragon Girl's face flushed crimson. Her heart pounded so fiercely she thought it might burst. "W-Wang Geda! Release me!"

"Sorry! Sorry!" He scrambled backward, his hands raised in apology. But inside, a smug grin spread across his thoughts. *Soft. So soft. And that little twitch when I pressed against her… she felt it, didn't she?*

She turned away, trying to compose herself. Her fingers trembled as she brushed dirt from her shoulder. "It's fine. Let's keep moving."

They continued onward, though the encounter hung in the air between them. The earthquake had subsided, but the forest now felt hostile. Shadows moved where they shouldn't. A low growl rumbled from the trees ahead.

"Demons," Little Dragon Girl whispered, her eyes scanning the darkness. "They must have sensed the arrow's power too."

A dozen small demons burst from the brush—twisted creatures with jagged teeth and claws like rusted knives. They shrieked and charged.

Little Dragon Girl dropped into a fighting stance, her fists raised. But without armor or weapons, and with her naked body exposed, she felt vulnerable. Every movement revealed too much, and her concentration wavered. She dodged a swipe, then another, but a third demon darted behind her, aiming for her flank.

"Look out!" Wang Geda barreled forward, his massive body slamming into the demon before it could land a blow. The creature flew into a tree with a sickening crack. But in the process, a sharp claw raked across Wang Geda's hand, leaving a deep gash that welled with dark blood.

He grunted but didn't stop. He grabbed two demons by their heads and smashed them together. Little Dragon Girl found her rhythm, using kicks and palm strikes to dispatch the rest. Soon the last demon lay groaning at their feet.

Silence fell. She was breathing hard, her naked chest heaving. She looked at Wang Geda's hand—the wound was ugly, still bleeding.

"You're hurt," she said, guilt flooding her voice. "Because of me."

He waved his good hand dismissively. "A real man can take a scratch. Don't worry about it."

But his injury weighed on her. She said nothing more, but her eyes lingered on the blood dripping from his fingers.

That night, they took shelter in a shallow cave. Rain began to fall outside, pattering against the stone entrance. Little Dragon Girl had found a strip of cloth from some wreckage, and she used it to bandage Wang Geda's hand. She worked gently, carefully, her fingers soft against his rough skin.

Wang Geda watched her from beneath half-lidded eyes. *This woman… so naive. So kind. She'll believe anything I tell her.* Aloud, he said, "You don't have to trouble yourself. I told you, I can handle it."

"You were hurt because you saved me. The least I can do is tend to it." She finished tying the bandage and looked up. "There. It should help."

He nodded, affecting humility.

The rain grew heavier. Little Dragon Girl stepped out of the cave, letting the cool water wash over her. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back, letting it stream through her hair and over her breasts. The sensation was refreshing, cleansing.

Wang Geda watched from the cave mouth, his eyes fixed on her silhouette in the rain. His penis stirred, rising to its full, grotesque length—a full thirty centimeters, veined and covered in warty bumps. He stepped out into the rain, pretending to stretch.

"Ah, this feels good," he said, moving closer. "Cleans the dirt off."

She nodded, still bathing, not looking at him.

He turned, as if to look back at the cave, and swung his hips carelessly. His erect penis slapped against her plump, beautiful buttocks with a loud *smack*.

Little Dragon Girl jolted violently, her entire body shuddering. She spun around, her face a mix of shyness and irritation. "Wang Geda!"

He turned, eyes wide with feigned innocence. "What? Did I hit you? Sorry, I didn't see you there."

She opened her mouth to scold him, but her gaze fell on his bandaged hand. The guilt returned, softening her anger. She looked away, her cheeks burning. Then her eyes inadvertently dropped to his penis—huge, dark, veined, with a foreskin that looked grimy.

She hesitated. "Do you… need to clean that? There's a lot of… smegma."

Wang Geda glanced down and shrugged. "I'm a toad demon. Dirt doesn't matter to me."

She bit her lip but said nothing more.

The next morning, the rain had stopped. They resumed their search. Wang Geda led her through a thicket and into a clearing where a strange circle of stones lay on the ground. Moss covered the runes carved into them.

"A teleportation circle," he said. "It should take us closer."

She stepped into the circle with him. Light flared, and the world twisted.

They landed in a small room with stone walls, no windows, and a single door—which refused to open. Little Dragon Girl pushed against it, threw her shoulder into it, even kicked it. Nothing. She examined the walls. On one, words were carved into the stone:

*A woman must clean the penis with her mouth to open the hidden door.*

She stared at the words, her face going pale.

Wang Geda laughed, shaking his head. "That's nonsense. Don't believe it. There must be another way."

They waited. An hour passed. Two. The room grew stuffy. Little Dragon Girl tried the door again, but it wouldn't budge. She examined every inch of the walls, tapped for hollow spots, pressed every stone. Nothing.

Finally, she turned to Wang Geda, her voice small and strained. "Don't tell Brother Zhu about what happened these days."

His eyes widened. "What are you—"

She knelt.

The sight of her on her knees, her naked body so close to his groin, made his heart race. His penis stiffened immediately, rising to full length before her face.

Little Dragon Girl's hands trembled as she took it. She could feel the warty bumps, the thick veins, the heat. The foreskin was slick with smegma—white and yellowish, with a sour, rank smell. She gritted her teeth, opened her mouth, and took the head inside.

The taste made her gag. It was foul, acrid, like rotten cheese mixed with sweat. She forced herself to lick, to scrape the smegma away with her tongue. She worked quickly, desperate to finish. Each stroke brought more of the grimy paste into her mouth. She swallowed a little by accident—it slid down her throat, leaving a trail of heat—but she spat most of it out onto the floor.

Wang Geda trembled with pleasure, his eyes half-glazed. He had to stop himself from thrusting deeper.

When the penis was clean, a grinding sound echoed from the wall. A hidden door slid open.

Little Dragon Girl stood, wiping her mouth, her face red and her eyes downcast. "Let's go."

He followed, his heart pounding with triumph. *Too easy. She's too trusting.*

They emerged onto a mountaintop, where a golden arrow lay embedded in the stone. It glowed with a faint light—the arrow of Houyi's divine bow.

Wang Geda picked it up, handing it to her. "One down."

Their journey continued. On the way, he stopped at a cave belonging to a demon acquaintance and retrieved two sets of simple clothes. Little Dragon Girl dressed with relief, no longer forced to wander naked. Wang Geda pulled on a loose tunic and trousers.

As they walked down the mountain path, she clutched the arrow close. Her stomach still felt warm where the smegma had settled. A strange heat spread through her, stirring vague, unfamiliar urges. She shook her head, trying to focus on the task ahead.

Wang Geda watched her from the corner of his eye and smiled a toad's wide, hungry smile.

The group set out at dawn, following the directions given by a local hunter who spoke of a stone platform atop a mountain north of Haizhou City. The path wound through dense forests and rocky slopes, the morning mist clinging to their clothes like damp fingers. Zhu Pengchun led the way, his pig head held high, snout twitching at every new scent. Behind him walked Chang'e, ethereal and silent, her pale robes untouched by the mud that splattered the others. Wu Gang followed close to her, his axe slung across his back, his eyes never straying far from her form. Little Dragon Girl brought up the rear, her steps light, her gaze fixed on the back of Brother Zhu's head.

By midday they reached the summit. The trees parted to reveal a clearing, and in its center stood a stone platform carved from the mountain itself, ancient and weathered. Upon it rested a bow. It was not large, perhaps three feet in length, but it radiated a heavy stillness, as though it had waited eons for a worthy hand. The wood was dark and veined with gold, the bowstring taut and glistening like frozen light.

Zhu Pengchun stepped forward first. He grasped the bow's grip, planted his feet, and heaved. His muscles bulged, his face reddened, and a grunt escaped his snout. The bow did not move so much as a hair's breadth. He tried again, throwing his whole weight into it, then staggered back, panting. "This thing is rooted to the very bedrock," he said.

One by one the others tried. The innkeeper's son, a burly fellow named Zhang, took his turn, then a hunter who had guided them, then two fishermen who had joined the expedition out of curiosity. None could lift it. The bow sat unmoved, indifferent as the sky above.

Wu Gang stepped up last. He rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and spat into his palms. His hands closed around the bow, and for a moment his face twisted with effort, veins standing out on his forehead. The bow trembled—just barely—then settled. Wu Gang let go with a curse. "It mocks me," he growled.

A golden light split the heavens. The clouds parted, and a voice rolled down from on high, vast and resonant, carrying the weight of a thousand thrones. "Hear me, mortals and immortals alike," said the voice of the Jade Emperor. "This bow was forged by the ancestor gods to slay the false suns that once scorched the earth. Now, with a new sun threatening the balance, I decree: whosoever can take this bow from its resting place and shoot down the extra sun shall be made Marshal of the Heavenly Court, commander of ten thousand celestial soldiers."

A murmur rippled through the group. Marshal of the Heavenly Court. Wu Gang's eyes blazed with greed. He lunged at the bow again, but it refused him just as stubbornly. The others made another round of attempts, grunting, sweating, cursing, until dusk turned the sky to amber. They retreated down the mountain, defeated for the day.

Back at the inn in Haizhou City, they gathered in the common room over bowls of broth and hard bread. Zhu Pengchun sat apart, staring into his bowl without eating. Chang'e. The name echoed in his mind. He had loved her since the first time he saw her in the moon's reflection on a still pond, a story told by his mother when he was a piglet. Now she walked among them, a living goddess, and he could barely speak in her presence. If he became Marshal of the Heavenly Court, perhaps she would look upon him with favor. Perhaps she might even— He shook his head. Foolish dreams.

Little Dragon Girl watched him from across the table. She saw the distant look in his eyes, the soft smile that touched his snout when Chang'e glided past. Her heart clenched, but she said nothing. She pushed her bowl toward him. "Brother Zhu, you haven't eaten."

"I'm not hungry," he said.

She withdrew the bowl, her fingers trembling. She knew that look. It was the same look she wore when she watched him.

Chang'e excused herself early, pleading fatigue. She climbed the narrow stairs to her room, lit a single candle, and sat on the edge of the bed. A moment later, a soft knock came. She did not answer, but the door opened anyway. Wu Gang slipped inside, his shadow long on the wall. He said nothing, only crossed to her and took her chin in his hand.

"The Jade Emperor's decree," he whispered. "If I get that bow, I can have anything. Any woman."

"You already have me," she said, her voice flat.

"Yes, but I want more. I want power." He pulled her to her feet. "And you will help me."

"I cannot lift it either."

"You will find a way, or you know what happens." He gestured vaguely upward, toward heaven, toward the secret he held over her: the knowledge that the elixir she had stolen from Houyi was not stolen at all, but given to her by Wu Gang. That he could expose her as a fraud, a liar who had abandoned her husband for immortality. That he could destroy her reputation, her place in heaven, her very existence as a goddess.

She nodded, her throat tight. He smiled and pushed her to her knees.

Zhu Pengchun passed by her door on his way to his own room. He heard a muffled sound, a choked gasp, and paused. "Lady Chang'e? Are you well?"

Inside, Chang'e stiffened. Wu Gang's hand clamped over her mouth. She forced her voice to be steady. "I am fine. Just a nightmare."

"Shall I bring you tea?"

"No. Thank you. Go."

Zhu Pengchun hesitated, then moved on, his heart aching with concern for her. He did not hear the wet, rhythmic sounds that resumed after his footsteps faded.

The next morning, Wu Gang announced he would go to heaven to seek aid from Lord Laozi. "The old immortal owes me a favor," he said, and left without further explanation.

Zhu Pengchun paced the inn's courtyard, frantic. "He'll find some elixir, some artifact. He'll lift the bow before I can. I cannot let him."

Little Dragon Girl found him there, his trotters worrying the dirt. "Brother Zhu," she said softly.

He spun. "Sister! I must think of something. Anything."

She took a breath. "My father, the Dragon King, once told me that when I marry, he would give me treasures from the dragon palace as a dowry. Among them is a pair of magic gloves that can grant great strength."

Zhu Pengchun's eyes widened. He seized her hands. "Then you must marry! Do you have a man in mind? Anyone would be lucky to have you. Marry at once, and get those gloves for me!"

Little Dragon Girl's heart cracked like ice on a thawing river. "Do you truly like Chang'e that much?"

"More than anything in the world," he said, oblivious. "If I become Marshal, I can win her heart. Please, Sister, you would help me, wouldn't you?"

She looked at him—at his earnest, foolish pig face, at the hope shining in his eyes. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, that she would give him the gloves without any marriage, that the Dragon King would give them to his daughter's friend. But if she did that, what would he think? That she was pining for him? That she was trying to buy his affection? He would feel sorry for her. He might even pull away. No. Better to hide her heart.

She forced a smile. "Of course, Brother Zhu. I will get the gloves for you. As your little sister, it is my duty."

"You are the best sister a pig could ask for!" He hugged her roughly, then released her, already distracted by thoughts of Chang'e. "I will find a way to repay you."

She turned away, her smile crumbling the moment she faced her room. Inside, she sat on her bed, hugging her knees, and stared at the wall. A sound at the window made her look up. Wang Geda, the toad demon, was peering in, his bulging eyes gleaming with hunger. She had seen him before, loitering around the inn, always watching her. She shivered and drew the curtain.

Wang Geda grinned, his tongue flicking out. He had a plan.

The next day, a rumble of thunder announced the Dragon King's arrival. He appeared on the inn's threshold, a tall figure in azure robes, his beard flowing like waterfall foam. Little Dragon Girl ran to him, and he embraced her.

"My daughter," he said, "you sent for me. What troubles you?"

She led him to a quiet corner of the garden. "Father, I have found the man I wish to marry."

The Dragon King's face lit up. "Excellent! Which of the dragon princes has finally won your heart? Or is it one of those human nobles? I've heard the Emperor's son is—"

"No, Father. It is Wang Geda."

Silence. The Dragon King's expression soured. "The toad demon? The one with warts and a tongue like a whip? You jest."

Little Dragon Girl's hands trembled. She glanced toward the inn, where Zhu Pengchun was feeding the horses, his back to her. She opened her mouth to confess—no, I love Brother Zhu—but closed it again. If she said that, he would be embarrassed. He might hate her. She would lose even his friendship.

"I am not jesting," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

At that moment, Wang Geda stepped out of the shadows. "She speaks true, Your Majesty. The little dragon girl loves me."

The Dragon King recoiled. "You? An ugly wretch like you?"

Wang Geda only grinned. Little Dragon Girl hung her head. "Please, Father. I ask your blessing."

The Dragon King's face cycled through disbelief, anger, and despair. "I will not give it. Marry him and I disown you. So many fine suitors, and you choose a toad!"

He stormed away, the very clouds darkening above him. Little Dragon Girl watched him go, tears streaming down her face. Wang Geda sidled up to her. "Fear not, my bride. He will come around."

Two days later, the Dragon King returned. He appeared in Little Dragon Girl's room without announcement, carrying a heavy chest. He set it on the floor and opened it, revealing jewels, pearls, and silk beyond counting. Then he took his daughter in his arms.

"Talk to me," he said, his voice soft now. "Whatever troubles you, I am your father. You can tell me."

She leaned into his embrace, sobbing. But she could not bring herself to speak the truth. Instead, she asked, "Father, do you have a pair of magic gloves in the dragon palace? I need them."

"Gloves? Of course. The Ironhide Gauntlets of the Eastern Sea. They will let you lift mountains." He conjured them from thin air, a pair of scaled gauntlets that shimmered with blue light. "Take them. And if you ever wish to divorce this toad, you are always welcome home."

She clutched the gauntlets, nodded, and kissed his cheek. He left, his heart heavy.

That evening, Wang Geda's room was transformed. Red candles burned on every surface. Double happiness characters adorned the walls. Wang Geda wore a silken robe, his toad face split by a triumphant grin. Zhu Pengchun came to congratulate him.

"Wang Geda, my brother," Zhu Pengchun said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Take good care of my sister Little Dragon Girl. She deserves the best."

"I will treat her like a queen," Wang Geda lied.

As Zhu Pengchun turned to leave, Wang Geda muttered under his breath, "No, Zhu Pengchun, I should thank you. You good, blind man. You never saw her love for you. So I could step in and take her. All your fault."

Little Dragon Girl entered then, and all conversation stopped. She wore a white wedding dress of ancient style, semi-transparent, with a high cut that showed the outline of her thighs. The bodice plunged deeply, framing the generous swell of her breasts, her skin luminous in the candlelight. The outfit was both elegant and seductive, a paradox that made her look like a bride from a fairy tale and a courtesan from a dream.

Miaomiao, the innkeeper's daughter, gasped. "Sister, you look like a celestial! More beautiful than any fairy!"

Little Dragon Girl ignored the praise. She walked directly to Zhu Pengchun and stopped before him. "Brother Zhu, do you have anything you wish to say to me?"

Her heart screamed. Tell me to stop. Say you love me. Say anything. One word. One single word, and I will tear off this dress and tell Wang Geda it was a mistake.

Zhu Pengchun smiled, his eyes warm but distant. "I hope you find happiness, Sister. Wang Geda may be ugly, but h

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The wedding room was draped in red silk and gold embroidery, candles flickering on the carved rosewood table. Wang Geda sat on the edge of the bed, still in his dusty traveling clothes—a worn tunic and canvas trousers. He had not bothered to change. His hands trembled slightly as he rubbed them together, his toad-like face split by a grin that showed yellowing teeth.

The door creaked open. Little Dragon Girl stepped inside, and the candlelight caught her in full radiance. She wore a white cheongsam-style wedding dress, the silk so thin it was almost transparent. The fabric clung to her hips, revealing the long, powerful lines of her thighs. The top parted dangerously low, showcasing the deep valley between her enormous breasts, their pale skin gleaming under the soft light. A white veil, equally sheer, draped over her head, partially obscuring her face. Her dragon horns curved elegantly from her temples, and the small scales on her cheeks only accentuated her delicate features. A pair of round spectacles sat on her nose, lending her an air of scholarly grace. Her dragon tail, beautiful and sinuous, swayed behind her as she walked.

Wang Geda leaped to his feet. "My bride!" He rushed forward and lifted the veil with trembling fingers. His eyes widened, drinking in the sight of her. His hand shot out to touch her shoulder.

Little Dragon Girl flinched and stepped back. "Please, stop."

"Stop? But we're married now." He tried to reach for her again.

She shook her head, her voice soft but firm. "I still have Zhu Pengchun in my heart. I cannot pretend otherwise."

Wang Geda's expression shifted. His eager smile faded into a mask of hurt. He lowered his hand and turned away, his shoulders slumping. "Ah, I see." He let out a long, shaky sigh. "A fortune teller once told me I would never have a wife. I suppose he was right. It's true." He sniffled. "It's okay. If Zhu Pengchun ever shows interest again, just divorce me and go back to him. I understand." He brought his hands to his face and made pathetic sobbing sounds.

Little Dragon Girl's brow furrowed. She stepped closer. "Please don't cry. We are married, but we have not formally become husband and wife yet. We cannot perform marital duties before the ceremony is complete."

Wang Geda wiped at his eyes, though no tears fell. "Then let us have the formal ceremony now."

They went through the motions—lighting incense, bowing to the heavens, drinking wine from the same cup. When it was done, Wang Geda lifted her veil once more and leaned in, aiming for her lips.

Little Dragon Girl's hand shot up, covering his mouth. "No."

He pulled back, his expression wounded. "But we are husband and wife now. A kiss is only natural."

She shook her head. "I cannot. Not yet."

He sighed again, his voice dropping into a pathetic whine. "All I wanted was one small kiss. Just one. Is that too much to ask? My entire life, I've been alone. No woman has ever wanted me. And now, even my own wife refuses to touch me." He sniffled again, turning his head away.

Little Dragon Girl bit her lip. Her tail curled and uncurled nervously. "Anything but kissing," she said at last. "I can tolerate other things. But not that."

Wang Geda's eyes glittered. He moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. His hands slid up her sides, fingers tracing the sheer fabric of her wedding dress. He pressed his face into her neck, inhaling deeply. Her scent—like fresh rain on dragon scales—filled his lungs. His hands found her breasts, cupping their massive weight through the thin silk. They were heavy, warm, impossibly soft. He squeezed them, kneading the pliant flesh.

Little Dragon Girl let out a soft gasp. She stood stiffly, her hands clenched at her sides, but she did not push him away.

One of his hands slid down her slimm waist, tracing the curve of her hip before settling on her buttocks. He squeezed the firm muscle, then his fingers crept lower, pressing through the silk to find the tender, plump folds of her vagina. The fabric dampened instantly. Her tail began to tremble, then wagged slowly from side to side.

Wang Geda's huge penis swelled to attention, lengthening to a full thirty centimeters, thick and veined, throbbing with power. A strong, masculine scent—earthy, musky—wafted from it, reaching Little Dragon Girl's nostrils. Her body responded despite herself. A warmth spread through her core, and her tail curled around his thigh.

He pressed the head of his penis against the opening of her vagina, just through the silk. The tip was hot, insistent. He pushed forward slightly, the large head forcing apart the entrance.

Little Dragon Girl gasped. "No! Don't insert!"

He pulled back immediately, grinning. "Just teasing." Then his voice turned soft and coaxing. "But we're married now. We need to consummate the union. Unless..." He paused. "We could start with a breast job."

She turned to look at him, her eyes wide behind her glasses. "A what?"

"A breast job." He nodded at her enormous chest. "You use your breasts to pleasure me. That way we don't have to do anything you're not ready for."

Little Dragon Girl's face flushed. She looked down at her own cleavage, then at the massive organ jutting from his trousers. A fierce internal struggle played out on her face. At last, she gave a reluctant nod.

She knelt on the bed, then sat back on her heels. She cupped her huge breasts with both hands, lifting them and pressing them together, creating a deep, soft channel. Wang Geda positioned himself in front of her, his massive penis sliding between her breasts. The tip emerged above her cleavage, reaching almost to her chin.

Little Dragon Girl's breath caught. She had seen this organ before, but never from such close proximity. It was thick, veined, the head purple and glistening. Its scent was overpowering—wild, male, and intoxicating. Her body began to warm despite her reluctance.

She began to move her breasts up and down, the heavy mounds sliding against his abdomen with soft, wet sounds. Wang Geda groaned. "Good. Now—also give me a blowjob while you do that."

She looked up. "Like this?" She held her breasts together, continuing the breast job, then leaned forward and took the head of his penis into her mouth. She moved back and forth, her breasts working the shaft while her lips and tongue worked the tip.

Wang Geda nearly moaned aloud. His penis hardened further, the veins standing out like cords. His large testicles swelled, producing a constant stream of toad sperm, growing heavier and heavier.

After a long time, his body tensed. "I'm coming," he warned.

Little Dragon Girl tried to pull away, but it was too late. The first thick spurt filled her mouth, catching her off guard. She coughed and pulled back, but the penis continued to spray. The semen covered her face, splashing her glasses, dripping from her chin. The crevice between her breasts, where his penis had been sandwiched, pooled with thick white liquid.

They cleaned up in silence. Little Dragon Girl removed her glasses and wiped them. Wang Geda fetched a towel. When they were done, they moved to the bed.

Before getting in, Little Dragon Girl turned to him. "Swear to me you will not do anything while I sleep."

Wang Geda placed his hand over his heart. "I swear on my mother's grave. I will not do a thing."

He climbed into bed beside her, and they lay side by side. Soon, her breathing evened out into sleep.

In the middle of the night, Little Dragon Girl stirred groggily. She felt a warm hand on her body, not staying still. It was groping her huge breasts from behind, squeezing and kneading. She kept her eyes closed, pretending to sleep, thinking she could tolerate a little groping. Soon, she felt his huge penis pressing against her buttocks, the tip prying open her vaginal opening from behind. She clenched her mouth shut, not making a sound.

The huge penis slowly entered, inch by inch. When it was halfway in, her body began to convulse. She was about to speak, to stop him, when Wang Geda moved first. He pressed her down from behind, his weight pinning her.

"How long do you think you can pretend to sleep?" His voice was amused.

Little Dragon Girl gasped. "Wait, don't—"

He thrust hard, burying his entire massive length inside her. She let out a loud gasp, her body arching. Then he began to move, setting a vigorous rhythm. The bed shook, the wooden frame creaking loudly.

After thirty minutes, he ejaculated a thick load deep inside her vagina. Her body arched again, a sharp cry escaping her lips. The ejaculation lasted fifty seconds, his seed pumping into her in long, hot spurts.

They continued for another two hours, ejaculating four more times. They changed positions many times—on the bed, against the wall, on the table. At one point, Wang Geda laid her back on the bed in the missionary position. They locked eyes. His huge penis became erect again, slowly pushing back into her depths.

Little Dragon Girl grabbed the blanket behind her. He thrust deeply, and her head tilted back, her body arching. Tears glistened in her eyes, but there was a softness there now, a passion she could no longer hide.

Wang Geda, captivated by her beauty, impulsively leaned down and kissed her forcefully.

Little Dragon Girl was first surprised, then resistant. Her hands clawed at his rough back, scratching him. But as they made love and kissed, the kiss deepened. After an hour, she began to not resist his kisses so much. They continued, changing positions, with Wang Geda occasionally leaning down to kiss her lightly. Little Dragon Girl gradually got used to it, even beginning to respond.

Outside the wedding room, Chang'e passed by. The creaking of the bed and the loud moans of passionate sex reached her ears. She paused, a sigh escaping her lips. What a powerful man Wang Geda was, she thought. Normally, toads could not eat swan meat, but here he was, injecting his sperm into a noble dragon. The sounds stirred something in her heart. She hurried back to her room, closed the door, and lay down on her bed. Thinking of Wu Gang, she began to touch herself, her fingers moving in slow circles.

In the morning, Wang Geda rose to bathe. Curious, Miaomiao went to the wedding room. She pushed the door open and froze. Little Dragon Girl lay on the bed, her buttocks raised, semen still flowing from her vagina. Wang Geda's seed was splashed everywhere—on the sheets, on her thighs, on the pillows. Little Dragon Girl was dazed, her eyes unfocused, after being ejaculated into over a dozen times from night till morning.

Feeling sorry for her, Miaomiao lifted her gently and carried her to the bathroom. Wang Geda was already there, submerged in the tub. He looked up.

"Hand over my wife," he said.

Miaomiao set Little Dragon Girl down on a stool and left without a word.

Wang Geda picked Little Dragon Girl up and stepped into the tub with her. The warm water rose around them. Little Dragon Girl stirred as the heat enveloped her. She opened her eyes to find herself tightly embraced by Wang Geda, her huge breasts pressed against his chest, squeezed because of his tight hold. They sat like that in the tub, the water lapping at their chins.

Wang Geda had been kissing her continuously since she was asleep, barely separating their mouths. Little Dragon Girl had no choice but to go along. While soaking, he extended his toad tongue, long and pink, and kissed her deeply. Little Dragon Girl did not resist. She parted her lips, and their tongues met. She began to taste him, to feel the strange pleasure of the kiss. Her tail curled around his body, tightening.

Chang'e passed by the bathroom on her way to the garden. Through the open door, she saw the newlyweds embracing and kissing passionately in the bath. She shook her head with a wry smile. "What vigor," she murmured, and continued on her way.