The clear moonlight shines on the jade rabbit [Full text]

A boundless, cold moon hangs in the sky, a cool breeze carries a message.

Thirty miles south of Chang'an, in the Ziwu Valley, stands a small courtyard with green tiles and white walls. Emerald bamboo grows within. The crescent moon has just climbed to the tips of the willows, and the

slender bamboo sways gracefully in the wind. Beneath the bamboo stands a young man in white robes, with sword-like eyebrows, fierce eyes, a straight nose, and lips as red as painted vermilion. If not the reincarnation of Nezha, the Third Prince,

he must be the reincarnation of the Jade Emperor's golden boy. Yet, this exceptionally handsome young man seems melancholy, as if burdened by an unshakeable sorrow. A cool breeze wafts by, accompanied by the tinkling of jade pendants. Before he can even turn around, a cloak, still warm from her touch, is quietly draped over his shoulders. He reaches out and grasps the soft hand of his beloved wife behind him, whispering, "Moon..."

Her body trembles suddenly, and she lowers her head. "Does Your Excellency still miss Sister Moon?"

Miss... The white-robed man, addressed as "Your Excellency," simply gazes at the smiling pale moon in the sky, remaining silent for a long while. She slowly released his soft hand.

After instructing the maids to place the fruit platter and zongzi on the stone table, she withdrew. Only the two of them and the clump of bamboo remained in the quiet courtyard.

"My lord," she said gently behind him, "the moon is truly beautiful tonight." Her soft, Wu dialect, as gentle as the ripples of a water town, rippled around his strong heart, lightly touching it. The man remained silent. The cold moonlight shone, the shadows of the branches were dark, and the courtyard was quiet. Suddenly, the laughter of children broke the silence. "Daddy, Daddy!" A boy of twelve or thirteen ran into the courtyard, laughing. "Look at the zongzi I wrapped!"

A girl of about six, dressed in a moon-white dress, followed closely behind. "Mommy, Mommy, brother took my zongzi! I wrapped them!"

"Shh..." She quickly stopped the children's laughter, afraid he would turn around and throw a tantrum.

The boy struggled to break free from her grasp, crying, "Dad, Dad! Don't hold me! You're not my mother!"

The child's innocent voice pierced the hearts of the two adults like a sharp sword. Her face turned deathly pale. The man slowly turned around, his face ashen: "Qing'er, go, kneel before your mother's spirit."

The father's words carried immense authority. The little boy met his father's gaze, struggled for a moment, then obediently lowered his head in surrender and turned to leave. The little girl remained in the adults' arms, innocently watching the two men, unaware of what had happened.

"Qing'er." His father's voice rang in the little boy's ears again, "Apologize to your mother."

"She's not my mother." The little boy turned around, his small face full of anger. He pointed to the bright moon in the sky, "My mother is a fairy in the moon palace."

"This child..." The man in white watched the child gradually disappear into the distance, muttering to himself, "She really looks like her... her eyes, her eyebrows, and her temper..."

"My lord, what are you saying?"

The soft, gentle Wu dialect pulled him from his reverie. The man in white suddenly realized something, and seeing the little girl timidly hiding in the adult's arms, he realized that she was probably frightened by him. She quickly changed her expression, "Come, Rabbit, come to Daddy."

The little girl timidly left her safe haven and came to her father, calling out in a voice barely audible, "Daddy."

"Good girl, Rabbit." The man in white, holding his daughter, sat down on a stone bench and said to the woman who was still standing, "Madam, please sit down."

"We're all family, no need to be so polite." The lady smiled gently and sat down on another stone bench. "The teacher is on holiday, and the children want to go to the market to play tomorrow. I'd like to know your opinion."

"Go ahead, all of you go." He readily agreed. "Has Rabbit been good lately? What's the teacher teaching her?"

"The teacher is teaching the 'Six Scripts'." The girl answered in her childish voice, "Brother has already learned the Analects."

"Oh," the man seemed to fall into deep thought again.

The lady peeled a zongzi (sticky rice dumpling), dipped it in white sugar, and gave it to the little girl named Rabbit: "Here, let your father try some."

"Father, you eat the zongzi."

Looking at his daughter's obedient face, the usually stern father couldn't help but smile. "Let your mother try some first."

"Yes." The girl then handed the zongzi to the lady: "Mother, this is a zongzi you made yourself, you should try it first."

"Okay." She took the zongzi, took a small bite, the glutinous rice was fragrant and soft, with the fresh scent of the bamboo leaves, just like her hometown.

"Green Willow, it's been a long time since we sat down to talk together." The man suddenly sighed softly: "Your birthday is coming soon, but I've been cold to you. You must be angry."

"How could I be?" She just lowered her eyes, the zongzi was gently placed back on the silver plate: "My lord has always been..."

"Don't call me my lord anymore, you should change your form of address too." He looked up at the crescent moon in the sky, wondering if he was doing the right thing. “Call me like she does.”

“Husband…” Green Willow hesitated, looking at the man who had been her husband for over three years. She couldn’t believe this change had come so suddenly.

“That’s fine, my husband.” He gazed at the crescent moon, its gentle smile lingering on the willow branches: “She wanted the same thing.”

*** *** *** *** Six years ago, thirty miles south of Chang’an, in a small courtyard in the Ziwu Valley. Above the gate, the words “Ming Residence” were written in bold, heavy ink.

Deep in the mountains, the forests were quiet and the flowers were lush. The moon had just climbed above the willow branches, and the sky was still bright. In the center of the courtyard, a young woman sat on a stone bench by a stone table, doing needlework. Her belly was already quite large, looking like she was six or seven months pregnant.

She was embroidering a cute little red bib, the size of which was for a child. As she embroidered, suddenly her delicate brows furrowed, and the needle pricked her hand.

"Oh, you naughty child." She scolded her unborn child with a touch of indulgence, "Mother is making clothes for you. Last time your brother came out, your grandmother made his clothes. This time, Mother is making clothes for you herself."

The young mother was chatting with her unborn child when suddenly two figures, one big and one small, came from the corner of the corridor. The child in light green clothes skipped and jumped, pulling the hand of the adult in white behind him.

"Mother, Mother, we're back! Qing'er and Father are back from watching the dragon boat race!"

The child's sweet, childlike voice was like heavenly music. The mother opened her arms and let the child, whom she hadn't seen all day, roll around in her arms. After he had had his fill of being spoiled, she let go of him, straightened her clothes, and got up to see her husband.

"Sister Yue, you're not feeling well, so don't bother."

"Xinglang," although it had only been a day, it felt like seven or eight years had passed in her heart. For over a year, they had been oblivious to the outside world, focusing solely on their intimate moments together, watching the rain in the east and chasing the clouds in the west, trimming the candlelight together and reading "The Story of the Western Wing." They were inseparable, day and night, always together, singing and dancing.

"Sister Yue," he said, gazing at his beloved wife whom he hadn't seen for a day, "you've become more and more beautiful." " You're

making fun of me again," Lingyue said shyly, lowering her head. "We

're an old married couple, and the child is watching us." "Haha," he laughed heartily, "Sister Yue, do I, a celebrity, care about what others see? Especially my own child… how about we just…"

"You… how annoying!" Lingyue turned away angrily. "You always do this. You've been like this since we were little."

"You don't love me if I'm not bad." The celebrity stood up and walked behind his wife, gently embracing her. His wide sleeves covered his hands. The little boy was used to his parents' intimate gestures and squatted to the side playing a game of catching grasshoppers.

The celebrity's hand gently slipped under his wife's bosom, caressing her smooth, round breasts. "They've grown a little bigger again?" he whispered in her ear. "You've prepared food for our child, haven't you?"

Lingyue turned and kissed her husband's lips, saying with difficulty and softness, "Could you leave some for the child...? Most of it probably went to you, you greedy cat."

"You dare call your husband a greedy cat?" the celebrity feigned anger. "I'm going to punish you."

"Punish?" Lingyue defiantly thrust out her belly. "I bet you wouldn't dare."

"I wouldn't dare." The celebrity coldly snorted. "There's nothing in this world I wouldn't dare to do. Your husband is known as the living Yama."

"Meeting you was like seeing a ghost." Lingyue weakly slumped in her husband's arms, letting her will drift slowly with the torrent of sensation. His hands were so familiar with her body that they could easily arouse her.

“Xinglang…” Lingyue nestled against his chest like a docile kitten. “Listen to our baby’s heartbeat.”

“I’m listening.” He placed his hand on her lower abdomen, feeling the rhythmic heartbeat of the fetus inside. “Such a well-behaved child, it must be a girl.”

“Not at all.” Lingyue intertwined her hands with her husband’s, snuggling against him playfully. “It was kicking me in my belly before you came back. Not at all.”

“Oh?” Xingming held his wife’s hand. “It must have known that Daddy and Brother were back. That’s why it did that.”

“No, no, it’s not.” Lingyue snuggled against him playfully. “It must be a naughty child.”

“Okay, okay,” Xingming felt his wife’s persistent nagging in his arms and quickly changed his tune. “Naughty…naughty. When he comes out, I, as his father, will definitely interrogate him and ask him why he was so restless in there.”

"That's more like it." Lingyue kissed her husband's neck contentedly, then suddenly asked, "Xinglang, tell me, this time, should we give Qing'er a younger brother or a younger sister?"

"Well," Xingming turned to his son, "Qing'er, come here, your mother has something to ask you."

"Mother, I'm here." Qing'er dropped the insects he was holding and ran over to Lingyue, standing in front of her. "Mother, what is it?"

"Good son," Lingyue reached out and tidied a stray strand of hair from her son's forehead. "Do you want your mother to give you a younger brother or a younger sister?"

As soon as she finished speaking, Qing'er gave his answer: "As long as it's yours, whether it's a younger brother or a younger sister, Qing'er will love them all and want to play with them."

"Good boy." Lingyue smiled sweetly and patted her son's shoulder. "When you grow up, your mother will pass on all of my archery skills to you, so you can protect your younger brother and sister, okay?"

"Okay!" Qing'er nodded seriously. "I also want to protect my mother."

"Aren't you going to protect Daddy?" the celebrity asked deliberately.

Who knew this little rascal was so clever? "Daddy has Mommy to protect him. Mommy said Daddy loves to play the hero, and Mommy always has to rescue him."

"This child." The celebrity pretended to hit her, but Lingyue couldn't help but burst out laughing, her laughter shaking her head: "My good son, you really are my good son. Yes, your daddy is the most useless, and your mommy always has to rescue him."

"So it was you, you gossipy woman." The celebrity finally found the root of the problem: "Qing'er, go play, your mommy and I are going to have a contest to see who's really less capable."

"Are Daddy and Mommy going to have a contest?" Qing'er blinked her big eyes: "I want to watch, I want to watch."

"No contest." The celebrity hugged Lingyue: "Daddy is going to love your mommy now."

"Oh..." Qing'er knew it was time for her to leave. When adults say they want to love, it's... not good for a child to be present. However, her father was clearly in a good mood tonight: "Qing'er, stay here and see how much your father loves your mother. You can also hear how your mother begs your father for forgiveness."

"No... in front of the child." Lingyue blushed deeply at the thought of doing it in front of the child, burying her head in her husband's arms and refusing to move, unaware that his large hands were undressing her. By the time she realized it, her clothes had already been untied, and with a few forceful pulls, they slipped off her flawless white body. Mingxing casually crumpled the clothes into a ball and threw them to his son: "Here, keep your mother's clothes safe."

"No... I'm so embarrassed..." Lingyue clutched her bodice tightly, "How can we be parents if our son is watching?"

"It's precisely because we never saw this when we were little that it took so much effort during our wedding night." Mingxing was good at making excuses for himself, completely forgetting the shameful things he had done, such as repeatedly jumping over the wall to peep at Lingyue, who was still a virgin next door, while she was bathing.

With a swift movement, the star lifted the petite Lingyue and placed her on his lap, then reached out to untie her skirt. Six-year-old Qing'er watched blankly as his mother was gradually undressed by his father. He had never seen a woman's body before, so realistically displayed before him in the moonlight. His

mother was truly beautiful in the moonlight; her skin shimmered like crystal, pure white and translucent, exuding a delicate fragrance. She was like a blooming peony, breathtakingly beautiful.

A silk sash was tied around her waist, hanging down between her legs. For some reason, Qing'er seemed particularly interested in the dark shadow between his mother's legs, wanting to get a closer look, but his father pulled the sash off and threw it in front of him.

Curious, he picked it up; it was a long bag sewn from white silk, seemingly containing some spices. In the moonlight, Qing'er strangely noticed some shiny, sticky liquid on the white silk. What was it? He didn't know. When he looked up at his mother again, she was completely naked from the waist down, but her legs were still tightly closed. She buried her head in his father's arms. Her breasts trembled with her breath.

Qing'er knew that those two large breasts were for storing food for his future younger siblings, and he had drawn nourishment from them for over a year. At night, he always felt a special fragrance from his mother's chest. However, his mother never let him look at that area. But he also discovered that if he pretended to be asleep and touched it at night, his mother wouldn't mind.

His father's hand gently caressed his mother's belly, where Qing'er's future younger siblings would be, and where he would come from. His father's hand lingered there for a long time, and he whispered to his mother for quite a while. He didn't know why, or perhaps his father said something, but his mother slowly parted her tightly closed legs, her knees spread wide enough that Qing'er could clearly see her lower body, which was covered with black, shiny, curly hair. This was very different from what the boy was wearing. Qing'er instinctively realized this.

Her father's hand gently slipped inside her mother's lower body. His sleeves were too wide, blocking Qing'er's view. Then they turned around, her father with his back to Qing'er, embracing her mother. He began to untie her mother's bodice. Soon, a bright red mandarin duck bodice appeared on the stone table, and Qing'er knew that her beautiful mother was now completely naked.

Mother stood up, cupping her trembling breasts in her hands. Father suddenly lunged forward, biting the left one while kneading the right one. Mother clung tightly to Father's head, her expression a mixture of pain and pleasure, emitting sounds Qing'er couldn't understand: "Hmm...hmm...ah...ah..."

Qing'er stood in the shadow of the bamboo, ten paces away from this scene of lovemaking. He clearly saw his mother's snow-white, smooth breasts—the breasts he longed to see but couldn't, the breasts he longed to touch but couldn't—being carelessly kneaded by Father before his very eyes. His mother's face was already flushed crimson.

After a while, Father released the breasts, turning back to beckon him: "Come here, Qing'er."

"You idiot, what are you doing now?" Lingyue frantically tried to grab something to cover herself, but her clothes were mostly in the hands of her son, who was approaching step by step.

"It's nothing, just let our son have a couple of sips of milk." The celebrity dotingly pulled his son over. Lingyue hurriedly covered her ample bosom with her arms. But Qing'er could still see her breasts bobbing up and down through her fair arms.

"Mother..." Qing'er looked at his mother's body, unsure what to say. The celebrity turned his wife over and hugged her, forcibly inserting his legs between hers, and said to his son, "Look, this is your mother's body, isn't it beautiful?"

Qing'er nodded blankly. Lingyue, still blushing, scolded her shameless husband: "How can you do this, letting your son see his mother's body?"

"Why can't I look?" Mingxing chuckled, cupping Lingyue's breasts in his hands: "These are a piece of your flesh. Son, come and look, this is the milk you drank when you were little."

Qing'er curiously reached out and touched them, from the rounded outer edge of the breasts all the way up to the erect, deep red nipples. He tried to pinch them, but no milk came out. This disappointed him.

"You little thing, you're just like your father." Lingyue scolded her son, "Go back to the study now."

"Don't listen to your mother, today I'll listen to your father." Mingxing made a bold decision: "Son, are your mother's breasts big?"

Qing'er nodded, confused. The celebrity suddenly burst into laughter: "This is all thanks to your old man. When I peeked at your mother taking a bath, her body was as flat as a man's."

"What nonsense are you talking about?" Lingyue's most taboo subject was brought up by her beloved, leaving her only with shame, not anger. The fact that her own son was curiously playing with her body, however, brought her intense stimulation.

Qing'er curiously pressed his ear to his mother's round belly, listened carefully for a while, and exclaimed in surprise, "Mother! The sounds inside seem clearer!"

"Don't get the wrong idea." The celebrity's hands roamed over his wife's body: "He doesn't understand anything yet. He only knows that it's Father loving Mother."

"But you don't have to do this." Lingyue still couldn't overcome her shame. "You're such a bad guy."

"Then let's be even worse." It turned out that the celebrity had unleashed his weapon without her noticing, easily entering that cherished haven of tenderness.

“This is still the most comfortable.” Mingxing slowly thrust in and out of Lingyue’s body. “Yue’er, is it comfortable?”

“Comfortable. Xinglang.” Lingyue closed her eyes drowsily, enjoying the rhythmic movements below. Mingxing’s gentleness was only for her; it was her pride. Therefore, she was willing to show all the beauty of her womanhood in his arms.

Mingxing looked at the woman in his arms and felt that she was a fairy descended to earth—beautiful, gentle, and kind. How lucky he was to have married such a wife. He didn’t ask for wealth and glory, but only for a lifetime together… *** *** *** *** Lvyang looked at the man who had been her husband for three years. He slowly took the zongzi she had just taken a bite of from the silver plate and took a small bite himself. It was very fragrant and sweet. Lingyue was terrible at cooking and not very good at taking care of children. But in his heart, she would always be an irreplaceable wife.

He patted his daughter’s head, signaling her to go back to her room to play.

Only the almost speechless couple remained in the courtyard.

“Qing’er has grown up,” he finally spoke slowly, “It’s time for him to leave home and go out into the world.”

“Qing’er!” she almost cried out, “He’s still too young.”

“Keeping him here will only hurt you.” Mingxing looked at Lüyang, “He’s never acknowledged you as his mother, and in the past two years, the look in his eyes has only grown more hateful. He doesn’t dare hate me, so he can only vent his resentment on you. Next month, I will leave Chang’an for Liaodong. I’ll leave you with him. To be honest, I’m worried about you.”

“He’s still just a child,” Lüyang pleaded desperately.

“When he was twelve, his mother was already shooting down eagles in the sky; when he was thirteen, his father killed a man-eating tiger outside Qingzhou City.” Mingxing sighed softly, “With offspring like this, the troubles of our Ming family will only increase. You know, I became the head of the Ming family after killing all my brothers. Two of them were my own brothers.”

“But they killed Sister Yue first.”

“No, actually I had the intention to kill them all, but Yue’er told me to lay down my weapons and become a Buddha. She was willing to spend her life with me in a quiet place, peacefully. I promised Yue’er that I wouldn’t pursue the position of head of the Ming family. But they killed Yue’er, so I broke my promise.”

“If…” Lüyang whispered, “If Sister Yue were here, my husband would never draw his sword again, would he?”

“Hmm?”

“Last night.” Lüyang seemed to be saying something a little embarrassing, “After I put Yu’er to sleep, I was about to go out to check if there was anything I had overlooked. When I passed by the study, I heard the Crane Dance Sword making strange noises inside.”

"Crane Dance Sword..." Mingxing hesitated for a moment, "Let Qing'er take Crane Dance out. I'll find him a good teacher. This matter is decided."

"Yes." Hearing her husband say this, Lüyang knew there was no hope left. Sending their son out of the mansion, letting him make his own way in the world, whether he achieves great things or falls into poverty and despair—survival of the fittest. This was the only rule used by wealthy families in this chaotic world to choose their heirs.

However, Qing'er did seem a little too young.

"We should also talk about our own affairs." Mingxing gently took Lüyang's small hand, "I'll be leaving soon. The night is too short."

Lüyang's face flushed red. Mingxing suddenly used force, picked her up horizontally, strode back to the bedroom, and threw her heavily onto the bed.

The dizziness from the violent collision hadn't subsided when a body brimming with masculine allure pressed down on her. A pair of hands, hands that had killed countless people, ripped and tore at her body, shattering her clothes and revealing her beautiful body beneath.

Every time, their lovemaking was this brutal. He seemed to have no concept of tenderness, treating her with the same methods he used on maids and prostitutes. She remembered their wedding night, the nervous anticipation of a young woman's marriage. Before she could even whisper sweet nothings to her dream husband, he had violently pushed her down, tearing her expensive wedding dress and tossing it aside. She couldn't believe that the handsome man on top of her was the charming and refined star, Yi Hou, as everyone talked about. His rough actions and cold eyes revealed nothing of his former charm.

That night, she was raped. Her body, bound by fear, couldn't resist the strength of the general, accustomed to riding and fighting. His murderous penis easily shattered the resistance of her hymen; the ruthless conqueror marched at high speed through untouched virgin territory, leaving her first experience of intimacy ravaged and bloodied. Finally, he brutally ejaculated inside her again and again until he collapsed, exhausted (partly thanks to the wine his colleagues had poured on him at the banquet), still pressing her tightly beneath him, unable to move. And that penis that had taken her virginity remained inside her aching virginity all night long.

For the next two years, she almost entirely submitted, forgetting her status as the earl's daughter, reducing herself to the status of a marquis's tool for venting his desires. Although to outsiders she appeared glamorous—a capable general to Her Majesty the Empress, and the wife of a loyal marquis of the Great Jin Dynasty—only she knew in her heart that her status was lower than that of one of his hunting dogs. In bed, she was merely a vessel for his sexual gratification and destructive desires.

Those two years were the same two years Mingxing fought against his brothers and ascended to the position of head of the Ming family.

This hellish life ended with the death of Mingxing's last brother.

He, along with his children and her, came to this small villa.

Although he remained as brutal in bed as ever, he began to be gentler in daily life. She knew her status was slowly rising. From some of the old servants, she learned the history of this villa. The former mistress was intelligent, capable, gentle, and kind. Not only was she her childhood sweetheart, a playmate from childhood, but she was also a meritorious official who helped the Empress ascend the throne. In that bloody upheaval… The master had narrowly escaped death several times, and it was always the mistress who risked her life to save him.

After the Empress ascended the throne, they spent two carefree years together in this courtyard. The head guard, who had followed Huang Niu and Mingxing for over ten years, always said that those were the days with the most laughter in the master's life.

There was no scheming, no backstabbing, no calculated maneuvering, no Thirty-Six Stratagems. Did he bring her here to say goodbye to the past?

Mingxing quickly tore off Luyang's dress and impatiently began to knead her breasts. Ignoring his actions, she patiently helped him unbuckle his belt, releasing his penis. Then she closed her eyes, spread her legs, and waited for the feeling of being forcibly penetrated.

Sure enough, that thing entered. Her throat felt as if something had pushed it, as if the blood was rushing to her head. After Mingxing thrust in and out of her body rapidly for a while, he slowly stopped.

She opened her eyes and looked at him: "What's wrong?"

He looked at her too: "Am I being rude?"

"No." She closed her eyes again. If she had never experienced gentleness, then it didn't matter whether she was rude or not.

He moved slowly inside her again, but slowly and gently, and his fingers lovingly teased her sensitive spots. Finally, she couldn't hold back and let out a soft moan: "Ah...so comfortable...your movements are so gentle..."

"I never wanted to be gentle with you before." He said to her as he moved, "I always felt sorry for Yue'er."

"I know, my husband, I've always felt this way."

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The clear moonlight shines on the jade rabbit [Full text]

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