Silent Affection: Adult Fantasy Romance 18+

This short story was inspired by The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, written by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu, which has been adapted into a Chinese drama titled The Untamed and inspired the donghua, The Master of Diabolism. (Of all three, I still recommend the books!)

CONTENT WARNING: Sex

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Silent Affection by Diana

Winters on Lanshan were always merciless, but this past one had felt sharper, emptier, without Naoxi. Her absence hollowed the halls, leaving the air colder than the mountain winds. Everyone awaited her return from Jingcheng with eager hearts—everyone but one.

Shuzhen’s fingers quivered around the brush, the chill sinking deep into his bones. Each stroke bled unevenly, the characters crooked, unworthy.

“Shuzhen.”

His name, spoken softly, startled him. The brush slipped, clattering against the inkstone, splattering black across the parchment. It didn’t matter. The page had already betrayed his unsteady hand.

“No need,” Master Lanfeng murmured, lifting a hand in gentle dismissal before Shuzhen could scramble to his feet.

“Master Lanfeng. Master Gaoming.” Shuzhen dipped his head as his leaders seated themselves across from him.

“As you already know, Naoxi returns tomorrow,” Master Lanfeng said.

Shuzhen felt his master’s gaze on him, though he dared not lift his eyes. He bit his lip and gave a small nod.

“Have you an answer for her?” Lanfeng pressed.

Shuzhen’s gaze strayed toward the stack of letters Naoxi had sent, neatly piled on his table. Guilt sat like a stone in his gut. He had never managed a reply.

“I’m not worthy,” he whispered.

“Oh?” Lanfeng raised a brow. “Says who?”

“Everyone,” Shuzhen burst out, horrified by his own voice. He could not wield a sword; his arrows never found their mark. He couldn’t even coax a tune from the guzheng. His only skills lay in medicine and calligraphy—admirable, perhaps, but a far cry from Naoxi’s brilliance. She was beautiful, talented, kind, and destined to become their next clan leader.

“Interesting.” Master Lanfeng stroked his chin. “I don’t recall saying you weren’t worthy.” A teasing glint flickered in his eyes, leaving Shuzhen even more flustered.

Master Gaoming chuckled. “Nor I.”

Shuzhen opened his mouth to protest, then faltered. To argue would mean accusing his masters of falsehood—and they would never lie, not about Naoxi.

“Shuzhen.” Lanfeng’s voice softened into something more serious. “I’m not blind to the rumors. I hear everything. And I know what Naoxi told you before she left.”

Shuzhen went rigid. His mind tumbled back to that day, unspooling like a dream he’d never shaken. Her soft brown eyes, the delicate press of her hands around his, the warmth of her breath against his skin—and the words that still haunted him: I love you.

A firm hand on his shoulder jolted Shuzhen from his daze. He looked up to find Master Lanfeng gazing down at him, calm and gentle. The familiarity of those eyes startled him—Naoxi’s eyes. If not for that shared gaze, no one would have guessed Lanfeng was her uncle.

“I want to tell you a story.” Master Lanfeng sank onto the cushion beside him, his tone measured. “And I expect your full attention.”

“Yes, Master.” Shuzhen bowed his head in respect.

“Good.” Lanfeng gave a single nod before beginning his tale.

***

Lanfeng hadn’t seen Naoxi since breakfast, and she had even skipped their afternoon training session. When he asked the other students, they only shrugged. No one seemed to know where she had gone.

“Ai ya, what am I to do with that girl?” Lanfeng sighed, rubbing at his temple. Naoxi had always been headstrong, but lately, she had taken to sneaking off more often than not.

There was only one place he hadn’t checked. Still, he doubted she would be there. Naoxi was notorious for her inability to sit still unless there was some prize to be won at the end.

The lecture hall was usually reserved for lessons in clan history, but no class was scheduled today.. Only the truly studious spent their free time here.

To his surprise, ten-year-old Naoxi sat hunched over a book. Her finger tapped impatiently against the table, her brows knit tight—not the look of someone enjoying her studies.

“Naoxi, what are you doing?” Lanfeng asked.

“I’m studying to be a doctor, but it’s super boring,” she whined.

A smile tugged at his lips. Two years ago, Shuzhen had carried her home after she fell from a tree and sprained her ankle. Ever since, she would go to absurd lengths just to capture the boy’s attention.

“You’re destined to be the next leader,” Lanfeng reminded gently. “Why do you want to be a doctor?”

“Shuzhen never goes to practice anymore,” Naoxi mumbled, lips pursed in a pout.

“Ah, I see.” Lanfeng’s smile deepened. “A-xi,” he said, using the affectionate name, “why do you like Shuzhen?”

“Because he’s the only boy that isn’t stinky or dumb.”

Lanfeng chuckled. “I suppose what you really mean is that he’s different.”

Naoxi gave a solemn nod.

“So don’t you think,” he continued softly, “that maybe he might like you because you’re different too?”

Her eyes lit up, his words striking home in that quick, clever mind of hers.

“Your mother and father were very different people,” Lanfeng said, his tone fond. “That’s what made them so well-suited. You may be the spitting image of your mother, but everything else, you inherited from your father.”

“What were Mama and Baba like?” Naoxi asked, curiosity bright in her gaze.

“Linfei was a quiet, reserved girl,” Lanfeng recalled, a gentle smile crossing his face. “A hidden beauty—plain in dress, her hair always bound in a tight bun. Lanqing, on the other hand, was bold and loud. He could brighten any room the moment he walked in.”

“So Shuzhen is like Mama, and I’m like Baba?”

Lanfeng chuckled, shaking his head. “Not exactly—but I think you understand what I mean.” He reached out to affectionately pat her head. “Lady Jiawei has given her son her old study; you can find him there during your free time.”

Naoxi nodded eagerly and sprang to her feet.

“I didn’t mean right now!” Lanfeng called after her, but she was already gone.

And so it began. For the next nine years, Naoxi would shirk her duties at every chance, all for the sake of a boy who never realized how fortunate he was to be the object of her unwavering affection.

***

Shuzhen sat in stunned silence after Master Lanfeng finished his tale, his thoughts spinning. Naoxi… had chased after him? Him? Of all the eligible men in the clan, it was he she had sought, he she had wanted.

“Naoxi would never speak words she did not mean with all her heart,” his master said softly, breaking the silence. “I expect nothing less from you.”

“Yes, Master.” Shuzhen pressed his trembling hands together and bent into a deep bow.

“Good,” Master Lanfeng nodded, “Then you will be the one to greet her tomorrow at Jade Gate.” 

Shuzhen’s eyes widened as he looked up to see his clan leader’s back to him. 

“You're the first person she would want to see,” he murmured before leaving, giving no opportunity for Shuzhen to refuse his request, not that he could. 

“Shuzhen, some advice,” Master Gaoming said gently, “If you don’t wish to lose Naoxi, then you need to show her what she means to you.”

Everything. She meant everything to him, but was he too late? 

He barely registered that Master Goaming had left as his mind flashed back to his final moments with Naoxi before she left for Jingcheng: 

“I love you, Shuzhen,” she had whispered softly as her fingers pressed against his pale knuckles. “You don’t have to answer now, but I couldn’t leave for so long without letting you know how I feel. I’ll write to you, I promise.” She had smiled, yet a tremor in her lip betrayed her fear. 

How had he not noticed it before? Naoxi, who feared nothing, had been anxious at that moment, and he had said nothing. Not even a goodbye. 

Since then, she had sent him twelve letters. She never demanded a reply, never spoke of those words again. Each began with the weather, as if unsure what to write, yet she kept writing, faithful and patient. And he? He hadn’t even managed a single letter in return.

“Ugh, why am I like this?” Shuzhen’s palm met his forehead with such force that he gave himself a headache. “Serves me right,” he cursed as he rubbed his temple. 

As Shuzhen rose, his eyes flicked once more to the stack of letters. Now, an obvious sign of her affection toward him. What other signs had there been? What else had he missed?

Shuzhen had known Naoxi since childhood. Some had dismissed her as wild, reckless even, but the masters called her a free spirit. Fierce and bold, she wielded the sword with brilliance, yet her true gift lay in the guzheng. With the delicate strum of its strings, she could channel her spirit into song and scatter demons like leaves in the wind.

As a result of her rambunctiousness, she often ended up with scrapes and bruises. It was how he met Naoxi. She had fallen from a tree, and Shuzhen happened to be nearby when he heard her cries. 

Shuzhen, descended from a long line of doctors, had shown a healer’s gift even in his youth. He gently examined her leg, determined it was only a sprain, and carried her back to Master Lanfeng’s estate.

After that, Naoxi became his most frequent patient. Even the smallest cut or scrape sent her seeking him out.

Once, during a ghost hunt gone awry, Naoxi had suffered a deep cut to her thigh. Master Lanfeng brought her to Shuzhen’s mother, but Naoxi had asked for him. 

It should have been a simple procedure—just a few stitches—but his hands trembled as he threaded the needle. The gash was not severe, yet the sight of blood welling on her skin made his chest tighten. She winced once, biting her lip, but otherwise held still, her gaze fixed on him with a quiet trust that unsettled more than it reassured.

Her cheeks had glowed pink throughout, like clouds at sunrise, and he found it difficult to look anywhere else. Perhaps it was then that he should have realized how much Naoxi cared for him—or, at the very least, how much he cared for her.

Shuzhen bit his lip. 

If that wasn’t an obvious sign of her affection, then surely it was in the countless times she slipped away from her duties to join him in the study. She claimed the silence bored her, so she asked him to read his work aloud. At first, he obeyed only out of respect—she was his senior, the clan leader’s niece—but soon he found himself reading aloud without prompting, looking forward to her visits, which grew so frequent they became a daily ritual.

Winter even became his favorite season. The cold kept the clan bound to Lanshan, and with it came Naoxi’s constant presence. When he wasn’t writing, he read her stories; in return, she played her guzheng for him. Sometimes, if he knew the song, he even sang along. Naoxi herself was tone-deaf—a discovery made on her seventeenth birthday after too much wine—but while the others teased her, Shuzhen never joined in.

He had been blessed, unfortunately, with the voice of a songbird, though he loathed performing for others. For Naoxi, however, he made an exception. The first time he sang to her, she was feverish, restless with heat. He had read once that music could bring comfort, even hasten recovery. That night, she fell asleep with a smile, and by morning, she awoke good as new.

And yet, despite everything, the way her soft brown eyes had held his, the tremor of her fingers pressing into his knuckles, and the whisper of three small words—I love you—had struck him utterly off guard.

Naoxi would never lie to him. And still, Shuzhen had wrestled with doubt—perhaps she had meant it differently, as one might love a friend, or the loyalty of a sister. Perhaps he had misheard entirely. But he had not been the only witness; half the clan had already whispered about it. Rumors coiled like smoke through the halls—some claiming she spoke out of pity, others insisting she had been coerced.

Their venomous words had convinced him he was unworthy of her affection. But looking back now, the truth was plain: in every moment she had been patient, kind, tender—always. He knew Naoxi as well as the lines of his own palm, and still, when she bared her heart, he had let others make him question it. He would not make that mistake again. Tomorrow, he would tell her.

***

Yet, when morning came, each step toward Jade Gate felt as if his legs were weighted with stone. Three moons had passed since he last saw her—what if he was too late? What if someone else had already claimed her heart?

A chill breeze stirred, carrying with it the faint sweetness of plum blossoms. He lifted his gaze to find the trees in full bloom, heralding spring’s return—as though even the earth itself awaited Naoxi’s return with eager anticipation.

If only he had realized her feelings sooner. All the signs had been there, but he had been so blind at the time. Now, his thoughts circled back to every moment they had shared. The way her eyes lit up whenever she saw him. How her cheeks blushed as he tended to injuries in more intimate places. The way her head slumped against his shoulder when she was exhausted from hunting demons, but still insisted on listening to him read. 

His heart lurched to a stop at the faint echo of hoofbeats in the distance. Fingers curled tight into his sleeves, he forced himself to remain still, to cage the storm rising within him. Yet with every approaching clop upon the road, his heartbeat only quickened, wild and unyielding.

Two men in Jingcheng green robes emerged from the forest shadows, their chestnut mares thundering toward the gate. Shuzhen’s chest loosened—relief washing over him; it wasn’t Naoxi. But then, just behind them, a rider on a black horse drew alongside a woman in the familiar blue robes of Lanshan, her white mare moving with quiet grace.

Naoxi.

His gaze locked on her as the group drew nearer. The man at her side was strikingly handsome, and the light giggle she gave at his words made Shuzhen’s chest constrict. Yet when her eyes lifted to meet his, the sound faltered. She spoke to the men—likely offering them hospitality—but they declined with polite bows and rode back the way they had come.

Were they possible suitors? Was he too late?

“Shuzhen.”

Her voice snapped him from his thoughts. He turned just in time to be caught in her embrace.

“I missed you,” she whispered, arms tightening around him as though she might never let go.

He froze. She had missed him. The thought alone left him reeling, and only after a breath did his arms circle her, hesitant at first, then firm.

His lips parted, but no words followed. Suddenly, words felt too small, too fragile to hold the depth of what swelled inside him.

…You need to show her what she means to you.

Master Gaoming’s voice pressed against his thoughts. But how?

She lifted her head, eyes meeting his, and his gaze slipped—unbidden—down to her lips. They looked impossibly soft, as if they had always been meant for his. Before he knew it, he was kissing her.

His eyes flew open in shock, but then her hands rose to his neck, anchoring him there. Her breath slipped into his mouth, and his eyelids fluttered closed, surrendering to the rush of want that had been building in him for so long. He needed her. 

“Everything,” he gasped when they broke for air, her eyes wide with surprise. “You’re everything to me.” His voice cracked, desperate. “I love you.”

Her gaze shimmered like sunlight on water, but before she could respond, a slow clap cut through the moment.

“Well said.”

Master Lanfeng stepped forward with a grin, hands folding behind his back.

“Master—” Shuzhen stammered, bowing quickly, ears burning. He had heard. All of it.

“A-xi, Lanshan has been cold without you,” Master Lanfeng greeted Naoxi warmly.

“It’s always cold in winter,” she teased, slipping into her uncle’s embrace. Then, softer: “Uncle, if you don’t mind, I’d like some time alone with Shuzhen.”

“Of course,” Master Lanfeng smiled. “We’ll celebrate your return—along with your engagement—tomorrow. I only came to collect your horse.”

Engagement?

Shuzhen’s heart jolted. What did he mean? Was she to marry one of the Jingcheng men? It would make sense—her mother’s clan, her winter spent among them. But then… why was Master Lanfeng grinning at him?

“Uncle!” Naoxi scolded, slipping off a shoe and flinging it at him. Master Lanfeng caught it effortlessly, chuckling as he tossed it back.

“Don’t listen to him,” she muttered, sliding the shoe onto her foot again.

“But then… why did you go to Jingcheng?” Shuzhen asked, the question slipping out before he could stop himself. Her sudden confession of love had shaken him so much that he had never asked why she’d left in the first place.

Naoxi’s gaze softened, though a shadow lingered in her eyes. “It’s my mother’s clan. They invited me. Uncle suspected it was so the leader’s sons could look me over as a potential match.” She paused, voice dropping. “I felt I couldn’t refuse. And… I know you, Shuzhen. You think too much. I knew once I found the courage to tell you how I felt, you’d need time to sort through your own heart. So I thought the distance might help.”

Shuzhen swallowed.

“I wrote to you, but you never—” Her fingers curled into her palms, and the tremor in her voice cut straight through him. “I thought your silence was my answer. That you didn’t feel the same. So I tried… I tried to get to know Jingsheng, Jingming, and Jingran.” Her eyes shimmered as they lifted to his. “But the moment I saw you at the gate, I knew.”

“I’m sorry,” Shuzhen whispered, his hand trembling as it reached for hers. “I tried, but every time—”

“I know.” She caught his fingers, weaving hers between them, grounding him. Her smile was tender, tinged with sorrow. “Some words only hold meaning when spoken aloud.”

“I love you,” Shuzhen breathed, then again, more fervent, “I love you—so much.” His lips found her tears, desperate kisses falling as if he could erase the ache of distance and reclaim every moment they had lost.

“That tickles,” Naoxi giggled as his lips brushed her ear.

“Sorry,” Shuzhen murmured.

“Mmm-mmm.” She shook her head, smiling as her arms slid around him, drawing her body flush to his. “I don’t think I can wait until our wedding night.”

“Our… what?” Shuzhen stammered, his heart thundering in his chest like a war drum.

“Uncle will announce our engagement tomorrow,” Naoxi said simply.

Shuzhen froze, realization striking like lightning. That was why Master Lanfeng had looked at him that way. The engagement… it was to him!

“I’ve already waited so long, Shuzhen,” Naoxi whispered, her breath warm against his ear. “Please don’t make me wait any longer.”

“Naoxi… I—” His pulse raced, but his body betrayed him, heat rising as her hips pressed insistently against his. Panic clawed at him. “Not here,” he blurted, stepping back, torn between longing and restraint.

“Everyone will be waiting for me at home,” Naoxi murmured, her voice soft with yearning. “I just want to be alone with you.”

“My study,” Shuzhen offered quickly. No one but Naoxi ever stepped foot there, and it was the farthest building from the main estate.

“How fitting,” she mused, her eyes alight with a mischievous glow.

***

Shuzhen’s study had a bed, meant for nights when his work consumed him and he dreaded the long walk back to his chambers. Yet it was Naoxi who came to use it most. Whenever she was injured or unwell, he found the only way to coax her into resting was to let her sleep there, where he could watch over her while he worked. 

Never in a thousand years had he imagined sharing this bed with her. His cheeks burned, his heart pounding wildly, as she straddled him. Though they were the same height, the shift of position made her tower just enough that she had to lean down, lips hovering before brushing against his. Her kiss was tender, gentle, steadying the frantic rhythm of his heart. Her hands slipped into the fold of his robes, coaxing them loose. Now his heartbeat raced for an entirely different reason.

“If this is too much, we can stop,” Naoxi whispered.

…Show her what she means to you.

Master Gaoming’s words echoed in his mind. There were countless ways he could prove his love—through poems, through songs, through a thousand quiet kisses. Yet somehow, this felt truest. Because behind the fire in her eyes, he glimpsed her fear. Was she too much for him? Never.

“You could never be too much for me,” Shuzhen murmured, before capturing her lips in a fervent kiss—deep, unrestrained, aching with need.

His hands moved on their own, caressing her body, her moans urging him on. At some point, her robes had come undone, exposing one of her breasts. His hand stilled as he realized what he was doing. 

“Please,” she breathed, her cheeks flushed, “I want you to touch me, Shuzhen.”

“Turn around,” he ordered, surprised by his own command. What had come over him? But before he could take the words back, she had listened. 

“Shuzhen?” 

Oh, right. He broke out of his haze and wrapped his arms around her, gently cupping her soft, plump breasts. They fit perfectly in the palms of his hands, as if they had been made for him. 

“It’s better this way, right?” he whispered against her ear. 

“Yes,” she moaned as his lips found her neck. 

Her hips rocked against him, waking his own desire. 

“I want you,” Naoxi breathed.

“Not yet,” Shuzhen rasped, reaching down toward her pelvis. He had to be sure she was ready. HIs forefinger found her throbbing clit in no time, and as he gently drew circles around it, her back tensed against his chest.

“Shuzhen,” Naoxi pleaded, “I can’t wait any longer.”

Naoxi was the strong one, always in control, a natural leader, and yet, here in his arms, she had completely surrendered to him. She could have easily thrown him off, pinned him down, taken him herself, and yet, she had handed all the power to him. 

Shuzhen moved his hand lower. She was ready. He discreetly wiped his fingers on his robes as he moved the fabric out of the way, revealing what she desired most. 

“It’s yours,” Shuzhen murmured, wrapping his arms around her. It was her first time taking a man; it was best she took over from here, as he did not wish to hurt her. 

Her hand wrapped around his length. Shuzhen gasped as she stroked it, elongating it further. 

“Naoxi,” he groaned as she slowly worked her way down onto him. He gripped her waist to steady her, but restrained himself. As much as he wanted to feel her warmth wrapped all the way around him, her body was still adjusting to him. Too much too fast, and he could accidentally bruise her.

But he could help her. Shuzhen cupped her breast with one hand, rubbing her aching tip between his forefinger and thumb, while his other hand sought lower, pressing against the most sensitive nerve on her body. 

“That feels good,” Naoxi gasped, her hands finding his. “Don’t stop, please.”

It was working. Her hips moved faster against him, sinking lower, until they finally connected with his. 

“I can feel you, all of you,” Naoxi rasped, the pads of her fingers pressing into his knuckles as she tightened around him. “Shuzhen, I’m sorry, it feels too good. I can’t…”

“Let go,” he whispered, “It’s alright. Let go, Naoxi.”

Her body quivered against his, and he could feel the waves of her orgasm contract around him. She fell against him like liquid. 

“Are you alright?” he murmured, gently pressing his lips against her temple. 

“Yes,” she breathed, “but I’m afraid, I’m tired.”

“Lie on your stomach,” Shuzhen ordered, but unlike the first time, the command felt more natural. Again, she could have said no, thrown him off, but instead, she listened. 

“I’ll take over from here,” he said, gently guiding her hips up into the right angle. This time, he didn’t hold back. 

The way her body tightened around him, the way she gripped the sheets, the way she moaned his name. It was all too much.

“Naoxi,” he rasped, “I’m cumming.”

“Shuzhen,” she cried out as he sank into her. 

He hadn’t meant to penetrate her so deeply, but at the moment of his release, he had lost all control. He removed himself from her, but he needed to catch his breath first before he could apologize. 

As he sat there in a daze, she had rotated onto her back. He leaned over her to see tears welling in her eyes. 

Panic seized him. “Did I hurt you? Oh, Naoxi, I’m so—”

Her laughter stopped him short, light and unshaken. “No, Shuzhen. You could never hurt me.”

He blinked at her, stunned, as her laughter faded into a radiant smile.

“I’m so happy,” she whispered, reaching for him. He leaned in as her palms cradled his flushed cheeks. “This is the happiest I’ve ever been.”

Relief surged through him, warmth flooding his chest as he realized the shimmer in her eyes was not sorrow but tears of joy. “Me too,” he breathed, just before her lips found his in a slow, tender kiss.

When at last they broke apart, he gathered her close, and she nestled into his arms as though she had always belonged there.

“If this is a dream, I never want to wake up,” Naoxi whispered, twining a strand of his hair around her finger.

He caught her gaze, tender, open, unwavering, and it was all he could do to keep from losing himself in it. “It’s not a dream,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath.

“I love you, Shuzhen.”

“Naoxi…” Her name barely left his lips before her mouth claimed his. “I love you,” he breathed, heart and soul entwined in every word.