Professor Shen’s Needy Little Lover - Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Once Long Xin gripped her pen, she focused all her attention on writing. She sat upright with her back to Shen Zaiqing, completely unaware of any abnormality behind her.

Shen Zaiqing sat up and asked Long Xin, “How is the writing going?”

Thinking she was being urged again, Long Xin didn’t turn around this time. Instead, she seized the moment to write, replying, “I’ve already written two hundred and thirty-one. But don’t worry, I’m writing slowly so I can remember them more firmly. I’ll definitely finish them all tonight.”

She actually quite enjoyed her current state blowing in the refreshing mountain breeze, looking up to see the beautiful moonlight outside the window, and writing on the paper at a steady pace. Her heart was very settled.

“Writing can cultivate one’s character and temper the mind,” Shen Zaiqing’s voice came again.

Long Xin agreed completely, nodding twice and smiling: “That’s right, I feel like I’ve reached a different realm now.”

“Are you really not sleepy?” Shen Zaiqing asked again.

Long Xin shook her head and continued following Shen Zaiqing’s lead: “Really not sleepy, I’m actually a bit over-energized. I slept too long this afternoon; I don’t even know if I’ll be able to fall asleep tonight.”

“Is that so…” Shen Zaiqing murmured. Then, with a sudden shift in tone, she said, “Then let’s add another five hundred characters. Once you’re tired from writing, you’ll feel sleepy. It promotes sleep—how wonderful.”

Long Xin’s hand stopped mid-stroke, and the expression on her face froze. She suddenly wanted to take back what she just said; was it too late to change her story with the Professor?

Once the workload went up, writing didn’t seem quite so character-cultivating anymore.

Taking advantage of her daze, Shen Zaiqing quickly pulled the covers over herself, reached out to extinguish the light on her side, and said in a voice full of fatigue: “I’m sleepy, I’m going to sleep first.”

“Goodnight, Long Xin.”

“Goodnight, Professor,” Long Xin replied habitually.

But after replying, she realized something was wrong; that wasn’t what she had intended to say. She had wanted to ask if she could move part of the task to tomorrow night. As it turned out, before she could get the words out, she had already said goodnight.

So… just write?

There was no more sound behind her. Long Xin turned to look at Shen Zaiqing, who was already lying down wrapped in her quilt. She stood up to turn off the main light on her side, leaving only a small desk lamp on the study table.

Having done this, she subconsciously accepted the suddenly increased workload.

Long Xin sat properly at the desk, writing slowly stroke by stroke. Behind her, the sound of Shen Zaiqing’s steady breathing could be heard.

Long Xin thought that her drunken self this afternoon must have exhausted the Professor.

Even if she had been well-behaved, the journey must have been full of twists and turns. Now that the Professor was asleep and she was awake, it gave her a sense of reciprocal guardianship.

In Long Xin’s imagination, her drunken self would be like this: her five senses wouldn’t be as sharp as before, her movements and mind would be slower, there would definitely be physical discomfort, her face would be flushed, and her body temperature would keep climbing.

And the thing she was most likely to do would be to complain to the Professor about the discomfort and then beg her for a hug.

To Long Xin, that was the most transgressive thing that could possibly happen.

However, in a sick state, acting a bit spoiled was unavoidable; she felt the Professor would surely understand.

As for things like biting people at random especially biting Shen Zaiqing she considered that an absolute fairy tale. Even if someone told her personally, she wouldn’t believe it.

Writing late into the night, the final stroke landed.

A moth fluttered toward Long Xin’s desk lamp, attempting to fly into the room, but she swatted it away with one palm. Her sharp eyes saw a few mosquitoes trying to do the same, and she waved her arm to drive them off.

Seeing them charge forward one after another, Long Xin was now seventy percent certain that the red mark on the Professor’s neck was from their bites.

What a bunch of bad things! They couldn’t be allowed to disturb the Professor’s rest!

After a flurry of activity, the insects trying to fly through the window were all driven away by Long Xin.

She put down her pen and breathed a sigh of relief. Holding the paper, she looked at the fifteen hundred “Wine” characters she had written, feeling quite a sense of achievement.

The night grew deeper and the dew heavier; the evening breeze carried a chill. Long Xin felt a bit tired, and her eyelids grew heavy. She tucked the homework papers away, thinking to place them in a conspicuous spot so the Professor would see them as soon as she woke up.

She had just stood up when a mysterious sound suddenly reached her ears, and her movements paused.

It was the low moan of one of her kind—a low moan for help.

She clutched her papers and looked out the window, staring deep into the mountains. The sorrowful moans of a fellow dragon continued. Long Xin hadn’t heard such a sound in a long time.

Were there other dragons in Tiandai Mountain?

What had she encountered? Why was she letting out such a shrill dragon cry?

Long Xin had to go investigate.

She grabbed the homework papers, walked to Shen Zaiqing’s bedside, and placed them gently on the nightstand on Shen Zaiqing’s side, weighing them down with a pen so the night breeze wouldn’t blow them away.

Then she crouched down, silently gazing at Shen Zaiqing’s sleeping face. Her lips moved as she whispered, “Professor, I need to use magic. I’m going into the mountains for a bit; I might be back in ten minutes.”

The sleeping Shen Zaiqing naturally couldn’t respond, but Long Xin felt this was a good habit to maintain even when the Professor couldn’t reply.

After reporting, she stood up, went to the window, and with a flash of her silhouette, disappeared.

In a cave deep in Tiandai Mountain, a thin and weak azure dragon lay on the ground, unable to get up.

She wept silently while using her dragon claws to struggle to dig a hole in the ground. Beside her hand was a rechargeable desk lamp with very little battery left; it was on, emitting a weak glow that barely illuminated her claws seeping with fresh blood, leaving the surrounding areas invisible.

The entire cave was incredibly dark.

The sound of unfamiliar footsteps came from behind. The weak azure dragon stopped her movements and slowly turned her head back.

The entrance was illuminated by moonlight, making it brighter than the cave. She saw a human woman appear at the entrance. The silver moonlight hit the woman, outlining her silhouette, though her specific features couldn’t be seen clearly.

The woman didn’t hesitate at the entrance but stepped directly toward her, asking as she walked: “Do you not even have the magical power to start a fire anymore?”

The tone was slow and steady.

Long Yin did not know this woman.

As the woman’s voice fell, a row of flames ignited on the left and right walls of the cave, making the space as bright as day in an instant.

Long Yin, lying on the ground, had lived in darkness for years and was blinded by the sudden light. Once her eyes adjusted, she found the beautiful woman had walked to her side and was examining the cave with a curious gaze.

What attracted her attention most was that the woman was wearing the green robes of the Dragon Clan.

“Are you an azure dragon?” Long Yin asked, eyes wide.

Long Xin stopped and met her gaze, smiling gently: “It’s quite a novelty, isn’t it? You must be thinking, aren’t all the azure dragons in the world locked in the Dragon Clan prison? Where did this woman spring from?”

“Coincidentally, I had a similar thought.”

“I’m also very surprised to encounter you here.”

Long Xin looked down at Long Yin. One was in human form, the other in dragon form, yet the aura belonged entirely to the human Long Xin.

The ten-meter-long azure dragon was covered in scars, her spirit was flagging, and her scales had no luster at all.

“Since we are of the same clan and kind, is there anything I can help you with?” Long Xin asked. The shrill dragon cry she had heard in her room had come from this dragon.

Long Xin didn’t ask what this adult azure dragon had been through; she asked what help she needed now. Help could solve the current difficulty, while asking about the past only added to the sorrow. In fact, one could see with the naked eye how poorly this dragon was faring.

“Why can you use magic in human form?” Long Yin looked up at Long Xin and asked curiously.

The tears on her face stopped. Talking to Long Xin gave her an unprecedented and pure joy—the joy of meeting one of her own kind. Now that the White Dragons ruled the world, the Azure Dragons were suppressed to death. The probability of an Azure Dragon meeting another of its kind was likely lower than a human winning the lottery.

“I’m not using magic in human form; it’s just that I switch very quickly, and you can’t tell,” Long Xin replied.

She remembered the time she had reported to the Professor before leaving and didn’t want to waste too much breath. Her gaze swept over and saw two dragon eggs placed next to the small pit Long Yin had dug. She asked, “Are these your children?”

Long Yin used her claws to prop herself up and used her last bit of magic to turn into a human. She sat by the eggs, leaning against the wall, her voice full of sadness again: “They are my children, but they will soon be dead.”

“They are dragon cubs that cannot hatch.”

“They’ve been there for nearly seven years, haven’t they?” Long Xin asked.

From the time a dragon egg leaves the mother, if it hasn’t hatched after seven years, the cub inside will die. Among the Dragon Clan, the survival rate of Azure Dragons was particularly low, partly because their hatching rate was nearly zero. Most azure dragon cubs died of suffocation inside the egg before ever seeing the world.

“Haven’t you thought of forcing the eggs open? They would have been fully formed by the second year,” Long Xin said, staring at the two eggs beside Long Yin.

“Of course I thought of it, but I’ve tried every method I could, and I still can’t save my children. Forcing an egg open rarely succeeds.”

Dragon eggs are incredibly hard on the outside and difficult to damage with external force. The correct way is for the cub to break out from the inside. However, in recent years, due to climate change, the hardness of dragon eggshells has risen rapidly. Many cubs cannot break through on their own and are trapped inside. This has led to a year-on-year decline in the birth rate.

There is a natural cave in Longya Mountain modified for storing dragon eggs; eggs left to hatch naturally there have a higher survival rate than those left with their parents. Most dragons now send their eggs there after laying them.

But that place is controlled by the White Dragons. Since the woman before her was an Azure Dragon, her children were highly likely to be Azure Dragons as well; sending them there would mean they wouldn’t be welcomed, or might even be destroyed. It was better not to send them.

Looking at the traces in the cave, Long Xin could tell they had likely lived here for a long time.

Her gaze returned to the pit Long Yin had dug. Long Xin lowered her eyes and asked softly, “So, is this the grave you’ve dug for them?”

Her voice softened.

“That’s right. In another half hour, my children will be completely sealed inside those eggs. I’ve dug a grave for them in advance so I can bury them when the time comes.”

“You asked if there was anything you could help with. If you can, I’d like to ask you to help me dig this pit; I truly have no strength left…”

Long Yin reached out and hugged the eggs, leaning her head against a seventy-centimeter-tall egg. Another trail of tears fell. Under the milky-white shell, the shape of a dragon cub could be vaguely seen; her child was still moving actively inside.

But in half an hour, it would turn into total silence inside.

Long Xin walked to Long Yin and slowly raised her hands. Long Yin’s gaze was drawn to them.

“As for digging a pit, I’m afraid that might be difficult. My claws were just clipped a few days ago; they’re blunt now.”

Long Xin switched between human and dragon form, intentionally slowing the transformation so the dragon before her could see clearly that she wasn’t lying.

“However,” Long Xin curved her palms, shifting the topic as she looked at the two eggs with a smile in her eyes: “I can make your children hatch. I know how to do that.”

“Re… really?” Long Yin couldn’t believe it.

Long Xin’s smile deepened. She rolled up the sleeves of her green robes and said to Long Yin, “You’ll understand when you see it. For now, step aside. I can’t stay here long; I have to go back in a few minutes.”

Long Xin, appearing suddenly in the cave, was like a savior from heaven. Long Yin didn’t dare delay; she quickly got up from the eggs and took a few steps back while leaning against the wall.

Long Xin raised both her left and right hands, placing them simultaneously on the apexes of the two eggs. Her form switched again between human and dragon. On the eggs, the places where her palms touched turned red and bright as if iron were being scorched. Soon, two crisp cracks were heard; the eggs actually split from the inside.

Under Long Yin’s stunned gaze, the cracks on the eggs grew larger, splitting from top to bottom, until they broke into halves.

Two little dragon cubs—one standing, one sitting—made their sparkling debut. Their innocent eyes blinked twice, then focused on Long Xin. Their mouths moved, and they shouted in unison: “Mama!”

Long Xin’s face turned cold, and she told them seriously: “I am not your mama. Call me Auntie.”

The two cubs shouted in unison again: “Auntie!”

Dragon cubs develop intelligence once they are formed inside the egg. Although they cannot come out, they can hear outside sounds. During this period, if parents provide “prenatal education,” the cubs inside the shell will receive it. Therefore, it was not surprising that these two trapped cubs could call Long Xin “Mama” as soon as they hatched.

Dragon cubs feel a strong affinity for the first thing they see. They pounced forward, one on the left and one on the right, hugging Long Xin’s arms and sniffing them with their noses.

“Don’t try to memorize my scent,” Long Xin’s voice turned cold again.

As soon as the words were out, she thought, forget it, it’s not important anymore.

This kind of conversation wasn’t happening for the first time. Back in Longya Mountain, she had saved many endangered cubs this way. At that time, she didn’t let the cubs remember her scent to prevent them from recognizing her later; she had planned to enter Building No. 3 and had to disguise herself as a cub, so she absolutely couldn’t run into these known cubs and let them expose her.

But now, she had already confessed to the Professor and the Professor had accepted her, so it didn’t matter.

“Long Yao, Long Pei, you mustn’t be naughty. Get off your benefactor’s arms.”

This was the voice the two cubs were truly familiar with. They looked past Long Xin and saw Long Yin behind her, shouting joyfully: “Mama!”

They leaped from Long Xin onto their mother, burrowing into her arms to act spoiled.

“My name is Long Xin. It was just a small effort; don’t call me benefactor.”

Long Xin raised her arm to check the phone watch. Her expression shifted; she was already two minutes overtime. She had to get back quickly. If the Professor woke up midway and found her gone, she would be worried sick.

“I have to go now. Take care of yourselves.”

Before they could even say they would meet again if fate allowed, Long Xin left in a hurry. Long Yin hugged her two children, the words of gratitude reaching her lips too late to be spoken. Long Xin’s silhouette flashed and she vanished instantly.

Returning to the room, Shen Zaiqing was still in a deep sleep. Long Xin breathed a sigh of relief. She lifted the covers and lay down on the bed; gradually her eyelids grew heavy, and she soon entered dreamland.

In the blink of an eye, the next day arrived. Early in the morning, the rooster in the courtyard crowed. Long Xin was sleeping deeply and didn’t hear the movement outside at all. Shen Zaiqing was woken up, rolled over, and woke up groggily. Checking the time on her phone, she was completely awake.

She had slept around 10:00 PM; it was now nearly 6:00 AM. Seven hours of sleep was enough for her. She turned her head to look at Long Xin in the next bed. Long Xin was still asleep. She liked to sleep in her dragon cub form. Every time Shen Zaiqing woke up, she could see her little belly rising and falling, which was very cute.

As she was about to lift the covers to get out of bed, Shen Zaiqing saw several sheets of homework paper on her nightstand; this was the “Wine” character Long Xin had written last night. The papers were folded neatly and weighed down by a pen.

Shen Zaiqing picked them up and flipped through them, nodding with satisfaction. Every character on the paper was very tidy, showing the writer’s seriousness.

A dragon that was obedient, agreeable, and had a good attitude was not someone Shen Zaiqing could over-devastate. She would stop here.

After the rooster crowed, the sound of an engine started from the nearby fish pond. Shen Zaiqing knew that was Uncle Liu pumping water.

Liu Mao had told Shen Zaiqing yesterday that this morning he would pump some water from the fish pond into the mulberry fields and refill the pond near noon. If they wanted to experience the joy of catching fish and shrimp, they had to get up early and catch them while the water level was low.

Hearing the pump, Shen Zaiqing remembered Liu Mao’s words and quickly went to wake Long Xin.

“Long Xin, it’s time to get up.” She pulled back the curtains, letting in bright light.

Long Xin didn’t react. Once a dragon falls asleep, verbal calls are mostly useless; Shen Zaiqing had to push Long Xin’s shoulder several times before she responded.

Long Xin had slept late last night and her eyelids were still heavy. Unwilling to get up, she rolled over, hugged the blanket tighter, and spoke in a spoiled tone: “Professor, let me sleep a bit longer. I’m still very sleepy.”

“Get up early and there will be fish to catch. Didn’t you keep saying you wanted to catch fish every day?”

“Catching fish!” Long Xin sat up with her eyes closed and shouted excitedly.

Just as she was about to fall back down, Shen Zaiqing grabbed the scruff of her neck and carried her to the bathroom. The most effective way to deal with lingering in bed was to stay away from the bed; Shen Zaiqing knew this by heart.

She placed her on the sink against the cold wall, grabbed her cup and toothbrush, and began washing up. When the splashing water from the tap hit Long Xin, she woke up. Unless it was for bathing or swimming, Long Xin didn’t like water splashing on her.

So by the time Shen Zaiqing finished brushing her teeth, she was sure Long Xin was awake. She picked her up and tossed her back onto the bed, saying: “Change your clothes first. I’ll give you the bathroom after I’m out.”

Performing a backflip on the bed, Long Xin replied spiritedly: “Okay!”

Shen Zaiqing pulled back her collar and looked at the bite mark on her neck. It had faded significantly; it seemed she wouldn’t have to cover it so strictly by tonight. During the day she still couldn’t be lax, so she applied more concealer to hide it.

Once both finished washing up, Shen Zaiqing took Long Xin downstairs.

By the hearth on the first floor, Aunt Liu was busy, with her little granddaughter following at her heels—not crying or making a fuss, but very well-behaved.

“Aunt Liu, Little Qingyuan, good morning. This is my little dragon, Long Xin. You two can get to know each other.”

“Hello.” Long Xin nodded politely to them.

“Sister Long Xin, you’re so pretty.” Liu Mao’s granddaughter, Liu Qingyuan, had a very sweet mouth. Yesterday when she saw Shen Zaiqing, she was also full of “Sister, you’re so pretty.”

“Sister, you are too pretty!” When she praised people, her eyes would curve like crescent moons, and the smile on her face was sincere, making it very pleasant to hear.

Long Xin gave her a shy smile and said, “Thank you. You will surely be very pretty when you grow up too.”

“Come and eat. I’ve made tossed noodles for you.” Aunt Liu called the three of them to the table and brought each a bowl of noodles.

“Thank you, Aunt Liu.” “Thank you, Aunt Liu.” “Thank you, Grandma!”

After breakfast, Shen Zaiqing took Long Xin to the edge of the fish pond. Long Xin had been eager to try for a long time. Dragons are good with water and naturally love catching fish and shrimp; it was an activity that could release their instincts.

Back in Longya Mountain, Long Xin never had such an opportunity. The hill she lived on only had small streams; there were plenty of tiny fish, but the largest were only as thick as a finger. Catching those fish was truly no fun. What Long Xin wanted to conquer were big fish larger and longer than herself!

Today was the day to fulfill her dream.

“Professor, I’m very good at catching fish. I’m going to catch the biggest fish in this pond for you today!” Before even entering the water, Long Xin made a grand proclamation, a confident smile hanging on her lips.

However, Shen Zaiqing looked at this little dragon cub, who only reached her knees and was currently rubbing her claws together, and felt it was a bit doubtful. The cub’s weight was only around a dozen pounds. According to Uncle Liu, the biggest fish in this pond weighed thirty or forty pounds. In terms of weight, the opponent was overwhelming.

“Take it easy,” Shen Zaiqing reminded her. “The fish in the pond look slow and silly now, but if they explode in an instant, that power is not to be underestimated.”

To this, Long Xin disagreed. Raising her chin, she said: “Don’t worry about that. We dragons are the kings of the water; how could we lose to a fish?”

“Impossible.”

Her eagle-like eyes swept the area and saw a large fish showing its back in the center of the pond. Using it as a target, she leaped from the shore, spreading her blunt claws, and pounced toward the back of the large fish.

“Hua la.” A huge splash erupted in the center of the pond. The commotion was so big that Shen Zaiqing thought a duel of the century was truly taking place.

As it turned out, in less than two seconds, the water surface returned to calm a typical “great thunder but little rain.” The big fish was completely unharmed. Under Shen Zaiqing’s eyes, it swam leisurely from one end of the pond to the other, blew two bubbles, and sank to the bottom.

And her little dragon was floating on the water as if her pressure points had been hit, a look of utter shock on her face, with a red fish-tail print on her cheek.

Shen Zaiqing witnessed everything from the shore, her eyes curving. So this was the “king of the water.” She had certainly seen something new today.

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