What’s Wrong with Hating My Master?

# Older Master and Younger Disciple, Enemies Turn Lovers After They Sleep Together [A Dominant, Bad-Boy Disciple with a Weak Guard vs. a Master Who Seems Like an Untouchable Beauty] The master is the kind of hidden supervillain who says, "If my disciple kills someone, I hand him the knife or help finish the job."

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Ten years ago, the disciple was framed by others. After narrowly escaping death and being left on the brink of death, he dragged his battered body back to the sect, thinking of nothing but letting his master know he was safe.

On a night of pouring rain.

Just beyond a single door, the disciple accidentally overheard his master speaking with someone else, coldly confirming his role in the frame-up: "That wretched disciple has always been unruly. He deserves to die."

He laughed at himself, then turned and walked into the torrential rain.

The master and disciple met again ten years later.

The disciple had mastered peerless arts and returned to settle old scores one by one. As he stood among the bodies strewn across the ground, slowly wiping his hands, he happened upon his master, who had been in seclusion for years.

The man was as cool and aloof as ever, dressed in snow-white robes, lofty and untouchable, as if standing among the clouds. Even a speck of dust on his pure white brocade boots seemed like a stain.

Hidden in the shadows, he lowered the concealed weapon in his hand. How should he settle this man's debt?

Rather than ending his life,

it seemed more interesting to drag that noble, untouchable beauty from his pedestal and fall with him into the mortal world, entangling him in filth and degradation, struggling between worldly desire and the constraints of his identity.

The disciple put on a secret identity and returned to the sect.

Master, your wretched disciple is coming back to repay you.

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In a dark, secluded cave, the master was fastened in exquisite shackles.

The disciple shed his disguise, smiling with irresistible charm. He raised a hand, seized the master's chin, and forcibly poured an aphrodisiac into his mouth.

The dagger's sharp blade turned as soft as a silken ribbon, tracing the master's brows, cheeks, and lips with wanton abandon, before finally stopping at his most vulnerable and deadly spot: his throat.

The disciple lowered his eyes, putting on an innocent look. Half complaining, half teasing, he said, "I've thought of you all these years, Master. I could barely eat, and I couldn't sleep at night. I wonder, did you miss me?"

- One-on-one pairing. They are both absolutely devoted to each other. They're locked together for good, and I'll swallow the key.

- I never care what the world thinks of me. I only care about how others see you because of me.

Theme: When the returning geese arrive, the moon over the western tower is finally full.