The Jade Faced Cuck-Chapter 23: Sounds He Cannot Unhear

The room felt smaller with every passing breath.

Lin Mu remained where he had knelt since the beginning—his legs folded beneath him, posture rigid, eyes fixed not on the bed, but just beneath it. Even the movement of his gaze felt like too much. To look up, to witness it directly, would be a kind of surrender he wasn't sure he could survive.

And yet, everything was already happening.

He didn't need to see it.

He could hear it.

He could feel it.

The slow creak of the mattress had grown steadier, more rhythmic. Not hurried—purposeful. He could hear the fabric of sheets shifting beneath weight. He could hear the sharp, warm gasp that left Xue Lan's throat—cut off only when another, louder one replaced it. There was no hiding her voice now. She wasn't muffling herself. She was letting it rise, letting it bloom into the room.

And through it all, Lin Mu remained still, breathing in the remnants of the oil he had rubbed into her skin only hours ago—his hands the last to prepare her, but not the last to touch her.

She sounded completely open. Her moans had rhythm now, the kind of cadence that only came from deep, intimate motion. Her breathing matched the movements he could hear through the veil of silence between gasps—the shifting of the bed, the quickening creak of wood against stone.

Then her voice again. Hushed. Urgent.

"Right there."

Lin Mu closed his eyes.

His jaw tightened. His fists clenched softly against his thighs, but not from anger. From heat. From pressure. From the unbearable ache beneath his robe where his body had betrayed him from the moment Yan Zhuo stepped into the room.

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He was still hard. Hard and untouched.

Hard while another man made his wife cry out in pleasure.

Her pleasure filled the space like incense. It was in the air now, in her every breath and sound. Her hips must have been moving in rhythm now, rolling to meet each thrust, her body syncing with someone who filled her in a way Lin Mu never could.

He had tried. Gods knew he had.

But this—what he was hearing now—was something else.

It was real.

It was undeniable.

He imagined her eyes half-lidded, her lips parted, her body flushed from the chest down, pinned and moving and completely lost in someone else's rhythm.

And the worst part?

She sounded happy.

Whole.

And he could do nothing but listen.

A louder cry escaped her—sharper, richer—and then a breathless whisper of his name. Not to him. Not for him. Just... spoken into the moment.

And Lin Mu stayed where he was.

Hard.

Ashamed.

And painfully awake.