By the end of another year, good news arrived at the manor. That brat Xin Li had struck gold with his "dog-shit luck," somehow hitting it off with Xiao Yan, the third miss of the Marquis of Huiyang. He had managed to secure himself a wife as beautiful as a flower, albeit a violent one. However, the Marquis was still reluctant to part with her and insisted on keeping her for another year or two. The two houses made a formal pact, considering the matter settled.
During the days Xin Jing returned home to rest, he saw Xin Li every day, practically itching to tattoo "My wife..." onto his forehead as he paraded around the house. Whenever given the slightest chance to speak, he would begin with "My wife is..."—a phrase that immediately killed anyone’s desire to continue the conversation.
The most pitiful one was the youngest, Xin Yi. Having just been mocked by that little rascal for his stuttering, he was in a state of silent indignation. Every time he was dragged along by Xin Li to listen to hours of spittle-flecked boasting, he could do nothing but listen while sobbing softly.
Xin Jing would beat the boy whenever he caught him, but given Xin Li’s reputation as a little rascal, he was thick-skinned and used to the blows. He wasn't afraid; as soon as the eldest brother left, he would go right back to chasing Xin Yi around.
"Your wife?" Xin Jing, the second brother, happened to be coming out to air his books. As Xin Li ran past the railing he had just wiped, he caught the boy by the back of his collar. "Your down hasn't even turned to hair yet; what 'wife' do you have? Even if you marry her, she’ll just be a daughter to Mother; it’ll have nothing to do with you." He then swept his gaze over Xin Li from head to toe with a look that was seemingly upright but actually full of disdain. In a flat voice, he added, "You were still wetting the bed at ten, and you only had your first nocturnal emission last spring. Master Xin, does your wife know about that?"
Xin Li’s face turned red down to his neck. He covered his ears and screamed at the top of his lungs, shouting in a fit of shame and indignation, "Heavens! Are you really my second brother? You're a bad person! Stop talking! Argh! Help, Mother!"
Xin Yi wiped his tears with a sniffle, hugged his eldest brother’s leg, and looked up innocently. "E-Eldest Brother, what... what is a n-nocturnal emission?"
Xin Jing patted his head and said solemnly, "It is another thing your third brother cannot control. Remember this well, and he won't dare bother you again."
Xin Li’s newly matured teenage heart shattered into pieces. He cried out in fury, "Eldest Brother is a bastard too! You're all bastards! I'm running away from home and never coming back!"
The second brother, Xin Jing, tossed him aside. "Go then, quickly."
Xin Li clutched his heart and ran off sobbing to find their mother.
Xin Jing, the eldest, carried the little stutterer over to help the second brother air his books. He was tall, so when the second brother couldn't reach the top of the bookshelves, he would have the eldest reach for him. It only became awkward when there were spots neither could reach.
Xin Yi had already run off.
Xin Jing felt that being unable to reach was a blow to his dignity, so he looked around uncomfortably. He couldn't find anything to stand on; everything was covered in books.
The second brother measured the height with his eyes and said, "Lift me up."
Xin Jing was still thinking about a stool when he heard this. He nodded instinctively, but then his heart gave a sudden leap, followed by a frantic pounding, as if hundreds of rabbits were trapped in his chest. He felt he shouldn't be this way at his age, but he couldn't control it. He could only try to make his gaze appear frank and his expression seem ordinary.
He bent his knees and circled his arms around the second brother's waist, lifting him from behind.
The weather was hot. The second brother wore several layers of clothing, but under Xin Jing’s hands, it felt as though there were none at all. He seemed to feel a certain softness—a bit of supple flesh on the second brother's waist.
The sensation was good, far too good—so good that his mind instantly wandered to parched, distant places thousands of miles away.
"A-Jing." The second brother had only managed to touch the edge of the shelf. He called out when he received no response, only to feel the hands over his stomach tighten. His ears turned a shade of red. His panicked gaze only dared to look upward as he called again, "A-Jing."
"Hmm?" Xin Jing’s voice remained unchanged, seemingly composed and without abnormality. "What is it?"
"I can't reach," the second brother said dryly. "Try lifting me by the legs."
Xin Jing gave a low cough. He didn't let go but instead hoisted him higher. "How about now?"
The second brother pulled out the book case from the top. "Done."
Still, there was no movement.
It was high noon, and the younger brothers were away. The corridor in the courtyard was silent. The scorching heat seemed to make the two people behind the bookshelf turn scalding as well. Holding the book case, the second brother’s fair nape was flushed crimson—whether from the heat or something else, it was hard to say.
Xin Jing held him like that, not finding him heavy at all. As he held him, at the moment the heat silently exploded in his heart, he suddenly seemed to compromise—or perhaps it was a moment of indulgence and disregard for everything else. He lowered his arms but did not let go. As soon as the second brother’s feet touched the ground, he was pressed against the bookshelf from behind.
Xin Jing forced his face around. His aggressive lips hovered at an extremely close distance, their breaths intertwining. He called the other's name in a low murmur, his voice tinged with confusion and helplessness. The second brother’s fair chin was pinched until it turned red, yet the thin line between their lips felt like invisible thorns and an abyss, resisting something.
The second brother looked into his eyes, only to find the eldest staring intensely at him. Xin Jing had never shown such pain and longing. The moment the second brother looked back, Xin Jing gently kissed his slightly parted lips.
It was as light as a whisper, just like them—not daring to disturb, not daring to make a sound. Even at this moment, they did not dare to utter a single vow that transgressed the laws of human relations.
This fleeting touch was over in an instant, but Xin Jing immediately discovered, with a mix of agony and exhilaration, that he could not be satisfied by such a light touch. That brief contact had set him ablaze.
He wanted more, more, and even more of his brother.
He released the fingers pinching the second brother's chin and cupped his entire face, bowing his head to kiss him deeply—so deeply that the second brother’s breath hitched and he himself nearly lost all reason.
The bookshelf swayed under Xin Jing’s forceful pressure, and books from the top began to fall. He braced himself against the shelf, shielding the second brother while continuing to kiss him.
Books tumbled and crashed to the floor in a heap, yet they continued to kiss.
They kissed until sweat and tears mingled.
They kissed until someone stopped at the doorway, striking the door in shock and fury.
Xin Jing snapped his head up. He grabbed the second brother’s wrist, pulling him into his grasp with terrifying strength. His expression was almost feral, bordering on insolent. He said hoarsely, "Father, you’ve come at a bad time."
The Prince of Yan had never seen his steady, restrained eldest son like this. His eyes were red with pain, yet he still gripped the second brother's wrist, giving the Prince a reckless, defiant smile. "Father, what should I do? I am obsessed with him. I have exhausted my schemes. You tell me, what should I do?"
The Prince of Yan kicked him hard in the side. Xin Jing immediately let go of the second brother and pushed him aside. The Prince’s fists and feet rained down on his body and face. Xin Jing did not dodge or block; he didn't even move to protect his head, allowing his father to strike his face until his whole body throbbed with pain. By the time he was kicked over and slammed into the bookshelf, he could no longer stand—or rather, he didn't want to.
He felt a flicker of worry—worry about whether his mother would find out, and whether she would be heartbroken if she did. He also felt a sense of sorrow—sorrow because he had known this outcome in his heart for a long time, yet had spent years pretending otherwise, allowing himself to sink further. Most of all, he felt helpless.
Helpless because he should have stopped, yet he could not resist, could not endure, and could not cease his longing.
He, Xin Jing, was merely an ordinary man who had lost to his own selfish desires.
It was an ugly sight.
The second brother, Xin Jing, grabbed the Prince of Yan’s hand. His lowered eyes hid an intense emotion as he pleaded, "Father."
The Prince stopped, his fist suddenly slamming into the side of the shelf. He didn't look at the eldest; he remained silent. All three were silent—shame, pain, and resentment intertwining in the heavy air.
Until someone stopped at the door, sobbing and hiccuping, pleading in a stuttering voice, "F-Father, d-don't... don't hit B-Brother."
Xin Yi’s small face was filled with terror. He didn't understand the defeat and torment of the men before him, but he understood one thing.
They were all crying.
Xin Jing went to Rouhui, staying there for over half a year. The Princess Consort did not know why her eldest son wouldn't return, but based on her understanding of her husband and son, as well as a woman's intuition, she sensed the unspeakable truth behind it. She stopped urging her eldest son to come home, nor did she stop her second son from leaving.
The second brother was going to Shanyin.
If not for this turning point, he might never have gone to Shanyin in his life. Perhaps he would never have encountered that winter where his life ended. Perhaps he could have survived.
But.
There are no "ifs," and there are no "maybes."
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A Minister's Capricious Affection | Chapter 57 | A Forbidden Spark | Novela.app | Novela.app
