Under the lingering effects of the alcohol, Jiang Yuan slept until noon the following day. The phone on his nightstand buzzed incessantly. He squinted for a long while before finally reaching out to pull the device before his eyes. Through a bleary haze, he saw the name "Jiang Kunbo," and the sight jolted him wide awake.
"Hello," Jiang Yuan answered, his tone laced with a lazy indifference. "What is it? Here to back up your precious son?"
The other end of the line went silent for a few seconds before a man’s majestic, rigid voice came through. "He is your brother."
"Pfft," Jiang Yuan scoffed. "I wasn't aware my mother had any sons other than me."
Jiang Kunbo remained silent, offering no rebuttal.
Over the years, they had repeated this same exchange countless times, and both had grown weary of it.
Jiang Yuan stared expressionlessly at the ceiling, his voice cold. "If you have something to say, say it. Otherwise, I’m hanging up."
To his surprise, Jiang Kunbo didn't even mention Jiang Hao’s injuries. Instead, he simply gave an order: "This weekend is your mother’s death anniversary. Get ready; we’ll set out from the house together."
Jiang Yuan understood instantly. This was what Jiang Kunbo had been waiting for. He wasn't pressing the issue of Jiang Hao’s beating because he wanted Jiang Yuan to play along in a charade of family harmony. It was all so the media could market a positive image for him as the helmsman of the Jiang Corporation.
Jiang Yuan closed his eyes, a mocking smile spreading across his face. "Jiang Kunbo, my mother has been dead for four years. You still want to drag your mistress and your bastard son to her grave just to hype up your 'devoted widower' persona? Don't you find yourself disgusting?"
Ignoring the mockery, Jiang Kunbo said calmly, "I have explained the events of that year many times. I did not intend to betray your mother."
"Enough," Jiang Yuan interrupted. "I’ll go see her on my own. And please, don't bring those revolting people to her grave to spite her."
With that, Jiang Yuan hung up. He covered his eyes with his hand, an indescribable bitterness churning in his chest.
Even though he had long since recognized his father's true colors, it still stung when the reality hit. He had once hoped that his mother was special to Jiang Kunbo—someone worth remembering.
But the reality was that neither she nor he were anything more than objects to Jiang Kunbo, items assigned a certain value and otherwise not worth mentioning.
His mood dampened, Jiang Yuan walked past the guest bedroom and couldn't help but glance through the open door. Xie Chengnan’s bed was neatly made; its owner was clearly no longer inside.
Guessing that the man was likely in the studio next door, the young master curled his lip. He shoved his hands into his pockets and shuffled downstairs, only to find Professor Xie in the kitchen wearing an apron.
Xie Chengnan was stirring a pot of porridge with a ladle. Hearing the noise, he turned around. "You're awake?"
"Yeah." Jiang Yuan’s mood brightened instantly. "What are you cooking?"
"Just some plain white porridge." Xie Chengnan scooped a bowl and set it on the dining table. "You have injuries; you need to watch your diet for a few days."
Jiang Yuan pulled a long face. "It’s just a few bruises. Do I really have to drink plain porridge?"
"Yes." Xie Chengnan gave him no room to bargain. "I bought some medicinal oil. After you eat, I’ll rub out those bruises so they heal faster."
Jiang Yuan’s eyes kept darting toward the refrigerator. Inside were the Zhou Hei Ya duck necks he’d ordered via a delivery service yesterday. At the thought of that savory, numbing spiciness, he couldn't help but swallow hard.
Across from him, the older man guessed exactly what he was thinking. He picked up the bowl and said ruthlessly, "Stop looking. I already threw them out. You’re sticking to plain porridge for the next two days. I’ll buy you more once your injuries are healed."
Jiang Yuan: !!!
The meal was eaten in a daze, devoid of any joy.
It wasn't until he was ushered onto the bed that the young master realized the older man intended to apply the medicine personally...
The moment Xie Chengnan lifted the hem of Jiang Yuan’s shirt, he regretted it. The boy’s lean back was like a radiant work of art—elegant butterfly bones above, a narrow, tapering waist below. The mere sight of it invited a flood of stray thoughts.
The young master lay there obediently, his mind still a bit sluggish.
When Xie Chengnan’s warm fingers touched the cool skin of his back, Jiang Yuan felt the hair all over his body stand on end.
One standing, one lying down—both men shuddered simultaneously.
The room fell into a terrifying silence.
Xie Chengnan cleared his throat, awkwardly searching for a topic. "Ahem... is the pressure too much?"
As he spoke, he happened to press right on a sore spot. Jiang Yuan hissed, his body stiffening for a few seconds from the sudden pain before he finally relaxed again. "Go easier," he murmured.
Xie Chengnan tried to lighten his touch, but that only made things feel stranger. If the man hadn't looked so serious, Jiang Yuan would have suspected he was trying to feel him up.
Just as the gentle rubbing was beginning to make the young master feel drowsy, Xie Chengnan’s knuckles grazed lightly against his spine.
A tingling, numbing sensation shot straight to the top of Jiang Yuan’s head. He couldn't help but arch his back, letting out a soft, "Ah~"
Xie Chengnan froze in place, pulling his hand back as if he’d been burned.
Jiang Yuan was also stunned after the sound left his lips. That cry had been soft and delicate, the end of it trembling slightly—it didn't sound like something the "Demon King" Jiang Yuan would ever utter. Even he was shocked by himself.
Xie Chengnan hurriedly pulled the boy's shirt back down, his movements stiff. "My technique isn't good. Get up, let's go to the hospital."
"No." Jiang Yuan stayed prone on the bed, turning his head to look at him, the corners of his eyes slightly flushed. "I hate hospitals. If you don't want to rub it, then don't."
The two of them locked eyes in a stalemate for a long time until Xie Chengnan finally yielded. "Tell me if it’s uncomfortable," he said, resigned.
Jiang Yuan buried his face in the pillow to hide his triumphant smirk. Having behaved himself for twenty-odd days, the young master couldn't resist the urge to start acting up again now that he had the chance.
Just as Xie Chengnan was about to lift the shirt again, the boy suddenly sat up. "Hey, wait."
He knelt on the bed, looking up at Xie Chengnan as he unbuttoned his pajamas one by one. He offered a pure, harmless smile. "Lifting it up is inconvenient. I’ll just take it off."
Before Xie Chengnan could stop him, a lean, firm torso was suddenly thrust into his vision. A few bruises marred the youth’s fair skin like a broken swallowtail butterfly, possessing a kind of fragile beauty.
The older man’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His fingers, resting at his sides, curled and uncurled involuntarily. He forced himself to look away. "Jason... turn up the heat..."
Knowing when to stop, the young master lay back down and snickered. "Don't you think the heater is already high enough?"
Xie Chengnan feigned composure. "You're wearing too little. I don't want you catching a cold."
"Oh~" the young master didn't argue.
What followed was nothing short of the "Ten Great Tortures" for Xie Chengnan.
The fair, smooth youth was right there, within reach, yet completely untouchable.
He also realized that the spine was likely Jiang Yuan’s sensitive spot. As long as he didn't touch it, the boy remained quite well-behaved. However, a few bruises were stubbornly situated right there, impossible to avoid.
Xie Chengnan gritted his teeth, rubbing from the shoulders down to the waist. His gaze involuntarily drifted from the dip of the lower back to the sudden upward curve of the hips. His heart trembled three times over, and he felt a bizarre, sudden urge to lean down and take a bite.
Coming to his senses, the older man was horrified by his own perverse thoughts. He felt that if this continued, he might actually turn into a beast and tear off his mask of propriety.
Just as he was reaching his limit, he finally remembered the "ultimate move" Shen Qinian had suggested.
With a wooden, expressionless face, the older man said calmly, "Jason, play the Great Compassion Mantra on loop."
The young master, who had been ready to keep flirting: ????
The young master, whose worldly desires were instantly extinguished: ...
*That is fucking ruthless.*
***
