After The Coquettish Fake Master Was Driven Away - Chapter 12

Dark blotches devoured the light. His pupils grew hollow, losing focus.

Just as he was about to topple forward, his rigid body suddenly flooded with vigor. Xie Jinning flipped over violently and collapsed heavily on the wooden bed.

A sharp, searing pain erupted from the wound on his back, as if pressed against a scorching iron plate. His face twisted, but the haze in his muddled mind cleared in an instant.

It was like waking from a dream. His complexion pale, Xie Jinning quickly pulled away the fingers lodged against his throat, gasping desperately for air. Still shaken, he touched his neck in disbelief.

What had just happened to him?

Knock, knock, knock.

“Are you asleep?”

Two more knocks followed. “It’s Yan Yi. I came to see how your wound is. Are you all right?”

Still trapped in the terror of near-death, Xie Jinning opened his lips, letting out a frail whimper, “I…”

His voice was lighter than a kitten’s cry.

Yan Yi, sharp in his senses, instantly grew wary. Without waiting for a reply, he pushed the door open and entered.

The youth lay sprawled across the bed, expression wan, clutching his throat, streaks of tears marking his cheeks. He was like shattered jade, fragile and pitiful—nothing of the arrogant, fiery spirit who had once ordered him out.

He had only left for an hour. How had he turned himself into this state?

The moment he caught sight of Yan Yi, the tension in Xie Jinning’s chest loosened. His pale lips trembled, pouting unconsciously. With a shivering voice he let out a sobbing gasp:

“I’m not okay, not okay at all. I feel awful.”

Yan Yi strode over immediately. “Where does it hurt?”

Xie Jinning released his hand. A crimson mark stretched across his pale, smooth throat.

Just as Yan Yi leaned in to examine it, Xie Jinning clutched his robe tightly, yanking him closer.

The reflection in his deep pupils showed a pitifully furrowed brow, his body trembling like a blossom about to fall from its branch. Uneasy, he stammered:

“I—I almost strangled myself just now!”

Terrified, he shook his head hard, knuckles turning white. “I didn’t mean to! I don’t know what happened—I felt so cold, I wanted to call for you, but no sound came out, and I—”

His words were broken, incoherent.

Suddenly, his arms were lifted, his waist supported by hot, broad hands. With a bit of strength, Yan Yi raised him upright so he knelt on the bed.

His hair flew up then slowly settled down again.

Xie Jinning was in his embrace.

“It’s all right. Don’t be afraid.”

The man’s arms were warm, blazing like the sun. Despite the lingering odor of smoke and oil clinging to him, Xie Jinning felt a profound sense of safety.

Burying his face in Yan Yi’s broad shoulder, he clutched tightly at his clothes, muttering in a muffled voice, “Why didn’t you come earlier…”

Tears of grievance seeped into Yan Yi’s shoulder. He had no words, only awkwardly stroked the youth’s thin back and said, “I’m here.”

His voice wasn’t soft; it was deep and weighty, like mountains—yet it soothed Xie Jinning’s fragile heart.

They held each other quietly. The steady heartbeats and heat seeping through their pressed chests felt like a torch, slowly dispelling the bone-chilling cold.

Sobbing, Xie Jinning tightened his arms around Yan Yi’s neck, like a young beast showing trust and dependence. Wrapped in warmth, his whimpers subsided. His head brushed instinctively against him.

When his cheek rubbed against rough cloth and tingled, he slowly opened his eyes, belatedly realizing how intimate this posture was with someone he barely knew.

And this was already the second time in a single day he had cried openly in front of him.

How embarrassing. He hadn’t been this tearful before.

All Yan Yi’s fault.

The thin-skinned young master’s ears turned crimson, shame and frustration surging like a hidden tide. He punched Yan Yi’s back and complained, “You stink! Let me go! Who gave you the right to hug me!”

The nasal lilt made his protest sound more like a spoiled whine.

Beautiful though he was when fragile, Yan Yi preferred seeing him recover, radiant and spirited once more.

What had he been like in the capital, he wondered?

Obediently, Yan Yi released him, stepping back a few paces. His hand, which had clasped that slender waist, curled into a loose fist behind his back. He asked, “Do you feel better now?”

“Better?!”

His eyelids were swollen from all the tears, making him look comically cute. A flush of pink bloomed on his cheek from rubbing against Yan Yi. Pointing at his throat, Xie Jinning stressed, “Don’t you see? Right here—I did this to myself, just before you knocked!”

He tilted his head back, showing his vulnerable neck without reservation, oblivious to the danger.

Long, white, smooth as polished jade.

A hand could wrap around it easily. Just a twist, and there would be the crisp snap of breaking bone—struggles silenced.

Yan Yi’s palm burned. As if remembering all the lives he had taken that way—too many times to count, a skill ingrained into his very bones.

It brought back the memory of when he first arrived in Hetian Village, tense and suspicious, waking at the faintest sound.

Once, during a fever, a doctor had come to take his pulse. He had almost attacked him in his delirium.

Compared to that time, he was already far more restrained.

“Look at it for me! I really almost died just now, I swear!”

The soft voice pulled him back. Yan Yi lowered his gaze to the thin red mark on that white neck. It wasn’t deep—just a faint line, finger-width.

This delicate-skinned young master bruised at the lightest touch. If he had truly used force, the mark wouldn’t have been so shallow.

As for his near-death terror, it was likely a hallucination from briefly pressing the wrong spot, cutting his airflow.

Hearing Yan Yi’s explanation, Xie Jinning nervously touched it again. It didn’t hurt. Still uneasy, he asked again and again, “Really nothing serious?”

“Really.”

Only then did he exhale, lowering his head and thumping the bed angrily.

So it wasn’t strangling—it was scaring himself to death. Xie Jinning, how did your courage shrink so much!

“But brooding too much will harm you.” Yan Yi looked at the dark crown of his head and said bluntly, “Life here may not compare to your past, but it isn’t as terrible as you think. And you’re still young, you have—”

“Stop, stop, I don’t want to hear it. You’re so nagging.”

Xie Jinning clapped his hands over his ears, grumbling inside: If this isn’t terrible, then what is? A battlefield? That has nothing to do with me!

“Anywhere else hurting?” Yan Yi asked, shifting the topic. “Just now your back wound was pressed—did it worsen?”

Something in his mind snapped. Without waiting for permission, he reached downward to check, only for Xie Jinning to slap his hand away.

Clutching his half-loosened waistband, he glared. “What are you doing!”

Yan Yi froze. He realized how improper that action was—reckless. If it had been a woman, he’d be cursed as a lecher, beaten bloody.

No—male or female, it was still unacceptable to pull at someone’s clothes so casually.

He silently scolded himself and apologized, “Forgive me. I overstepped.”

Seeing his earnest remorse, Xie Jinning let it go. But as his mental fatigue lifted, physical discomfort surged like a crashing tide.

Sticky. Bloated. Aching.

Biting his lip, he blurted, “I want to bathe, and change clothes.”

He had never worn the same clothes for two days straight. At Xie Manor, aside from the hottest summers, he bathed every other day at least.

Now, he had gone nearly four days without a change or a bath. After all his crying and sweating, the stickiness was unbearable. He felt disgusting.

Lifting his arm, he pulled up his sleeve and sniffed. With a dramatic grimace, he shoved it toward Yan Yi’s nose, clearly wanting to disgust him. “Smell it yourself—it’s really foul.”

His pale arm, dazzling white, carried a faint fragrance, brushing right under Yan Yi’s nose.

Yan Yi stiffened, trying to hold his breath, but too late.

The sweet floral scent invaded his lungs, curling inside, spreading, filling every inch of him.

He carefully reached to push the arm away, but even the slightest touch sank into soft, cool skin.

How could a man be… so soft, so fragrant?

Too fragile. Too dangerous.

Afraid of harming him, Yan Yi pulled his hand back, turning his head aside. His voice tightened: “I’ll heat the water.”

“Wait, don’t go yet.”

Xie Jinning twisted his fingers, muttering, “My wound still hurts. I need medicine. And I also want to…”

His voice dropped lower and lower, like a mosquito’s buzz—maybe not even spoken aloud.

Yan Yi didn’t catch it. “What else?”

Xie Jinning snapped, “I said I need the privy! The privy! Can’t you hear?”

His shout nearly blew the roof tiles off. The echo came back, and his face instantly flushed crimson, ears and neck tinged pink.

He had been lying in bed all day. Earlier, during his fright, his bladder had nearly given way. Afterward, he had delayed again and again, until now…

He truly couldn’t hold it any longer.

This was worse than death!

Beneath his robe, his belly cramped, trembling. His fingers curled tightly, his eyes watery red. He urged desperately: “Take me, quickly.”

But when his knees touched the ground, they buckled. As Yan Yi caught him around the waist, his palm landed directly on his abdomen. “Careful.”

Xie Jinning nearly bit through his lip.

Afraid the slightest pressure would spell disaster, he stayed silent, letting Yan Yi half-carry, half-drag him toward the door.

The burning heat of that palm seared against his taut belly, morphing into another unbearable sensation. His breath quickened, body sagging entirely against Yan Yi.

It was torture.

At the threshold, he froze, clutching Yan Yi’s robe tightly, back arched, refusing to step forward.

“What is it?”

“I… I can’t walk anymore.”

Too humiliated to explain, tears welled in his eyes. His long lashes trembled violently, like a black butterfly struggling in a storm.

Yan Yi’s gaze dropped to the part of him clutched in his arm, to his clenched legs. Without a word, he hooked an arm beneath his shoulders and knees, lifting him in a smooth motion.

Amid Xie Jinning’s startled cry, Yan Yi said simply:

“We’ll be there soon.”