After The Coquettish Fake Master Was Driven Away - Chapter 16

Morning light spilled down, motes of dust drifting in the air.

On the bed, the boy’s long lashes trembled. Amber pupils shimmered with watery light beneath the sun, like autumn springs flowing through a mountain stream. A hazy glow haloed his face, accentuating his delicate features.

The misty gaze gradually cleared as consciousness returned. Xie Jinning only felt his body light and unburdened—his head no longer dizzy, his eyes no longer blurred. Not a trace of stickiness lingered on his skin, and even the wound on his back no longer hurt as much.

He propped himself up against the bedframe and raised a hand to his forehead—his temperature was normal. Only when lowering his hand did he realize the loose, messy clothes he’d fallen asleep in had been replaced with a simple white robe that fit him perfectly. The bedding too had been changed.

“Huh?”

When had that happened? He had no memory of it at all.

His amber eyes turned, full of doubt. As his senses gradually returned, his lips tingled faintly, and even the root of his tongue felt sore.

Not knowing exactly what had happened, he licked at them, smacking his lips a few times, until he finally picked out a faint bitterness.

He’d been fed medicine.

Even though he’d drunk many decoctions since childhood, Xie Jinning still hadn’t gotten used to that flavor. He wrinkled his face and stuck out his tongue, trying to let the air carry away the bitterness.

“Yan Yi.”

The syllables clung together as he spoke around his tongue tip. Pale fingers combed through his black hair, like a pampered cat carefully grooming its fur.

He got up, draped the outer robe lying by the bed over his shoulders, and let his long, silky hair fall loose, covering his thin, upright back. The loosely tied sash cinched at his waist, outlining his slender frame.

“Yan Yi, where are you?”

He called a few times, but no answer came. Xie Jinning pushed open the door and stepped into the sunlit courtyard, tilting his face upward in a lazy stretch.

Today the sun was just right, warming his whole body. The lingering chill deep in his bones was completely dispelled.

Whether it was due to the medicine or the heavy-handed massage that had scattered the bruising, the wound on his back was no longer swollen. Walking didn’t hurt as much, though his posture was still a little stiff.

He closed his eyes, basking for a moment, then slowly began to look around the courtyard he hadn’t yet had time to observe. He wandered into an adjoining room, pushing open the door to peer inside.

At first glance—nothing much at all. The more he looked, the worse it seemed.

Letting the curtain fall over the kitchen, Xie Jinning sighed softly, disappointment pressing down on him. His chest ached, his heart felt as if it were soaking in some murky brew.

So this was how Xie Zhu had grown up, in such harsh conditions.

While he himself had been swaddled in silk and jade, eating from ivory chopsticks and drinking from jade cups, Xie Zhu had lived in this kind of house, exposed to wind and rain.

No wonder he was so thin—he probably hadn’t even had enough to eat or wear.

It was Xie Jinning who had stolen the life of comfort that should have been his. Now that it had been returned, wasn’t that only fair?

And yet, he had once misunderstood the other as some illegitimate child and treated him with disdain.

His vision blurred. Quickly blinking back tears, he rubbed at his reddened nose and mumbled, “I’m sorry…”

After muttering this apology, he slapped his cheeks to rouse himself and forced a light smile. “But… now you can live in a fine house every day. You can eat whatever delicacies you want. There are pretty clothes and jewelry too—and toys! I’ve put them all in the third side room of the Jin Courtyard. Take whatever you like. And also—”

Whether or not Xie Zhu, thousands of miles away, could somehow hear his words, Xie Jinning rambled on and on, even listing the likes and dislikes of the three members of the Xie family. Speaking of it only made his own eyes brim with tears again.

He was no longer the young master of the Xie family. Remembering all that would only torment him at night—of no use at all.

Xie Jinning knew this truth. Having once suffered hardship, he did not wish to suffer again.

He had originally thought, after seeking refuge with a friend, he might use that friend’s name as pretense to see his former family—just to ask why they had sent him away in his sleep, without even allowing a final farewell.

But now, having witnessed the place where Xie Zhu had lived, he could not bring himself to pursue it.

He feared hearing the answers he did not want—and feared even more hearing the ones he did.

“No.”

He forcibly cut off his wandering thoughts, taking a deep breath and whispering to himself: “From now on, all this is what you’re supposed to do. Your parents—I…”

His lips pressed tight in hesitation. After a moment, his eyes lit up. “How about this: once I earn money in the future, I’ll send part of it back to the Xie estate, and part of it here—for you… for my parents to use.”

“Anyway, they never raised me before. If I give them silver for their old age, I suppose that counts as filial piety.”

A breeze stirred, rustling the tall tree in the courtyard. Light and shadow danced across the ground through the swaying leaves, as though performing a gentle dance.

Seeing this, Xie Jinning curved his brows and lips, the corners of his mouth lifting.

He took it as Xie Zhu’s silent agreement.

With a plan in mind, the gloom of the past days lifted. His spirit surged upward, eyes bright, lips red and teeth white. Clad in plain white, slender and straight, he was like a fresh bamboo shoot—radiating vivid, youthful vitality.

Stretching out his limbs, he turned his head back toward the courtyard’s center, where a wooden rack stood. Clothes hung upon it, still dripping with water.

Walking closer, he saw they were his own garments—the pale green brocade among them freshly washed.

And at the very end—his underclothes.

The sight made his face flame crimson. Fingers hovered, frozen midair, neither daring to take them down nor leave them be. Finally, in shame and indignation, he stomped his foot.

“Who told him to wash that?”

Yan Yi truly was… truly was—

Utterly without restraint!

Fuming, he pushed open the courtyard gate and knocked on the wooden door next door. “Yan Yi! Yan Yi, I’m calling you!”

Still no response. It seemed the man wasn’t home.

Unfamiliar with the area and not knowing where to search, Xie Jinning hesitated. Just then, an old woman’s voice sounded behind him.

“Child, are you looking for Xiao Yan? He went out early this morning.”

It was an elderly woman with silver hair, leaning on a cane, dressed in simple clothes. Her face was sallow and thin, wrinkles etched deep like tree roots, her eyes slightly clouded yet still lively.

Hearing her words, Xie Jinning pressed his palms together and bowed politely. “Thank you, elder, for telling me.”

Even with his hair loose and disheveled, the grace and innate nobility shining through his plain robe couldn’t be hidden. A flicker of understanding passed through the old woman’s clouded gaze.

Glancing at the open gate of the Xie courtyard next door, she said frankly: “You must be that child from the Xie family who was switched at birth.”

“Switched” sounded far better than being called a “fake.”

His clear apricot eyes dimmed for a moment. He pressed his lips together and obediently admitted, “Yes.”

Old Madam Chen studied him carefully, then smiled kindly. “You look just like Ah Fang did when she was young. Your eyes are big as apricots, your face small and delicate. Such a pretty child.”

Xie Jinning guessed she meant “apricot eyes and peachy cheeks.” He touched his own face. Though he had been called “pretty” many times despite being a man, he was still not used to it.

“Thank you, grandma. But… who is Ah Fang?”

“She’s your mother,” said the old woman.

When he had inspected the house earlier, he hadn’t seen any belongings of a woman, which had left him puzzled. Now, her answer was like a pillow appearing just as one dozed.

He quickly asked, “But I haven’t seen her—do you know where she is?”

He wanted to meet her, if only once, so that he would know what his birth mother looked like.

But meeting his eager gaze, the old woman slowly shook her head, sadness flickering across her features. “Ah Fang passed away from illness several years ago.”

It was like a thunderbolt striking him. His mind went blank, eyes immediately misting.

His throat felt clutched tight by a giant hand. Red-rimmed eyes, he hoarsely asked: “Do you know what illness it was?”

“Not too clearly… but I suppose it was an illness of the heart.”

The old woman sighed. “Enough, good child. Since you’ve come here, live peacefully. Your father, Ah Nong, is a good man. If you two live well together, your mother can rest easy in the afterlife.”

Dark lashes trembled, casting trembling shadows over his cheeks.

This time, Xie Jinning said nothing. He only watched the old woman leave, then turned back to the tightly closed door of Yan Yi’s courtyard before returning to his own.

The blazing sun still shone high, its warmth like spring—but he no longer wished to bask in it.

He hadn’t expected that the first news he would hear of his mother… would be of her death.

He had not even had the chance to know her, to see her once.

Back in his room, Xie Jinning curled up on his side, hugging his knees—like a fetus returning to the womb.

Yan Yi strode swiftly through the forest, his gaze locked three feet ahead on a fleeing white hare.

The rabbit, unaware of danger, twitched its nose, sniffing about. Soon it found a patch of fresh grass among the yellowed blades and began to feast.

The wind quieted. The moment was ripe. Yan Yi drew his bow to shoot—when a flicker of dark brown slipped into his peripheral vision.

A brown hare had emerged from the bushes, hopping to the gray hare’s side. It sniffed at the other’s scent.

The gray hare, thinking it merely another forager, obligingly shifted its head aside to share the patch.

Yan Yi narrowed his eyes, shifting his stance slightly, preparing to line up his shot for two kills with one arrow.

But just as he was about to release, the brown hare suddenly mounted the smaller gray one, hind legs jerking—an unmistakable mating posture.

Yet both were male.

Yan Yi’s mind flashed with images from his dream last night—two figures tangled together on a grand carved bed beneath crimson drapes.

Ragged breathing, the sound of bodies colliding, soft gasps and broken moans filling the air, tugging at his very soul.

He couldn’t see the person’s face—only those pale legs wrapped around a honey-colored waist, quivering with each fierce thrust, toes curling tight.

The arched insteps, veins faintly visible beneath the thin skin, traced fragile, exquisite patterns.

Until the owner of those legs, overwhelmed, gave a long cry, arms slipping weakly from the man’s shoulders, chests pulling apart. Between snowy thighs, a tiny mole at the heart of the blossom gleamed red and bright.

In the dream, red candles burned warm, spring passion thick and intoxicating.

Outside the dream, his trousers were wet, swollen, burning hot—his mind in chaos.

An archer must never lose focus. But overwhelmed by the surge in his chest, his fingers released.

The arrow shot past, grazing the gray hare’s ear before thudding into a tree trunk.

Startled, the two rabbits bolted, vanishing without a trace.

Prey was scarce in these mountains, but Yan Yi had never missed once he found it. Even thick-skinned boars couldn’t survive an arrow to the eye.

Yet now, two mere rabbits had escaped.

His jaw clenched tight, the swollen bruise on his cheek stinging. His chest heaved violently. Unable to contain the frustration, he punched the tree trunk—his fist blasting straight through.

Splinters sprayed, cutting his arm and hand, while leaves fell like rain, covering him head to toe.