After The Coquettish Fake Master Was Driven Away - Chapter 18

It wasn’t until dusk, when the glow of the setting sun spread across the sky, that the silence next door finally broke.

Xie Jinning had been waiting a long time. He pouted in annoyance but didn’t want to walk all the way to the gate, so he simply dragged a stool over to the wall and carefully climbed up.

The courtyard wall wasn’t very tall; once he stood on the stool, his head could just peek over. Resting his chin on the top, he glanced around. When he caught sight of Yan Yi, he waved enthusiastically:

“Yan Yi, I’ve been waiting forever! Why are you only back now?”

But Yan Yi didn’t look up at him. With a low “mm,” he strode straight toward his courtyard gate, the load on his back still in place.

Not even a glance?

Xie Jinning frowned. A patch of yellow clay at the top of the wall blocked his view, so he couldn’t see what Yan Yi was carrying. He rose onto his toes, trying to climb higher.

“What were you even doing? I was bored to death at home today, and even got chased by a chick—”

Clang.

His foot slipped. With a startled cry, he barely managed to grab onto the wall and keep himself from falling.

Dangling in midair, Xie Jinning’s heart pounded wildly. Glancing down, he saw the stool lying flat on the ground.

There was no footing left. He couldn’t pull himself up, but letting go meant he’d surely fall and get hurt. His arms were weakening fast, and so he shouted for help:

“Yan Yi! Yan Yi, I’m going to fall! Yan Yi!”

Yan Yi had already thrown down his prey the moment he heard the stool crash. He hurried to the Xie household. Being tall, he only needed to stretch out his arm to scoop the boy down, like lifting a child out of danger.

“So reckless. If you had fallen, what then? Injured again?”

His tone was stern as he set Xie Jinning down and brushed the dust from his clothes. But then, as if realizing something, Yan Yi abruptly froze and stepped back to put some distance between them.

“Never act so rashly again.”

The lingering panic in Xie Jinning’s eyes quickly turned into irritation at being scolded.

“I called you several times and you didn’t even answer. You didn’t tell me you were leaving either, left me waiting all day. Is this your idea of being responsible?”

He tilted his face up. The fiery clouds reflected in his eyes, rippling like autumn waters, glowing orange-red as if aflame. Even his lashes and hair shimmered with a tinted glow. Beautiful as spring blossoms, his features were now cold.

“And besides,” he added, “how was I to know the stool would topple? I was only worried since you hadn’t come back. I called out, you ignored me, and now you’re lecturing me instead.”

He wasn’t someone who swallowed his anger. After venting, he turned to leave—only to have Yan Yi block his way.

The man’s tall frame was like a wall. Xie Jinning nearly bumped right into him, glaring frostily:

“Move.”

“…Sorry.”

The hard line of Yan Yi’s lips softened. Meeting Jinning’s steadily darkening gaze, he admitted, “I was wrong.”

On the way back to the village, Yan Yi had thought to keep more distance after returning home. But his body betrayed him, acting on its own. He couldn’t stand seeing the boy upset.

Besides—he had only been worried about him.

Suppressing a sigh, Yan Yi asked, “Did you eat the food in the kitchen?”

Jinning’s temper always flared and faded quickly. “I did.”

Yan Yi’s gaze lingered on his lips—plump and flushed, as if still tasting of sweetness—before asking, “And the medicine?”

The boy’s lashes quivered. “I drank it.”

Half a bowl was still drinking, wasn’t it?

“Good.”

Yan Yi’s thoughts were scattered. He spoke whatever came to mind, forgetting the order of things. Realizing belatedly, he added quickly, “You slept a full day and night. Do you feel any better today?”

“What?”

Xie Jinning’s eyes widened. “I slept an entire day?!”

“Mm. You had a fever the night before. After taking the medicine, you didn’t wake. Yesterday I…”

Yan Yi’s throat bobbed. He couldn’t say the rest.

Keeping watch by the bed, feeding medicine and porridge, wiping him down—such small tasks. Once, he could have spoken of them easily. But now, restless and unsettled, to say them aloud felt less like concern and more like… taking liberties.

“I thought I’d just recovered fast, one night and I was fine,” Jinning muttered, disappointed. Thinking of how refreshed he had felt that morning, he pressed his lips together and whispered, “Thanks.”

“Hm?” Yan Yi hadn’t caught it.

“I said,” Jinning looked up, his amber eyes curving as he gave a sincere smile, “thank you for taking care of me yesterday—cooking for me, making medicine. Thank you.”

A faint blush colored his fair cheeks, lips curling like flower petals. With the sunset as backdrop, his bright, untainted gaze reflected only Yan Yi’s figure.

Drip.

A drop fell into Yan Yi’s heart-lake, sending ripples spreading outward.

When he still didn’t answer, Jinning puffed his cheeks. “Since I thanked you, I won’t hold a grudge about you hitting me. After all, if you hadn’t hurt me first, I wouldn’t have gotten a fever. Right?”

Conveniently leaving out the fact that he had smashed the bowl first.

The doctor had said the fever was mainly due to emotional upheaval letting in the wind chill, with little relation to the external wound. But if he said so, then so it was.

“Mm.” Yan Yi reached out his hand.

Going to pat my head?

But a man’s head was like a tiger’s backside—not to be touched casually. Aside from family, no one was allowed. Besides, people said head pats stunted growth. He was already much shorter than Yan Yi…

Jinning thought to dodge, but in the end stiffened his neck and stood still.

Fine. Just once won’t make me any shorter.

He held his breath—only to feel fingers pluck at his hair.

Looking up, he saw a feather pinched between Yan Yi’s fingers.

“…”

The humiliating memory returned: being “chased down” by the rooster, forced to flee into his room in defeat, while the triumphant bird strutted back to its hens. His face burned. He clenched his fist, nearly blurting out a demand to have Yan Yi stew that rooster.

“Yan—”

“I’ll head back first.”

Heat rose to Yan Yi’s face. He pressed the feather into Jinning’s palm. “I’ll call you when dinner is ready.”

He turned to leave. Jinning had been about to roll up his trouser leg to show where the rooster had pecked him. Instead, his fingertip snagged Yan Yi’s waistband.

“Hey, don’t go—”

Yan Yi turned back, just as the boy lost his balance and tumbled into his arms.

A hard knock against his chest, soft hair brushing his face, the faint honey-sweet scent engulfing him—his pupils shrank as his body went stiff as carved wood.

“Ow.”

Jinning’s nose—already sensitive—throbbed painfully from the collision. Stars danced before his eyes and tears streamed down. He clutched his face, unable to speak through sobs.

And just then, the door pushed open.

Xie Nong stood there, the items in his hands falling to the floor with a crash. He strode forward, shoving Yan Yi aside to shield the boy.

Though a sturdy farmer, Xie Nong seemed frail beside Yan Yi, shorter by half a head. Yet his presence burned with fury.

“Young Yan, what do you think you’re doing, bullying him like this?!”

“Uncle Xie, I—”

Yan Yi bit back his words. Glancing past him at the boy still holding his nose and whimpering softly, he thought to explain about the earlier slap—but then remembered the dark, unworthy thoughts that sometimes seized him. Suddenly, he didn’t know how to speak.

His silence only confirmed Xie Nong’s suspicions.

Xie Nong’s face hardened. “Yan Yi, I entrusted you to look after my son, not to use your age to bully him!”

—

Xie Nong had never expected Jinning to return.

He had inquired before: the Xie couple were kind and generous, donating astronomical sums every year. Even if the truth about the switch of sons was revealed, surely they would not mistreat Jinning.

After sending Xiaozhu away, he sank into despair for a while. Then he thought: he must save money for the journey to the capital, to at least glimpse his son from afar.

One look at his child with Afang would be enough.

He wouldn’t show himself. Xiaozhu would have a better life there. And this boy…

He would live on as he always had.

But then, out of nowhere, the boy reappeared before him.

That night when Jinning returned, Xie Nong had only caught a glimpse of his face swaddled in a blanket before he was carried inside.

Excited, nervous, terrified—

He didn’t know if the boy was awake, didn’t dare enter. He only sat outside the door all night, wanting desperately to look at him properly, to see if he resembled Afang. Yet he feared the boy wouldn’t want to see him.

By dawn, he rose and went to work.

The emperor had mobilized the nation to construct the Celestial Invitation Palace, requiring vast quantities of materials. Aside from conscripts, even many villagers were recruited for labor.

Though not on the list, Xie Nong could still serve as a day laborer—three loads of clay earned ten copper coins.

He toiled two days without sleep. Though seasoned in farm work, even he ached from the strain.

But remembering that his and Afang’s son was at home gave him strength.

And just now, at a single glance—he had felt a deep, instinctive closeness.

Perhaps this was what Xiaozhu had once read aloud: bl00d is thicker than water.

Dusty, bloodshot-eyed, limping slightly from fatigue, Xie Nong still stubbornly shielded Jinning, glaring at the towering Yan Yi.

Behind him, Jinning finally recovered from the pain. Wiping away his tears, he blinked until his vision cleared.

Gray-streaked hair tied back, a sweat-soaked collar, a back slightly hunched, sun-darkened skin.

This was…

His lips trembled. His hand lifted, hesitated, then tugged softly at Xie Nong’s sleeve.

“He didn’t bully me. I just bumped into him.”

His voice was muffled and tear-streaked, but Xie Nong heard every word. He immediately turned around.

“Was it serious? Let me see.”

His face was weathered, lined and dark, his manner awkward. But in those sunken eyes surged a vast, overwhelming tenderness.

The gaze was so scalding that Jinning lowered his lashes, not daring to meet it. “It’s nothing.”

His first impression of the man wasn’t good.

Dark, thin, plainly dressed, speaking with a strange rural accent—so different from the powerful, dignified father he had once imagined.

Narrow shoulders, a bent back, like a tree bowed under weight.

Yet when he stood protectively in front of him, Jinning suddenly felt that his figure stretched tall and wide—like a great, unyielding mountain.

This was his father.