After The Coquettish Fake Master Was Driven Away - Chapter 19

The tears Xie Jinning had forced back welled up again.

He stepped back, avoiding Xie Nong’s outstretched hand. Without even looking up, he could feel the gaze fixed on him.

Warmth. Pity. Careful gentleness.

Yet to him, it felt like needles against his back.

He turned slightly, shifted his toes, and repeated: “Really, it’s nothing.”

“As long as it’s nothing.”

Xie Nong let out a sigh of relief, feeling he had made a fool of himself. Scratching his head in embarrassment, he said: “Xiao Yan, just now Uncle Xie misunderstood you. I’ll apologize.”

“It’s fine, you were just anxious for a moment.”

Lingering any longer felt out of place, so Yan Yi spoke up on his own: “Uncle Xie, I’ll head back to the next house and deal with the game first.”

Xie Jinning wanted to ask him to stay, but the words wouldn’t come. He twisted his fingers, moist eyes silently pleading, yet the hurried Yan Yi didn’t catch his signal.

“Alright, we bought plenty of things today. Later, your Uncle Xie will cook himself, don’t forget to come over.”

“Okay.”

Once Yan Yi left, only father and son remained in the courtyard. Silence hung like a heavy stone between them. The autumn wind swept past, rustling leaves until several spiraled down.

Even in plain homespun clothes, the boy couldn’t hide his noble bearing. Looking at the jet-black hair crown, long curled lashes, delicate nose reddened at the tip, Xie Nong felt his heart swell with joy the more he looked.

He wanted to say something—anything—to ease the awkward air. But those lips pressed tightly on the pointed chin showed no wish for more words. Sourness rose in Xie Nong’s chest.

His lips moved, opened and closed a few times, then he simply said: “The wind’s picking up, child. Go back to your room first, don’t catch a chill.”

“Alright.”

Thus, their very first meeting ended so hastily.

Xie Jinning fled back into his room. Closing the door, he exhaled deeply, pressing against his heaving chest, feeling his heart pound against his palm.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. The pain at his nose, just barely eased, flared up again.

His vision blurred once more. He wiped away the tears trailing from his eyes, leaned against the door absentmindedly, mind a blank.

After a while, hearing noises outside, he crept to the window, peeking cautiously through the gap.

There he saw the middle-aged man pounding his own shoulder, limping to the gate of the yard. He squatted to pick up scattered things and put them back into the basket, piled so high it was overflowing.

Gripping the straps, he tried to hoist it onto his back. Too heavy—several attempts and he still couldn’t stand.

Suddenly his leg gave way, dropping him flat onto the ground. He clutched his waist, teeth bared in pain.

Xie Jinning’s breath caught. His fists clenched, lips bitten, expression torn. In the end, he pushed open the door and walked to Xie Nong’s side.

“I’ll help you.”

“Eh—eh! Good.”

Xie Nong didn’t seem to hear the distance in his tone. Overjoyed, he grinned.

He scrambled up, dusted himself off, and wiped his hands clean on a fresh part of his clothes before pulling a long wrapped bundle from the basket and handing it to Xie Jinning.

“Just take this, it’s light.”

Xie Jinning received it with both hands and hugged it to his chest. Finding he still had room, he said: “I can carry more…”

“No need, I’ll manage the rest.” The man suddenly seemed to find his strength again, arms tensing as he hoisted the heavy basket onto his back with ease. “These are too heavy for you.”

He forced a smile, though veins throbbed at his temples and neck.

Jinning didn’t press further. Instead he asked: “Then where should I put this?”

“It’s clean cloth. Put it in your room for now,” Xie Nong replied. “You didn’t bring clothes here. In a few days I’ll ask someone to make you a few sets from these, so you’ll have warm clothes when it gets colder.”

Xie Jinning froze.

But he had already decided—once healed, he would leave.

He said nothing, placing the cloth in the room before standing at the door, watching Xie Nong busy himself.

Five catties of old rice, ten of new, five catties of flour, eight taels of oil, a three-jin-two-tael slab of pork, several fish in a basin, and the different-colored cloths in his arms—this was what Xie Nong had earned for his labor.

The boy was here now, but Xie Nong dared not ask why, for fear it would wound him further. Nor would he let Jinning follow him into hardship.

He just wanted to give the child the best he could, work more jobs, save bit by bit, and eventually rebuild this broken house…

His steps lightened as he put everything away. Then he hurried forward, pulling a cloth bundle from his chest and holding it out to Jinning. “I bought some candy. Have some.”

When Jinning didn’t move, his giddy mind cleared. He remembered this child had grown up in the capital, accustomed to fine things—he probably wouldn’t care for country sweets.

His expression dimmed, and he was about to pull the bundle back when slender fingers took it.

“Thank you.”

The cloth still carried body warmth, slightly damp—sweat, no doubt. Jinning’s fingertips curled uncomfortably. Meeting Xie Nong’s hopeful gaze, he resisted the urge to set it down, slowly unwrapping it.

The bundle was tied tight—three whole layers. Inside were a few beige sugar bars.

Carefully kept close to his chest, most were intact, though two had broken into crumbs.

“Still broke,” Xie Nong said sheepishly. “Next time I’ll be more careful, so you’ll get perfect ones.”

“…Mm.”

He pinched a piece and slipped it into his mouth. At first, not sweet, but a delicate crunch. Then sesame fragrance burst across his tongue, filling his mouth with rich sweetness.

Not as varied or refined as the sugar confections he once ate in the Xie household, but this had its own unique charm.

Jinning’s eyes lit faintly.

He ate slowly, savoring the taste, then after swallowing, lifted his gaze and smiled gently: “It’s fragrant. Very good. Thank you.”

“That’s good. That’s good.”

Relief flooded back into Xie Nong’s chest. Looking into those eyes—so like his late wife Ah Fang’s—his nose burned, and his voice trembled: “Good child, are you hungry? I’ll make dinner.”

“Mm.”

…

By the time the meal was ready, darkness had fallen and the bright moon hung high.

A knock sounded. Yan Yi’s voice: “Time to eat.”

“Alright.”

Jinning set down the booklet and opened the door.

Stars glittered across the night sky, silver light cascading down, washing the world in glow.

Yan Yi stood before him, blocking his view of the dishes, though the rich aroma drifting in the cool autumn breeze set his appetite stirring.

When Yan Yi finished setting the table, he fetched a stool, then seeing Jinning still standing, went next door and brought back a cushion, placing it on the seat.

“Sit.”

Whatever was inside, it was soft. The middle sagged, perfectly avoiding his injury.

“Thank you,” Jinning said.

“No need.”

The table was overflowing with dishes, far more than even New Year’s at the Xie house back in Hetian village. Yet none of it held Jinning’s gaze.

His fingers twisted under his sleeves, nails pressing faint half-moons into his skin. He lowered his head, moonlight drawing a faint hook-shaped curve at his eye’s corner.

Xie Nong hadn’t come yet, so no one touched the food. Conversation, too, was sparse and fleeting.

Whatever fragile closeness had grown in recent days was gone. Now the two sat with only polite distance between them.

Jinning’s heart was heavy with unspoken thoughts. Yan Yi’s too.

Flashes of hazy memories stirred his mood. Ever since meeting this boy, his steady heart had been thrown into disorder, making him think he had fallen ill.

That night, when he refused the physician’s offer of medicine for his cheek, he instead had his pulse read. The diagnosis: strong, rushing as a rapid river—perfectly healthy.

Only too much yang energy.

In other words, he’d been suppressing too much for too long. He needed release.

The physician’s meaningful gaze returned to him, only to be scattered by a few strands of drifting black hair.

The boy sat silently, his bound hair swaying like a willow.

Moonlight frosted his delicate features, lending him the air of fractured jade. The faint pink at his nose softened the aura.

Long lashes hid his clear eyes. But his lips—pink, soft—pressed, relaxed, pressed again.

Was he… nervous?

Unknowingly, Yan Yi’s gaze was drawn again like a moth to flame.

Too direct to ignore, Jinning turned and met his deep eyes.

He remembered the medicine earlier. Bitter yet soothing—he had chosen life over taste. Quietly he asked: “That medicine, do I need to drink it again tonight?”

“Yes.” Yan Yi nodded. “After dinner I’ll bring the packets. We have them here, and Uncle Xie knows how to prepare them.”

“No—”

“The last dish is here!”

Xie Nong carried in a pot of stewed fish, cutting Jinning off. As he left again to fetch more, Jinning quickly whispered: “I’ll come find you later.”

A flicker stirred in Yan Yi’s eyes.

Setting the fish before Jinning, Xie Nong then brought out a wine jar and bowls, finally sitting down.

“I’m happy today. The dishes are good. Let’s have some wine.”

He poured two big bowls, then half a small cup, sliding it toward Jinning—only for Yan Yi to stop him.

“He’s taking medicine. He can’t drink.”

“Medicine?”

Xie Nong froze, smile vanishing, voice rising sharply: “What medicine? Child, are you sick? Where does it hurt? Is it serious? Come on, I’ll take you to a doctor right now.”

He shot up, nearly knocking the table over. Jinning hurriedly stopped him.

The whole reason he’d spoken to Yan Yi earlier was to keep his illness from his father. Yet Yan Yi had no sense of tact at all.

Jinning said: “It’s nothing serious, just a bit of chill. Brother Yan already got me medicine. I’ve taken it and I’m better now.”

He lifted his chin, blinking meaningfully at Yan Yi. “Right?”

Brother Yan. It was the first time he’d called him that.

Yan Yi’s throat tightened. He didn’t even notice the glare shot his way, only answered low: “Mm.”

“Even so, no. Let’s move the table inside to eat. You’ve caught a chill, if you get cold again—”

“Enough.”

Xie Nong’s concern weighed too heavily. Jinning couldn’t bear it. He had to flee.

“I’m hungry. Let’s just eat first.”

Back in the room earlier, flipping through the booklet left by Xie Zhu, Jinning hadn’t absorbed a single word.

He truly didn’t know how to face this man.

Not that he looked down on him. It was just—he was destined to leave. If he gave the man hope, his departure would only strike all the harder.

Xie Zhu was already gone. His wife had long passed away. Yan Yi was merely a neighbor, who would eventually start his own family and perhaps move from the village.

But this man—his birth father, who cared so deeply—would become nothing but…

A lonely man.