After The Coquettish Fake Master Was Driven Away - Chapter 24

Time dragged on as his strength waned. He didn’t know how long they had been walking. Even though he’d padded his shoes with several layers, a dull ache still spread from the soles of his feet. Xie Jinning’s heartbeat quickened, his breathing grew labored, and his lips parted as he panted in shallow bursts.

He had always been lazy—someone who would never walk if a carriage was available. With no training, his physical fitness was probably worse than that of a three-year-old village child.

Looking up, he saw the distance between him and the two others had widened considerably, leaving him somewhat discouraged.

“Why aren’t we there yet?”

He grumbled, yet still refused to give up halfway. With his head lowered, he continued trudging along, carefully avoiding clods and ruts in the ground—when suddenly, a shadow fell across his path.

“Tired?”

Xie Jinning nearly bumped into him, stumbling to a halt. A familiar large hand reached out, then withdrew. Only then did he realize Yan Yi had stopped without him noticing.

At this point, everything about the man rubbed him the wrong way. “What do you want? I told you I can walk on my own. I don’t need you to carry me.”

“The road ahead is rougher. You won’t be able to manage. Should I take you back to rest first?”

That was even worse than being carried. The heat already had him irritable, and now his temper flared.

“I won’t!” He glared at Yan Yi. “You look down on me, don’t you?”

Ruffled again.

Yan Yi reached out to straighten his askew straw hat, tucking the exposed sliver of pale chin back into shadow.

“The road ahead is uneven. Your injury hasn’t healed yet. I’m afraid if you keep walking… there, it will hurt.”

That subtle pause returned.

Xie Jinning knew he was being cared for, but the instant he understood, his face flushed crimson—half from the heat, half from embarrassment.

If Yan Yi hadn’t mentioned it, it would’ve been fine. But once said, the wound seemed to throb anew, pain spreading like a triggered trap, the beat of retreat drums pounding louder than his own heart.

He was the one who insisted on coming, and the one who refused to be carried. If he suddenly changed his tune, wouldn’t he seem fickle?

He had to leave a good impression on Father!

His eyes reddened from holding it in. Clenching his teeth, he declared, “I’m not in pain!”

He forced a calm tone. “You know I’m only slow because I’m injured. Once I’m healed, I might even walk faster than you!”

Yan Yi couldn’t help but laugh. “Mm.”

“What are you laughing at!” Xie Jinning lightly kicked his shin. “I’m serious!”

“Whatever young master says, I believe it.”

The boy’s head and face were small, so the hat that fit Yan Yi perfectly slipped low on him, hiding most of his features. Only the fine, narrow line of his chin remained visible.

Even without seeing his expression, one could imagine those bright apricot eyes rippling like water, the puffed cheeks beneath the brim, the full rosy lips glimpsed now and then, the slender wrist peeking from his sleeve, the rise and fall of his chest with each breath—

—and the vermilion mole hidden beneath his robes.

Everything about him brimmed with lively energy.

Exceedingly vivid.

Tugging at his clothes, Xie Jinning muttered, “Don’t call me young master. It sounds weird.”

Back in the Xie household, servants and outsiders had addressed him that way. But here, in this small mountain village, it felt out of place.

“Jinning won’t do, and young master won’t do…”

“If I use your full name, it sounds too distant. Uncle Xie would be glad to see us close, but that would make it inappropriate.”

Yan Yi calmly listed every possibility, leaving Xie Jinning no room to argue. Then he asked, “So what should I call you?”

“…Ningning?”

His voice was steadier than before, yet naturally deep and resonant. Drawled at the end, the affectionate name rolled out like waves against the shore.

Xie Jinning rubbed his suddenly hot ears. “No way!”

“Ningning.” Yan Yi repeated, “It’s endearing and close. Why not?”

His lips parted, but he couldn’t find a reply. In the end, he only said, “Because I said so!”

“Then…”

Yan Yi lowered his gaze, as if peering past the brim of the hat. “How about I call you A-Ning?”

“Suit yourself.”

Faint crescent marks pressed into his fingertips. Xie Jinning cast him a quick glance before lowering his head again. “Stop dawdling, let’s go.”

But they didn’t get far—

—because Xie Jinning got a stitch in his side.

He had just eaten and taken medicine not long ago. Walking slowly was fine, but to prove himself to Yan Yi, he’d sped up deliberately. His body couldn’t keep up.

Sharp cramps seized his lower abdomen, forcing him to a halt. Yet ahead, the golden sea of wheat swayed in the sunlight, too beautiful to turn away from.

Helpless, he turned wide eyes on Yan Yi. “What do we do?”

Moments later, the man’s arm circled his waist, a large hand pressing gently at his side.

Yan Yi’s palm was broad, his fingers long and veined. Spread open, it nearly spanned the slender waist cinched by the boy’s belt.

The heat of his hand seeped through the fabric, reminding Xie Jinning of that day he’d woken from the nightmare haze, held tightly in the same protective embrace.

It was a warmth unlike family affection—something he had never felt before.

The stabbing ache eased under that warmth, replaced by a faint tremor. Staring at the man’s chiseled jaw, his thoughts began to drift.

Maybe Yan Yi wasn’t a block of hard wood after all. Maybe he was more like a burning coal.

He’d read in books that certain woods, once burned, became charcoal. What kind of wood would that be…

“Better now?”

He answered with a soft hum, like a little beast curled up in a nest, drowsy and content.

Yan Yi’s hand stilled. He bent slightly, dipping under the brim of the hat to meet those liquid eyes.

Unfocused, as if lost in thought. Like resting butterflies startled into motion, only to settle again as a single crystal droplet formed, gleaming like amber.

Yan Yi’s heart skipped.

“I’m fine now.”

Still held at the waist, Xie Jinning leaned back, trying to create some distance, though warm breath still brushed between them.

Up close, Yan Yi’s features were sharper, his gaze like a spear piercing the clouds, pinning its prey. In the blink of an eye, the ferocity faded, leaving only calm—as though it had been an illusion.

Before Xie Jinning could bristle, Yan Yi released him. “Still hurt?”

The tension dissipated before it built. Testing himself, Xie Jinning shook his head. “No.”

Then, after a pause, he added, “Thank you.”

Not a block of wood. No, a lump of coal.

Worse, somehow.

Unable to hold back, Xie Jinning’s brows curved like crescent moons, lips quirking in a quiet giggle.

“Let’s go. Uncle Xie is waiting ahead.”

…

The fields were full of people, all sweating and working hard.

The sun shone, the golden wheat swayed, yet the atmosphere was heavy.

At harvest time, there should’ve been joy. Instead, faces were lined with worry, heads bowed with sighs.

Too preoccupied with their own troubles, no one paid mind to the newcomers as the three reached their own land.

The Xie family owned thirty mu of fields. It sounded like a lot, and stretched out before them it looked endless.

Waves of grain rippled like fine brocade. Xie Jinning couldn’t help but exclaim, “It’s beautiful.”

He had only ever seen such scenes in books or paintings, no matter how vividly described—none compared to witnessing it firsthand.

“All this wheat, you must get a huge harvest. Wonderful.”

He had never farmed, and didn’t understand. Last year’s drought had cracked the earth and dried the riverbed. Much of the wheat had withered, and though they’d tended the land, little had recovered. From afar the fields looked lush, but up close they were sparse.

The ears looked promising, but when plucked, they were shriveled and thin. After threshing, they’d be lucky to yield fifteen shi. Subtracting taxes, it would be even less.

Uncle Xie sighed inwardly but still smiled. “Yes.”

Yan Yi had already begun harvesting. With deft movements, his plain sickle cut through stalks as if guided by unseen force. Within moments, a swath lay cleared.

Where he passed, wheat fell neatly, like a martial hero slicing through foes with an invisible blade. The sight made Xie Jinning’s eyes shine with envy.

Glancing around, all the villagers were hard at work. Only he stood idle on the ridge, both bored and conspicuous.

And the fields were too vast. With only two working, it would take a day or two at least. Now part of this family, he ought to help.

His amber eyes flickered. “I’ll go sit and rest over there.”

“Alright, go in the shade.”

“Okay.”

Licking his lips nervously, he waited until Uncle Xie wasn’t looking. Then he snuck a spare sickle from the carrying pole and slipped into a corner of the field.

The sickle was cold and rusty, heavier than expected. Just lifting it made his wrist falter, nearly dropping it. He gripped tighter, knuckles whitening.

Imitating Yan Yi’s motions, he grabbed a handful of wheat and sawed carefully. To his surprise, the stalks came free.

Holding the wheat in his palm, pride swelled. “Not so hard after all.”

But he didn’t realize he’d grabbed too high, cutting unevenly and leaving long jagged stubble. The patch looked more like it had been gnawed by a dog than harvested.

Pleased, he tossed the bundle aside and bent for another. His movements were stiff but earnest, so focused he didn’t notice someone approaching.

“Careful not to cut yourself.”

“Hiss—”

The warning came too late. He flinched, pain flashing across his face under the crooked brim of his hat.

“Let me see.”

Yan Yi caught his wrist, turning his palm up. A thin red line marred the soft skin, shallow but stinging, a gift from the sharp leaves.

His fingers, still dusted with husks, curled like shy buds in the sunlight. Xie Jinning yanked back and punched his arm.

“Who told you to sneak up on me? You scared me to death. You’re so annoying.”

Blame for the cut fell squarely on him. Yan Yi defended mildly, “I called out.”

He didn’t mention how panic had surged when he’d glanced back and found the boy gone from the ridge. How the crimson haze had threatened to swallow him again—until he’d found him safe, and it had ebbed away.

Xie Jinning rolled his eyes. “Then you didn’t call loud enough. Not my fault.”

“Mhm. A-Ning.”

“Mm?”

Yan Yi stepped closer, bending down until their breaths mingled. In his dark eyes, Xie Jinning saw his own reflection swallowed by a fathomless pool.

A shiver raced across his scalp.

“You’re not obedient.”