After The Coquettish Fake Master Was Driven Away - Chapter 32

Muscles twitched, bl00d surged as if it would burst through the skin at the spot where he had been kicked.

Yan Yi clenched his jaw. The sinful bulge had already arched upward, but fortunately, in his anger Xie Jinning hadn’t noticed. Yan Yi subtly shifted his body to block the view. His rising body temperature was so fierce it nearly dried the water stains clinging to his clothes.

If it had been before, he would have welcomed it, but now…

Sharing a bed, he was afraid that in his sleep, he might end up taking advantage of the boy without even realizing it.

After all, he was a normal, healthy man. If he could truly restrain himself, he might as well cut it off early and enter the palace as a eunuch.

“I was wrong.”

The man’s apology was brisk and straightforward:
“I wasn’t yelling at you. My bed’s too hard. You wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping on it.”

Ever since he was little, Xie Jinning had been spoiled by those around him. His temperament was a little arrogant—if he was angry, he showed it immediately, never bottling it up. But once someone softened, apologized, and said some nice words, his temper would quickly disperse.

Sitting on the folded quilt, he couldn’t really feel if the bed was hard or not. He poked it with his index finger—indeed, it wasn’t as soft as his own at home. It felt no different than poking at wood. The bed was smaller too. With Yan Yi’s large frame, there was hardly room for two people.

That foot lingered in Yan Yi’s line of sight, curling slightly like a flower bud, before obediently settling back on his thigh, like a bird alighting.

“Couldn’t you just speak properly? Why yell like that?”

After a few beats, he added softly:
“I don’t have nerves of steel like you.”

His tone was tender, a mix of complaint and coquettishness.

A timid kitten, easily startled.

Dark waves rippled in Yan Yi’s eyes. “I won’t do it again.”

Xie Jinning’s gaze wandered to the man’s abdomen. He hadn’t held back when he kicked earlier—it had felt like hitting a steel plate, so hard it left his toes aching.

Clutching his clothes, he asked, “Does your stomach… hurt?”

Yan Yi narrowed his eyes slightly. It didn’t hurt at all. In fact, he almost wished Xie Jinning would kick him a few more times—better yet, lower…

With strength that small, he’d probably be lifted right off the ground.

Inside, light and shadow mingled. The boy sat where the sun touched, as if dusted with gold powder. His pupils, facing the light, were clear and translucent, long lashes fluttering like golden butterflies dancing in the sun—noble and delicate.

In front of him, the man knelt on one knee, half his face hidden in shadow. His already handsome features were sharpened by the darkness, lips pressed into a hard line, as though he were dealing with something deadly serious.

Yet in the depths of his eyes lurked bottomless desire.

He uncorked the bottle of medicated oil, and a pungent odor filled the air. Xie Jinning pinched his nose, muffling his voice:
“So stinky. Can’t we not use that?”

He didn’t want his freshly washed feet to stink again. Just imagining the smell clinging to his socks and shoes made his brows knit into a knot.

Yan Yi poured some oil into his palm, rubbing it quickly before grabbing the foot that was trying to sneak away.
“Ordinary oil doesn’t work this fast.”

“Really? Sounds exaggerated.”

Suspicious, Xie Jinning leaned back, propping himself up with both hands. His leg relaxed, letting Yan Yi pull it back.

“It’s fine if it smells. I’ll wash you clean afterward.” His tone was casual, as if he were talking about what he’d eaten that day. Before the boy could refuse, he added, “Once my hand gets better.”

“That’s… so embarrassing.”

Xie Jinning’s fingers curled, a faint blush creeping up his ears. “And that time… why did you even wash my underwear too?”

“It was on the way.”

“Oh.”

Yan Yi’s broad palm clasped his ankle firmly, spreading the oil over the swollen spot. Once the skin shone with a brown sheen, he began to massage.

His thumb pressed on an acupoint, slow and gentle, circles drawn with just the right pressure, over and over.

Xie Jinning couldn’t hold back a soft hum.

“Does it hurt?”

At first, being held by the ankle hadn’t felt like anything. But when the fingers began to move—broad, rough knuckles sliding across his skin—it tickled, followed by warmth.

The oil seeped into his skin, a heat spreading inward. It wasn’t burning, but soothing—warm and comfortable—flowing upward from his ankle. The tight muscles slowly loosened.

Shaking his head, biting his lip, he answered honestly:
“No, it doesn’t hurt.”

Yan Yi kneaded for nearly fifteen minutes until the oil was fully absorbed. When Xie Jinning rolled his ankle, the dull stiffness had vanished completely.

Yan Yi wiped the area clean with a damp cloth, restoring the skin’s pale fairness.
“How is it, does it feel better?”

“Much better. Not uncomfortable at all.” Amber eyes curved into a bright smile. “Yan Yi, you even know massage. You’re amazing.”

After praising him, he pursed his lips, clearly hesitating. Yan Yi washed his hands and asked, “What is it?”

“My calves feel so sore, and swollen too… could you rub them as well?”

Overjoyed.

He was about to kneel down when Xie Jinning stopped him, turning onto the bed, trousers pulled up to his knees, lying on his stomach with his back to him.

“This way’s better. You can just sit on the edge and use your right hand slowly.”

His calves were straight and long, skin lustrous like fine jade. Compared to the fuller, softer flesh of the upper thighs, they held more resilience, though tight from today’s walking.

Yan Yi dragged his eyes away from the round fullness presented by the boy’s posture. Curving his hand to fit the line of the leg, he kneaded from top to bottom, steady and firm.

As the tight muscles gave way, the soreness grew sharper. When his knuckles pressed into the stiffest spot, Xie Jinning clutched the sheet, burying his head as cries of pain slipped out.

The movement between Yan Yi’s thighs faltered.

“It’ll hurt a bit at first. Bear with it.”

“Mm.” His voice held a trace of a sob.

But soon, the sharp ache eased into tingling relief, fatigue melting away, replaced by warmth and comfort. Like soaking in a hot spring—too pleasant. Xie Jinning closed his eyes, his pained whimpers giving way to soft sighs.

The blanket smelled of sunlight. So did Yan Yi. His hands were so big and warm, it felt wonderful. A little rough, leaving a tingly itch.

He kind of wanted his whole body massaged.

Forget it. He’d wait until Yan Yi’s hand healed.

His body slackened as he hummed softly, cheeks flushed.

Beside him—

When applying medicine earlier, his concern had smothered his desire. But now, hearing those faint, indulgent hums, the arousal surged again, straining against damp trousers, deep red seeping through.

His breath grew heavier.

Switching to the other calf, pressing, circling—the boy’s waist arched and trembled, then softened again under his kneading. Like a plucked zither string, producing ever more intoxicating notes.

Yan Yi’s hand grew more skillful, shifting techniques. In his grasp, the delicate youth melted like soft wax, pliant and yielding.

He could even feel the tender flesh clinging when he released it, reluctant to let go.

“All done.”

“Mm…” Nearly dozing off, Xie Jinning rubbed his eyes. Turning his head, he caught sight of Yan Yi’s sharp jawline, a bead of sweat sliding down, steaming faintly as it fell.

Was it really that hot?

Rolling over, his calves revealed red marks, like crimson blossoms on snow.

His features softened, eyes misty, flushed all the way to his ears. He looked entirely like someone after an intimate act.

Yan Yi bit the inside of his cheek hard and turned away.
“Your legs… why are they red?”

Running fingers through his messy hair, Xie Jinning paused before complaining:
“The rooster pecked me.”

Pouting, he said, “I just wanted to see the hen laying eggs, but that rooster attacked me without listening to reason. So annoying.”

No wonder that day he’d returned disheveled, feathers stuck in his hair. Yan Yi had been too distracted to ask.

“So vicious. It can’t be kept. I’ll kill it tonight for stew, and tomorrow I’ll buy another in town.”

Blocking most of the sunlight streaming in, Yan Yi’s presence made the boy shiver.

The rooster was vicious, yes, but Yan Yi sounded even more terrifying.

“Forget it.” He shrugged. “It was just protecting its egg, afraid I’d steal it…”

The air stilled. Then Xie Jinning’s eyes widened.
“Wait—this morning I ate an egg. Don’t tell me it was the hen’s!”

To be precise, half an egg.

“…”

Before leaving, Uncle Xie had exchanged almost everything in the house for money, leaving only a rooster and a hen. So it was likely true.

Yan Yi said calmly, “It pecked you first, then you ate the egg. Cause and effect. Nothing to dwell on.”

Xie Jinning understood survival of the fittest. Eating an egg wasn’t some grave sin. He wasn’t naïve enough to apologize to food before eating it. He was just surprised.

A chicken pecked to protect its egg. But people—why would they fail to protect their children?

Greater power, greater force?

Not wanting to dwell on it, he hummed twice to brush it off.

“Do your legs still hurt? I’ll get more ointment.”

“No need. They just look scary. No broken skin. It’ll fade on its own.”

His skin was delicate, prone to bruises that lingered longer than most. That morning, he’d noticed—Yan Yi’s fingerprints were still on his waist. And on his backside…

If ointment worked so well, he’d want it everywhere, so the marks would vanish quickly. But surely such medicine was expensive. Their families weren’t wealthy—better to save it.

“And your backside?”

“Mm…”

The stifling heat made him dizzy. Rubbing his nose, he muttered, “Later…”

Yan Yi’s hand twitched, restraining the urge to pull him close. His voice hoarse:
“I’ll come to you tonight then.”

Xie Jinning pulled his trousers down, slipped on socks and shoes. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll go. Father told me to visit Aunt Li early. She’s making me clothes.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“It’s just a few steps. No need.”

The boy left slowly. As the wooden door closed, the room darkened, light and warmth vanishing with him, leaving the space cold and empty.

Yan Yi touched the bedding, still faintly warm, carrying the boy’s scent—intertwined with the pungent oil, forming a searing fragrance that burned through his chest.

At length, his right hand slipped into the shadows, unhurried.

The second time.