After The Coquettish Fake Master Was Driven Away - Chapter 33

Granny Li’s house was barely a hundred meters from the Xie home.
Touching his chest to make sure the broken silver was still there, Xie Jinning gently knocked on the door.

“It’s not locked.”

Granny Li was in the courtyard, doing embroidery. When the boy pushed the door open and came in, her eyes lit up. She slowly stood, smiling, “Child, you’ve come to have clothes made, haven’t you?”

She had a round face full of kindness and good temper, looking like the very picture of a benevolent old lady.

“Good day, Granny Li.” Jinning bowed politely, his smile sweet and well-mannered. “Yes, my father said that in all of Hetian Village, your hands are the most skillful. He told me to ask you to make a few sets of clothes.”

Such a sweet talker.

She especially liked pretty children who knew how to speak politely. At once, her brows curved with joy. “All right, this old woman will be sure to make them beautiful for you.”

Granny Li lived alone here. Her little courtyard was quiet and neatly kept. Besides the drying cloth and embroidery tools, she had planted quite a few flowers and plants.

She wasn’t good at farming; her fields were managed with help from others. With little to do each day, she embroidered, cut fabric, and tended her plants. Her days were leisurely, and not without enjoyment.

She went inside to fetch her measuring tools and pushed the door open again.

The sun hung high, its warm golden light pouring down like a waterfall.
The boy stood quietly under a tree in plain robes.
A breeze stirred the branches; leaves rustled down, spiraling onto his straight shoulders. He plucked one up lightly between pale fingers.

Even the nuisance of fallen leaves became decoration. Granny Li even felt her plain courtyard looked prettier with him standing in it.

She recalled hearing some youngster say this was called… “beauty gives life to all things”?

When she came closer, Jinning automatically stretched out his arms and bent down slightly to make it easier for her to measure.

“Such a tiny waist you’ve got.”

She slid the soft measuring cord downward, circling his hips. Before she even pulled it tight, Jinning gave a little shiver.

She patted his hip bone. “What are you so nervous for? I’ve measured plenty of people, old and young. You’re just a child—what’s there to be shy about?”

“N-no, not nervous…”

His snow-white ears flushed faint pink.

Whether it was because his injuries hadn’t fully healed, or it was his imagination, ever since being struck by Yan Yi, that part of him which had always been numb now felt strangely sensitive.

When the tape had circled him just now, what flashed through his mind was… those big hands.

Biting his lip, Jinning mumbled, “Please go on.”

“Still, I must say—you’re all skinny, yet the little bit of flesh you do have grows in just the right places.”

Once she had noted the measurements, Granny Li asked, “Child, your father brought a lot of fabric. Enough for more than a dozen sets. Do you have any requests? Any patterns you’d like embroidered?”

“So many?” Jinning was surprised.

“You’re slim—saves fabric.” Granny Li hugged out a roll of pale blue cotton. “See, this one roll is enough to make you three or four full outfits, head to toe. And there are three more rolls like this. But that’s counting light autumn wear—if I make winter clothes, it’ll be fewer.”

Over a dozen outfits—that was a lot. Jinning thought a moment. “No need to make them all for me.”

“Please make three summer sets and three winter sets each for me and my father. If there’s extra, then maybe two for Brother Yan as well.”

Granny Li happened to have both their sizes. Most men without womenfolk at home came to her for clothes—this was her livelihood. But usually they only brought hemp or scraps. To bring in so much fabric at once—only Xie Nong had done so in recent years.

Before, it had been for Xie Zhu. Now it was for this boy.

“Good.”

Such a filial child, she thought. Xie Nong was blessed—both sons so outstanding. A pity little Fang wasn’t alive to see it…

Granny Li sighed to herself.

“How about I embroider flowers and butterflies on yours? It’ll suit you perfectly. I promise it’ll look lovely. When they’re done, I’ll tell your father to come fetch them. If you don’t like them, bring them back—I’ll alter them for you.”

“Sounds great, thank you, Granny.”

Never having ordered clothes before, Jinning didn’t know the cost. He placed the silver on the table. “Granny, here’s the payment. If it’s not enough, I’ll go home for more.”

“No need—your father already paid. Put it away before you lose it.”

“Please take it,” Jinning insisted, pushing it back. “So many clothes all at once, it’s hard work for you. Please make the winter ones extra thick. That’s thanks enough.”

At the end, he blinked, lips curving in a playful smile that melted her heart. She wished she had such a sweet grandson.

But her son, Li Chai, was still at the battlefield. Who knew when he’d return? So many days had passed with no word.

At that thought, her smile faded.

“Granny, what’s wrong? Are you unwell? Let me help you sit.”

“No, no.” She shook her head, sighing. “I’m fine. Just… missing my son.”

Last spring, conscription had taken most of the village’s able men. This year, the emperor drafted more to build the Yao Immortal Hall. Those left were mostly old folk, women, and children. Men like Xie Nong were few.

“Where… did he go?”

“He followed some General Ding, went to war,” she said, sorrow lining her eyes. “Defending the nation is noble, but… I don’t know if he’ll come back safe. The last time I managed to send him money and things was last spring. Now it’s autumn already…”

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

“He’ll come back safe,” Jinning said gently, holding her hand. “Don’t worry, Granny. Maybe our place is just too remote, and the army too busy—Brother Li hasn’t had time to send word.”

“Let’s hope so.”

The boy’s soft voice eased her gloom a little. She patted his hand. “Child, my husband died early, and my son left unmarried. I’m all alone here. No one to talk to, so I ramble too much. Don’t mind an old woman’s chatter.”

“Not at all. Please, just call me Ning. And if you don’t mind me, I’ll come visit when I can. Keep you company, talk with you?”

“Yes, yes.” She smiled through tears. “Ning.”

“Mm!”

…

By the time Jinning returned home, it was nearly four o’clock in the afternoon.

Granny Li liked him very much, and he in turn felt great affection for her kindness.

In the capital, he had always been popular with older women. But his strict grandfather had thought him too delicate, unmanly, and hadn’t cared much for him. His grandmother, devoted wholly to her husband, might have loved him in private, but never showed it openly.

Xie Qing’s strained relationship with his parents meant few family visits. And Xie Nong’s parents had died young. That lack of grandparental affection had long weighed on Jinning’s heart. Now, at least, he felt some small comfort.

Granny Li told him about daily life, about how villagers paid for clothes with goods, about the rising price of embroidery thread—what used to buy five skeins now only bought three…

He entertained her with funny tales and storybook plots.

Before he left, she handed him a bundle as a gift, telling him to open it at home.

It was small and light, so he didn’t refuse.

Opening it, he found several embroidered hair ribbons—lotus and pear blossoms in different colors—two handkerchiefs stitched with clouds and wheat sheaves, a cotton belt with a double-sided butterfly design, and a pale blue silk pouch embroidered with pink peaches. Smooth to the touch, the stitching fine, its elegance bright with spring.

All things he lacked and could use.

The pouch bulged slightly. He loosened the tie. Inside were the two taels of silver he had brought earlier, quietly returned to him.

“Really now…”

He didn’t refuse her kindness. Instead, he tied on the embroidered belt, slipped his jade pendant into the pouch, and hung it at his waist.

He used a ribbon to gather his hair; the lotus petals brushed his cheek, but the laughter in his eyes outshone any flower.

The splash of bright color on plain robes made him livelier still.

He was about to step outside, then paused, frowning in thought. Best to visit the village chief tomorrow about the school.

For now he had no materials prepared, and going empty-handed might leave him embarrassed. Better to plan first.

He walked the courtyard, intending to find a stick from the woodpile to write practice characters in the dirt.

He hadn’t held a brush in a long time—who knew how poor his handwriting had gotten? If it was crooked and ugly, he’d be mortified before even starting to teach.

But all the sticks were too rough or too thick. Disappointed, he tossed them back. Then he recalled Yan Yi had some polished rods inside, used for arrow shafts.

On impulse, he called from the courtyard, “Yan Yi.”

Inside, the man hastily covered himself before staining the bedding. Viscous drops still pattered onto his trousers through his fingers.

“Yan Yi, are you out?”

At the sound of that soft call, his half-faded arousal flared again. Expressionless, he forced himself soft, wiped his hands clean, and rasped, “I’m here.”

At home, but his voice so hoarse—why didn’t he drink some water? Jinning pouted slightly. “Do you have a spare stick in your room? Could you give me one?”

A few breaths later, he was handed a rod. But the man’s faintly strange look made Jinning’s heart flutter nervously.

He thanked him, sniffed lightly, then leaned closer. “Yan Yi, do you smell something odd?”

The faint fragrance on his breath made Yan Yi stiffen. He stepped back at once, hiding his hand behind him, knuckles white. “No…”

His clothes were disheveled, collar wide open, sweat-damp chest showing. As he moved back, that hot, shameful scent faded somewhat.

The boy tilted his fresh face up, eyes limpid as autumn water. In them, Yan Yi seemed to drown.

Soft lips parted, a glimpse of pink tongue flickering between white teeth. “Were you training in here just now? Next time, can you take me along?”

“…”

Hard to put into words.

The breath he’d steadied broke again. Veins bulged on his hands. Even amid tangled desire, Yan Yi almost laughed helplessly.

Every move of the boy stirred wild thoughts. Yet he was as pure as a lotus. Were it not for Yan Yi’s own pride as a decent man, he might have coaxed him onto the bed already, tearing and devouring until quenched.

“You want to train your body?”

“Yes.” Jinning pinched the slim curve of his waist, eyes lowered. “Granny Li also said I’m thin. I feel being too skinny doesn’t look good…”

“Looks good.”

“Oh, I wasn’t finished.” Jinning pouted. “Anyway, I want my waist to be a bit thicker, and maybe lose a bit here and there…”

In Yan Yi’s mind flashed the memory of that night—white skin, flushed red, trembling flesh.

His hidden hand dug into his thigh.

Half-dazed, he blurted without guard, “Whatever you look like, I like it.”

“What’s the use of you liking it? It’s not your body.” Jinning huffed. “Anyway, you have to find me a method.”

At that, Yan Yi’s restrained gaze swept over him from head to toe, hungrily wishing to strip him bare.

But his tone was calm. “Your frame is slender. Likely you’re the type who doesn’t gain easily. Forcing weight could harm you. Eat your fill, add moderate training—that will strengthen you enough.”

Relieved, Jinning said, “All right then.”

It had only been a passing thought. He’d regretted saying it already. To really get fat—he wouldn’t want that either.

“I’ll design you a training regimen.”

“That sounds troublesome. Can’t I just follow you? Do whatever you do?” Jinning tilted his head.

“Every morning at five, run ten laps around the village.”

“…”

The sun would have to rise in the west before he could get up that early.

He opened his mouth, then closed it. “Forget I asked.”

The man’s lips curved faintly. “You’re frail. It has to be step by step. We’ve time—slowly.”

As his voice dropped low, like a temple bell reverberating, Jinning’s ears tingled. He rubbed his hot earlobe, and his own voice went soft.

“Okay…”

He lowered his gaze, lashes trembling, lips dry. He licked them lightly; they stung.

Suddenly he realized what Yan Yi’s look reminded him of.

A starving hound. Unsated.