After The Coquettish Fake Master Was Driven Away - Chapter 34

Yan Yi climbed up the wall.

Gentle sunlight slanted through the lattice window, spilling gold over the wooden bed. The boy sat quietly at the headboard, knees bent, absorbed in his book.

His dark lashes cast a fan-shaped shadow upon his lids; with each faint flutter, they resembled the wings of a butterfly, stirring ripples in the air.

The warm glow kissed his cheek, tracing out delicate, tranquil features. The high bridge of his nose gleamed faintly like polished jade.

A jade-like face, red lips, smooth black hair cascading down a porcelain-white neck—an image of serene grace.

Yan Yi stood transfixed, heartbeat like a war drum that slowly settled. He couldn’t bear to look away. He wanted to go in, yet dared not, for fear that a single stray thought might disturb this dreamlike scene.

At last, he turned back inside, picked up a sickle, and strode away.

Inside.

The burning gaze that had nearly scorched him disappeared, and Xie Jinning let out a breath of relief. The fingertips resting on the page curled in like a flower bud.

The inked characters blurred, as though bleeding into water. A few blinks brought them back into focus, but he hadn’t absorbed a single word. Finally, he pulled the quilt over his head, muffling both his mind and his heartbeat.

Until dusk painted the sky red, a sound came from outside the courtyard.

Xie Jinning opened the door to greet them. Seeing the man beside his father, clearly fresh from work, he quickly averted his gaze and softly called, “Dad.”

“Eh.” Smiling broadly, Xie Nong took the cloth from him and wiped his sweat. “Jinning, did you go to Madam Li’s house today?”

“I did.” Jinning tilted his head, showing off the headband. “See, she gave me these. Grandma Li really likes me.”

“My Jinning is such a good child, who wouldn’t like him, right?”

“Mm.” Yan Yi naturally replied, “I like him too.”

His lashes trembled. Jinning pressed his lips together. “Dad, I made a few clothes for you too. By the way, do we still have cotton left at home?”

“What are you making for me? I have enough to wear. That cloth was bought especially for you—it’s a waste on me. I’ll ask Madam Li…”

“Oh, come on.” Jinning interrupted. “Dad, you never look at your clothes. They’re all torn to shreds.”

Xie Nong covered a rip at his side and laughed sheepishly. “A few patches and they’re fine.”

“They look like rags. What’s the point patching them? Or… do you not want to wear matching new clothes with me?”

With brows dipped and lips downturned, he looked so pitiful that Xie Nong’s heart melted. He hurriedly agreed: “Alright, alright, I’ll listen to you.”

The smile on his face simply wouldn’t fade.

“That’s a promise…”

Their voices trailed farther away.

Yan Yi stood forgotten at the gate, the crease between his brows deepening.

Why had the boy who, only hours ago, cared for him and treated him so warmly, suddenly turned cold, as though he were invisible? The abrupt shift, the refusal even to acknowledge him, was unbearably harsh.

His lips pressed into a hard line. Tumultuous thoughts thrashed inside his chest.

He looked at the clean, neatly wound bandage in his hand—the one he had protected so carefully from even a speck of dirt—and after a long, silent pause, he walked away.

When the door shut, Jinning glanced back. Yan Yi was gone. He bit the inside of his lip, a faint sourness blooming in his mouth like biting into dried apricot. Yet when his father spoke again, the feeling dissolved.

He turned and pointed at two wooden chests. “Dad, can I use these?”

Xie Nong’s expression froze instantly.

He knew very well what was inside.

These books had been scavenged by him and Xie Zhu. With no money for new ones, they had relied on luck, waiting behind the town’s bookshop for discarded scraps—torn, incomplete, pages missing.

Back then, Afang had painstakingly peeled apart stuck pages, cleaned the stains, and laid them to dry in the sun. Once she was gone, Xie Zhu took over.

They used to lie scattered everywhere—on the table, at the bedside, in cupboards. After Xie Zhu left, Xie Nong had packed them away, believing they would never again see light. Until now…

“If not, then I’ll—”

“Go ahead.”

Xie Nong sighed. Better to let them breathe sunlight and air than rot in the dark, buried with him someday.

“Jinning, you can use anything here. Just… your brother Xie Zhu treasured those books. When you read—”

He stopped suddenly, lips working, words stuck in his throat.

“I’ll be careful.”

“…Alright, then. I’ll go cook.”

“I’ll help. You’ve been harvesting all day, you must be tired.”

He rolled up his sleeves, showing pale arms still bearing faint red marks. Xie Nong quickly waved him off. “No need. You just read your books. With Xiao Yan helping me, that’s enough. I don’t want you covered in oil smoke.”

Yan Yi cooking meant the food would be tastier, Jinning thought, licking his lips unconsciously.

But—“Why does he always eat with us?”

“Xiao Yan lives alone. It’s troublesome for him to cook. I invite him to share meals sometimes. He used to refuse, saying he ate too much and it wasn’t fair to us. But after all he’s done for us, what’s one extra bowl of rice?”

“What’s wrong, Jinning?”

“Nothing.”

But his mind was full of the morning kiss in the wheat field, the foot massage in the afternoon, and those eyes.

He was used to closeness, so at first it hadn’t seemed odd. But once Yan Yi left, memory replayed every detail, and under the covers he’d grown more and more unsettled.

Brothers didn’t act like this.

He and his elder brother had never… hugged, kissed… nor seen each other unclothed. If he were a girl, the families would already be arranging marriage.

Wait.

His heart stuttered, cheeks burning hotter. He swallowed hard. “N-nothing.”

What on earth was he thinking!

“As long as you’re fine. Xiao Yan’s a good person. You two seem to get along. It’s good to have a brother to rely on.”

Distracted, Jinning only nodded.

Perhaps because the harvest was better than expected, the dishes that night were plentiful. Xie Nong even brought out a jar of wine.

But this time he poured only honey water for Jinning.

Jinning took a sip—the faint fragrance of locust blossoms filled his mouth, sweet and refreshing. He liked it.

After dinner, while Xie Nong cleared dishes, Jinning tried to help wash. But a greasy slip sent a bowl crashing. He bent quickly to catch it, missed, and cut his finger on the shards.

It was only a small nick, but Xie Nong fussed over it. Not wanting to cause more trouble, Jinning let himself be ushered back inside.

Yan Yi was still sitting silently in the courtyard. When Jinning was hurt, he stirred, but at the boy’s avoidance, sank back down.

He gripped a wine cup, head lowered, silent. Several jars sat at his feet. His fringe shadowed his eyes, but the taut line of his lips betrayed his gloom.

He’d always been quiet, but tonight he didn’t even eat, just drank heavily, ignoring the wound on his hand. When one jar emptied, he fetched more, determined to drown himself.

Jinning almost spoke to stop him, but in the end ate quietly instead.

Perhaps reminded of Xie Zhu, Xie Nong’s cheer faded too, and the meal ended in a heavy hush.

…

Late at night, clouds smothered the moonlight.

Through the window crack, Jinning saw him still sitting there, motionless, like an exiled wolf.

Was he drunk?

He hesitated, then slowly pushed open the door.

But darkness fell across him in an instant. Yan Yi was suddenly there, pressing him between door and arm.

He leaned close, their noses almost touching.

“A-Ning.”

The words tore through his throat.

“Why wouldn’t you look at me tonight?”

Shadows swallowed Jinning whole. The heat of his drunken breath scalded his cheeks crimson. Dizzy, he tried to push him away, but failed.

“Let me go.”

He turned aside, baring the pale line of his throat. Blue veins twined beneath the skin, carrying a faint fragrance of flowers and honey, intoxicating.

In the dim light, the sheen of his earlobe rivaled rare pearls.

Yan Yi’s teeth ached with restraint—he wanted to bite, to lick, to leave a mark.

But he didn’t dare.

“Tell me where I went wrong. I’ll apologize, alright?”

His trembling voice betrayed his fear—not of Jinning’s anger, but of being ignored altogether.

“You did nothing wrong.”

The heat steaming his neck reddened him like wine. Too weak to stand, Jinning leaned against the door, feebly pounding Yan Yi’s chest.

“I still have things to do. Let me go.”

His fists landed with dull thuds, stinging his own knuckles more than they moved Yan Yi.

At last, he met those abyssal eyes.

They no longer held coldness, but sorrow, confusion, pain—an ocean of it.

“A-Ning, you must know… I…” Hold impure desires for you?

Know what?

Jinning dared not hear, dared not ask. His scalp prickled, his throat choked, breath shallow.

Before he suffocated, he blurted, “Brother Yan, just give me the medicine. From now on, I’ll do it myself. Don’t trouble yourself anymore.”

“…” His body froze. His pupils shrank to pinpoints. “What… did you call me?”

“Brother Yan,” Jinning whispered. “Didn’t you say you wanted to be my brother?”

Thorns ripped through Yan Yi’s chest, tearing him inside out. He tasted bl00d—his tongue had bitten through.

Brother.

He wanted to kill the fool he’d been days ago.

“Brother…”

The word twisted on his lips into a bitter smile, his features distorted with cold rage.

He stared at those clear, innocent eyes—now tinged with fear of him—and his arms slackened.

He understood.

The boy knew nothing.

It was he, himself, who harbored darkness, who wished to drag this untainted soul into the mire.

He was despicable.

Jinning shivered under his gaze, goosebumps prickling his skin. The man’s breath, once warm like sunlight, now carried only bitterness.

“Brother Yan, you’re drunk. Go rest.”

The words shattered him. He straightened stiffly, joints creaking.

Moonlight returned.

He placed the medicine jar against his chest. Jinning reached out, pried open his fingers one by one, and took it.

“I’ll handle it. It’s just medicine. I can do this much.”

“It’s no trouble. I never minded. A-Ning, you were hurt because of me. I swore to take responsibility. I won’t go back on my word.”

His last, desperate struggle. He stepped closer. “If you’ve accepted me as your brother, why won’t you let me help you?”

Jinning nearly wavered, but bit his lip and muttered, “Just… no.”

The jar was still warm from his body heat. Jinning held it in his hands, fingers tingling. “Brother Yan, go rest.”

The third rejection.

Even with his back turned, he could feel that piercing gaze burning holes through him.

But Yan Yi neither moved nor spoke.

The silence grew colder, heavier.

Finally, a creak of the door. The night wind slipped in, and then was gone.

Yan Yi had left.

The jar cooled in Jinning’s hand. He rubbed its smooth surface, shivering at the chill.

He realized he still longed for the warmth.

Placing it on the table, he flung himself into bed, rolling restlessly.

It was done. Surely Yan Yi would stop hovering over him, stop acting strangely, stop making his heart pound.

They would be nothing more than proper, distant brothers.

So why… did it feel so empty?