After The Coquettish Fake Master Was Driven Away - Chapter 35

The night was deep, all sounds had stilled.

The youth lying quietly on the bed had fair, delicate features, like a finely carved jade doll in slumber. His thin, reddened eyelids were shut tight, his breathing calm and steady—he had already sunk into dreamland.

In the haze, Xie Jinning found himself back in the place most familiar to him—the Jinyuan estate.

Delicate, finely patterned bluestone paved the ground, spotless. Beyond, buildings rose with soaring eaves and intricate beams, richly ornamented, exuding grandeur.

Not far away, a phoenix tree stood tall beneath the autumn sun, its branches and leaves lush and spreading like a canopy. Beneath it sat an eight-sided carved stone table with smooth, polished surface, and several round stools decorated with flowing ruyi cloud patterns, adding a touch of elegance.

During spring and autumn, whenever Xie Jinning was too lazy to go out, he would sit there, chin in hand, reading plays. Sunlight dappled the table laden with sweets and candied fruits, the breeze carrying sweet, milky fragrance through the courtyard.

He would nibble a few bites, grow drowsy under the sun, then drag himself back into bed. The rest of the food, after A-He picked out what he wanted, was divided among the maids and servants in the courtyard…

But not only that—here he had babbled his first words, stumbled his first steps, ridden on Xie Qing’s shoulders, been coaxed to take medicine in Lin Jinhua’s arms, and had his hand held by Xie Zhaoming while learning to write. Every corner of this courtyard bore witness to his growth.

Xie Jinning took a few steps, but before he could go closer, realization struck—he was in a dream. He froze on the spot, suddenly at a loss.

Once the master of Jinyuan, now he could only measure this world with his gaze.

At some unknown point, a large black dog padded silently across the courtyard, steady and strong, approaching the boy who stood there.

Xie Jinning, lost in melancholy, suddenly felt warmth in his palm. Looking down, he saw the black dog that had often come to his yard to beg for food in the past—Debao.

Its coat gleamed like polished black satin, each movement revealing powerful muscles rippling beneath the fur.

By appearance alone, it was a magnificent hunting hound.

Xie Jinning’s lips curved in a smile. He patted its head, scratched its chin. Debao squinted its beastly eyes in comfort, a rumbling purr rising in its throat as it tilted its head for easier petting.

Its warm breath and tongue made his palm damp, its tail wagging so fast it was a blur. Gone was any trace of the savagery capable of tearing an arm from its socket.

Infected by its joy, Xie Jinning laughed and sat down on the ground, patting his lap for Debao to sprawl across.

He had been driven from the Xie household too hastily, not even able to say goodbye to Debao. Now, he could only stroke its fur one last time in a dream.

But in the next moment, Debao suddenly pressed a heavy paw on his shoulder, pushing him flat to the ground.

Before he could react, the dog loomed over him, growling low in its throat, lowering its head. Between its slightly parted jaws glinted fangs sharp enough to pierce planks three inches thick—a sign of attack.

Even in a dream, Xie Jinning felt the wild ferocity and bloody aura of the beast—there was even a faint scent of wine. His shoulders shrank, gooseflesh rising across his skin.

The glinting teeth drew closer, ready to pierce his flesh. Xie Jinning closed his eyes, bracing himself for death in the dream, regret and sorrow filling his chest. But instead, all he felt was a wet tongue sliding across his cheek.

The dream continued.

It had only been play. Exhaling in relief, Xie Jinning patted the dog’s head, signaling for it to get off.

But instead of obeying, Debao barked excitedly and licked heavily at his fragrant pale neck.

The rough, wet tongue brought sticky tingling sensations. As it dragged over his throat, it was as if a current shot from his spine through every nerve.

A choked whimper escaped him. His lashes trembled, eyes misting with tears, vision blurring. Lying on his back, tears slid unbidden down his cheeks. The skin where the tongue passed flushed red, wet trails glistening like melting crystals, stirring thirst.

The tongue moved higher—over his chin, lips, nose, and brows—leaving wet streaks with each deliberate stroke.

Unable to pry apart his closed lips, the beast pressed harder against them, reddening and swelling them before finally trailing lower.

It probed into his collar, seeking the hollow at his chest, caressing as if planting seeds to sprout, then curling lower to the hidden fruit between snowy peaks…

“No… don’t…”

Xie Jinning’s body went limp. He tried to push away, but his hands only clawed weakly at the grass, pale fingers stained crimson like shy blossoms trembling in the greenery.

His back arched taut, trembling uncontrollably. At last, the sly dog nosed out of his collar, seized his sash in its jaws, and slowly pulled it free.

“Mm!”

“Don’t… don’t lick… not there…”

“Bad dog!”

Wet sounds echoed—

…

The next morning.

When Xie Jinning sat up in bed, the sun was already high.

He yawned, looking wan. Faint shadows beneath his eyes resembled ink lines painted on white porcelain, damp strands at his temples like cracks on the glaze, lending a fragile beauty.

Yet his brows still carried a flush of spring-like red, like fruit unripe on the surface but ripening within—inviting one to wonder what it would be like fully ripened.

He had slept poorly. After Yan Yi left the night before, he’d set the medicine pot aside, lain in bed a long while before sleep finally claimed him.

When sensation returned to his softened limbs, the first thing he felt was the cold, sticky dampness between his legs.

“!”

Seeing his wet fingers, memories of his first humiliating experience years ago surged back, and his drowsiness vanished. Scarlet rushed across his face until he was red as a ripe persimmon.

He—he had dreamt and released?!

Frozen in place, his back stiff, eyes wide, light flickering in his amber pupils.

The dream itself was hazy—he vaguely recalled Jinyuan, but nothing more.

Yet as he remembered, his legs unconsciously pressed together under the quilt, rubbing, the cold traces at his thighs making him shiver. A familiar heat rose, that sensitive spot twitching as if branded, trembling faintly with each uneven breath.

A jolt of pleasure made him gasp. He yanked the quilt off, leapt from bed, and stumbled to the chest, wiping clumsily with cloth before pulling on a fresh pair.

Looking at the soiled undergarment on the floor, his face burned red and green in turns. He curled his toes, unsure what to do. Just then, Xie Nong’s voice came from outside:

“Jinning, are you up?”

He jolted, quickly kicking the evidence beneath the bed.

“Y-yes, I’m up.”

His voice still trembled.

“Time to eat.”

“Coming.”

Distracted at breakfast, he barely heard Xie Nong’s instructions before leaving. Left alone, even in his own yard, Xie Jinning moved furtively like a wary cat, ears pricked for danger, small face tense at every sound.

Only once sure no one noticed did he sneak back, use a stick to drag out the crumpled, dusty undergarment from under the bed.

Though it was his own, he held it far away in disgust, unwilling to touch it.

Destroy it, he thought. But standing before the stove, he realized he didn’t know how to light a fire. He tried digging a hole, but the earth was too hard, only scratching a shallow dent before his palms burned red.

Frustrated, he stomped the stick, pouting. With so few undergarments to begin with, throwing this one away would leave him short. Reluctantly, he dumped it into a washbasin, carried it to the back yard.

Rolling up his sleeves, he scooped water until the cloth spread and soaked, the stain no longer visible. He breathed a small sigh of relief, ears still blazing red.

But another problem arose—

He didn’t know how to wash it.

Tentatively dipping his hands, the cold well water stung his wrists. Shivering, he persisted, pinching a corner and swishing it back and forth, sending ripples across the basin. His arms ached quickly. Remembering washerwomen by the river, he tried slapping the cloth down.

Water splashed high, soaking him. The fabric clung at the bottom, hardly cleaner. His robes and lashes now dotted with droplets, he looked utterly bedraggled.

“Yan—”

He almost called Yan Yi, but swallowed it back, wiping his face with his arm. He scooped another ladle of water, poured it in.

This time he rubbed the cloth between his palms. Fingers soon numbed red, eyes growing damp with frustration. He pressed harder—

Rip.

The thin cloth tore.

Xie Jinning froze. Water dripped from his flushed fingertips as he stared at the gaping seam, as though trying to stitch it shut with his gaze. The tear shifted with the ripples, like a mocking grin.

“Useless… I can’t even wash clothes.”

“I should’ve just asked Yan Yi from the start.”

Now, his first attempt at laundry had ended with a ruined garment. And worse—it was an undergarment, impossible to take to Granny Li for mending.

Tears welled. Face red, he sniffled, dropped everything, and stormed inside.

Later, calmer, he retied his loosened hair, dark strands cascading around pale fingers. Behind his ear lingered a faint red mark, like an insect bite.

He took the text he had copied through the night, pushed open the courtyard gate, and set off.

He meant to find the village chief. But distracted at breakfast, he had forgotten to ask for directions. So he searched slowly.

The village chief’s yard was a little finer than the others, but not by much.

Xie Jinning knocked. After a long pause, an elderly man emerged, stooped like a weathered tree, face deeply lined, hair white with age. His sunken eyes still gleamed sharp. This was Li Dongsheng, the chief of Hetian Village.

Caught in that piercing gaze, Xie Jinning forgot his rehearsed words. Bluntly, he said:

“Village chief, I came to discuss setting up a school.”

He expected welcome, or at least questions. Instead, Li Dongsheng’s face darkened at once. His cane struck the ground, dust rising.

As Xie Jinning coughed, the old man slammed the door. “We don’t need it. Get out.”

So harsh—before he could explain further, he was shut out.

“Village chief, please, listen!”

He knocked again. “Without a school, the children waste their best years in the fields. It’s a pity. I’m serious—think of them, think of the village’s future. Please reconsider.”

But from within came an even angrier voice:

“Young man, you look fine enough, yet you play the swindler’s tricks? Get out—Hetian Village has no place for the likes of you!”