After The Coquettish Fake Master Was Driven Away - Chapter 6

Amid the dense, verdant forest, a boy in green rode a horse, frequently glancing back with a worried expression.

The horse, however, paid little attention to its rider, strolling lazily, occasionally lowering its head to nibble on grass and flowers with leisurely ease.

Xie Jinning, afraid that Wang Zhihe might catch up and pursue him, gripped the reins tightly and gave them several sharp tugs.

“Giddy-up! Hey, stop eating! I haven’t eaten yet—move faster, giddy-up!”

Previously, Xie Jinning had complained that riding made his legs sore. He had attended only one or two riding lessons before slacking off, so his skills were near nonexistent. Usually, he either rode in carriages or was led by someone else. Today, riding was pure luck, and he had to wrack his brain to recall whatever little he had been taught.

The hems of his clothes fluttered in the wind, his belt highlighting a slender waistline, slightly curving downward, while the back of his tunic draped over the saddle in a round, plump bundle.

His long, straight legs hung on either side. He squeezed with all his strength, and the brown horse snorted awake. Its tail swished against Xie Jinning’s rear, startling him, making him think someone was behind him. He nearly screamed.

“Faster, faster! If you run, I’ll buy you the tastiest grass and the most luxurious stable when we reach our destination—deal?”

He glanced back again, muttering anxiously to himself.

Fortunately, the brown horse seemed to understand and reluctantly sped up, though only slightly faster than a walking pace—still painfully slow.

“Yes, just like this… faster!” Xie Jinning’s urgency grew, and he wiped the sweat from his sleeves.

His palms were red and raw from the rough reins, and the saddle was uncomfortably hard. He twisted and shifted, but no position was comfortable.

Puffing his cheeks, he muttered softly, “What kind of saddle is this? So rough…”

Still, with his relentless coaxing, the horse gradually picked up speed.

A victorious smile crept onto his lips. He lifted his brows, feeling confident he could ride well despite barely learning—he must be a prodigy.

But his pride lasted only a few moments before a long whistle sounded in the distance.

Instantly, the brown horse slammed on the brakes. Unprepared, Xie Jinning pitched forward, toppling over the horse’s neck. He held on tightly, narrowly avoiding being thrown off.

His face buried in the long, thick mane, the strong scent made him dizzy and nearly nauseous. He didn’t even notice the horse changing direction.

Wang Zhihe, chewing on a blade of grass, leaned against a tree, face dark, watching the boy slump over the horse, gasping softly. He said coldly, “You sure know how to exploit loopholes.”

Luckily, this horse had been with him for years, able to understand commands that others couldn’t. Otherwise, the boy might have really gotten away.

The jolting and the smell made Xie Jinning’s face pale; buzzing filled his ears as if a thousand flies were circling.

He didn’t hear anything clearly, and when he loosened his grip, he fell straight off the horse, nearly landing on his head. Wang Zhihe grabbed his arm and pulled him up.

“You thought you could use the horse to escape, huh? And you brought food too? Now you’re too proud to eat it?”

This time, Xie Jinning understood. The pressure on his arm was immense, causing pain. His stomach churned. He covered his mouth, tears blurring his vision, and glared at Wang Zhihe, his pale face and reddened eyes looking pitiful.

But Wang Zhihe couldn’t soften now; he had realized the young master was clever.

Treat him harshly, and he pretends to be innocent and pitiful. Treat him kindly, and he pushes his luck.

Just like an untamed cat.

After a long pause, once Xie Jinning regained his balance, Wang Zhihe released him. “You have no idea where you’re running. Did you know there are several bandit dens nearby? A delicate little rich boy like you—if they captured you, they’d skin you alive and chop off your hands and feet as hors d’oeuvres!”

Xie Jinning’s pupils shrank. Already miserable, the thought of such a scene made him retch.

“Ugh—”

He hadn’t eaten much in the past few days. What came up was only a bit of water and sour liquid. Wang Zhihe withdrew his hand and said coldly,

“Still running?”

“N… no more running.” Xie Jinning was completely exhausted, obediently following Wang Zhihe onto the carriage.

But he wasn’t one to give up easily.

In the afternoon, passing a small town, he attempted to escape again while Wang Zhihe bought him pastries. He nearly succeeded, but some thugs blocked him in the street, refusing to let him go without payment.

He had no money. Wang Zhihe took back the jade pendant and bundle to prevent further escape.

The thugs, seeing his fine clothes and manners but no bodyguards, assumed he was a wealthy runaway. When they realized he had nothing to offer, they nearly dragged him into an alley to strip him, but Wang Zhihe arrived just in time to drive them off.

Shaken but undeterred, Xie Jinning tried escaping several more times, each with a new method. Wang Zhihe, exhausted, decided to act decisively and added a mild sedative to his water.

The dose was small—enough to weaken but not knock him out. Unexpectedly, Xie Jinning’s tolerance was low. After a few sips, his body slumped, and he fell asleep.

Wang Zhihe carefully carried him into the carriage, covering him with a thin quilt purchased in the village and surrounding him with items to prevent bumps.

He glanced at the boy, folded the used handkerchief neatly into his pocket, and quietly urged the carriage forward.

Under the drug’s influence, Xie Jinning was drowsy all day. Forget running; he didn’t even have the energy to resist Wang Zhihe. Occasionally roused, he would lean on the man to eat a little, relieve himself, and then collapse back into sleep.

The carriage rode smoothly, but his dreams were fragmented, alternating between good and bad.

Sometimes he dreamed of his reckless life in the capital, sometimes of happy times at the Xie estate, sometimes of the ancestral hall incident, standing in opposition to the three members of the Xie household.

Dreams and reality blended; countless fragments of memory surged and churned in his mind, denying him peace.

Drowsy, he regretted: if he hadn’t acted so impulsively that day, would the outcome have been different?

If he had been more generous, less fixated on driving Xie Zhu out of the estate, could he have remained hidden by his parents, continuing a carefree life?

He even wickedly thought, if Xie Zhu had never appeared, he could have lived as his parents’ child forever, the happy spirit of the household.

But…

There was no “if.” He could never go back.