Breaking the Taboo (1v2, Blood Uncle and Nephew) - Chapter 15

When Han Yezhen said nothing, the air itself seemed to stall.

Xiao Mohan found his silence more unnerving than anything he could’ve said.

It didn’t feel like he had nothing to say. It felt like he was thinking—calculating.

“Xiao-jiujiu (Little Uncle)?”

She tested the waters, voice soft. Eyes lifting—only to crash directly into his gaze.

He was watching her. Those deep, obsidian eyes of his were bottomless, eerie in their intensity. It startled her.

But only for a moment. Han Yezhen looked away, his attention shifting to the sofa, where several paper shopping bags were stacked. His voice came out rough. “I got a friend to bring over some clothes. Change first. Then come out and eat.”

She didn’t know if he’d realized her clothes hadn’t finished drying. But if he’d gone out early to get these, that must’ve been why.

Either way, it gave her a reason to retreat. She walked over, grabbed all the bags without bothering to sort through them, and carried everything back to her room.

Once the door was closed behind her, she stood still, listening for sounds outside before turning to the bags.

There were a lot of clothes. More than she expected. Skirts, tops, pants—and even four sets of pajamas.

She was only staying for one night. This felt excessive.

But the fabric was luxurious, the cuts elegant. Branded, clearly expensive.

One bag was filled entirely with underwear—multiple sets of bras and panties. All very close to her usual style.

Soft cotton, pale colors, sweet and simple designs.

Only these were far better quality than anything she owned. Every piece was part of a coordinated set, unlike her usual mismatched buys—one bra in one pattern, panties in another.

The thought of Han Yezhen, of all people, instructing someone to buy her such private items—down to reporting her exact size—made her scalp go numb.

Maybe he didn’t see anything strange about it. Maybe, to him, things between men and women weren’t so taboo. Maybe, in his eyes, he was just a guardian looking after a child.

Parents buying this kind of stuff for their daughters—wasn’t that just ordinary life?

Her memories of parental figures stopped at eight years old. She grew up mostly alone. She didn’t know how other families handled things like this.

Still, she was barely an adult, just at the cusp of womanhood—at an age where even having a period was something she tried to hide.

And the man who bought her underwear?

Was her little uncle.

A man at the peak of masculine vitality.

Xiao Mohan flushed with humiliation, breath catching, but she forced herself to stay calm.

She checked the sizing—and her heart skipped.

Perfect fit.

Her face burned. She didn’t even want to think about how Han Yezhen knew her measurements so precisely.

For a long moment, she stood frozen. Then she tore open the packages and slowly dressed, layer by layer.

By the time she was done, her skin glowed with a soft, full-body blush.

When she stepped back into the living room, Han Yezhen stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, on the phone.

Watching his silhouette, she blanked out a little.

Broad back. Straight spine. Narrow waist, long legs. A perfect V-shaped body.

What woman wouldn’t be tempted?

She could never truly accept that this man was her little uncle.

If only he weren’t my little uncle.

If he weren’t, maybe she wouldn’t be so afraid of him.

But the next moment, she scolded herself. That thought was absurd. If he weren’t her little uncle, a man like him—rich, dangerous, out of reach—would never have crossed her path at all.

He’d still scare her.

She didn’t know if he was part of the underworld, but he clearly had connections on both sides of the law.

And she… she was just a normal girl who wanted a quiet life.

She quickly looked away, not daring to watch him any longer. While he was still on the phone, she rushed into the bathroom to freshen up.

She’d wanted to shower—her thighs were still sticky and uncomfortable.

But if he realized she was showering, he’d start asking questions again.

And lying, especially to Han Yezhen, was a slippery slope she didn’t want to fall down.

She wet some tissues, wiped her pvssy and the inside of her thighs, flushed everything, and went back out.

When she returned to the living room, he had just turned around, gaze locking onto her like a trap.

One look, and she froze. Lowered her head instantly.

Into the phone, Han Yezhen said blandly, “That’s all for now. Do it quickly.”

He hung up. “Come eat.”

Breakfast was already set on the table. Definitely not made by him.

He seemed to catch her suspicion. “I hire someone by the hour.”

She nodded and sat down obediently, quietly starting her meal.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed his hand resting on the table.

Large. Fingers long and elegant like bamboo. The skin across the back of his hand was thin, stretched over veins that stood out with quiet strength.

She knew those hands had killed. But she hadn’t felt this kind of visceral awareness before.

It was the dream.

Those hands had roamed her body, teased her, pushed her to the edge and dragged her over it—until she’d soaked herself.

She stared.

Then his voice sliced through her thoughts—low, cold: “You need to take the medicine for three days. Three times a day. After meals.”

It yanked her back to the present. Her ears burned.

“I know.”

Her reply was soft, almost meek.

She kept her eyes down the entire time, not daring to lift them.

Han Yezhen glanced at her, noting the simple, modest outfit she’d chosen. “I picked everything by feel. If something doesn’t fit, I’ll go exchange it.”

She was just biting into a soup dumpling and nearly choked. She swallowed the hot mouthful hastily, coughing once. “Wait—wasn’t it someone else who picked them?”

He answered like it was nothing. “I know someone at the store. I went myself.”

The mall opened at ten, but insiders could get in early. He’d contacted someone and chosen everything in person.

Suddenly, the soup dumpling in her mouth had no taste at all. She chewed a few times, swallowed, then murmured in a tangle of emotions, “They… fit well. Thank you, Xiao-jiujiu.”

Her voice was barely audible.

But he didn’t acknowledge her thanks. Instead, he asked, “Still feeling unwell? Want me to call in for you?”

She still had a headache, still felt feverish. Technically, she was already late.

But anything was better than staying here.

“No need. I’ll go after I eat.”

He didn’t push. Just said, “I’ll drive you.”

He ate quickly. Finished before her, then waited.

Xiao Mohan could only stuff the rest of her breakfast down hurriedly.

When she stepped outside, backpack slung over her shoulders, she heard him say calmly behind her:

“I’ll pick you up after school.”