The Foolish General's Mute Spouse - Chapter 103

103: Caressing

Fu Yu’an curled up under the covers, letting himself be enveloped by Qi Ren’s scent, as if he were still holding him.

How pitiful. Clearly, he was the one who had pushed the other away, yet now it seemed as though Qi Ren had become the villain, the one who had callously abandoned him.

The narrow couch was cramped and uncomfortable, and with Qi Ren’s long limbs, there was no way he could sleep well.

I’ll return to the camp tomorrow, he thought. Perhaps now really wasn’t the right time for them to meet.

Outside, the moon hung high in the sky. The attendants had changed shifts, yawning drowsily.

Half-asleep, Qi Ren felt something press down on him. Forcing his eyes open, he met Fu Yu’an’s gaze, which seemed to shimmer with unshed tears. Instantly, any lingering drowsiness was utterly shattered.

When he realized whose oversized inner robe the man was wearing, Qi Ren felt a surge of-

“Have you lost your mind?!”

He pushed him away, nearly falling off the couch as he scrambled backward.

“Whose inner robe is that? Don’t tell me

“I stole it!” Fu Yu’an clenched his eyes shut, overwhelmed with shame. His voice was quiet, but each word struck like a hammer. “It was me-I’m the shameless one. When I left two years ago… I stole it.”

Over eight hundred days and nights, whenever the longing for Qi Ren became unbearable, he would secretly take out this robe and cling to it, stealing a night’s solace.

“You stole it?” Qi Ren was equally stunned. He sat up, pulling the man who had been pressing down on him upright.

His hands met warm, smooth skin. Qi Ren looked down and felt his vision burn.

How could he… how could he dare… how could he-

Fu Yu’an abandoned the last shreds of his dignity, wrapping his arms around Qi Ren’s shoulders and settling onto his lap. His voice trembled with barely restrained sobs:

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, Qi Ren… I’m sorry… I lied to you. I missed you so much, I’ve missed you all this time. The letters were all just pretenses, it was me… it was all my fault.”

The slightly coarse fabric of the inner robe brushed against him. Qi Ren’s gaze flickered for a moment before his large hand-as if surrendering-dug into Fu Yu’an’s waist. He buried his face in the crook of his neck and sighed. “You’ve gotten thinner.”

Fu Yu’an gasped, jerking his head up to look at him with hopeful, pleading eyes. “You don’t like me thin? I… I can eat more… I’ll put on weight if I eat more. Don’t-here, touch here! There’s still some flesh, touch it!”

He grabbed Qi Ren’s hand and pressed it against the softest part of his body, where the skin was smooth and unmarred by any fabric.

“It’s not that I don’t like it. I love you no matter how you look,” Qi Ren said. “Stop crying. Not tonight. You just got here-rest properly first.”

“Huh?” Fu Yu’an’s expression remained uncertain, still clouded with doubt. “Do you… do you despise me now? Is it because I stole your robe, or… or because I’m acting like this? You don’t want me anymore, do you?”

Of course Qi Ren still wanted him. This version of Fu Yu’an was utterly different from the past, a scene he had only dared dream of.

Yet now, it was unfolding right before his eyes, vivid and intoxicating. Whatever resentment he had been clinging to nad long since evaporated.

He forced himself to stay calm, but the man in his lap refused to let him -shamelessly pressing closer, as if wielding every skill he had ever learned from those illicit romance novels.

Qi Ren couldn’t hold back any longer, gripping the back of Fu Yu’an’s head and

Fu Yu’an only stared at him dazedly, not flinching, biting his lip through the pain, his expression one of utter devotion.

Qi Ren lifted him into his arms and strode toward the inner bedchamber.

“To the bed. It’s too cold out here.”

Fu Yu’an buried his face against Qi Ren’s chest, his bare legs swaying slightly in the chilly air. He obeyed without protest, docile as a wounded little beast.

By morning, Qi Ren was already gone. Fu Yu’an wore another of his inner robes-one he had begged for between tears.

When I woke up in the morning, Qi Ren was already gone. Fu Yu’an put on one of his inner robes—one he had begged for in tears.

“Qi Ren? Qi Ren!”

No one was around, but the bed was still warm where he had lain.

He tried to push himself up, but his legs ached and his waist was sore, so he had no choice but to give up.

At least his voice was still normal—last night, he had been mindful of the servants keeping watch outside, but the memories that followed were too shameful to dwell on.

He sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead, belatedly overcome with embarrassment—but not regret.

“Qi Ren!” he called again, and this time, a response came. The sound of splashing water came from the outer room, and Qi Ren walked in with a damp cloth.

“You’re awake. Here, wipe your face. I’ll have someone bring breakfast over later.”

His tone was familiar, just like so many times before.

For a moment, Fu Yu’an even felt as though they had never been apart.

Qi Ren folded the cloth and turned to put it away. Fu Yu’an’s heart lurched, and he instinctively grabbed his sleeve. “Are you leaving?”

“Not going anywhere,” he said, patting Fu Yu’an’s hand. “Just putting the cloth back. Rest a little longer—does your waist still hurt? I’ll get the bruise ointment.”

Only after hearing that he wasn’t leaving did Fu Yu’an relax slightly, burrowing back under the covers with only his eyes peeking out, gazing at him pitifully.

They had stayed up late last night, but Qi Ren had held back—otherwise, Fu Yu’an would surely be feverish by now.

Qi Ren didn’t bring up last night’s argument, and Fu Yu’an was more than happy to avoid it, his eyes following Qi Ren’s every move, afraid he might vanish if he looked away for even a second.

The ointment was kept by the bed. He pulled open the drawer and rummaged through it for a moment before taking it out, motioning for Fu Yu’an to turn over.

But Fu Yu’an caught sight of a familiar object inside and his gaze flickered. He obediently rolled onto his stomach and asked casually, “What’s in the drawer? It looks familiar.”

Qi Ren made a sound of acknowledgment and took out the ring, handing it to him. “The ring you almost tricked me into giving up. Don’t recognize it?”

“…”

Fu Yu’an choked, remembering the absurd stunt he’d pulled back then, and instantly felt his face grow even hotter.

“Who—who would steal from you?!” Even as he said it, he carefully placed the ring back.

“You’re so well-informed—did you know the moment I went to the capital?”

“Not quite. I didn’t dare ask around—was afraid you’d get angry.”

He gently lifted the loose inner robe, revealing the disastrous state of Fu Yu’an’s waist—bruised from where he had gripped him the night before.

His back bore more marks, trailing down his spine, and his legs were even worse.

Qi Ren could hardly bear to look, silently cursing himself for losing control.

He warmed the ointment in his palm before applying it to Fu Yu’an’s skin. Fu Yu’an hissed in pain but quickly bit back the sound.

“Actually, that bag of winter clothes was just a test. I never thought you’d actually take the bait,” Qi Ren said, amusement in his voice.

Fu Yu’an huffed. “I thought you’d just left it there carelessly! I was heartbroken for ages! How cruel!”

Qi Ren chuckled and leaned down to kiss his reddened earlobe. “How could I dare? I waited and waited, but my wife never came back. I needed that ring as a keepsake!”

“What wife?! You—if you keep spouting nonsense, I’ll go stay at an inn!”

“Don’t!” Qi Ren immediately straightened. “I was wrong, I was wrong! I won’t say it again!”

Only then did Fu Yu’an seem satisfied, turning to face the wall and refusing to look at him.