Xiao Chiye said he wasn’t tired, yet he still fell asleep mid-murmur. The time he could rotate out to rest from the second camp was tight. Only because Luoshan lay close to Duanzhou, with clear horse roads between them, could he rush back just to sleep beside Lanzhou for a while.
In the latter half of the night, distant spring thunder rolled a few times, and the rain grew heavier. With things weighing on his mind, Xiao Chiye woke at the hour of yin. Shen Zechuan lay nestled against his temple, breathing evenly, fast asleep. Xiao Chiye listened to Lanzhou’s breathing for a while and, for no clear reason, felt a trace of dissatisfaction.
Half-awake, Shen Zechuan let out a soft sound. He liked to draw out that nasal tone, making it impossible to tell whether it was pain or pleasure. Xiao Chiye bit him, making him sway faintly with uneven breaths.
“Don’t bite,” Shen Zechuan murmured hoarsely, still not fully awake, eyes closed, voice muddled. “It’s red.”
It really was red.
Shen Zechuan came to himself a bit more, but there was nowhere to hide under the pressure, the sensation like being overtaken by rain. There was no distance between them; sweat spread across their chests, dampening the bedding.
Xiao Chiye lowered his head, pressing his ear close to Lanzhou’s lips.
Shen Zechuan was on the verge of breaking. In the humid, clinging atmosphere, he knew exactly what Xiao Chiye wanted to hear. Through that mixed, breathy tone, he murmured love, his eyes brimming with feeling, trembling and breaking apart under the tide of sensation.
The downside of such perfect understanding was that even a brief separation turned into a storm. They sought satisfaction, using pleasure to fill the gap left by absence.
Xiao Chiye wanted more.
And more.
“Mm—”
Shen Zechuan couldn’t hold it back. His damp neck arched slightly, revealing that fragile vulnerability in endurance.
Amid the noisy rain, a figure in a straw raincoat approached under the eaves. When the door sounded, Shen Zechuan raised a hand to grab the curtain—but it was caught midair, his wrist seized. Xiao Chiye held it there, his sun-darkened arm strong as it pinned him in place.
The person outside waited a moment, then knocked again.
Suppressing his voice, Shen Zechuan said, “Not… not Fei…”
Xiao Chiye didn’t care who stood at the door. He wanted—he wanted to claim. Only he could look, could bite, could push Lanzhou to the point of pleading.
Their breaths tangled together.
“Chuan’er? It’s already a quarter past mao! Chengfeng’s heading out to check the fields—are you going? If you are, I’ll get your cloak ready. Drink some soup before you go.” Ji Gang had risen early, already finished several rounds of practice, and now came over carrying soup.
Xiao Chiye clicked his tongue in annoyance, pushing aside what he didn’t need while still keeping Lanzhou restrained.
Too deep.
Shen Zechuan mouthed soundlessly.
A’Ye, too—
He turned his head, burying his deep, unrestrained breaths into the bedding, hiding them beneath the sound of rain.
Xiao Chiye was breathing heavily too. In those weighty breaths, he let out a dangerous laugh, not stopping, admiring the flushed red along Lanzhou’s neck.
This was lethal.
Xiao Chiye thought viciously.
The sense of possession thrilled him.
Not hearing any response, Ji Gang turned to ask Fei Sheng, “What time did your master go to bed last night?”
Fei Sheng thought, That’s not something I can really say… Holding an umbrella over Ji Gang’s birdcage, he replied, “Pretty late… Mister Yu came back these past few days, so he’s been discussing the affairs of the six prefectures with the master.”
“Didn’t he retire early yesterday?” Ji Gang worried Shen Zechuan might fall ill in this spring rain. “Since Youjing is staying until the rain stops, there’s no rush with official business.”
“That’s right,” Fei Sheng agreed. “Master, you understand best.”
All Fei Sheng wanted was to get his master out of the courtyard quickly. The Second Young Master was still inside—if they ran into each other, it would be a disaster. He lifted the birdcage and said, “Master, this bird doesn’t look too lively. Could it have caught a chill?”
“It’s just sleepy after eating, same as Ding Tao’s sparrow.” Ji Gang, having still received no response from Shen Zechuan, grew more concerned. “There’s not even anyone attending him inside.”
“How about I escort you to the side hall for some tea? The master should wake soon.”
Ji Gang took back the birdcage. As Fei Sheng took the soup, Ji Gang clasped a hand behind his back and said, “I can’t sit still. I’ll go check on Yuan Zhuo—his medicine’s still brewing. When Chuan’er wakes, ask if he’s going out. With rain this heavy, I need to go along.”
Fei Sheng agreed repeatedly, escorting Ji Gang down the corridor. Only after seeing him leave did he hurry back, lifting his robe and pressing himself against the door as he whispered, “Second Young Master, it’s already the third quarter of mao. The officials will arrive at chen—our master—”
The door suddenly slid open.
Xiao Chiye stood there in a loosely draped robe, traces of red still at his neck, sweat not yet dried.
Fei Sheng didn’t dare look directly, immediately stepping back to bow. “Greetings, Second Young Master!”
Xiao Chiye casually took the hot towel nearby and wiped the sweat from his neck. “You’re already urging him at mao hour? Your master sleeps late and lightly—can he withstand this kind of disturbance?”
Fei Sheng agreed quickly. “Second Young Master is most thoughtful!”
Xiao Chiye tossed the towel back onto the tray and was about to speak again when he suddenly saw Ji Gang, who had just left, returning the same way. He had already reached the corridor, standing at the far end, staring straight over.
Fei Sheng turned and nearly panicked.
Ji Gang strode forward, his expression dark as iron. Fei Sheng hesitated—retreat or not? With Xiao Chiye behind him, he forced himself to step forward, blocking Ji Gang with a strained smile. “Master, did you forget something? You could’ve just sent someone—why come back yourself in such heavy rain?”
Ji Gang couldn’t get around him. Suddenly, he grabbed Fei Sheng by the collar and shoved him aside despite their height difference.
“Master…” Xiao Chiye began.
“I am not your master!” Ji Gang thundered. His hands trembled as he looked at Xiao Chiye’s disheveled state. He staggered back half a step, pointing at him. “How dare you—how dare you!”
He had sensed something wrong since the last whipping, but he hadn’t dared think such thoughts about Shen Zechuan. He had reassured himself again and again—yet now the truth struck him head-on.
That was Shen Zechuan!
Rain soaked Ji Gang’s back. He felt both absurdity and fury. His ears rang as if he had been slapped, and he staggered again. Fei Sheng rushed to steady him, but Ji Gang shook him off and demanded, “You knew? Did you know?!”
Fei Sheng forced a smile. “Well…”
Ji Gang hurled the birdcage to the ground. The bird flapped wildly inside as it rolled down the steps. His hands shook violently, but his strength remained fierce. When he struck, the force of his fist cut the air, leaving a metallic taste of blood in Xiao Chiye’s mouth. Fei Sheng lunged forward, grabbing Ji Gang’s arm. “Master, please calm down!”
Rain battered down loudly.
Xiao Chiye pressed his tongue against the blood in his mouth and said, “If you want to hit me, I’ll take it. If you want me to kneel, I’ll kneel. But if you still intend to arrange a marriage for Lanzhou, that’s something no one can do.”
This year, Ji Gang had been cautious, not daring to press Shen Zechuan too hard, yet still worried. He had even looked into several families in Cizhou and mentioned them in letters. Shen Zechuan never agreed, only said there was already someone considerate by his side. Ji Gang had yet to meet this “considerate person” in Duanzhou and suspected he was being placated—never expecting it to be true.
“You bastard…” Ji Gang broke free, furious. “I’ll beat you to death, you bastard!”