He Yanzhou let out a soft sigh and scooped the fainted Qiao Yan into his arms.
Qiao Yan leaned limply against He Yanzhou, an unnatural flush coating his face. His eyes were tightly shut, his brows knitted in a deep frown. He Yanzhou reached out to check the temperature of his forehead; it was indeed rather high, likely a low-grade fever brought on by his injuries.
“What a hassle.”
He Yanzhou muttered under his breath, bending down to lift the boy up. Qiao Yan was incredibly light, whimpering softly as he curled up in his embrace, his burning forehead unconsciously rubbing against He Yanzhou’s shoulder.
He Yanzhou laid him back down on the bed, went to the bathroom to soak a towel, and placed it across Qiao Yan’s forehead. The icy shock made Qiao Yan shiver. He opened his eyes fuzzily, and upon seeing clearly who it was, he closed them again in sheer grievance, as if He Yanzhou were some repulsive eyesore.
Left with no choice, He Yanzhou went to the medicine bag and popped out a fever-reducing tablet. He propped Qiao Yan up into a sitting position. Qiao Yan was completely limp and devoid of strength, entirely supported by He Yanzhou’s arm.
He Yanzhou said, “Open up.”
Qiao Yan was somewhat dazed from the fever, but he still obediently parted his lips. He Yanzhou slipped the tablet inside and fed him a sip of water.
Qiao Yan knitted his brows as he swallowed the pill, his entire face scrunching up from the bitterness. “Bitter…”
He Yanzhou ignored him and laid his body flat again.
When Qiao Yan had been attempting to apply the medicine himself earlier, He Yanzhou had noticed that the boy had squeezed ointment all over his hands, with probably very little actually reaching the wounds.
He hitched up the hem of the pajamas, revealing a section of the waist and abdomen. He Yanzhou’s gaze paused.
The bruising across Qiao Yan’s torso was a shocking sight, and the ointment was splotched here and there, completely missing the actual injuries and left entirely unrubbed—some portions had already dried into white flakes.
Truly a dummy, can’t even apply ointment right.
He Yanzhou picked up the tube and squeezed a fresh dollop onto his slightly cool fingertips. As the chilly cream touched the skin, Qiao Yan reflexively flinched, the soft flesh of his lower abdomen tensing slightly into smooth, sleek lines.
Qiao Yan’s waist was incredibly slender, but it wasn’t sickly thin; rather, it possessed the distinct, clean-cut bone structure unique to youths. His skin was so delicate that his pores were practically invisible, currently flushed with a faint pink hue due to the fever and pain.
He Yanzhou’s fingertips hesitated for a moment before easing his strength. He didn’t dare press too hard, lest Qiao Yan start whimpering and whining again. He could only use the pads of his fingers to gently rub in circular motions, massaging the ointment until it dissolved. The cool cream grew warm under his friction, slowly absorbing into Qiao Yan’s skin.
In his deep slumber, Qiao Yan seemed to grow more comfortable. His tense body gradually relaxed, and his breathing lengthened into a steady rhythm.
By the time all the bruises were coated in ointment, Qiao Yan’s fair midriff gleamed with a translucent, milky radiance under the dim lighting of the guest room. The purple-and-blue contusions no longer looked quite as jarring; instead, they lent him a fragile air that practically cried out for careful tending.
Cutting off his own train of thought, He Yanzhou pulled Qiao Yan’s clothes back down, snugly covering his lower abdomen, and tucked the edges of the blanket securely around him to keep him from catching a chill.
Before leaving, He Yanzhou stood by the bedside watching him for a few seconds. The flush on Qiao Yan’s face seemed to have receded slightly, but even in his dreams, his brows were faintly pinched as if he were still upset about something.
Fragile, troublesome, and stupid.
He Yanzhou mentally compiled a whole list of flaws for Qiao Yan before finally shutting the door behind him.
The next morning, Qiao Yan was woken up by hunger.
The sunlight warmed his entire body through and through. He gave a massive stretch, only to instantly freeze up. It still hurt, but compared to the bone-shattering agony of last night, it was already significantly better.
Young people truly possessed incredible recovery rates.
He pressed his hand against his forehead to check his temperature; the fever seemed to have broken.
Qiao Yan scrambled out of bed and spent a long time staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The stains from the iodophor had faded considerably, and the bruises weren’t quite as deep.
Young Master Qiao is alive and kicking again!
Bwahaha-haha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!!
Qiao Yan stepped out of the room in high spirits, only to find He Yanzhou already fully dressed and preparing to head out.
“He Yanzhou,” Qiao Yan called out to him, announcing refreshingly, “I’m much better now, so I’m heading back to my dorm, okay?”
Hearing this, He Yanzhou turned back to look Qiao Yan up and down. Although the youth still bore traces of wounds on his face, his mental state was indeed much improved, his eyes bright and sparkling.
“Mm.”
He Yanzhou gave a brief nod, offering nothing more before turning on his heel and leaving.
Old man, so cold.
Just as Qiao Yan stuffed the medicine bag into his backpack, a familiar sensation brushed against his ankle. Pipi had trotted over out of nowhere and was repeatedly nudging his shin with its head.
“Hey there, fat Pipi,” Qiao Yan squatted down, enduring the twinge of pain to rub the cat’s head. “I’m leaving now. Be a good boy, okay?”
Pipi tilted its head up to look at him, its round amber eyes blinking as it let out another “meow.” Its tail gently curled around Qiao Yan’s wrist, as if reluctant to let him go.
“Alright, alright,” Qiao Yan’s heart melted from its nuzzling, and he scratched its furry chin. “I’ll come visit you again next time, okay?”
Only then did Pipi uncurl its tail, though it still followed him step-for-step right to the front door.
While Qiao Yan was changing his shoes, it sat right beside the shoe cabinet, staring at him without blinking once.
“I’m really leaving now.” Qiao Yan slung his backpack over his shoulders and waved at it.
Pipi stood up, walked to the edge of the door, and let out a soft, high-pitched plea: “Meow-uuu~”
The sound was incredibly soft, carrying a hint of a plea for him to stay. Qiao Yan’s heart nearly softened into staying a bit longer, but at the thought of this being He Yanzhou’s house, he steeled his heart.
“Bye-bye!” He pulled the door open and swiftly slipped out.
Returning to his long-absent dorm room, Qiao Yan threw himself onto his bed and let out a comfortable sigh.
No matter how luxurious a gold or silver nest is, it still can’t beat one’s own doghouse!
Although He Yanzhou’s place was incredibly luxurious, it was simply far too minimalist—everything in sight was a plain, solid color, and it was awfully hollow, making one feel a bit spooked out.
Qiao Yan quietly rested in his dorm for a few days. The blue and purple marks on his skin faded quite a bit, leaving behind only some light yellowish prints.
He ate and slept day in and day out, so bored that he felt like he was about to sprout mushrooms.
That day, as he lay paralyzed on his bed scrolling through his phone, a major realization suddenly hit him—he hadn’t logged onto his “Little Peach Bites Super Painfully” account for several days!
Was the chat streak with Yan about to die?!
How could he let that happen! Communication with his sugar daddy could absolutely not be cut off!
Little Peach Bites Super Painfully: daddy!!! Did you miss Little Peach-peach~
Little Peach Bites Super Painfully: (Cat rushing over violently.jpg)
The opposite side replied very quickly.
Yan: No.
Little Peach Bites Super Painfully: daddy… QAQ I’ve been recovering from injuries lately. After finishing our video call, I ended up taking a tumble QAQ, it really, really hurt.
Little Peach Bites Super Painfully: Need daddy to blow on it to make it better.
After sending that, Qiao Yan lifted a corner of his shirt hem and took a photo for He Yanzhou showing a subtle glimpse of his bruised injury.
He didn’t make it look overly explicit like before; he merely pinched one side of the soft, pure-white fabric with his fingers, letting the cloth trace suggestively over the skin of his waist.
The edges of the bruising were half-hidden under the fabric’s cover—no longer a jarring, ugly purple, but a mark carrying an air of fragility, as if desperately waiting for someone to take good care of it and protect it.
Perfect!
Qiao Yan raised his phone and snapped a casual shot. He didn’t intentionally edit the image, nor did he apply any filters; even his focus was completely careless, aiming precisely for that casual, realistic vibe.
Little Peach Bites Super Painfully: QAQ It’s true, Little Peach hurts so much.
Little Peach Bites Super Painfully: (Cat wiping tears.jpg)
Yan: Rest well.
Yan: Did you apply medicine?
Little Peach Bites Super Painfully: Applied it, applied it! It’s almost all better now (￣▽￣)／
Little Peach Bites Super Painfully: What has daddy been busy with lately~ Did you miss Little Peach-peach QAQ
Yan: Busy.
Little Peach Bites Super Painfully: That means you were missing Little Peach-peach! Little Peach-peach is so touched, even the wound doesn’t hurt anymore.
Little Peach Bites Super Painfully: (Little cat nuzzling.jpg)
Yan: Recover well. Remember to look where you’re walking in the future.
Yan: I still have things to attend to here. Going offline.
Oh ho, He Yanzhou actually knew how to report before logging off now. That was a massive step forward!
Little Peach Bites Super Painfully: Goodbye daddy, Little Peach-peach will think of you constantly!!
Little Peach Bites Super Painfully: (Cat looking anxiously into the distance.jpg)
Yan: Mm.
Qiao Yan rolled over on the bed, accidentally aggravating his wound, and let out another painful “hiss.”
Suddenly, a WeChat message popped up.
StompStompStomp: Yanyan, are you alright now? My brother said you went back to your dorm?
QY: I’ve been fine for ages.
QY: Last time I asked you to look into the background of those three thugs, did you find anything??
StompStompStomp: I asked my brother to look into it. I heard from him that he already handled them along the way.
QY: ……
QY: Along the way? Handled?
QY: So which total idiot did it?
StompStompStomp: Cen Zihao. My brother hired people to beat those three thugs into cripples first, then gave his family a harsh warning. He’s been beaten to death by his family and doesn’t even dare step out the front door lately.
QY: Since when was He Yanzhou this good-hearted?
StompStompStomp: Probably because the person Cen Zihao targeted has a connection to me.
QY: I didn’t expect you to have such massive face with him.
StompStompStomp: Are you joking? I’m his sister.
And here I thought the old man was truly a paragon of impartial justice, who knew he played dirty too—striking once and directly crippling the guys.
But it was certainly satisfying.
Qiao Yan shook his head, deciding not to dwell on it further. He happily collapsed onto his bed, resolving to find some light, pleasant activity to celebrate the successful crippling of the three thugs.
He logged into his favorite town-building game, Dreamy Forest Whispers, preparing to harvest his crops and play with his pets. He had been playing this game for nearly half a year, pouring boundless blood and sweat into it.
The loading screen displayed a familiar starry-sky transition animation accompanied by soft music-box tunes, making Qiao Yan’s mood soar even higher.
As the screen brightened, the first thing to greet his eyes should have been his meticulously arranged Starry Entryway Path, flanked on both sides by fluorescent grass that spat out tiny specks of light.
At the end of the path was his Rainbow Carousel, which he had redeemed using limited-edition materials he’d scrimped for a long time; the little unicorn on the carousel would even tilt its neck and emit a cute “neighing” sound right on the hour.
Further inside was his proudest creation, the Cloud Cake House. It featured a pastel-blue roof, cream-like walls, windows made of candy, and a cotton-candy windmill that spun endlessly by the door.
For the sake of this homestead, he had stayed up late looking up guides, camped out to snatch limited decorations, and even swallowed his pride to act spoiled with Yan in exchange for allowance to buy material packs.
Every blade of grass and every tree here was his life’s blood—his cyber Shangri-La.
However—
The very next second after the loading completed, the smile on the corners of Qiao Yan’s lips froze completely.
He blinked, then rubbed his eyes.
On the screen, his once-exquisite and beautiful dream manor—which had cost him countless amounts of effort and pocket money to build—was currently an absolute wreck, looking as though it had been trampled by Godzilla.
The garden was trampled, the fences had collapsed, a massive hole was punched through the cottage, and even his glowing little fairy pet was hiding in a corner in a withered state, a crying emoji representing “injured” hovering over its head.
Qiao Yan manipulated his character, standing blankly before the ruins. Above the head of his in-game avatar, “Meow-Meow Architect,” bubbles of shock and sadness popped up one after another.
He tapped open his mailbox, and sure enough, it was crammed with system notifications:
Warning: Your homestead has been maliciously vandalized by another player!
Notice: A massive number of facilities have been detected as destroyed. Would you like to use the “Repair Pixie” for a quick restoration? (Requires 5,000 Gold Coins)
……
……
He slid his finger all the way to the end of the notice board, where a prompt was written clearly in bold:
Your homestead was maliciously attacked by [Mighty Brother Light], suffering severe losses. Restoration requires a vast amount of materials and time.
Qiao Yan stared fixedly at that ID—[Mighty Brother Light]—and then looked back at his ruined estate, falling completely silent for a full ten seconds.
Then, he slammed his phone hard into his pillow.
“Cen—Zi—Hao—!!!