Xie Jinning’s pupils trembled. Was he not obedient? Wearing old clothes, sleeping on an old bed, getting beaten, having a fever, being pecked by chickens, and almost falling off a wall… In the end, he decided to stay in this barren, entertainment-less small village, voluntarily going to the fields to help with work.
No matter how he convinced himself to accept it, he couldn’t ignore the physical discomfort: the small red rashes on his back, the slight pain from the soil under his feet, the rusty smell on his palms. Xie Jinning endured all these discomforts without saying a word. Yet Yan Yi said… he was not obedient. Not obedient.
Xie Jinning had never been told that before.
He pressed his lips tightly, glaring coldly at Yan Yi, but in the next moment, tears rolled down from his reddened eyes. The tears reflected a fine, needle-like sparkle, causing Yan Yi’s brows to twitch violently, momentarily stunned and visibly flustered.
“Wha-what’s wrong?”
Xie Jinning remained silent, his eyelashes fluttering as more tears fell. He cried quietly, biting his lower lip in restraint, with only a suppressed and trembling breath. His cheeks, kissed by sunlight, were wet like a peach soaked in water.
Xie Jinning lowered his eyes, the tears on his long lashes trembling before finally falling into Yan Yi’s palm. Plop. Ripples spread.
Yan Yi hurriedly took the sickle from Xie Jinning’s hand. “Are you feeling unwell somewhere? Does your hand hurt, or is it somewhere else? Are you dizzy?”
Xie Jinning still ignored him, silently turning his back, swallowing a slight sob, his thin back wrapped in plain white trembling lightly.
After quickly cutting half a stick of incense’s worth of wheat, the man, who was only slightly out of breath, was now sweating anxiously. He asked several times, but his voice seemed to be blocked by thick fog, unable to get any response.
Yan Yi was anxious and had to walk up to him. Before he could speak, the boy turned away again, making it clear that he either couldn’t hear or simply didn’t want to pay attention to him.
“A-Ning, can you talk to me?”
Xie Jinning turned again, and Yan Yi followed, persistently trying to face him. After several attempts, he finally forced the quietly sobbing person to speak.
“I-I just wanted to help, why did you say that about me?”
Xie Jinning’s head was spinning, unable to suppress his grievance. He sniffed, “You’re the one who’s not obedient, go away, I hate you.”
So that’s how it was. He misspoke again.
“I said it wrong.”
Regret surged in his eyes, and Yan Yi sincerely explained, “What I meant was, before coming here, you promised Uncle Xie you’d just watch from the side, but you secretly went to the fields. Uncle Xie would worry if he couldn’t find you.”
I would too.
“The sickle is heavy, and if you’re not careful, you could hurt yourself. I know you’re kind-hearted and don’t want to see Uncle Xie working alone, but if you want to help, why not call me first and let me teach you some time-saving techniques, okay?”
Don’t get hurt.
His words were quite comforting, even with a bit of praise, making Xie Jinning dizzy, as if the tears were pushed back. He opened his misty eyes, a flash of red between his slightly parted lips, looking dazed for a few seconds before nodding.
“Okay.”
Xie Jinning pinched the corner of his clothes, and after the tide of emotions subsided, he was left with embarrassment and annoyance. He had just said that morning that he wouldn’t cry in front of Yan Yi again, so how did he end up breaking down over a single sentence?
It’s all Yan Yi’s fault!
Yan Yi seized the opportunity, speaking softly, “I expressed myself poorly earlier.”
“A-Ning, don’t hate me.”
He grasped Xie Jinning’s wrist through his sleeve, gently rubbing with his thumb. The fabric was still a bit rough; once they finished harvesting the wheat, he needed to go to town.
He tapped it twice against his chest. Thump, thump.
Xie Jinning’s hand was numbed by the impact of his firm muscles, as if something else was knocking through the fabric.
“Alright.” He blinked awkwardly, “I’ll forgive you this time.”
The clumped, damp lashes were gently wiped, becoming dry and distinct again, with only a hint of moisture remaining at the corners of his eyes.
Yan Yi tore a strip of cloth from the hem of his shirt, carefully wrapping it around the handle of the sickle, then bent down to grab the wheat about a foot from the root.
“Cut here.”
The sickle made a light cut about five inches from the root, and the wheat fell in response. He demonstrated twice more, ensuring Xie Jinning understood before carefully handing the sickle over.
Xie Jinning tried it, finding it indeed more effortless than before, and he could cut more wheat at once, his enthusiasm immediately rising.
“I got it!”
He pushed Yan Yi’s arm away, not even looking up. “You go cut your own, don’t worry about me.”
Really… use and discard.
Yan Yi shook his head helplessly, finding a spot where he could keep an eye on Xie Jinning and continued harvesting. Soon, a blank space was cleared around him, with wheat piled into a thick little mountain.
Xie Jinning gripped the sickle tightly. The handle wrapped in cloth was no longer so hard and uncomfortable, and with the increased contact area, he could hold it more firmly.
But the weight of the sickle remained, and after a short while, Xie Jinning’s wrist was sore and swollen, forcing him to stop and rest, shaking and rubbing before continuing.
“Are you okay?” a voice called from not far away.
The sun was getting hotter, and Xie Jinning was sweating profusely, his mouth dry, too lazy to respond, just waving his hand to indicate he was fine.
His repeatedly bending and straightening back began to protest, not just his palms, but even his fingertips and wrists bore small red marks, and his calves were trembling with soreness.
Xie Jinning forced himself to cut two more handfuls, but he was truly exhausted, so he exhaled a breath of stale air and slowly walked back.
“Ugh.”
Wiping his sweat, he accidentally tripped over a stone, exclaiming as he was about to fall forward. Fortunately, he was caught by the waist and pulled back, avoiding the disaster of face-planting into the ground.
His back collided heavily with the man’s chest, hard and radiating heat. Still dizzy and weightless, Xie Jinning shivered from the warmth, the sickle slipping from his hand and hitting the ground with a dull thud.
He couldn’t stand, his legs like noodles, sliding down uncontrollably, suddenly lifted into the air. Yan Yi held him by the ribs, lifting him like a child.
“Yan Yi—”
The feeling of being suspended was uncomfortable. Xie Jinning came to his senses, not daring to struggle too hard, his heels kicking against the man’s taut calf, but the man remained unmoved, his steps unbroken.
Xie Jinning turned his head with difficulty to look back. His nose itched slightly, and what met his eyes was a large expanse of honey-colored skin, thin lips pressed together, and a chin with a short stubble.
He hadn’t noticed before that he had so much stubble.
Remembering how he used to stare intently into the bronze mirror, trying to find a single whisker to represent his masculinity, only to be disappointed every time, Xie Jinning momentarily forgot to speak.
His breath brushed against the back of his neck, and the lips in his view pressed even tighter, forming a sharp and dangerous line.
Xie Jinning shivered, his body hair standing on end, then melted by the man’s body heat. He turned his head, avoiding the scorching breath, looking up along Yan Yi’s high nose, but only landing on his eyes, not daring to meet the dark, inky depths.
“Put me down, I can walk by myself.”
The boy was sweating, the fragrance more intense, blending into his blood with each breath. His upturned, pink-white face, eyes misty with moisture, lips parting and closing, unconsciously licking due to dryness, leaving a faint sheen.
Crazy.
A thunderous roar in his mind, as if struck by lightning, Yan Yi’s pupils contracted, using all his willpower to maintain a normal expression. How could he think that the boy’s demeanor was no different from the dream where he was dazed from a collision, obediently hugging his neck for a kiss?
Truly crazy.
Yan Yi turned a deaf ear, carrying him to the field ridge before letting him stand on his own. His arm still loosely encircled Xie Jinning’s slender waist, ensuring he was steady before saying, “Wait for me.”
He hurriedly strode away, as if being chased, in a rush.
“Hey?”
Xie Jinning clenched his fist, ready to scold Yan Yi for his bad habit of picking people up without warning when he returned, but seeing what was in his hand, he gave up.
A small wooden stool and a cushion.
His palm relaxed, and Xie Jinning moved down, patting the dust off his clothes, his gaze wandering. Strange, why did he always get angry with Yan Yi? Clearly, he’s been quite nice to him lately. Wouldn’t this make him seem like he has a strange temper…
Before coming, Yan Yi had been keeping an eye on Xie Jinning with his peripheral vision, seeing him stop and then walking towards him, managing to catch him before he fell. At that time, Xie Jinning still held the sickle, and if he hadn’t arrived in time, what if the sickle fell under him when he tripped?
His skin was so tender, even a slight rub would leave a mark, and a scar would be a minor issue. If it accidentally pierced a blood vessel…
The more he thought about it, the more fearful he became, the heat transferring to his heart and lungs, like a raging fire burning him up.
“You—”
But when Xie Jinning looked up and met his gaze, the slight unease in those watery eyes extinguished the fire.
Sweat beaded on his forehead from the straw hat, trickling down his flushed cheeks, leaving a winding trail. The slightly upturned, delicate nose also glistened with sweat, like dew on a morning flower bud.
A few strands of hair clung to his neck, the stark contrast of black and white like ink on flawless snow, a few strokes enough to sketch a harmonious landscape painting. His sweaty little face wasn’t messy, but pure like a lotus emerging from clear water.
Truly… impossible to stay angry.
Any reproach swallowed, Yan Yi untied the water pouch from his waist. “Have some water first.”
Xie Jinning was extremely thirsty, taking it without caring about cleanliness, tilting his head to drink. The coolness soothed his parched throat, and he sighed contentedly, his eyes squinting with satisfaction.
He wiped his lips, wanting to keep the water pouch, but after a moment’s thought, handed it back. “It’s so hot, you should drink some too.”
Yan Yi tied it back to his waist. “A-Ning, it’s nice and shady here, you should rest well.”
Xie Jinning was about to agree, but a glance at the fields they had cut stopped him. Yan Yi’s wheat stubble was neatly arranged, having cut six parts of the field without showing any fatigue, even lifting him earlier without a hint of strain. Yet he had barely cut one part and was exhausted.
No way, a man can’t admit defeat!
“No, I can still work.”
Xie Jinning’s competitive spirit was ignited, feeling less breathless. Just as he was about to stand, his calf cramped, and he sat back down before even lifting his butt. This time, his straw hat tilted again.
Yan Yi adjusted it once more, gently tapping the brim. “Be careful.”
He stood below the field ridge, the height difference allowing the seated Xie Jinning to face his upper body directly. Yan Yi had taken off his outer shirt, leaving only a single layer, stretched tight over his well-defined muscles, his abs faintly visible like undulating mountains, firmly capturing Xie Jinning’s gaze.
Tall and strong, he was like a hero or general from the storybooks Xie Jinning had read, the kind of figure he aspired to be, but…
Watching with envy, Xie Jinning lowered his head, pinching his thin arms and flat, slightly soft belly, suddenly deflated, unable to resist giving him a sideways glance.
“Just because you cut more doesn’t mean you’re great, not letting others cut, so domineering.”
A mix of resentment and sarcasm.
“?”
Yan Yi was stunned. Still not used to his more changeable temperament than the weather, racking his brain to figure out what had upset him this time, but couldn’t come up with anything.
Noticing the wheat stuck to his pants, inspiration struck. “A-Ning, you’ve only just started learning and can already do this well, it’s impressive.”
Impressive? Him?
Xie Jinning secretly puffed out his chest, staring at him without blinking. “Really?”
“Of course.” Yan Yi said, “Last year when I first started, I couldn’t cut as much as you can now.”
The man’s expression was sincere, his words confident, not seeming like a bluff.
Xie Jinning’s mind was filled with the words “he’s better than Yan Yi,” his lips curling up unconsciously, humming proudly.
Wanting to poke his face.
His palm twitched slightly, then restrainedly withdrew. Yan Yi never thought he’d one day tell a lie without blinking.
“But this bit of land, Uncle Xie and I can handle it.” He said lightly, “While the sun isn’t too harsh, we should finish early and head home.”
Hearing this, Xie Jinning, who had long wanted to go home and lie down, readily agreed, “Reluctantly” nodding. “Alright then.”
Seeing Yan Yi unmoved, he waved him off. “Go on, what are you standing there for?”
…
Until he walked far enough, ensuring the boy couldn’t see what he was doing, Yan Yi picked up the water pouch, staring at the moist spout that had been touched by soft lips, his gaze darkening again.
His whole body clamored, so thirsty.
In a moment of heat, he slowly raised his hand, pressing his lips against it.
Sweet.