Miao Yang was relieved that he had not been stabbed, but the thought that he could have been left him feeling twisted inside. He tentatively reached out to grab Shi Lan’s arms, his wrists still bearing two red marks. He slowly propped himself up, tilted his head back, and puckered his lips. Finding he could not reach, he placed his hands on the man’s shoulders, hooked his arms around the man’s neck, and puckered his lips. With a loud smack, he kissed him.
Shi Lan looked down with deep, dark eyes, meeting a pair of beaming, smiling eyes. “Hehe, done.” Miao Yang grinned triumphantly, as if looking for praise.
Shi Lan: “…” He looked incredibly stupid, yet his stupidity was not entirely unlikable. He grabbed Miao Yang’s waist, hoisted him up, and ordered in a low voice, “Continue.”
Miao Yang truly had nowhere left to hide, and he could not beat the man. Licking his lips under Shi Lan’s cold gaze, he tilted his head back again, steeled his resolve, closed his eyes, and leaned in. Shi Lan’s expression remained dark, unreadable, while Miao Yang thrust his face forward and his body backward—a contradiction in movement that could not have been more obvious. He was unconsciously pushing away while screaming in his heart, Go to hell!
Shi Lan really gave up. Pressing one leg against the side, he pinched Miao Yang’s face to look at him from both sides. Miao Yang’s mouth was pinched into an O shape: “…”
Just as Shi Lan tossed him onto the bed, Miao Yang, with his powerful sense of retribution, immediately lifted his foot to kick him. He was caught by Shi Lan and jerked violently apart. “Ow! Pain, pain, pain!”
Shi Lan pulled his clothes up, tightened his grip, and neatly bound Miao Yang’s wrists above his head. Miao Yang was terrified and asked indignantly, “Brother Lan, what are you doing?”
Shi Lan stood to the side, arms crossed, looking down at him with a slow, deliberate tone: “What am I doing? Obviously, I am going to have you.”
Miao Yang’s legs trembled. “No, let us talk about this properly. Please stay calm.”
Shi Lan looked at his legs and narrowed his eyes dangerously; he clearly remembered the youth trying to kick him. Feeling the killer intent in his gaze, Miao Yang’s legs shook, looking quite pathetic.
“You are not being obedient, so I must teach you a lesson.” Shi Lan retracted his gaze, sneered, and spoke.
Miao Yang struggled with his bound hands, but realizing he could not break free, he gave up. “Brother Lan, let us discuss this. Just let me go.”
After sitting down next to him, Shi Lan pressed a finger against Miao Yang’s chest like a threat. “I like the feeling of someone being completely at my mercy; it makes me even more excited.”
Miao Yang thought: Ugh, you total pervert.
Suddenly, Shi Lan flipped him over and inspected his entire body. His brow furrowed slightly; there seemed to be nothing unusual. Miao Yang, lying on his stomach, could not see Shi Lan’s expression. In truth, Shi Lan had no urgent desire at that moment. The boy had no marks on him, only a cinnabar mole on his shoulder blade. Shi Lan’s fingertips traced over it.
Miao Yang let out an “Ouch” and began to sob. “Brother Lan, I know I am just a nobody, and whatever you do to me is only right, but a scholar can be killed but not humiliated.”
Shi Lan pressed the hilt of the dagger against his waist. “Fine, I will kill you right now.”
Miao Yang: “Wait.”
He struggled to sit up, looked at the bare-chested man, curved his eyes, leaned over, and rested his face on the man’s shoulder. “Let us talk things over; it was just a joke.” He struggled to free his hands, tossed the fabric from his wrists onto the bed, hooked his arms around Shi Lan’s neck, and patted the man’s broad chest, trying to soothe his anger while gazing at him with smiling eyes. His look was provocative, like a hook. Given his spiked hair and round head, he actually looked quite ridiculous.
Under Shi Lan’s dark, inscrutable gaze, Miao Yang tentatively snatched the dagger from his hand. Shi Lan let it go on purpose. With a bang, Miao Yang fell far away. He finally felt at ease.
He reached out and hugged Shi Lan like a buddy, resting his chin on the man’s broad shoulder. Tilting his head slightly, he let his lips brush against Shi Lan’s ear. “Do not keep threatening to kill me; I am truly afraid. Is that okay?” His voice softened, his breath blowing into the man’s ear, making it seem quite sincere. Yet, where Shi Lan could not see, Miao Yang curled his lip. He was clearly unconvinced.
One must bow one’s head when under another’s roof.
Shi Lan stroked his spine; it was so thin that he could break it with a single punch. Yet, this clever, restless person truly made it hard for him to strike. Shi Lan did not believe for a second that he was a man sent by Young Master Shen.
“Yang Yang…”
That ‘Yang Yang’ made Miao Yang’s toes curl. It was too cheesy. It was as hair-raising as being forced to call him ‘husband’! Ugh, what kind of crazy thoughts are these?
Shi Lan turned his head to stare at Miao Yang’s face. He leaned in, and as he got close, Miao Yang shuddered, but he held back and did not move. He dared not move, terrified the bastard would lose his temper again.
Shi Lan became increasingly bold, his nose brushing against Miao Yang’s face, so close it was stifling. Miao Yang could not help but tilt his head back in repulsion, attempting to dodge. It was futile. Shi Lan’s eyes were calm, flashing with sharpness.
Miao Yang’s Adam’s apple bobbed. The man grabbed his arm with a force that caused Miao Yang a sharp pain. Shi Lan felt his bones. With a sudden burst of strength, he flipped him aside. He looked down at Miao Yang, hair falling over his cheeks, his deep, charming face directly confronting Miao Yang. He saw the panic, the insecurity, and the almost imperceptible repulsion and disgust in the boy’s eyes.
Shi Lan’s face flushed red, looking incredibly sexy, but his brow furrowed in displeasure. “You do not like men at all.”