What on earth is going on? Zhan Yueqing became confused, “You…”
Tan Huairan suddenly asked: “Why didn’t you say your shoes didn’t fit?”
Zhan Yueqing: “…”
Tan Huairan didn’t get his answer for a long time, looked up in surprise, and his heart seemed to be hammered to pieces in an instant.
Zhan Yueqing’s eyes were crimson at the corners, tears hovering, his body trembling slightly, clearly restraining his emotions, not wanting to trouble others.
Yet he didn’t know this made Tan Huairan ache even more.
“…I’ve scared you too many times, is that it.” Tan Huairan pulled him into his arms, “…Scared you so much that you don’t dare to tell me?”
Zhan Yueqing’s build was much smaller than his, easily lifted by Tan Huairan behind the knees, and sat on his lap.
The scent of wood once again enveloped him.
“Speak…” Tan Huairan lifted his chin, forcing Zhan Yueqing to stop looking down, his voice low and light, falling by Zhan Yueqing’s ear.
“…Yueqing?”
Zhan Yueqing suddenly longed to see Tan Huairan’s face, but he couldn’t.
“Tan Huai.” His voice changed, suppressed, “…Why are you hot and cold? You weren’t like this before, you…”
He paused, suddenly realizing that Tan Huai had indeed spoiled him too much in the past.
He couldn’t even stand a harsh word from Tan Huai.
Why so many whys?
“What about me?” Tan Huairan leaned closer, bending over slightly, the two faces instantly mere inches apart—
“Nothing…” Zhan Yueqing’s bit of courage had just emerged and now retreated back into its shell, murmuring, “…nothing.”
Tan Huairan suddenly kissed his thin, bloodless lips.
Zhan Yueqing’s crow-like eyelashes fluttered.
Wet tears stained their cheeks.
His face was indistinguishable between male and female, his figure slender and tight, his long hair scattered messily; Tan Huairan reached out and pressed the back of his neck, as if to soothe, stroking slowly.
The kiss when sober was different from the kiss when drunk. Zhan Yueqing clearly knew who was kissing him; now, not only were his eyes red, but his ears were also red.
He couldn’t see Tan Huairan’s face and didn’t know his movements, but other senses were sharper.
Tan Huairan’s canine teeth nibbled lightly on his lips; his hand pushed aside his soft hair, his calloused fingers stroking the back of his neck.
Their scalding breaths intertwined.
“…Really nothing?” Tan Huairan said in a low voice, “I haven’t done anything wrong?”
Hard to imagine that the sinister Emperor actually had such a gentle and yielding side.
Zhan Yueqing’s mind was even more chaotic, and instinctively, he told the truth, “…I want you to be the same as before. Tan Huai, didn’t I die when I loved you the most?”
Tan Huairan paused.
The next moment, Zhan Yueqing felt this kiss become fierce, as if punishing him, so fierce it nearly suffocated him.
Zhan Yueqing struggled, wanting to push him away, but Tan Huairan suddenly stopped again.
“…?” Why did he stop moving?
Their kiss had been too fierce just now; Zhan Yueqing had been pressed onto the bed, the quilt was in a mess, and the pillow was askew.
Tan Huairan had originally intended to feel for the pillow to cushion Zhan Yueqing’s waist but felt a pile of round…
He frowned and, with the help of the candlelight, saw what was in his hand.
It was a handful of cherries.
So much for the hunger strike.
Tan Huairan gritted his teeth, his voice sinister again, “Zhan. Yue. Qing!”
Zhan Yueqing licked his lips, extremely innocent, “What?”
Why did he yell at him again suddenly?
Tan Huairan held up the few cherries in his hand, stiffly: “You tell me, what is this?”
Zhan Yueqing hadn’t thought about the cherries at all, and didn’t know where to look, with spots drifting in front of his eyes.
“What…?”
Tan Huairan narrowed his eyes and skeptically raised his hand to wave in front of him.
Zhan Yueqing didn’t notice, just staring at a fixed point in the void.
“What’s wrong with your eyes?” Tan Huairan sensed something was wrong instantly, his voice urgent again, “How did this happen? Did someone from Feiyan Pavilion drug you?”
Zhan Yueqing was startled, “No… it, it’ll be fine in a couple of days.”
However, how could Tan Huairan believe that? He rose immediately and called out to the outside—
“Someone!!”
“!” Zhan Yueqing hurriedly wanted to cover his lips, “Really no need… otherwise it won’t heal, and you’ll have to have them buried with me again!”
Tan Huairan: “…”
Zhan Yueqing was too anxious and couldn’t see clearly; he wanted to cover Tan Huairan’s lips but accidentally hit the wrong spot—his nose tip hurt severely—
“…What exactly is going on.” Tan Huairan’s voice was heavy.
Zhan Yueqing sniffled, his voice a bit hoarse, “Don’t worry about it… Why, why did you say it was Feiyan Pavilion who drugged me just now? Did you know long ago that I am a medicinal person of Feiyan Pavilion?”
Tan Huairan paused, suddenly remembered something, and got up to take the bird-patterned bottle over.
“I knew. But I can’t tell you now… Do you… have you felt any problems with the poison patterns on your legs?” Tan Huairan asked in a low voice.
Zhan Yueqing was lost for a moment, remembering that the pattern would sometimes get very hot, making it painful to walk…
He paused, thinking of the kidnapper’s words—
“By the tyrant…”
Zhan Yueqing’s ears turned crimson instantly, and he subconsciously pulled the quilt to cover his face.
Tan Huairan was puzzled why he had stopped talking halfway through and sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at Zhan Yueqing.
Zhan Yueqing’s clothes were already in a mess from the kiss just now, his long hair spread over the whole bed, his pale, androgynous face flushed red.
Tan Huairan’s hand stiffened; he actually didn’t dare to speak.
Zhan Yueqing touched the quilt messily; before touching the quilt, he touched the cherries first.
In a flash of lightning, Zhan Yueqing suddenly realized how Tan Huairan had discovered he was blind just now.
Zhan Yueqing felt guilty instantly, and silently put the cherries back—
Tan Huairan’s breath caught in his throat.
Inside the black quilt, Zhan Yueqing was sunken, his clothes in chaos, the only hint of color being the few red cherries in his hair.
He couldn’t see the color of the cherries, but he could imagine that touch of vibrant color.
“Just burning? Not painful?” Tan Huairan suddenly grabbed his ankle, raised his hand, lowered his eyes, “Let me see.”
Zhan Yueqing was startled, “See what?”
“…See your leg.” Tan Huairan’s tone was calm.
But the veins on his arm betrayed the fact that he was not calm at all.
Zhan Yueqing was confused, “Why look at my leg?”
“A medicinal person from Feiyan Pavilion is raised from birth by being fed special blood and gu insects. Their ‘incense’ is also refined from that kind of gu insect, so they can resonate with it. Only Feiyan Pavilion’s ‘blood paste’ can temporarily suppress the pain.” Tan Huairan explained lightly, but his gaze was fixed on Zhan Yueqing’s ankle, “These poison patterns of yours, have they never hurt?”
Zhan Yueqing paused and was honest, “They have hurt… but I, I thought it was fake at the time.”
After he finished, he thought something was wrong, “How are you so familiar with Feiyan Pavilion?”
Tan Huairan closed his eyes, seeming to recall the past, “The Pavilion Master was once a good friend of mine.”
He never expected such past events; Zhan Yueqing was dumbfounded, “Ah??”
Then why was Feiyan Pavilion standing on the side of the male lead, Zhang Qiu?!
“Ah what.” Tan Huairan frowned, “Pull up your trousers.”
Zhan Yueqing bent his legs obediently, but the winter robes were thick; no matter how he pulled them, he could only pull them halfway…
But the poison patterns spread to the top of his thigh.
Zhan Yueqing sighed and suddenly said: “You strip it.”
Tan Huairan’s breath grew heavy instantly.
Zhan Yueqing was full of thoughts about Feiyan Pavilion and the male lead Zhang Qiu, thinking about everything that had happened in these two days, not noticing at all what tiger-wolf words he had just said.
Plus, he couldn’t see Tan Huairan’s gaze, so he became even more unscrupulous.
“…Do you know what you are saying?” Tan Huairan asked.
Zhan Yueqing frowned slightly, “I know. I can’t see, can I? You strip it, and I can’t see how to apply it, so you have to apply it.”
This upright tone made it look as if Tan Huairan were the one with a guilty conscience.
“The poison patterns and the blood paste are mutually poisonous; both are toxic,” Tan Huairan said, “I can’t apply it with my hands.”
Zhan Yueqing was stunned, “Then what do I do?”
Tan Huairan thought about it—the current him didn’t know that half a quarter of an hour later, he would regret this decision to his core.
“Use a calligraphy brush.”
Zhan Yueqing thought that was fine, “Good. You strip it.”
Tan Huairan rose, took a clean, snow-white sheep-hair brush from the desk, and walked back, unfastening Zhan Yueqing’s belt with ease.
The moment his hand touched the belt, Zhan Yueqing stiffened, finally realizing belatedly that something was wrong.
…Use a calligraphy brush to paint his leg?
“Wait…”
The sound of rustling clothing rang out; Zhan Yueqing’s leg felt cool, and his white, jade-like fingers suddenly gripped the bed tightly.
He couldn’t see, but he felt Tan Huairan’s palm.
That hand grasped his ankle, the calluses on the fingertips causing an odd itch on his leg.
Zhan Yueqing’s ears exploded red instantly.
He could only be thankful that ancients still wore underpants.
“…Don’t move.” Tan Huairan’s voice sounded much hoarser.
With Tan Huairan grasping him in his mind, Zhan Yueqing’s waist went soft, finally discovering this was a “torture.”
Little did he know, Tan Huairan felt the same.
Zhan Yueqing only had poison patterns on his left leg. The patterns spread, and his skin was white, making it look extraordinarily… beautiful.
Tan Huairan instinctively remembered how this pair of legs had clamped around him in the modern era, his breath changing again.
Memories that had been nearly forgotten for so many years of transmigration came rushing back—
He remembered he would hold Zhan Yueqing, letting this beautiful fool look at his flushed face in the mirror.
And taking photos.
Not that kind of naked photo; of course he knew those couldn’t be taken; Zhan Yueqing was a person, not his property.
It was ordinary photos of Zhan Yueqing voluntarily cuddling in his arms, wearing a boyfriend’s shirt, along with some daily kisses, all mixed together.
He treasured those photos.
During the five years Zhan Yueqing was in the Tan family, those photos had pulled him back to the human world from the dark prison countless times.
Now…
Tan Huairan let out a heavy breath, picked up the calligraphy brush, dipped it into the blood-colored liquid in the bottle, and painted it onto Zhan Yueqing’s leg.
The ice-cold liquid brushed over his lower leg; the sensation was too strange. Zhan Yueqing instantly gripped the bed sheet, trying hard to divert his attention.
But his eyes were blind; no matter how he diverted, he couldn’t go anywhere, and all the senses of his whole body seemed to surge onto that calligraphy brush.
The furry tip of the brush swept over his lower leg, bringing about an odd sensation.
Tan Huairan bit his teeth, his forehead seeping with thin, restrained sweat.
Zhan Yueqing wasn’t doing much better; a moan couldn’t help but escape his throat.
The calligraphy brush instantly went crooked.
Tan Huairan hurriedly wiped some off with a handkerchief.
This stuff was toxic if it wasn’t on the poison patterns.
“…What’s wrong?” Zhan Yueqing didn’t notice, just feeling his legs being wiped.
Tan Huairan looked at his distracted pupils; the self-control he had been proud of in the past suddenly collapsed a bit, gradually cracking open and shattering completely.
“…Don’t move.” Tan Huairan suppressed his voice, “If you don’t want to be fucked, don’t move.”
Clearly, he had been scared by his words again; Zhan Yueqing subconsciously shrunk his leg, but was suddenly grabbed by the ankle.
“…Urgh!”
He accidentally kicked Tan Huairan’s face, his toes brushing against Tan Huairan’s ear.
Tan Huairan closed his eyes, gritting his teeth: “I. Let. You. Don’t. Move…”
On his strong arms, veins bulged even more.
Zhan Yueqing subconsciously went to pull the pillow to cover his face—he knew his face must be scarlet now.
“Hungry?” Tan Huairan thought he was hungry, “Want to eat something?”
He frowned and picked up a cherry, stuffing it into Zhan Yueqing’s mouth.
Zhan Yueqing paused, choked, and his eyes grew redder.
Tan Huairan: “…”
He thought of something bad.
“Childhood sweethearts” (green plum and bamboo horse), growing up together—it was really shameful.
Zhan Yueqing’s current body was too slender; Tan Huairan recited the Saint’s scriptures twice to suppress the bizarre thoughts and continued to earnestly paint the poison patterns.
Zhan Yueqing didn’t know he was already restraining himself; his toes curled again, and his sensitive lower leg twitched.
The sweat on Tan Huairan’s forehead instantly fell.
The calligraphy brush went crooked again.