With intense palpitations, a pain like ten thousand ants gnawing arose at his heart, immediately spreading throughout his body. His hands and feet began to involuntarily tremble, muscles spasming, his body falling forward, quickly caught by Fu Shen.
He felt the person in his arms trembling continuously and asked softly: “How do you feel now?”
Yan Xiaohan clung to him like a lifeline, teeth chattering, mumbling: “…Cold.”
Fu Shen wrapped one arm around him, his other hand provocatively wandering over his body, fingertips skimming lightly across sensitive areas like the nape of the neck and waist, slipping under his clothing, lingering on the cool, dry skin. Delicate kisses fell on Yan Xiaohan’s neck and ear root.
He seemed to comfort, yet also to seduce, whispering in a passionate, hoarse voice by his ear: “It’s okay, I’ll make you warm soon.”
The man ignited a small flame at his dantian, growing increasingly intense, yet unwilling to immediately submit. Those hands, callused but extraordinarily nimble, brushed across several acupoints on his body, massaging and kneading with moderate pressure, loosening his stiff muscles like a massage.
A soothing comfort was like a few drops of sweet rain falling in an overwhelming scorching drought, insufficient to extinguish the pain but allowing him a momentary reprieve.
Yan Xiaohan did not respond, as if lost in thought. Fu Shen stretched out his hand and patted him on the back: “Meng Gui?” “Hm?” He seemed to be suddenly pulled out of a certain scene, his gaze focusing from a daze to a thin line: “What did you say?” Fu Shen stared at him intently, noticing something was wrong with Yan Xiaohan, and reached out to grab his wrist pulse: “What’s wrong?” Yan Xiaohan, for some reason, actually dodged. Fu Shen was used to his cooperation, missing the grab: “Why are you dodging? Stretch out your hand for me to see.”
” Yan Xiaohan’s hand hidden in his sleeve was trembling uncontrollably, and he tried to suppress it: “…It’s nothing.” ”Nothing my foot,” Fu Shen said coldly, “You’re shaking like a sieve, and still lying to my face?” He silently repeated in his heart “He’s sick, don’t take it to heart”, suppressing his anger: “Is the drug addiction acting up again?” Yan Xiaohan’s face turned pale, and he did not deny it. Fu Shen looked around, seeing the entire forest quiet with only wind and bird calls, couldn’t help but sigh: “You really know how to pick a place…” Yan Xiaohan could not imagine someone like Fu Shen would compromise in this wilderness, and hearing the implication in his words, hurriedly said: “No… don’t do anything rash.” Fu Shen countered: “Can you hold on until we return to the county town?” Perhaps due to drug withdrawal, or perhaps from accumulated guilt and self-blame, Yan Xiaohan’s thoughts wandered, and he retreated slightly, saying despondently: “Jing Yuan, you don’t have to force yourself…” That retreating motion was more hurtful than any words, almost making Fu Shen laugh in anger, repeating: “‘Force myself’?” ”Fine, you’re right,” he pointed at Yan Xiaohan, “I find every possible way to treat you, and you find every possible way to provoke me, is that it? “
” Fu Shen paced back and forth on the forest path, restraining himself multiple times, finally unable to hold back, roaring with blazing anger: “Yan Meng Gui, I want to cherish you like a precious treasure, and in your heart, I’m just ‘forcing myself’? Has your conscience been eaten by a dog?!” As someone who came from the battlefield, when truly angry, his voice seemed to contain blood and cold light, with an overwhelming momentum. Yet Yan Xiaohan, after being scolded head-on, felt a slightly morbid sense of relief. ”I’ve wronged him,” he thought to himself. He knew Fu Shen loved him, but daily indulgence was one thing, and a young master unused to hardship lowering himself was another. “Birds of the same forest fly separately in great disaster” – this saying wasn’t wrong. If one person has fallen into an abyss, must they drag another down to prove their deep love? After Fu Shen’s outburst, his anger remained, but his mind had calmed. Yan Xiaohan’s gaze was ethereal and uncertain, seeming both sad and joyful. Fu Shen knew he was somewhat affected by the drugs, and when his mood was low, feelings of disgust would grow like poisonous weeds. Fu Shen not only had to satisfy his physical desires but also constantly pay attention to his emotional changes. The only thing he didn’t understand was why Yan Xiaohan always felt he was a burden. As he thought this, he also asked it out loud. Yan Xiaohan, seemingly unprepared for such frankness, paused before saying: “I… “
became poisoned due to my own carelessness, yet causing you to exhaust yourself. Your leg injury is not yet healed, and you should have been resting in Beijing, but you travel everywhere for me… I have not been able to take care of you, and instead repeatedly become your burden.”
Fu Shen responded: “According to your logic, no one owes anyone anything. So why should you take care of me?”
“Lord Yan, do you think I married you for your vast wealth, or for your third-rank official position?” he said with a cold laugh. “Looking at it this way, I, with no official position and disabled, should be your burden. What do you say?”
Yan Xiaohan could not bear hearing the word “disabled” from his mouth, saying gravely: “Don’t talk nonsense.”
Like a bucket of water thrown on a fire, Fu Shen’s cold laugh froze on his face. He wanted to argue with Yan Xiaohan, but restrained himself: “Forget it… stop talking nonsense and deal with your drug withdrawal first.”
Yan Xiaohan maintained his stubborn attitude: “It’s fine, I’ll endure it and it’ll pass. This place is not suitable.”
Fu Shen suddenly said: “Meng Gui, do you remember what you were doing when I found you after you were drugged that day?”
For some reason, his tone softened, even becoming gentle.
Yan Xiaohan frowned and thought for a moment, unable to recall, and shook his head. “I remember. Every time I close my eyes, that scene is before me, and I’ll probably never forget it in my lifetime,” Fu Shen lowered his eyelids. “At that time, I was still ‘Ren Miao’, and whenever I approached you, you would take a short knife and stab yourself.”
Yan Xiaohan looked into his eyes, and the answer was almost self-evident – that knife would have been stabbed directly. Fu Shen walked to his front, raised his hand to gently wipe his face, as if wiping away a non-existent tear: “Do you think I traveled thousands of miles to get here for someone else? I’ve said this until my lips are calloused, Meng Gui. I love you too much to ever consider you a burden.”
“If you really need a reason,” his tone was clearly teasing, but his attitude was extremely serious, “You remained chaste for me, so I’ll let you do whatever you want, give you anything you want. Understand?”
After encountering the autumn night white, Yan Xiaohang always felt that a large hole had been opened in his heart, leading directly to the abyss, where all his delusions, obsessions, and desires resided, never knowing satisfaction. When he was sober, he could restrain himself, but when not, he couldn’t distinguish whether it was the loss of control brought by drugs or his own ugly true nature.
Now, Fu Shenyi resolutely jumped into the abyss, and what greeted him was not the bite of a fierce beast, but a heart that was wounded yet slowly healing.
Yan Xiaohang finally realized that his perfection was not in the moment of spreading his wings to protect Fu Shenyi, but when a pair of hands appeared out of thin air to support him when he was about to fall.
He slightly bent down, wrapped his arms around Fu Shenyi’s waist, lifted him up, and pressed him against the nearest tree, blocking his dry and parched mouth.
A cool breeze passed, and the leaves rustled.
