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Walao loh, Shen Yuan thought to himself, scratching the back of his neck. In all his twenty years of existence, he never could have predicted what was happening at this very moment. From atop his sofa, none other than Luo Binghe stared up at him. “Gongzi, may this humble one inquire as to where he is?”
Not five minutes ago, a flaming portal opened up in Shen Yuan’s living room and spat out the seventeen-year-old Luo Binghe he now saw in front of him. According to Shen Yuan’s judgement, Luo Binghe had likely been transported to his world just before Shen Qingqiu was due to give his beloved disciple a one-way ticket straight into the Abyss.
That scum! Shen Yuan thought, frowning as he approached Luo Binghe. “You are in Singapore,” Shen Yuan explained, quickly pivoting on his heel. Nope! Not ready to deal with the protagonist just yet, he decided, grabbing a clean cup from the cupboard above his kitchen counter. Luo Binghe swivelled in his seat to look at Shen Yuan. His eyes widened when Shen Yuan opened the fridge to grab his brita (What? You could never be too certain about the cleanliness of water—even in Singapore!)
“This one has never heard of the Singapore region, but he’s certain it must be a very advanced society—that food portal is amazing!” Luo Binghe gushed, his eyes sparkling. The protagonist’ unblemished innocence and child-like awe was nearly enough to turn Shen Yuan into a smoking blot of ash upon his Brazilian walnut flooring.
Hurrying, Shen Yuan poured a cup of water for his impromptu guest and brought it over to Luo Binghe, who hadn’t stopped staring at Shen Yuan since his arrival. As he stared, Luo Binghe’s cheeks went pink. Confused but content to live on in ignorant bliss, Shen Yuan held back his questions and gave the cup to the protagonist. “Water,” he remembered to explain, watching carefully as Luo Binghe drank.
As he moved to put the cup down on Shen Yuan’s coffee table, Luo Binghe winced. Danger senses tingling, Shen Yuan walked over and pushed Luo Binghe back by his shoulder. “You… are you hurt?” Shen Yuan asked. He could feel himself paling the longer Luo Binghe withheld an answer. What if he was poisoned? Can modern medicine even cure poisons from a fantastical porn novel?! As Shen Yuan continued to panic internally, Luo Binghe shook his head.
“This one is fine!” the protagonist insisted. This assertion was voided when, seconds later, he gave a spluttering cough and turned white.
“You are clearly not fine!” Shen Yuan screeched, dashing off toward his bathroom. “Sit back down and don’t move!” he yelled over his shoulder at the sound of Luo Binghe attempting to stand. As soon as he was satisfied that the protagonist wasn’t going to follow him, Shen Yuan threw open his bathroom cupboard and pulled his first-aid kit down from the top shelf.
After pausing for a couple of seconds, Shen Yuan grabbed some healing cream and alcohol spray, too. Can never be too safe, he thought haphazardly, feeling somewhat frazzled by the time he returned to his living room. “L—you,” Shen Yuan quickly corrected himself, feeling a bead of sweat run down his temple. He hasn’t told you his name yet, idiot!
Shen Yuan took a deep breath, held it for a beat, then released it slowly. That’s it—calm the fuck down, then treat the kid’s wounds. Simple, he told himself, praying that he’d be able to gaslight himself into believing his own words. Without further delay, Shen Yuan set the first aid kit down on his coffee table and flipped it open, revealing his array of bandages, ointments and medical gauze.
“Where does it hurt?” Shen Yuan asked, flushing when his voice cracked. If Luo Binghe noticed, he didn’t comment on Shen Yuan’s flusteredness.
“Tummy,” Luo Binghe said in a small voice. Nodding, Shen Yuan pointed to Luo Binghe’s robes and flicked his hand.
“Remove them,” he instructed, briskly uncapping a pot of salve and readying his alcohol spray. Impossibly, Luo Binghe’s cheeks darkened yet further, but he did as he was told. Shen Yuan gave him a nod of approval then promptly felt his heart drop into his stomach when he laid eyes on Luo Binghe’s wound.
“Fine, my ass!” Shen Yuan shrieked, immediately pressing a piece of cloth to Luo Binghe’s midsection. His stomach was bleeding from a wound that cut straight across his midsection. It looked worryingly deep. As he cleaned the wound, Shen Yuan grumbled to himself. “So young… stupid scum villain! … Shouldn’t have sent him… imbecilic decision… would kill him if I could…”
Luo Binghe’s eyes widened as Shen Yuan muttered to himself. “Gongzi… do you know this one?” Shit, Shen Yuan thought emphatically.
“Ah… not really,” Shen Yuan laughed awkwardly, grabbing the alcohol spray. Changing subject before Luo Binghe could press him further, Shen Yuan shook the bottle and aimed it at Luo Binghe’s wound. “Clench your jaw—this might hurt a little,” Shen Yuan warned. Pausing, he offered Luo Binghe his free hand. “You can squeeze my hand if that would help.”
Before Shen Yuan could even blink, Luo Binghe grabbed his hand. “Th-thank you, gongzi!” Luo Binghe whispered, giving Shen Yuan’s hand a quick squeeze. It’s almost like he’s testing it out to see if I’ll get upset, Shen Yuan thought, then felt his shoulders sag. That’s almost certainly what he was doing, Shen Yuan realised, remembering the kind of treatment Luo Binghe grew up with. Determined to reassure the protagonist, Shen Yuan quickly gave Luo Binghe a squeeze back.
Unadulterated joy brightened Luo Binghe’s face as he gave Shen Yuan a huge beaming grin. Feeling his body shudder, Shen Yuan diverted his attention toward the alcohol spray instead. “Alright: three, two—one!” He tried to make it as quick as possible. Luo Binghe’s expression became somewhat constipated, but he didn’t make a single peep.
Pride for his unexpected charge flooded Shen Yuan’s veins. Pleased, he let go of Luo Binghe’s hand so that he could ruffle the protagonist’s hair. “Well done,” Shen Yuan praised, holding some medical gauze in place so that he could begin bandaging Luo Binghe’s wound. Once he had wrapped a thin layer around Luo Binghe’s stomach, Shen Yuan padded the bandage with pieces of cotton, then continued to wrap the wound with the gauze.
“Too tight?” Shen Yuan asked, patting Luo Binghe’s knee. The protagonist shook his head, chestnut curls framing his face perfectly as he continued to stare at Shen Yuan. “No,” Luo Binghe breathed, “not at all, gongzi.”
“Aiyah, enough gongzi. My name is Shen Yuan—you can call me Yuan-ge, okay ba?”
“B-but—” Luo Binghe tried to protest.
“No buts,” Shen Yuan said firmly. “I’ll be taking care of you for the time being; I don’t want to be made to feel like an old man in my own home, ya?”
Silently, Luo Binghe nodded, his cheeks crimson. Shen Yuan hummed in satisfaction and patted Luo Binghe’s head once more. What a fluffy little sheep this one is! My hand will chope this head for patting! If I’m going to be looking after the protagonist, I may as well go all out.
Unbeknown to Shen Yuan, a plan was already formulating in Luo Binghe’s head. This man… I will take him as my husband, Luo Binghe thought fervently.