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It was already sunset by the time Yi Dao returned from Bamboo Grove Hut with the answer he’d come looking for.
Blissful Retreat was quiet. Quieter than it ought to be, given that the First Jar Banquet was supposed to take place that night; but Han Xiangxun had decided to cancel it to avoid drawing any unwanted attention towards Blissful Retreat. She’d instructed everyone in the village to stay inside and get ready to leave in three days’ time. She’d also told them not to worry as she had a way to keep them safe until then. And then she’d disappeared again—off to mourn Chu Qingquan in private, likely.
Not before giving Yi Dao work, though. Instead of calling it a night, he had to drag himself to the kitchens and wait until someone had served him two bowls of steaming fish soup and rice, then uphill to the small clinic nearby. He was already dozing off by the time he headed to the residence that was closest to it, where Han Xiangxun had told him that he’d find the source of all their headaches.
She’d punished that little pup of hers by making him copy books all day, despite how poorly he was holding up after the encounter with the horse tamer, but the tongue-lashing she’d given Yi Dao for behaving so suspiciously around him showed how deeply she cared for the child. She was stern because she knew it was the only way to get through his thick skull, and after spending half a day chasing the boy around and yanking him out of danger by the scruff of his neck, Yi Dao could not say he disagreed.
He didn’t bother knocking. He stepped in and discovered, unsurprisingly, that the kid had not lit a single lamp yet. Moonlight spilled through the window, bathing he only desk in the room in liquid silver. Resting on that desk, passed out cold and oblivious to the world around him, was Huai Jin. The boy had his cheek pressed against one of the paper sheets he’d been working on, and he looked like he’d been in that position for hours now.
Yi Dao tried not to smirk. He still remembered how feisty the kid had gotten when his aunt told him that he couldn’t see his little friend Ruby until he was done with his punishment—apparently, he often roped her into helping him whenever Han Xiangxun made him copy texts—but there was not a trace of it left on that naturally sweet face of his. Like this, long eyelashes resting atop porcelain cheeks and pink lips parted slightly, he could not have looked more innocent and harmless. He was even snoring softly.
Yi Dao shook his head to himself. He wasn’t used to feeling like this whenever he looked at someone, nor did he wish to become used to it. The unpleasant, warm tightness in his chest made it hard to breathe and think. He cleared his throat and nudged the sleeping boy gruffly with a hand.
Huai Jin stirred, scrunching up his nose adorably, but kept his eyes closed. Yi Dao noticed something interesting then. Not only were the sheets under his cheek nowhere near completed—the kid had only managed to get three lines or so down before calling it a day and napping the afternoon away—but the ink was also smudged. Which meant…
Without thinking, he slid a hand under the boy’s cheek, cupping it, and lifted his face. The smirk was impossible to suppress this time. He had to do everything in his power not to snort—the last thing he needed was to wake the kid like that and put him in an awful mood. Instead, he chose to focus his attention somewhere else—the soft skin in his palm was warm. Yi Dao stroked the boy’s cheek with a contemplative frown, assessing whether he was just sleep-warm or fever-warm, but that only smudged the fresh ink clinging to it further.
Yi Dao could not help himself anymore. He let out a guffaw. The boy’s eyes snapped open, alarmed and unfocused, sweeping through the whole room until they landed on Yi Dao. And then relief filled them, and Huai Jin pursed his lips at him in a pout. That only made Yi Dao want to laugh louder.
What a cute little brat.
“Your aunt’s instruction was to write the characters on your sheet, I’m fairly sure,” Yi Dao said, schooling his expression. “Not on your face, pup.”
He observed, in delight, as those fair cheeks flushed a deep red when his words sunk in. The boy tried to pull away, but Yi Dao only readjusted his grip and squished both of his cheeks in a single hand. This time, all amusement melted off his face when he noticed how much warmer Huai Jin felt like that. He pressed a hand to the boy’s forehead with a deep frown, confirming that the heat wasn’t natural.
“You’re running a fever,” he huffed. “Your aunt left medicine for that. Sit up. You haven’t had anything to eat yet.”
Understandably, the pup was feeling very cranky and disagreeable after being woken up like that.
“Dao-ge, I don’t need you to fuss over me. Aunt Han already does that enough—two people is too much. Why don’t you catch me up on what you two discussed while I was being kept confined here instead. Are you two friends…”
“Sit up,” Yi Dao repeated, this time hardening his tone. He didn’t have much patience for children—that much would never change. He would not tolerate disobedience. “You aunt told me to get food and medicine in you, and there will be food and medicine in you by the time I return you to her, regardless of how you feel about it. Your choice if you want this to be easy or difficult for you.”
To the kid’s credit, he was too smart to dare question his threats. He narrowed his eyes at Yi Dao, but he complied and sat up straight without needing to be told again. Yi Dao placed the bowl of soup right in front of him—on top of the sheet of paper that he would make him redo either way—and gave him a spoon and a pair of chopsticks before dragging a chair and dropping heavily in it with a grunt. He dug into his own bowl as he observed the kid sulk and shift the fish around without enthusiasm.
“You good, pup?” Yi Dao asked. “Feeling nauseous?”
Huai Jin seemed to know it would be a mistake to admit that, because he shoved a piece of fish into his mouth and chewed. “I’m only not hungry because I’m have to look at your face, Dao-ge.”
Yi Dao’s eyebrow twitched. The brat was lucky he was sitting down—if he’d been within his reach, Yi Dao would’ve brought his palm to his rump like one would reprimand a misbehaving puppy. It already itched every time he looked at him; he didn’t need more motivation to administer some discipline of his own. Despite how harsh Han Xiangxun pretended to be, it was clear she and Jiang Yan had spoiled this kid.
“Easy, there,” Yi Dao warned. “Don’t eat so fast. You don’t want to upset your stomach. Are you sure you’re okay? I can get you plain congee if that would sit better with you.”
The kid only grew grumpier. “Stop talking to me like I’m a baby. I know my limits.”
He did not, in fact, know his limits, as only five bites after that—big bites, washed down with two big gulps of soup—his face went pale. Yi Dao did not miss that his fingers were twitching on his lap, fighting the urge to clutch his stomach. He put his own bowl down with a heavy thud and stood. When he reached the boy’s side, he had already squeezed his eyes shut, clearly uncomfortable.
Yi Dao tried to push down his own displeasure and failed. “It turns out, after all, that you’re not much different to a baby. Your aunt is right; a mule is less stubborn than you. Come here, you’re done for the night. Let’s get you in bed. I need to make sure what little you managed to eat won’t be leaving your body anytime soon.”
He grabbed the difficult pup by an elbow and pulled him up, then steadied him with a hand on his waist. Huai Jin was too ashamed to resist; he covered his mouth and his nose with one hand and followed Yi Dao to the bed. He pressed his other hand into his stomach, eyebrows drawn tightly together, no longer bothering to pretend it wasn’t hurting. Yi Dao made him sit and knelt down to remove his boots, indifferent to his flustered protests.
“Lie back,” he ordered. When the boy opened his mouth to complain, Yi Dao gave his shoulder a small shove that left him no option but to obey. Then he rolled up the hem of the kid’s leather top and lifted the bandage underneath, only enough to see the edge of the wound that he had left there earlier that day. The kid squirmed and huffed and puffed to show his displeasure, but Yi Dao gripped him by the waist and gave it a threatening squeeze.
“Be still,” he scolded. Huai Jin’s cheeks went pink in dismay—he favored clothes that left a sliver of bare skin exposed above his navel, which meant it was now in direct contact with the rough callouses of Yi Dao’s hand. It was smooth and delicate; it bore none of the raised scars that littered Yi Dao’s own body. His stomach was very soft, still holding onto a thin layer of fat that spoke of a pampered life, with firm muscle lying underneath.
The boy had gone still, but Yi Dao couldn’t help giving into the temptation and squeezing the soft flesh once more. Huai Jin kicked him, squawking indignantly. “That tickles!”
Yi Dao lifted his hand with a frown, determined to swat him, but dropped it before he could bring himself to do it. He was, after all, the reason the kid had this injury in the first place. He let out a sigh and gave him a warning look instead. “I said be still. This will only take a moment. I want to make sure nothing has changed since the last time I saw it.”
Han Xiangxun had already tended to it, earlier, right after their reencounter. Yi Dao had been there too, despite how much Huai Jin had begged his aunt to kick him out. Yi Dao could not understand what made him so shy around him—he’d seen dozens of men naked before, and the kid had to know that. It wasn’t like Han Xiangxun had told him to strip, she’d only made him undress from the waist up to clean and stitch the wound. All while glaring daggers at Yi Dao, for that matter—the boy should have been the last person to have any concerns in that room.
The wound did look mostly the same as it had back then, but its edges were a bit red and puffy. Yi Dao could tell that the boy itched to scratch it after he traced it with the rough pad of one finger. Nothing indicated a bad infection just yet, but the cut was deep enough that Yi Dao wasn’t surprised that it was stirring a bit of trouble. At least it wasn’t tender to the touch, as Huai Jin didn’t flinch when he touched it, and Han Xiangxun had already coated it with a generous layer of thick ointment that had yet to be fully absorbed by the skin.
He readjusted the kid’s clothes and gave his side two heavy, appeasing pats, like comforting a fussy horse. “This is why you have a fever. An infection is trying to set in.”
Huai Jin opened his mouth to protest and promptly shut it when Yi Dao started working on his belt. He let out an indignant gasp and tried to stop him, but Yi Dao only slapped his hands away. He unclasped the belt easily and put it away, exposing the vulnerable expanse of skin lying underneath. The kid’s stomach was even softer here, in the underbelly. Huai Jin attempted kicking and shoving him once more, but Yi Dao pinned him down with a single hand while he dipped his fingers into a jar of essential oil that Han Xiangxun had given him.
“Don’t you dare—” The boy jumped when Yi Dao’s fingers met the tender spot right under his bellybutton. His whole body went rigid. “Stop it, stop! You can’t do this! Ah—” His squirming and his protests did nothing to deter Yi Dao’s ministrations. Yi Dao began massaging the medicine into the boy’s stomach, rubbing firmly but gently enough so that it wouldn’t aggravate the discomfort. “This is so embarrassing, you have no right! Let me—let me go, Dao-ge! I mean it! I’ll never forgive you…”
It took all of Yi Dao not to let out another laugh. Pretending he wasn’t enjoying himself was an impossible feat. He smirked the whole time, though diligently carrying out his task. Han Xiangxun had anticipated that the brat would give himself an upset tummy—apparently, it was something that happened often. What Huai Jin didn’t know was that his aunt would be unavailable to administer the treatment as she usually would, leaving behind no one fit for it other than Yi Dao. At least for this medicine in particular.
Despite the fuss, the tension slowly bled out of the pup’s body as the essential oil did its work. He melted into the mattress with a soft, defeated sigh. His brow slowly smoothened out, and the color returned to his cheeks, giving them the expected flush of a fever. Less than a ké into it, Huai Jin no longer was nauseous, nor did he show any signs of pain. Han Xiangxun had been right. The massage had worked like a charm.
He was already boneless like a well-cooked noodle by the time Yi Dao was done with him. He scowled at Yi Dao through half-lidded eyes when he made him sit to drink medicine for the fever next, though he didn’t spit it out nor throw a fit over how bitter it was. He swallowed obediently, and then Yi Dao helped him lie down again, tucking him in tight. The kid started dozing off right away, eyelashes fluttering sluggishly. The sight sent a pang through Yi Dao’s chest.
There was no way this brat could be so effortlessly cute.
“Stay awake for a while longer,” he said, patting the boy’s cheek. Huai Jin huffed angrily, turning his head away. “Only until the fever comes down. You’ll have a bad dream otherwise. Didn’t you want to hear what I discussed with Han Xiangxun?”
That got the boy’s attention for sure. His eyes snapped open, and he would’ve sat up to demand to hear more if Yi Dao hadn’t anticipated to it. He held him in place with a hand on his chest, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Stay put,” he grumbled, shaking his head to himself. “So difficult, for no reason. No wonder your aunt sent me to babysit you tonight.”
Before the kid could open his mouth to complain, Yi Dao began recounting what he’d told his aunt. Huai Jin zipped his lips shut and listened attentively, nodding his head with a glimmer in his eyes. The glimmer slowly died out as he learned who Chu Qingquan was, what he meant for his aunt, and that he was dead. Yi Dao felt another pang in his chest at the sadness in the pup’s eyes, deep and sincere like he was the one who had just experienced a loss. He was a pure, sensitive soul, it made one want to stroke his cheek and comfort him even though he wasn’t the one who should’ve been in pain.
“Your uncle’s hut was a mess,” Yi Dao commented, eager to give him a distraction. Very unlike himself, as he was unused to coddling people.
The boy’s frown immediately smoothened out, and some of the excitement came back to his face. “Did you find his secret? You must have, right? You wouldn’t have come back here if you hadn’t…”
“Pup…” Yi Dao’s voice dropped back into a scolding tone, scowling when the kid pushed himself up on his elbows now that Yi Dao had gotten distracted and withdrawn the hand he’d been using to pin him to the bed. “You’re still feeling warm, don’t…”
Three brisk, impatient knocks on the door startled the pup into sitting up straight. The person behind it didn’t bother to wait to be invited inside after announcing his arrival, he stepped into the room with one decided stride. He was a man around Yi Dao’s own age, with a stern, scholarly face. He carried a lacquered box in his hands and an air of mild displeasure, like there were better places where he’d rather be.
“Uncle Tian,” Huai Jin said, in a small, fearful voice.
“Child,” said the man, crossing the room without looking at them twice. He set the box on the desk where the boy had been working, his back turned to them. “Your aunt told me you’re unwell. I'm here to give you an injection.”
Yi Dao had already been expecting a bad reaction since Han Xiangxun told him to stop by Evercare Clinic to get the doctor before he came to see the kid, but he’d not been prepared for the doctor to drop the news on him like that. Huai Jin, naturally, sprang to his feet as fast as lightning. Yi Dao barely managed to catch him around the waist before he bolted out the door. He physically wrestled him back onto the bed, with an arm firmly encircling him.
“Pup,” Yi Dao grunted, his own body weighed down by the exhaustion of the day and therefore struggling to keep the kid in place. “It’s just a little pinch. Stay put.”
“Easy for you to say!” Huai Jin panted, kicking and jabbing his elbows in all directions. Yi Dao caught his wrists and pinned them on the small of his back. “Dao-ge, I swear I’m feeling well. I don’t need—you already gave me medicine! I promise I’ll be alright—”
“Your aunt knows better than you,” Doctor Tian scolded, clearly bothered by the fuss. Despite his harsh, impatient tone, his hands were careful and steady as he held up a vial and slowly drew medicine into a syringe, the color and consistency of honey. “Don’t be difficult. Must we go through this every time I have to give you an injection? You’re sixteen already. Lie on your belly, now, I won’t ask twice.”
That only worsened the boy’s agitation. Seeing he had no other choice, Yi Dao held his breath, wrapped an arm behind his knees, swept him off his feet and hauled him over one of his thighs. Huai Jin managed to kick him in the shin, once, hard, before Yi Dao resolved to pin his legs under one of his own. After some more rearranging, the pup was promptly subdued, bracketed between Yi Dao’s firm thighs. His belly rested on Yi Dao’s left thigh, and Yi Dao could only hope that it wouldn’t upset his stomach all over again.
“No,” Huai Jin whimpered when Uncle Tian approached them, syringe held in one hand and a folded silken cloth in the other. He tried squirming again, but he was snugly pinned in place. “Uncle Tian, please—at least make Dao-ge leave. He doesn’t need to be in here, please…”
“And let you break the needle with your struggling?” Uncle Tian huffed, dragging a chair to sit comfortably at their same level. He held up the syringe and flicked it to get rid of the bubbles. The tinkling of glass made the pup flinch; Yi Dao could feel as every muscle in his body locked in anticipation. It made his own stomach twist in sympathy. “I don’t think so. I know you well, Young Master, I know you won’t behave when your aunt isn’t here. You need to be held down. Take a deep breath.”
Uncle Tian easily untied the strings of his trousers and pulled the waistband down with a single yank, baring the pale mound of one cheek. Yi Dao’s mouth went dry at the sight and his grip faltered for a second, but he quickly reapplied strength when he saw Uncle Tian bring the damp cloth close to Huai Jin’s skin. The scent of Parting Tears distracted Yi Dao from the pup’s backside for a moment—Parting Tears? It obviously wasn’t an aged brew, but it was clearly wine, nonetheless. It made sense to use wine to disinfect skin, but hadn’t this doctor mentioned Han Xiangxun a little too many times already?
And he looked upset over something, too, though his hands were still surprisingly gentle as he wiped the top right side of the pup’s bottom with the folded cloth. He rubbed in circles for longer than it felt necessary and then he let it dry with a frown. Little by little, Yi Dao felt some of the tension leave the boy’s body—almost against his will, like remaining all tense took too much effort to maintain. It was like this doctor, Uncle Tian, knew that perfectly.
“Honestly,” Uncle Tian said, shaking his head to himself. “Always finding a way to get caught in trouble. I don’t know how your aunt tolerates it.”
Yi Dao could not understand what Uncle Tian’s intentions could possibly be by bringing up that, so he lifted an eyebrow. He didn’t get the point in getting the pup all riled up when he was already upset. Huai Jin opened his mouth, and it was only then, when dragged in a big mouthful of air to complain loudly and his muscles loosened up for a second, that Yi Dao understood the purpose behind it.
Uncle Tian took that very moment to stick in the needle. The poor pup barely had any time to register what had happened—but when he did, he jolted with a pitiful sound, like a startled kitten. His whole body promptly went as hard as rock and he began struggling, squirming and whimpering. He couldn’t move much, but Uncle Tian was displeased by it, nonetheless. Keeping one hand steady, pushing down the plunger carefully, he let the other land sharply on the boy’s thigh.
“You know well it causes more damage to the tissue if you clench. Settle down, immediately.”
Huai Jin went limp. He buried his face in the crook of his elbow, giving up entirely, and wept in silence. Once he’d started, Uncle Tian couldn’t stop—he kept scolding the whole time as he injected him, his brow furrowed and his words harsh. “So defiant. Always sticking your nose where you’re not invited. Always giving your aunt trouble—what a difficult child. Can’t you behave for once?”
Despite how Yi Dao knew very well that the man wasn’t lying, and despite the fact he’d been itching to spank him himself once or twice just minutes before—his chest throbbed painfully when he felt the light shaking and he heard the soft sobbing coming from the pup. He couldn’t help feeling apprehension towards this person. It sounded like he knew the kid since he was very young, why was he surprised at all? Why was he even annoyed, when Huai Jin was already hurt and crying?
He began stroking the boy’s back from between his shoulders to the bottom of his spine, back and forth, hushing him. “It’s alright, pup. It’s alright. It’s almost over. Breathe.”
It worked, and the crying slowly subsided into sniffling. Though Yi Dao was glaring at the doctor through the corner of his eye, the apprehension in his chest eased when he noticed the soft look in Uncle Tian’s eyes. While he was clearly angry over something, it didn’t look like he was taking it out on the kid—his hands remained careful and even tender as he withdrew the needle and applied pressure on the injection site, rubbing vigorously.
“Hush,” he hummed when Huai Jin let out another whimper. “It’s so it won’t knot. You won’t like that. Endure it for a bit longer.”
He was much more patient and caring when he readjusted the boy’s clothes, taking his time to bring up his underclothes first and then his trousers. He gave the sore site a couple appeasing pats. “It’ll hurt for a couple days. Walking will help, but you might want to keep your weight off it while you sleep. The medicine is thick; it’ll take a while to absorb. This also means you’ll be protected from an infection for much longer.”
Huai Jin didn’t lift nor nod his head, he just remained there, slumped over Yi Dao’s lap with his face pressed into the blankets even after Yi Dao released his hold on him. Uncle Tian did not seem to find this alarming; he began packing his things while shaking his head to himself. It looked like he did in fact have somewhere else to be—Yi Dao already had a suspicion where to. He didn’t ask, he remained silent while he kept comforting the pup.
“If he gets too sore, just apply warm compresses,” Uncle Tian instructed. “He’ll sulk for days and refuse food. Don’t let him have his way. The medicine will settle his stomach too; he’ll be doing it just to be difficult. He should be fully recovered and ready to leave with everyone when the time comes, that’s why Xiangxun insisted on the injection. It’s normal if his fever spikes before going down, but once it’s gone, it should stay gone. Keep an eye on him.”
He left just as quick as he’d arrived, leaving behind a room that was much quieter than it’d been before he left. Yi Dao attempted coaxing the boy up and failed, then resigned himself to waiting until he was ready to stand. He probably felt betrayed and wished to be left alone—but Han Xiangxun wouldn’t like that, and nor would Yi Dao, if he had to be honest to himself.
He spent that time rubbing the kid’s back in circles and patting his hip and trying very had not to think too hard on how soft and pliant the flesh under his hand was. He might have overdone the patting in his distraction, because Huai Jin stirred with a whine of discomfort after a while. Yi Dao snorted and pulled him up, finding less resistance this time.
“You understand that this wasn’t my idea,” Yi Dao said, “don’t you? Your aunt would’ve—”
The pup sat on his thigh and tucked his warm face into the crook of his neck before he could finish—pressing it closely into the sensitive skin. It took Yi Dao a whole minute to understand what was going on. The kid’s fever seemed to have gone up, just like Uncle Tian had anticipated—his body burned like a furnace, and his fingers clung to Yi Dao’s robes like tiny kitten claws. Yi Dao froze in place.
Huai Jin’s eyes and mouth were hot, but his cheeks were cold and sticky with drying tears. He sniffled and burrowed his face impossibly closer, curling on himself like that would help him fit better in Yi Dao’s lap—at sixteen, he already had the body of a maturing young man, and he was tall and heavy, despite how easily Yi Dao held him. Yet it looked like he did not even acknowledge his own size as something that could get in his way. He pressed himself snugly against Yi Dao’s own body, seeking comfort.
Yi Dao understood, then, that this must be how Jiang Yan and Han Xiangxun always held him since he was a child. He’d never grown out of it. How or why, Yi Dao couldn’t understand. He seriously doubted he could fit this easily in Han Xiangxun’s lap any longer—why was this kid so comfortable demanding affection like this? Not even a full day ago, he’d been willing to ditch Yi Dao to protect his aunt, and now he was nuzzling him like a starving kitten.
After a while, Yi Dao relaxed and let out a laugh. “Was it really that awful, pup? I never thought I’d see you cry like that. Even when you were whining over the injury I gave you, you acted like it no longer existed as soon as I was out of sight. That injection really must have been something if it got you like this.”
“Your fault,” the pup grumbled against his neck.
Yi Dao blinked. “My fault?”
“It was because of the cut that your blade left behind,” Huai Jin huffed, shifting in his lap. Yi Dao’s hands came to rest on his waist to help readjust him into a more comfortable position, he didn’t miss how the boy went tense under his touch for a moment, the muscles of his abdomen twitching. “It was the only injury deep enough to concern Aunt Han. This is your fault.”
He was pouting. Yi Dao couldn’t see it but he could hear it in his voice. He threw his head back to laugh even louder. He shook his head fondly. “Brat.”
Huai Jin’s eyelashes fluttered, tickling his skin. Yi Dao held him closer, tighter, enveloping him in his arms to keep him warm. “Should have spanked you while I had the chance for disobeying me back there,” he mused. “Now I don’t have the heart to do it. Not only did you send those Aureate Pavilion dogs after me, but the horse tamer would also have killed you if your aunt hadn’t been there. I wouldn’t have been able to help. And then your aunt would’ve killed me for that.”
“I’m not a child,” the boy grumbled, sulkily, all while squirming to find the position that would allow him to be pressed the closest to Yi Dao’s body. So much for someone who wanted Yi Dao out of his room while he got medical treatment. “You can’t spank me.”
Yi Dao closed his eyes with a smirk. “Want to place a bet on that?”
The kid went silent, and Yi Dao didn’t keep pushing. He could feel him melt into his embrace as sleep slowly took a hold of him, his breaths evening out and his eyelids falling closed. He was starting to cramp from staying in the same position for so long, but he barely dared to breathe, let alone move a single inch. The boy’s cheek fell on his shoulder once he could no longer keep his head upright.
Yi Dao’s chest felt tight in a way it never had before. Huai Jin had taken a bath before sitting down to copy the books Han Xiangxun had given him—his hair smelled of pear blossoms, and he could even swear he could also perceive the scent of soap on his skin too. He let his hand rest on the boy’s back, hoping he’d find the weight comforting and grounding, and let his chin rest on the top of his head.
“Go on, you can go to sleep now,” he coaxed. “I promise I don’t have any more surprises planned for the night.”
It was Huai Jin’s turn to snort. “You still owe me…the full story about Uncle Jiang…”
“Not now, pup,” Yi Dao said, sternly. “Sleep.”
For the first time since Yi Dao had met him, the pup obeyed him.