TAMW CH52

Yuqing had not even lifted his foot past the threshold.

Bracing himself against the doorframe with his back turned to Zhou Xiao, he heard another heart-wrenching wail tear from behind him: “You’ve already seen him, so why are you going back out?! Just how thick is Jiang Sui’s skin! Knowing full well you have a household to attend to, he still dares linger at the restaurant waiting for you! He’s brazenly enticing you to abandon your husband and child!”

Yuqing: “…”

Had he even been out of the house for half an hour today?

The time he had spent sitting in Xianxiang Restaurant wasn’t even enough for half a stick of incense to burn. If he returned right now, the jasmine tea he had been drinking would probably still be steaming.

Pausing at the doorway, Yuqing turned around with helpless resignation to face this childish man.

Zhou Xiao choked on a sob, deliberately turning his head away to wipe his eyes with his heavily bandaged hand. “If I dropped dead, you probably wouldn’t care in the slightest—you’re only ever consumed with wining, dining, and carousing!”

To have such a preposterous basin of dirty water dumped over his head left Yuqing truly at a loss.

Zhou Xiao genuinely could not fathom why Yuqing needed to meet with Jiang Sui. The bank had already been handed over to his most trusted steward, Zhao Fu; the port affairs had been settled cleanly; and as long as Yuqing showed his face at the end of the month, who in the Chamber of Commerce would dare withhold their vote? Yuqing’s ascension to Chamber President was already set in stone, so what earthly reason was there for him to meet Jiang Sui?

Fine, even if they were old acquaintances, the reunion was over—it was time to come home. So why step foot in the door only to turn right back around?

A bitter lump lodged in Zhou Xiao’s chest. The gauze wrapped around his hand rubbed roughly against his cheek, making him wince from the stinging friction. Seeing that Yuqing had yet to approach, he slumped sideways, propping his face with one hand, his rimmed eyes reddening in silence. A sheen of tears gathered in his gaze, though Yuqing couldn’t quite see it clearly from the door.

“Good heavens,” Yuqing sighed with an amused shake of his head. “Just how long are you going to keep up this scene?”

His heart remained soft, after all. Driven to a headache by Zhou Xiao’s theatrical tantrum, he gathered the hem of his robe and stepped back inside. “A dignified master of the house, a father of a child—how have you turned into an overgrown toddler?”

The second Yuqing drew near, Zhou Xiao sniffled, lunged forward, and wrapped his arms around Yuqing’s slender waist, burying his face directly into his abdomen with muffled sobs: “You just don’t want me anymore!”

“The moment you heard Qingming was ill, you rushed back, but seeing your husband’s hand mangled like this, you turn right on your heel to leave! What on earth am I to you?!”

“Even if I had no great merit this past month, I at least slaved away tirelessly for this family! You are the master of the Zhou estate, kind to every steward and servant under this roof, so why treat me like thin air?!”

Stroking his hair, Yuqing asked, “Where on earth is all this coming from?”

Zhou Xiao’s voice trembled. Pinning his arms tight around his wife’s waist, his nose nuzzled back and forth: “It’s all about this! It’s all about me! You never treat my matters as anything important.”

He let out a petulant whine, his deep rumble laced with genuine tears. What was clearly a trifling squabble sounded like a cataclysmic disaster coming from his lips.

“How have I ever disregarded you?” Yuqing smoothed the short locks atop his head, gently lifting the man’s chin to look upon his tear-streaked face. Wiping the wetness away with his fingers, he asked softly, “What is all this for?”

“Tell me—as a husband, a father, a master of industry, where have I fallen short? Jiang Sui is an outsider; if you miss him and wish to go out, I don’t stop you. But what kind of man is he? You two have known each other for years, fine—old friends catching up, I won’t interfere! But you crossed this threshold, and you still intend to walk back out? Just what kind of friend is he to you?!”

“What kind of friend?! What kind of old acquaintance?! You have Qingming now, don’t you know that in your heart?!”

“And why haven’t you asked a single word about where I was hurt?!”

A damp patch seeped through the fabric at Yuqing’s abdomen.

Spring had set in, and the lightweight robe easily absorbed Zhou Xiao’s tears, spreading into a wide, soaked circle.

Yuqing drew a deep breath. Looking at this pathetic, sulking figure, he found himself wanting to laugh instead.

They were two calculating foxes playing the same game—did Zhou Xiao truly think Yuqing couldn’t see through his act? Yet a man had a weakness for such vulnerability, and even Yuqing was no exception. Seeing this towering man shedding real tears simply to coax him back home was both comical and endearing. How could a grand master stoop to such melodramatic antics?

“Then let Zezhi show me—where does it hurt?” Yuqing cupped the man’s face. “Does your Madam need to blow on it for you?”

Only then did Zhou Xiao release his waist. Rising to his full height, Yuqing’s gaze had to travel all the way up, tilting his head back to meet his eyes. Yuqing was not short by any measure; his slender frame gave him a tall, willowy elegance. Yet Zhou Xiao’s shoulders were as broad as two of his combined, making Yuqing look like a sheltered fledgling enveloped in his shadow.

Zhou Xiao leaned down and bit punishingly into his lips: “Of course I do.”

“Mmph—” Yuqing’s lips were pulled into a demanding, wet suckle until his tongue went completely numb, his muffled gasp carrying a soft, melting surrender.

Overwhelmed, Zhou Xiao caught Yuqing under the thighs and swept him clean off the floor.

Startled, Yuqing hastily wrapped his arms around the man’s neck, their mouths never breaking contact. Clad in a traditional long gown, his legs parted around Zhou Xiao’s waist, exposing his bare thighs from the slits. A dignified, scholarly garment was treated by Zhou Xiao like a revealing qipao; reaching through the side openings, his hands effortlessly found the soft, tender flesh of his wife’s legs.

Where was Master Zhou’s hand actually injured?

While spoon-feeding Qingming his goat’s milk and wiping the baby’s face, the child had merely given him a little nip with his toothless gums.

The truth was far more absurd than Yuqing had imagined. He had thought the master had concocted some severe self-harm to summon him home, but the skin had not even broken—yet a thick layer of gauze had been wrapped around it, with Zhou Xiao insisting the child had bitten him swollen.

His wife didn’t want him, his son was unfilial—what was the point of living in this world anymore?

Listening to these aggrieved, dramatic declarations, Yuqing could only shake his head. “Good heavens…”

Carried toward the bed, Yuqing’s long, silky hair brushed across the man’s face, leaving a tickling warmth. Pressed beneath Zhou Xiao’s weight, he tapped the tip of the man’s nose with a finger. “Look at you—a Master Zhou who must argue three parts right even when entirely in the wrong.”

Zhou Xiao saw nothing wrong with his logic. “Is defending my marriage supposed to be shameful? A good, peaceful home—must it be torn apart by an irrelevant outsider before you’re satisfied?!”

Yuqing thought to himself: How many words did Jiang Sui and I even exchange earlier? Were there even ten sentences? He could scarcely recall, yet returning home, he had been subjected to at least a hundred lines of Zhou Xiao’s cross-examination.

Zhou Xiao felt deeply wronged: “He knew you before I did. Just because I’m younger, must I watch helplessly as he meddles in someone else’s household? He knew full well you had a family, yet he still—”

Yet the man had tried to keep Yuqing’s handkerchief that day!

The scoundrel’s intentions were as clear as day. Zhou Xiao had been around the block; how could he not see right through it? For years, the only reason Jiang Sui hadn’t taken Yuqing was that he wasn’t a member of the Zhou family; had he been the one to rescue Yuqing back then, Yuqing would have been his wife long ago! Yuqing was steadfast and honorable without stray thoughts, but that didn’t stop old scoundrels from harboring lecherous designs.

How could he not be on guard?

Zhou Xiao now bitterly regretted not shooting Jiang Sui dead and delivering his corpse to the southern army, which would have spared him this entire tea rendezvous today.

“You just don’t want me, you don’t care about me—the moment Qingming was born, you completely discarded me.”

Burrowing his face into Yuqing’s neck, he inhaled deeply, savoring the delicate fragrance of jasmine laced with faint milkiness. Zhou Xiao let out a series of petulant whimpers—like a dog whose tail had been stepped on, only to look up and see it was its beloved master; hurting, yet not daring to bite, reduced to pathetic whining for mercy.

Helpless against his relentless clinging, Yuqing’s neck licked glistening wet, he sighed, “Alright, when did I ever say I didn’t want you?”

“Does this mean I am never to step foot outside again?”

“I never said you couldn’t step outside,” Zhou Xiao retorted.

“You let me leave, only to throw this fit the moment I return?”

Zhou Xiao argued, “You only saw him to check if he was safe. Having seen him, that should be the end of it! A few pleasantries between acquaintances is plenty. He harbors wicked designs on you; he’s clearly no good man.”

“Would I ever stop you from doing normal business? Besides, am I stopping you now? You came back entirely on your own because you were worried about me…”

“What a silver-tongued rogue. Tricking me home, then clinging so I can’t leave—you’ve taken every good word and excuse for yourself, haven’t you?”

Yuqing pinched and kneaded Zhou Xiao’s nose, the corners of his own lips curving upward. He enjoyed pampering him like this; it felt as though only profound affection allowed one to handle a man this way.

“I didn’t,” Zhou Xiao refused to admit it, merely tightening his grip around Yuqing. “I only want to guard our hard-won home…”

“The moment you step out to meet someone else and leave me home alone minding Qingming, what am I supposed to think? My heart feels like it’s shattering…”

“Is that so?” Yuqing chuckled skeptically, reaching down to squeeze his firm chest muscle. “Let me feel.”

“Tsk—” Under the touch of that soft hand, Zhou Xiao’s chest instinctively pulled taut like iron, impossible to budge.

“Qingqing…” he muttered. “Don’t touch me like that.”

He had been holding back for so long. Counting their wedding nights and everything since, he had never once truly eaten his fill. Yuqing was delicate; had it not been for conceiving a child, he never would have endured an entire night of tangled passion. And after the pregnancy began, it had been a monk’s ascetic existence.

Zhou Xiao had never dared complain, enduring it in secret for fear that Yuqing would discover his insatiable carnal appetites.

In truth, Zhou Xiao had never considered himself a creature of lust—at least, not before meeting Yuqing. Growing up watching his father and the First Madam, marriage held no allure for him; going to France taught him about monogamy, and he had idly fantasized about sharing a lifetime with a single partner. But he had never found someone; he disliked French women, found domestic women too rigid, and threw himself into his studies and ventures.

For years, he had believed himself cold and detached in bed—until he tasted Yuqing.

Only then did he realize that bedchamber intimacy could be so intoxicating, so completely consuming. Whenever he pressed close to Yuqing, his mind wandered to that landscape—the narrow path, the bubbling spring—drifting unbidden through his thoughts, leaving him utterly spellbound.

Yet for over half a year, he had guarded Yuqing, looking without touching, holding back even during their brief encounters for fear of harming the child. To scratch an itch from outside the boot was sheer torture. Zhou Xiao even suspected he must have accumulated terrible sins in his past life for the heavens to send a celestial being like Yuqing to torment him like this.

During the pregnancy, Zhou Xiao had resorted to stealing his worn clothes. Now that Qingming was nearly two months old, his restraint had worn dangerously thin. Yuqing slept beside him every single night; he couldn’t bear to be parted from him, yet staying close was pure agony. He couldn’t very well consult the physician, lest Yuqing view him as a ravenous, shameless beast devoid of all decorum.

So he could throw tantrums, but he couldn’t handle Yuqing teasing him—young as he was, a single caress across his chest was enough to shatter his composure.

He nipped at Yuqing’s collarbone with raw grievance: “Qingqing…”

His voice shook with strained restraint, on the brink of snapping.

Tilted back as his throat was kissed and grazed, a subtle smile played upon Yuqing’s lips. His fingers kneaded the man’s earlobe like smooth, polished wood. “I had intended to give you a reward upon returning today, as praise for minding Qingming all on your own…”

Zhou Xiao stiffened completely.

Yuqing continued, “Who knew you would summon me back halfway through? It seems this reward cannot be given after all.”

“What… what reward?” Zhou Xiao watched his expression, sensing that this reward would be entirely to his liking.

With a lingering, teasing lilt, Yuqing murmured, “I had intended to see a Western physician.”

“Doctor Liu told me that once my body had sufficiently recovered, we could resume marital relations…”

The tantrum vanished from Zhou Xiao’s face in a flash. His expression smoothed into dead earnestness, his eyes unblinking, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his hoarse voice pressed urgently: “And then?”

“Nothing more.” Yuqing broke into a melodic laugh, clear and sweet like silver bells. His soft, slender arms looped around the man’s neck like vines, bathing him in his scent—a reward masquerading as torment: “I couldn’t very well see the doctor, could I? Because you called me right back.”

“Didn’t Doctor Liu already tell you?” Zhou Xiao argued. “His medical skill is extraordinary; he even managed to make a man bear a child…”

“Precisely because he said so, I needed a Western doctor to confirm it,” Yuqing countered. “He was the one who advised it.”

Doctor Liu could only gauge recovery through pulse-taking, but Western medicine possessed stethoscopes to listen to the heart and ensure absolute safety. It was Doctor Liu’s first time attending a male pregnancy, so everything relied on conjecture. A man possessed no womb; the temporary gestation sac had been expelled during delivery, which should have resolved any issues.

Yet Yuqing still suffered dull aches in his lower back and a lack of stamina. Doctor Liu had noted that the displaced organs were still settling back, and a Western examination would offer total peace of mind.

Hearing this, Zhou Xiao leapt off the mattress at once, bellowing for Deng Yongquan to fetch a Western doctor immediately.

Seeing his frantic panic, Yuqing slapped a hand over his mouth. “What are you shouting for?!”

“I have to let a doctor verify whether your body has recovered! How could you not tell me about back aches?!” Zhou Xiao’s expression turned intensely stern.

This was precisely what Yuqing adored about him. He always missed the superficial point, yet his grasp was glued firmly to Yuqing’s well-being. A lustful youth who dropped everything the moment he heard of his discomfort—impure as his motives might be, his heart was genuine.

Zhou Xiao knew that women often suffered lingering aches in the back and abdomen after childbirth, which was why he placed a hot-water warmer beneath Yuqing’s belly every morning after their intimate routines. He had never imagined that despite their nightly closeness, Yuqing had kept this pain to himself.

Yuqing had always been capable of bearing great pain, dismissing dull aches as trivial.

“What kind of ache is it?” Zhou Xiao slipped a hand beneath his lower back, gently kneading the muscles. “Does it hurt now?”

Yuqing shook his head: “Only in the morning when my bladder is full.”

And it wasn’t sharp pain, merely a dull pulling sensation that faded within half an hour.

“Furthermore…” Yuqing bit his lower lip lightly. “My pelvic bones have widened. Did you notice?”

Zhou Xiao parted his lips, embarrassed to answer, yet nodded all the same: “Mm…”

“I had also intended to visit a few tailors to have new garments fitted. But thanks to you, I rushed back, and not a single proper errand was accomplished.”

Like a chastised pup with drooping ears, Zhou Xiao hung his head: “I’m sorry… I didn’t know you were going to see a doctor.”

He admitted fault instantly, his breathing turning careful and hesitant.

“Then between Zezhi and myself, who is truly the wounded one now?” Yuqing reached out, beckoning the kneeling man closer.

Zhou Xiao collapsed limply against his chest.

Yuqing cupped his face, returning his kiss, his slender arms winding around the man’s neck once more. “Hmm?”

Zhou Xiao: “You are.”

“Me?” Yuqing took his hand, sliding his fingers between his, locking them palm to palm.

Lying back upon the bed, Yuqing’s long black hair spilled across the sheets, his cheeks flushed, his tongue tingling from the fierce kiss. Every time Zhou Xiao kissed him, he did so with staggering force, as if trying to dismantle him and swallow him whole, frequently leaving Yuqing breathless.

“Does your hand not hurt anymore?”

The tips of Zhou Xiao’s ears reddened; he now bitterly regretted throwing that tantrum.

“I didn’t mean to pester you, I was just… feeling awful inside. Qingqing, you know me, you understand me, I…”

“I know, I know,” Yuqing smiled, the tiny mole beneath his eye gleaming with radiant charm. “Our Zezhi has no wicked bones, merely a childish streak because his wife hasn’t given him enough security, isn’t that right?”

“Yet you got me with child, and the baby has already been born—where on earth could I run to?” Yuqing chuckled softly.

“The swollen belly wasn’t my doing alone… you wanted it, and in this house, doesn’t everything go by your word?” Zhou Xiao’s gaze dropped despondently. “If you grow weary of me one day, replacing me would take but a single command from your lips. When have I ever held the upper hand before you?”

His mournful sulk made Yuqing look like an unfaithful lover.

Yuqing now truly regretted accepting the opera invitation. Most of his day had been spent coaxing this overgrown boy, while the little child outside was left unattended.

Seeing him lament his lack of control, Yuqing looped his arms around his neck, whispering close: “Then today, you may take the lead. I won’t stay on top—will that do?”

Zhou Xiao felt his ears ringing, his Adam’s apple bobbing hard. That single sentence was enough to obliterate every shred of reason, yet he forced himself to ask, “Shouldn’t we let the doctor examine you first?”

“I was teasing you—did you actually believe it?” Yuqing stifled a laugh.

Before heading to Xianxiang Restaurant, he had already seen the Western physician and ordered several garments; otherwise, a simple trip would never have taken that long. The Western doctor, unaware he had given birth, merely noted a delicate constitution, confirming the internal organs had settled into their proper places without concern.

Doctor Liu had even advised that resuming marital relations would help regulate his vital energy. Yuqing’s health was fragile, and building his constitution relied on tonics and warmth. Prone to cold sweats, regular intimacy would induce healthy perspiration and expel lingering internal chill. It simply required a gentle, measured pace.

Their faces pressed flush together, Zhou Xiao capturing his lips, curving his body to press Yuqing further into the bed until there was nowhere left to retreat…

This time, Zhou Xiao made no sound, shed no tears, and threw no tantrums.

He kept his head down, working in focused silence.

He was hopelessly intoxicated by his wife’s body; every single inch of skin held a fatal allure. His long, calloused fingers pressed against Yuqing’s soft skin, leaving bright red marks wherever he applied the slightest weight.

In broad daylight, Yuqing raised an arm to shield his eyes.

He had always felt shy about such matters—perhaps that innate modesty still lingered in his bones.

The bed curtains dropped, veiling their silhouettes in soft obscurity.

Though both were men with identical forms, Yuqing felt uniquely self-conscious. Being on top allowed him to dictate the pace, but lying parted beneath him, with Zhou Xiao between his knees, shifted everything.

Zhou Xiao didn’t collapse atop him; he remained kneeling upright, keeping a small distance between them, leaving every view laid bare before his eyes.

This was not the first time since the birth.

When Yuqing felt too shy, he would extinguish the candles to let him nurse. Zhou Xiao always woke earlier than him, never leaving the bed, using the dawn light to undo his wife’s robes and study him intently—down to the finest translucent down on his face.

He found no flaw in his wife’s form; those faint, peach-fuzz hairs contrasted delightfully with his austere composure, endearingly soft.

Yuqing’s pelvic bones had indeed widened slightly, yet it only made his waist appear impossibly slender by comparison. Laid flat, Zhou Xiao’s broad palm matched the exact span of his waist.

His elongated navel seemed like an eye; with every steady thrust, Zhou Xiao brushed against it, as though coaxing that eye to blink.

At such moments, Zhou Xiao tried his best to disguise himself as a refined gentleman rather than a ravenous rake: “Qingqing, may I kiss you here?”

“My sweet Qingqing, may I breathe you in here?”

“You’re a mother now; don’t be so stingy.”

“Mother…”