The décor of the Peace Hotel leaned decidedly European. When knees pressed into the round, plush, king-sized bed, it felt like sinking into a quagmire, yielding deeply beneath the weight.

Yuqing’s long hair had only been half-pinned with a jade hairpin. Suddenly hoisted up and thrown onto the bed, the hairpin tumbled away to parts unknown, leaving his dark locks to cascade across the sheets like a waterfall. “You—”

He hadn’t intended to stay long in Shencheng; it was only because Deng Yongquan mentioned that the Eldest Young Master rarely fell ill.

It was only natural for a privileged young master—who usually did little besides studying, rambling about equality for all, and acting heedless—to be frightened out of his wits after running headfirst into a murder case right upon taking office. Yuqing had originally come out of pity for him.

Yet how did this look anything like being sick?

Zhou Xiao kissed his lips relentlessly and without any technique, like a predator tearing into its prey by pure instinct. The rough treatment left Yuqing aching all over, muffled groans spilling involuntarily from his throat.

“Eldest Young Master…” Yuqing’s slender arms pressed against his chest.

Fraught with chronic illness since childhood, Yuqing had never fully recovered. Though he stood nearly 175 centimeters tall, his frame was delicate and light. Even though he was three years Zhou Xiao’s senior, he was no match for a single one of the younger man’s hands. Both of his wrists were seized and pinned above his head. Forced to tilt his chin up, he opened his mouth to call the other’s name, only to grant Zhou Xiao an opening to invade even deeper.

Zhou Xiao possessed a tall, imposing build. According to Deng Yongquan, his favorite pastime while studying in France was fencing; his arms and chest were forged as solid as iron. Resisting him proved far too difficult for Yuqing.

“…Yuqing, why must you treat me this way?” Zhou Xiao forced Yuqing’s knees apart, his flushed face burying itself deep into Yuqing’s shoulder.

His breath came heavy and ragged as he inhaled deeply.

Yuqing was like a creature stepping out from a thicket of jasmine; his porcelain-fair skin was thoroughly steeped in the blossom’s fragrance. It felt as though, were one to wring the moisture from this person, the nectar produced would be intoxicating enough to enrapture a man’s soul.

His true motives having been struck on the mark, Yuqing’s body stiffened for a fraction of a second as the hound-like man wetly licked along his neck.

“Young Master, you are ill…” An itch prickled Yuqing’s throat. With his Adam’s apple gently caught between the man’s teeth, he unconsciously cradled Zhou Xiao’s head.

The unstyled short hair felt remarkably soft to the touch, resembling the large pet dog kept back at the family estate.

Yet that very remark only fanned the flames of fury in Zhou Xiao’s chest.

Knowing full well he was sick, this person still came to provoke him.

They had agreed to remain casual acquaintances who would never disturb each other. Yet Ruan Yuqing had brazenly thrust himself forward without a shred of shame, even drugging him just to make use of him… of his “serviceable” tool!

Recalling how, on their wedding night, Yuqing had remarked on his resemblance to the Old Master, the uncontrollable rage in his chest threatened to consume him whole.

Ever since childhood, merely because he resembled the Old Master, the First Madame had subjected him to endless torments. And now, solely because of this face, he had been reduced to Ruan Yuqing’s favored bedroom implement—by what right?!

Was Ruan Yuqing so desperate that he could not live without a man?

Traveling thousands of miles just to share his bed?

Why should he have to serve as the old man’s substitute?

Zhou Xiao was both furious and aggrieved, yet the fire consuming his body was agonizing to bear. The moment he caught the fragrance on Ruan Yuqing, he was bewitched beyond reason. He had no idea how much drug had been poured down his throat before he awoke; every limb and bone felt scorched through and through.

“Ruan Yuqing, you were the one who provoked me first.”

“Hiss—Zhou Xiao, mmh—”

Yuqing gasped, his voice catching. Before he could mount any resistance, his long robe had been thoroughly torn open.

Where did this man look like someone who had studied abroad? He was nothing more than a starved, lust-crazed brute.

Yuqing had never meant to provoke him. He had taken his conception medicine in advance, intending to drink it for a few days to nourish his body.

He had no reason to trouble this Young Master Zhou without cause. The man’s equipment certainly looked plenty serviceable, but the sheer size was truly intimidating. Yuqing was exceedingly thin; with only red candles lit on their wedding night, he hadn’t seen clearly.

From his nape down to his spine, he looked like a graceful crane. Between his struggling breaths, every rib was starkly defined. Even the navel on his flat abdomen was slender and lovely, the skin over his belly paper-thin…

The two tangled together. Several times Yuqing tried to struggle free, only to be firmly suppressed by Zhou Xiao.

Waiting outside, Zhao Fu caught the faint commotion and knocked on the door. “Young Mistress?”

“What is he to you?” Zhou Xiao bit at the skin of his neck, demanding, “Zhao Fu is the real bastard—by what right does he follow you around like a lapdog?”

With a dull thud, Yuqing was lifted in his arms and pressed flat against the table. How could he possibly speak?

Yuqing had always been remarkably adept at enduring pain, but this was not mere pain. Through his pale, translucent chest, the frantic thumping of his heart was practically visible. He could only gasp for air, missing the words: “What…?”

Zhou Xiao gripped his waist from behind, one hand catching a fistful of his hair. Leaning down until their bodies pressed flush together, cheek against cheek, he demanded, “Has he… ever slept with you?”

Yuqing tilted his head back against his shoulder, glistening with sweat, his voice rasping, “No…”

“Why not?” Zhou Xiao began biting at the nape of his neck again.

He seemed terrified of hearing that any other man had ever shared a bed with Yuqing, strung tight with anxious jealousy.

Having Yuqing once wasn’t enough, wasn’t enough—it would never be enough!

Yuqing kept his voice tightly suppressed, making almost no sound, struggling to steady his breath as he answered, “He… isn’t you. He isn’t part of the Zhou family…”

“Is that so?” Zhou Xiao stared unblinkingly at his bare back and the flushed rim of his ear.

It was an extraordinary sensation.

“So, you only kept yourself for the old man before. You only wanted me after you laid eyes on me, didn’t you?”

Yuqing’s slender fingers gripped the corner of the table, only to be promptly pinned down by Zhou Xiao’s large, vein-ridged hand. The table was shoved hard against the base of the wall, sending the porcelain lamp atop it crashing to the floor, shattering into pieces. He pressed relentlessly, “Isn’t that right?!”

Flipped over to face him, Yuqing’s gaze fell upon his own abdomen. Even as a male wife, he could hardly endure such wanton acts in broad daylight…

With the corners of his eyes reddening, he looked up in helpless bewilderment, meeting Zhou Xiao’s overbearing gaze. Yuqing covered his face with one hand, his lower abdomen aching terribly, leaving him no choice but to murmur softly in concession, “Yes… yes…”

“I knew it.” Zhou Xiao let out a cold scoff, a stray tear of bitter reluctance tracing down his cheek. “You only fancy me because I am young.”

Yuqing’s head buzzed and rang. His constitution was frail to begin with; though he had taken tonics for years and thought he had improved, he simply could not withstand Zhou Xiao’s rough handling.

Vaguely, he heard Zhou Xiao murmur once more: “Lucky for you, I am young.”

By the time the storm subsided, night had long fallen outside.

Yuqing woke late. Sunk deep into the blankets, he blinked groggily, the refreshing scent of mint being the first thing to greet his senses.

The shattered lamp on the table had already been replaced by hotel staff, casting a dim, warm yellow glow. Zhou Xiao sat by the table, smoking a long pipe.

It was the one Yuqing frequently used.

The pipe was crafted entirely of copper, accented with Hetian jade only at the bowl and mouthpiece. From being held between lips for so long, the jade mouthpiece had taken on an even richer, glossier sheen.

Leaning against the table with his shirt hanging wide open, Zhou Xiao displayed the robust physique unique to youth, his trousers resting loosely against his hips. He squinted toward the newly awakened Yuqing on the bed. “There really isn’t tobacco inside this.”

“Mm.” Yuqing crooked his finger, gesturing for him to bring the pipe over.

With his long hair cascading down, Yuqing tilted his head up and took the mouthpiece between his lips, drawing a gentle puff. The jade mouthpiece glistened wetly from his touch. “Otherwise, I lack the energy.”

The blend was packed with jasmine and mint leaves—crisp and invigorating, with a faint herbal bitterness at the finish, mixed with medicinal ingredients.

“What a peculiar habit.”

“Has your fever broken?”

Both spoke almost at the exact same moment. Yuqing let out a low chuckle, sitting up slowly, only to discover a lingering fullness in his lower abdomen.

To tell the truth, being a man himself, Yuqing had few physical desires. Even when staying by the Master’s side in the past, he had never harbored fantasies about anyone. Combined with his poor health, even morning arousal was exceedingly rare.

Were it not for the difference in color, he might have suspected Zhou Xiao had relieved his bladder inside him.

“Come here, let me feel.” Leaning against the pillow with the pipe in hand, Yuqing exhaled a wisp of pale smoke and crooked his finger at him once more.

Zhou Xiao naturally didn’t refuse; when all was said and done, Yuqing had come out of concern for him.

“You are still young. Seeing such gruesome sights for the first time, it’s only natural to fall ill from fright. Being out on your own must be truly exhausting.”

Pressing his slender, cool fingers against Zhou Xiao’s palm, Yuqing asked softly, “Isn’t that right?”

Zhou Xiao’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly. “It’s fine.”

He wasn’t afraid of dead bodies; he only feared dreaming—dreaming of the foul, filthy horrors of his childhood.

“Besides wanting me, what else did you come for this time?” he asked succinctly. “Has something happened to the old man again?”

Yuqing shook his head. “No, I was merely worried about you.”

Since he was already here, polite pleasantries were a given. Yuqing was an expert at telling people what they wanted to hear. Besides, Zhou Xiao was rather endearing—his earlobes always flushed red unconsciously whenever they spoke, just like teasing a puppy: refusing the bone offered to him, yet wagging his tail at breakneck speed.

“Or perhaps… I came specifically because I wanted the Young Master.” Yuqing’s hand slid up the muscles of his forearm, coming to rest upon his shoulder. Like a serpent, he leaned into the man’s cheek, lightly brushing his fingertips against the side of his face. “Young Master, is even this forbidden? You are my husband, after all…”

Zhou Xiao ground his teeth together. At this moment, he sat rigid like a monk before a temple bell, not daring to meet the other’s gaze, though his thoughts were running wild.

He knew it: Yuqing favored him because he was young, well-endowed, and comfortable to use.

He detested being calculated.

“Suit yourself.” He turned his face away. “Not another time.”

On the table sat the medicine brought over by Zhao Fu. No one knew what went into that dark brew; Yuqing drank it practically every day. It smelled intensely bitter, paired with a candied preserved date beside the bowl.

Even Yuqing couldn’t help but grimace as he swallowed the dose. Zhou Xiao naturally took the empty bowl from his hands.

“I haven’t spat out the date pit yet.” Holding the sweet date in his mouth with one cheek puffed out, Yuqing tilted his head, seemingly puzzled as to why he took the bowl away.

“Demanding.” Setting the bowl onto the table, Zhou Xiao returned to the bedside with a look of mild disgust. He reached his hand out in front of Yuqing, turning his face aside, unwilling to watch him spit the pit.

Yuqing chuckled softly. “Zhao Fu usually attends to this. How could I dare trouble the Eldest Young Master?”

“Spit it out, quickly.” Zhou Xiao turned back to glare at him, impatience practically spilling from his eyes as he fixed his gaze on Yuqing’s mouth. “I don’t have that much patience for a man.”

Only after savoring every trace of sweetness from the candied date did Yuqing slowly part his teeth, obediently spitting the pit into his open palm.

Wet and marked by teeth, coated in the syrupy sweetness of the date and the tackiness of saliva, it dropped into his hand with a soft plop.

“Needing someone to wait on you just to eat a date—you put on the airs of the Young Mistress quite well. It seems you haven’t taken a single word of mine to heart.”

Zhou Xiao went into the bathroom to wash his hands. By the time he returned, Yuqing was already out of bed, getting dressed. “I took them to heart. Even the servants no longer kneel these days. In the previous dynasty, your words would be on par with an imperial edict; of course I must obey.”

Delivered alongside the medicine earlier were his fresh clothes.

Even though most people in the Republic had switched to Western suits, Yuqing retained the habit of wearing traditional long robes.

It was strange, really.

Yuqing was a man. Though he wore his hair long, he lacked feminine delicacy, carrying more of a frail, sickly air. Yet his waist was supple, his legs long and lean, and the gentle submission in his speech brought an inexplicable sense of soothing comfort.

Throwing on a loose robe with nothing underneath, he stepped barefoot onto the carpet, walking toward Zhou Xiao as the fragrance of jasmine drew near.

Resting both hands gently upon Zhou Xiao’s shoulders, Yuqing leaned close to the man’s ear. “Obeying one’s husband is the duty of a wife…”

His warm breath tickled his ear, slithering inside like a serpent. Zhou Xiao’s Adam’s apple bobbed uncontrollably. Grabbing Yuqing’s cheeks, he forced their eyes to meet. “A wife’s duty? Was there ever a precedent for a man being a wife in the previous dynasty?”

“Do you even count as a wife?”

Yuqing tilted his head, wrapping his arms around Zhou Xiao’s neck, his bare feet stepping onto Zhou Xiao’s slippers. Even standing slightly on tiptoe, he weighed next to nothing.

“Even if I don’t count as a wife, I was still brought through the front gates,” Yuqing said. “Young Master, what do you consider a true wife to be?”

Zhou Xiao replied, “In France, some fall in love at first sight, while others pledge their lives through mutual understanding. Only mutual devotion makes a wife. Coming to find me for things like this—I hope this is the very last time. You walk your broad road, and I will cross my single-plank bridge. I am not your bedroom entertainment, nor do I have any interest in men. Once the Old Master passes, I can have your name entered into the family genealogy as an adopted son.”

“That is not what I want.” Yuqing shook his head coquettishly, his fingertip tracing a slow path down Zhou Xiao’s forehead.

Past the bridge of his nose, over his lips.

It was merely a simple touch, yet whenever Yuqing did it, it carried an unmistakable undertone of erotic indulgence.

“Yuqing does not consider those to be a wife.”

Zhou Xiao licked his lips. Taking the opportunity, Yuqing slipped his finger between the man’s teeth, murmuring tenderly, “In the Zhou family, whoever climbs into the Young Master’s bed is the wife.”

“The one who gets fucked by you is the wife.”

“Bearing sons and raising daughters makes a wife.”

“Only a wife can be entered into the ancestral genealogy, to have an ancestral tablet worshipped in the future as a true member of the Zhou clan.”

__

Author’s Note:

Zhou Xiao: I’m sick! I have a fever! And you still insist on having me! [angry] So impatient and lustful! You degenerate!!

Yuqing: Lunatic. I think that fever burned your brain to a crisp [melting]. Completely senseless [melting]. Think I’ll still want you once I’m pregnant? [milk tea]