Delicate, Yet Shamelessly Freeloading [Quick Transmigration] Chapter 63

Chapter 63: The Snobbish Black Moonlight (12)

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If he lowered the fan now, one would see a swollen, bright red lip bead. Even his lower lip was fuller than usual—as if it could burst with juice from just one more press.

 

When Shui Que got nervous, his eyes blinked more frequently on reflex.

 

With the floral fan just touching his nose, he was so nervous it felt like even his breath was fogging up the fan’s surface. “…Close your eyes.”

 

Qi Chaojin didn’t catch on right away. “Huh?”

 

Shui Que kept his face half-hidden. His eyelashes looked like butterfly wings folded neatly, long and fluttering—making him look shy and delicate.

 

Qi Chaojin was a little mesmerized.

 

Whether it was the romantic sunset or something else entirely, he didn’t know.

 

“Hurry up.” Shui Que glanced up at him, pretending to be annoyed. “I told you to close your eyes… all the way. Don’t peek, not even a little.”

 

Holding his breath, Qi Chaojin obediently closed his eyes. “Okay.”

 

Shui Que leaned closer—close enough their breaths tangled—confirming that Qi Chaojin’s eyes were shut tight.

 

Only then did he cautiously move the fan aside, shielding both their faces, and tiptoe to press his lips against his.

 

Because he was so nervous and flustered, the kiss was rushed, and he accidentally stepped on Qi Chaojin’s shoe.

 

Worried that Qi Chaojin might open his eyes from the pain, Shui Que quickly covered them with his hand.

 

With a deliberately stern voice, he muttered, lips moving fast as if hypnotizing him: “I’m not heavy. It doesn’t hurt when I step on you—my foot’s the one that hurts, alright? Don’t open your eyes, got it?”

 

The kiss barely lasted before Shui Que pulled back to speak.

 

Qi Chaojin didn’t feel any pain—his entire awareness seemed to focus solely on his lips.

 

Eyes still covered by warm, soft hands, he blinked under the pressure and mumbled in a daze: “Does your foot hurt?”

 

It seemed like whenever Shui Que so much as said he was in pain, Qi Chaojin would kneel down without hesitation and massage the soles of his feet.

 

Shui Que mumbled: “I’m not, it doesn’t hurt.”

 

Then, once again facing Qi Chaojin, he pressed their lips together. He didn’t know how to use his tongue, so he deliberately rubbed and pressed against the other’s lips with his own.

 

Those plump lips were slightly hot, tingling with a numbing itch.

 

Qi Chaojin’s fingers curled tightly into fists, his composure strained.

 

Such awkward pressing and friction from inexperience—it was torturous.

 

Unable to help himself, he reached up and cupped the back of Shui Que’s head, his long fingers bending naturally.

 

At first, it was just a gentle kiss without much force, but Shui Que couldn’t hold it in for long. He sharply inhaled, hissing, “It hurts…”

 

Qi Chaojin’s expression tightened. He immediately let go and stopped kissing.

 

Shui Que figured that was enough for now. He wrapped both arms around Qi Chaojin’s waist and back, his face pressed tightly against the man’s chest. He deliberately lowered his head, not letting the other see clearly.

 

Then, with his eyes shut, he started making things up.

 

“I already told you—I burned my lips drinking tea earlier, and yet you still had to kiss me. And so hard, too. Now they’re swollen, and it’s all your fault.”

 

He hadn’t actually said that earlier. In fact, he never mentioned scalding his lips with tea—it had been his idea to lean in and kiss first.

 

Shui Que was just twisting logic to his favor.

 

Because he figured the swelling wouldn’t go down any time soon, a quick idea popped into his head—why not blame it all on the male lead?

 

Qi Chaojin would definitely feel guilty seeing him like this and wouldn’t dare to question or look too closely.

 

Ah, he was such a little schemer.

 

With his forehead against Qi Chaojin’s collarbone, Shui Que sensed the other man trying to lower his head to check on his lips, so he shook his head, dodging, refusing to let him look.

 

And he said with perfect logic: “No, my lips are swollen and ugly. You’re not allowed to look.”

 

Qi Chaojin didn’t know what to do. The usually calm and courteous young man was now at a complete loss, faced for the first time with how to comfort his delicate little sweetheart.

 

He asked gently, “Is it really bad? Should I go buy some ice from town for a cold compress?”

 

But by mid-July, the weather had cooled down. Most ice cellars in the southern part of the city were empty by now.

 

Even the sweet drink shops had fewer cold items on hand.

 

Shui Que covered half his face and muttered, “No need. Just turn around and carry me back… or someone will see my lips and laugh.”

 

Mostly, he just didn’t want Qi Chaojin to see them.

 

He was afraid the man might notice something, look too closely, and start to get suspicious.

 

Qi Chaojin had no choice but to oblige. He lifted Shui Que onto his back and slowly carried him back.

 

But this wasn’t the best plan either. The opera at the Pear Garden hadn’t finished yet. A tall scholar with a Xiao Langjun on his back—this pairing attracted attention wherever they went. Shui Que felt the curious stares from all directions and buried his face in Qi Chaojin’s shoulder blade, refusing to lift his head.

 

The entrance to the opera house was packed. Subtle or obvious glances swept over them. Qi Chaojin politely said, “Excuse us, my cousin sprained his foot. Could we trouble you to make way so we can leave?”

 

Hearing this, most people withdrew their suggestive looks and moved aside as the crowd shifted outward, parting to let them through.

 

With no one staring like needles in his back, Shui Que finally lifted his face slightly. He wrapped his arms around Qi Chaojin’s neck and praised, “Qi Lang, you’re so clever.”

 

Qi Chaojin had one hand supporting Shui Que’s thighs, and at those words, his back stiffened. He said nothing, but adjusted Shui Que higher on his back.

 

It was as if every little thing deserved praise from Xiao Langjun—from chopping vegetables to handwriting. Even when building a fence for the chicken coop, Shui Que would come over, squat down, and compliment, “Qi Lang, you know everything!”

 

Qi Chaojin was used to stern instruction. But over the past few months, he had heard more flattery and sweet talk from Shui Que than in many years before.

 

His usually cool and calm demeanor would always soften when facing Shui Que.

 

The Overseer had held his tongue long enough. He finally couldn’t stand their lovesick atmosphere any longer.

 

With biting sarcasm, he jeered: [Say ‘ow’ one more time, and this broke scholar might just try to reduce your swelling with his spit. He’ll be licking your lips like a dog, and you’ll probably thank him for it.]


[And you said your Qi Lang is smart?]

 

His words were baseless speculation—completely out of line.

 

Shui Que was a bit angry. His tone showed his irritation as he retorted: [Don’t say things like that. Qi Lang would never do that. I—I wouldn’t let him lick my lips and then thank him, either.]

 

[Mmhm.]


The Overseer mimicked Shui Que’s usual lazy, noncommittal responses in a mocking tone.

 

Still unable to stomach Shui Que’s obvious affection for Qi Chaojin, the Overseer sourly added: [Ah, such a loving couple. What are we going to do, sweetheart? Even I’m starting to ship you two.]

 

?

 

What the hell?

 

Why was he suddenly back to saying weird stuff again?

 

Shui Que thought he was being completely unreasonable and absurd. In a huff, he rolled his eyes at the Overseer.

 

….

 

Six days passed, and it was time for another rest day at the academy.

 

The street market below the restaurant was lively and packed, full of noise and bustling with people. From upstairs, three-foot-long banners fluttered in the autumn wind, decorated with bright silk streamers. The signs advertising the Drum Belly Restaurant were visible to every visitor entering the city.

 

The carved wooden windows were left open, letting the fall breeze bring in the scent of food.

 

The table was full of dishes, but the Xiao Langjun didn’t touch his chopsticks much. After a few bites, he set them down, looking listless.

 

Wu Chun didn’t know what to do. He paused with his chopsticks mid-air. “You’re not eating?”

 

Shui Que was already so slim, barely any flesh on him. If he didn’t eat properly, wouldn’t he just waste away?

 

Wu Chun had tried to recreate everything from that day with Young Master Cui—same restaurant, same private room on the second floor.

 

He even ordered all the dishes reported by the waiter that day. He had memorized the entire list—down to the last dish.

 

Braised Eight-Treasure Meatballs, Bamboo Shoots Stewed with Fire Pork, Stir-fried Chicken with Yellow Sprouts, Sautéed Mixed Nuts with Sauce…

 

A whole table of food.

 

Even the tea was from Junshan, Dongting Lake.

 

Wu Chun couldn’t understand—had he done something wrong?

 

Shui Que looked at the feast in front of him and sighed. “I’m just kind of tired of it. Drum Belly doesn’t have anything new on the menu. The new dishes they do have aren’t even as good as the ones Qi Lang makes…”

 

“You eat, don’t let it all go to waste—we ordered so much.” He tried to persuade Wu Chun.

 

There were only the two of them today. Normally, Shui Que would eat with Cui San and three or four others, which was just the right amount. Lately, his appetite had dropped with the season change. Faced with such a big spread, he only felt overwhelmed.

 

He gave up after just a little.

 

The Xiao Langjun clearly wasn’t in high spirits.

 

Wu Chun was at a loss, not knowing where he had gone wrong or how to make Shui Que happy.

 

Like a defeated dog, he gloomily picked at the food in front of him.

 

He could eat through most of the dishes alone, and for the rest—worried Shui Que might think he was wasteful—he called for a waiter to pack them up in a takeaway box.

 

…..

 

By the end of July, the summer heat had fully faded. It was truly autumn now.

 

Shui Que had grown sick of both the Drum Belly Restaurant and the vegetarian meals at the academy.

 

Qi Chaojin had, as usual, given him some money to eat out. There were still plenty of noodle shops and diners on the street that Shui Que had yet to explore. But just as he stepped outside the academy gate, he spotted a familiar figure.

 

Looking left and right to make sure no one he knew was nearby, Shui Que waved Wu Chun over. They had to go further from the academy—he didn’t want anyone seeing them and reporting it to Qi Chaojin.

 

After all, at this point, he hadn’t yet revealed his messing-around-behind-the-scenes black moonlight identity.

 

The Hu man eagerly followed behind.

 

They walked all the way to a riverside pavilion. At this time of day, most families were eating lunch, so the place was deserted.

 

Shui Que leaned lazily against the red-painted wooden railing, sitting on the flying chair in the pavilion. His back rested against the banister, and his head was propped up in his hand, looking catlike and languid from the fatigue of autumn. He glanced at the person before him. “What is it now? Bringing me something again today?”

 

He had no idea what this man had been up to lately—he kept bringing him gifts.


First, a jade hairpin of green jade, then a white jade pendant. Seeing Shui Que wasn’t particularly interested in jade, he switched to an ivory bone fan…

 

Who gives fans as gifts in autumn?

 

It seemed like he simply piled up anything that looked valuable or expensive in front of Shui Que.


Then looked at him with hopeful eyes.

 

Just like now.

 

Wu Chun opened the food box he had been carrying. He really seemed to have come into some money recently. Though he still wore the same coarse fabric clothes, the food box was no longer some countryside bamboo weave—it was now a three-tiered lacquer box inlaid with beast bones.

 

But inside weren’t the usual delicacies seen in restaurants.

 

Shui Que blinked, leaning forward slightly, his nose twitching.

“What’s this…?” he peered at the food in the box—big flat cakes. “Smells pretty good.”

 

Wu Chun stammered out, “It’s the Hu meat-stuffed flatbread.”

 

He’d heard Shui Que complain before that the new dishes at Drum Belly still weren’t as good as Qi Er’s cooking.

 

His clansmen had told him: to win over the Xiao Langjun’s heart, you must first win over his stomach.

 

Qi Er must have been an excellent cook.

 

Wu Chun wasn’t used to working in the kitchen and had no signature dishes. His skills were barely enough to get meat and vegetables cooked through.

 

The only thing he was somewhat good at was Hu meat-stuffed flatbread, but even that had only been basic—just sprinkling sesame over dough and baking it.

 

People in the Central Plains usually didn’t care much for it.

So he went to Granny Cao’s bakery and spent a few days learning how to make Hu meat-stuffed flatbread with a Central Plains-adapted recipe.

 

He used sesame seeds, eggs, ghee, beef marrow oil, and milk. The dough had to be kneaded until it was soft and stretchy, shaped into a flatbread that was thinner in the middle and thicker around the edges. The Xiao Langjun was too thin, so he made sure to stuff the bread with meat. Then he’d prick patterns on the surface and bake it in the oven.

 

The Hu meat-stuffed flatbread was so greasy it would leave oil on your hands. Wu Chun silently pulled out some oiled paper from the bottom of the box, wrapped a Hu meat-stuffed flatbread in it, and handed it to Shui Que, his throat tightening with unease. “…Try it.”

 

Even through the oiled paper, the Hu meat-stuffed flatbread was hot to the touch—clearly, the box had excellent insulation.

 

Shui Que simply leaned toward Wu Chun’s hand and bit into the Hu meat-stuffed flatbread.

 

The thick edge of the bread was soft and fluffy, rich with aroma. Shui Que’s eyes lit up as he looked at Wu Chun. “It’s delicious!”

 

He’d never eaten this before. The taste and texture were novel. When he bit into the thin middle, it was crisp and crunchy.

 

The second layer of the box held A Po Tea—also something Wu Chun had learned from Granny Cao.

 

It was called tea, but it was more like soup. In the bowl were roasted chestnuts, walnuts carefully shelled by Wu Chun, and a generous sprinkle of white sesame seeds. Wu Chun had boiled the tea water over charcoal until it bubbled, then poured in cold water, boiled it again, and repeated the cycle three times.

 

After Shui Que finished a whole cup, the corners of his lips curled up as he praised, “This is really good.”

 

Wu Chun stared at him in a daze. The warmth of the tea had made Shui Que’s cheeks soft and fair, with a faint flush and a little dimple.

 

He’d only ever seen the Xiao Langjun smile like that at Qi Er.

 

A surge of warmth swelled in his chest. He was giddy with joy.

 

Wu Chun swallowed hard, and said with solemn sincerity, “If you like it, I’ll keep making it for you.”

 

But as soon as he said “keep,” his expression dimmed.

 

From the pocket of his coarse robe, he took out a safety charm—a ping’an kou.

 

It looked quite old. The jade was nowhere near as fine as the ones he’d given before. The red knotted cord attached to it was rough and fraying, as though it would snap with a bit more force.

 

He placed it in Shui Que’s palm, his voice hoarse. “This is for you. If you don’t like it, you can throw it away. I’ll be leaving Changzhou County in a few days… but I’ll definitely come back to find you…”

 

Shui Que, recalling all the strange behavior lately, suddenly had a bad feeling. He asked seriously, “Wu Chun. Where are you going?”

 

Wu Chun shook his head and didn’t answer the question. He only said, “That rabbit—I’ve been taking good care of it. Do you still want it?”

 

The journey ahead was long and bumpy. There was no way he could bring the rabbit along.

 

“If you don’t want it, I’ll go back and let it go,” Wu Chun said. “But if you do, I’ll bring it to the Qi residence gate tomorrow morning.”

 

Seeing that Wu Chun didn’t want to reveal where he was going, Shui Que replied, “Alright… then bring it to the gate.”

 

Wu Chun nodded, stared at him for a long moment, then asked, “Can I kiss you one more time?”

 

Shui Que quickly covered his mouth and shook his head hard. “No, no. You bite when you kiss. My lips still hurt.”

 

Wu Chun’s expression dimmed. “What about Qi Er then? How does he kiss you?”

 

“Does his kiss feel better than mine?”

 

He asked seriously, as if this wasn’t some flirtatious midday question but a genuine inquiry.

 

His sharp eyes watched Shui Que with a kind of reverence. “What can I do to make it feel good for you? What can I do to make you happy?”

 

A rider galloped past—young and full of energy, dressed in a tight-sleeved dark robe embroidered with a python motif. His horse’s hooves kicked up dust from the road.

 

Hearing the conversation, the rider turned to glance at them.

 

Panicked, Shui Que clamped his hand over Wu Chun’s mouth, trying to stop him from blurting out such suggestive things in public.

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Huge shoutout to @candycorns2 on Discord for commissioning this! The chapter will be posted regularly, show your support for Ciacia at Kofi.

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