Su Yan was momentarily taken aback. Then he clapped his loyal guard on the shoulder. “I don’t care whether Yu Wang lives or dies, but I won’t let you risk your life over a useless piece of trash. Don’t forget—your life belongs to me.”
Jinghong Zhui’s heart swelled at those words. Every time Su Yan said them, his sense of belonging grew stronger.
Unable to suppress himself, he grasped Su Yan’s hand just as the latter was about to withdraw it. His voice was firm yet obedient. “Not just this life—there is no part of me, no possession I own, that isn’t yours.”
Su Yan had long worried that years of assassin training had stripped Jinghong Zhui of his individuality, leaving him emotionally detached.
People like him, if they failed to find meaning in life, often took extreme paths. But conversely, once they did find purpose, they became unwavering, even to the point of obsession—willing to burn themselves to fuel that purpose.
Su Yan didn’t want Jinghong Zhui to live solely for him.
But at this moment, it seemed that he had already made up his mind to follow Su Yan, no matter how dark the path ahead.
“Ah Zhui, you belong to yourself.” Su Yan tried one last time to persuade and save him. “We all belong to ourselves.”
Jinghong Zhui thought for a moment and replied, “You can belong to yourself, my lord. But I must belong to you.”
“…Have you never thought about staying away from the chaos of the martial world, retiring to the countryside, and living a peaceful life? A beautiful wife washing her hands in the kitchen to prepare a warm meal, adorable children chasing each other around the big tree in the yard, while you sit beneath it, smiling, enjoying the happiness of family life?”
“I have thought about it,” Jinghong Zhui gazed at Su Yan, his eyes soft like autumn waters. In this moment, he was no longer a sharp sword but the morning breeze brushing past the treetops, carrying a refreshing and tranquil air. “But there would be no children—only me and the one I long for.
“Every moment by his side would be filled with boundless joy. I would farm for him, cook for him, work hard to earn money for him, serve him tea and water. And he would only need to lie comfortably in a rattan chair that I wove by hand, listening to the wind rustling through the treetops…”
Jinghong Zhui leaned in closer, his voice growing softer. Su Yan seemed to be immersed in the utopia woven by his words, his gaze turning slightly dazed—until his lips were suddenly captured by a heat filled with devotion and longing.
It took a long time before Su Yan finally broke free, gasping for breath. Covering his disheveled collar, he was furious and humiliated. “If you insist on following me, then behave yourself as a proper guard! Stop this kind of insolent behavior! Do you see any other bodyguards out there who keep groping and biting their masters? You should be beaten like a dog with a stick!”
Jinghong Zhui lowered his head and accepted the reprimand with an expression that read, My lord is absolutely right; this was entirely my fault. But deep inside, he was still savoring the lingering sensation on his fingertips.
Su Yan scolded him for a while, and seeing that his attitude of admitting fault was quite good, he softened his tone. “Last time… what happened during the Mid-Autumn Festival was just an accident. I won’t blame you anymore, but don’t let it happen again. Your lord—I—am a straight man. I will marry a wife, have children, and continue my family line. I can’t keep messing around with a man.”
Jinghong Zhui hesitated for a moment before gritting his teeth and making a temporary concession. “If my lord wishes to marry and have children, I have no right to interfere. But since the lady of the house is nowhere in sight yet, it is only proper that I take care of my lord’s daily needs in the meantime.”
Su Yan advised, “My two little attendants can handle such trivial matters. You’re a full-grown man—stop dressing and undressing me all the time, or you’ll start looking like a mere servant.”
“A guard is a servant as well as a protector,” Jinghong Zhui replied. “From now on, the personal care of my lord will be my responsibility. Those two brats can handle the miscellaneous chores.”
“Oh? You dare to talk back!” Su Yan slammed his palm on the table in frustration. “And now you’re even ordering me around! Who’s the master of this household, you or me?”
Jinghong Zhui immediately dropped to one knee. “I wouldn’t dare. My lord is the head of the household.”
“As long as you understand. No more talking back in the future.” Su Yan nudged his kneeling knee with the back of his foot. “Get up! How many times have I told you not to kneel at every little thing?”
Jinghong Zhui suddenly reached out and pressed Su Yan’s ankle, gently massaging a point on it.
Su Yan felt a tingling numbness spread through his ankle, his leg nearly giving out. He staggered and yelled in anger, “What are you doing?!”
“My lord’s kick just now was weak, and your stance was unsteady. It seems your meridians are blocked.” Jinghong Zhui frowned, helping Su Yan stand properly, his expression serious. “The Taixi point is the source of the Kidney Meridian. If pressing it causes pain, it means that your kidney meridian is imbalanced and struggling to nourish your body. If not treated in time, it may affect my lord’s… marital performance in the future.”
Su Yan was momentarily stunned. Then, as realization dawned on him, he furiously kicked Jinghong Zhui harder. “What nonsense are you spouting! Who are you trying to scare?!”
Jinghong Zhui wasn’t just making things up. Ever since that fateful Mid-Autumn night, Su Yan had overexerted himself, depleting too much energy. Then, he had spent over a month traveling constantly without proper rest, which had weakened his vitality.
Of course, he couldn’t bring himself to admit that it was his own endurance that had completely exhausted his young master. So, he slightly altered the explanation.
Su Yan was half skeptical and half anxious. The original owner of this body was indeed frail. At just sixteen or seventeen years old, he already seemed to lack vitality. He recalled that in his past life, at this age, he had been brimming with energy—getting hard three or four times a day. But now, he was stuck in this delicate body. If he didn’t take care of it properly and ended up with some permanent issue… where would he cry about it then?
“What should I do?” He grabbed Jinghong Zhui’s collar nervously. “Do you have some legendary secret technique? Yi Jin Jing? Xi Sui Jing? Something that can completely transform my body? Not the Sunflower Manual!”
Jinghong Zhui shook his head. “There’s no such thing as complete transformation. Even if there were, you’d need to start training from the age of three or four. At my lord’s current state, even if you start practicing martial arts today, you won’t become a top-tier fighter.” In fact, not even a third- or fourth-tier one, but he wisely chose not to say that and hurt his lord’s pride.
Su Yan was deeply disappointed. “So martial arts novels are all lies!”
“But there are many techniques for strengthening the body,” Jinghong Zhui added. “Although I don’t have a suitable manual for you, I know where to find one. We would have to go to Jiangnan.”
Su Yan shook his head. “I don’t have time for that right now. Even if I do go to Jiangnan, it’ll be sometime in the future.”
“My lord need not worry. Since distant solutions won’t help with the immediate issue, I suggest you spend half an hour each day letting me transfer internal energy to you, regulate your meridians, and supplement this with diet and rest. You will gradually recover your vitality and even grow stronger than before.”
“…Every day?”
“At least three full treatments, ten days per course. The timing is flexible, but it’s most effective before sleep.”
Su Yan thought about how, for over a month now, even his morning reactions had diminished. For a teenager, this was a dire sign of excessive restraint. Feeling increasingly concerned, he agreed to start that very night.
Thus, after bathing, his personal bodyguard removed his outer robe and climbed into his master’s bed once again.
Dressed in a white inner garment and thin cotton pants, Su Yan let himself be positioned however needed—lying flat, on his stomach, or on his side, obediently cooperating with the treatment. From the Baihui point on his head to the Yongquan point on his feet, his personal guard pressed and massaged each one thoroughly.
Massage? When has massage ever been painless?
Whenever his fingers pressed into a blocked meridian or a tight muscle, he couldn’t help but yelp, making Jinghong Zhui hesitate.
“Just keep pressing, and I’ll keep screaming… Don’t mind me,” Su Yan said, tears welling in his eyes.
Even as he winced and cried out, he urged Jinghong Zhui not to go easy on him—no need to pity him just because he was as fragile as a willow branch.
Once the tension in his muscles was relieved, Jinghong Zhui channeled his internal energy into his palms, guiding it along Su Yan’s twelve meridians and eight extraordinary vessels. It felt like small, warm flames flickering to life in the cold dampness of the night, slowly merging into a comforting blaze that enveloped Su Yan.
When a person reaches a certain level of comfort, they can’t help but let out a sound.
Su Yan let out a long, drawn-out moan, the tail end trembling like a cat’s paw—soft, pink, and slightly curled—scratching an itch in Jinghong Zhui’s heart. The more it scratched, the itchier he became.
Fearing that he would lose control and embarrass himself in front of his master, Jinghong Zhui had sealed certain acupoints in advance. Yet even so, his body was beginning to betray him, straining against its restraints.
If Su Yan so much as crooked his little finger at this moment, Jinghong Zhui would have pounced like a starving wolf and ensured his master wouldn’t be able to leave the bed for three days.
But alas, it was all just fantasy. Su Yan was maddeningly proper—one kiss or two touches were enough to make him scowl and scold. Even now, after all this pressing and rubbing, he showed no signs of arousal.
Jinghong Zhui was both impressed and a little disappointed, wondering if he truly had no charm at all.
He finished the energy transfer, got up, donned his outer robe, and said in a low voice, “That’s enough for today. The first session will leave you sore all over, and you’ll feel drowsy. Rest early, my lord. I’ll take my leave.”
Su Yan, as if having been washed ashore from an ocean of soreness, lay sprawled on the soft sand, the aftershocks of the waves gently lapping at his feet. Too drowsy to keep his eyes open, he mumbled, “Good night. Sweet dreams.”
Jinghong Zhui smiled slightly, leaned down to pull the blanket up to Su Yan’s nape, tucked the edges securely, lowered the canopy, and silently exited the chamber.
Standing under the eaves, he took deep breaths of the cool night air, letting the chill extinguish the fire burning inside him before finally unsealing his own acupoints.
On his way back to his quarters, he passed by the study and remembered he had yet to put away the ink and brushes. He stepped inside to tidy up.
The letter from Yu Wang’s messenger lay carelessly at the edge of the desk.
Jinghong Zhui paused while washing the brush, his gaze falling on the words written on the envelope: “To Qinghe, personal.”
…The calligraphy was exquisite—bold, powerful, like iron and silver hooks, exuding an unshakable presence. Even with his limited understanding of calligraphy, he could appreciate its brilliance.
By comparison, his own handwriting resembled that of a pig or dog scratching at the dirt.
Born into poverty, he had once struggled to afford a single meal, let alone attend a private academy. It wasn’t until he joined his master at fourteen or fifteen that he even learned to read, mostly absorbing martial arts manuals. His writing ability was barely sufficient for daily use, and as for composing poetry or discussing scholarly theories, those were far beyond his reach—things that belonged to a world he could never enter.
People had their fates. Jinghong Zhui never resented his, and when he silenced the so-called elite with his blade, their final screams sounded no different from those of commoners.
Yet at this moment, as he looked at Su Yan’s practice sheets and Yu Wang’s letter, a faint, stinging pain surfaced in his chest.
It was this needle-like discomfort that compelled his fingers to touch the wax seal.
The seal had already been broken. The contents were within easy reach.
But this was a private letter addressed to his master. Even if Su Yan himself didn’t care, peeking without permission would be despicable and disrespectful.
Jinghong Zhui hesitated.
—
Just as Su Yan was about to drift into sleep, his body twitched violently, and his eyes snapped open.
He suddenly remembered—Yu Wang’s letter!
It was still sitting on the desk!
If one of the servants happened to come in tomorrow morning and got curious enough to peek inside—
He would die.
Of sheer embarrassment.
Su Yan bolted out of bed, grabbed a cloak at random, shoved his feet into his shoes, and rushed straight to the study.
The room was quiet and empty. The desk had already been tidied, with the ink, brush, and paper neatly arranged.
His gaze darted to the desk’s edge. The letter was still there, seemingly untouched.
Letting out a sigh of relief, he picked up the envelope, intending to burn it in the oil lamp.
The flames licked the edges of the envelope, the golden-red glow resembling a bright star in the distant sky.
That was Yuheng, part of the Big Dipper.
Far away, Yu Wang stood at his window, gazing at the northern sky. The wind stirred the loose strands of his hair, and his expression was like a battle-worn halberd, rusted and scarred. Or like the ashes left behind after a raging fire.
“Does Wangye have any hobbies or special talents?”
He had once asked this with a deep sense of regret, feeling that a pearl had been cast into the dust and left forgotten.
Yu Wang had answered calmly: “None.”
That’s impossible.
Because in that fleeting moment, when he looked at the night sky, when he was lost in memory, something broke through the layers of rust—a flash of sharp, cold light. A buried ember deep within the ashes flickered to life.
Though it lasted only for an instant before vanishing, that single spark had briefly illuminated his usually indifferent, lazy eyes.
Su Yan’s heart skipped a beat.
Snapping out of his daze, he instinctively clapped his hands over the envelope, smothering the flames.
…At least take a look.
Even if it was unbearable, he could burn it afterward.
Convincing himself, Su Yan hesitated for two seconds before pulling out the letter.
The paper had been folded into a square, and as he unfolded it, he realized the center had burned into a large hole.
“My dearest Qinghe, this letter finds you as if we were meeting in person.”
Su Yan let out a mocking snort.
Yu Wang’s “dearest” was so abundant that it had already drowned twenty-seven previous “soulmates,” and now he wanted to drown him too?
“Separated by distance… longing unbearable… Mountains and clouds stand between us, bringing only sorrow. The blade in my hand is powerless to cut through our parting grief…”
Alright, we get it. You’re poetic. You can turn a single ‘I miss you’ into a floral arrangement.
But even if you embroidered those words with gold thread, I still wouldn’t care.
And you have the audacity to ask if I “share your feelings”?
Share your *ss!
Su Yan, feeling increasingly bored, skipped past the beginning and continued reading. The moment he did, an eye-searing passage jumped out at him:
“I still remember our time together at the waterside pavilion, the passion we shared, the ecstasy of our entangled bodies. The memory of Qinghe’s every enchanting, intoxicating expression still lingers vividly in my mind. It is truly unforgettable…”
Scum. R*pist. A perverted degenerate who takes pride in his own disgrace! Su Yan cursed under his breath, itching to shove the letter further into the candle flame.
Fortunately, the most unspeakable part had already burned away, leaving a gaping hole in the parchment. Stifling his revulsion, he skipped past the lengthy passages about how “our nights together were the ultimate harmony of life” and “I still have many undiscovered techniques that would bring you even greater pleasure.” He pressed on.
Ah, Yu Wang had apologized.
But regrettably, not for the act of r*pe itself. Instead, he expressed remorse for having been too rough, causing Su Yan to pass out twice, and for neglecting to prepare him dinner afterward—forcing him to spend the night drafting policies and then go home hungry.
In short, all his “deep guilt,” “sincere regret,” and “agonizing self-reproach, striving to make amends” entirely missed the point.
And at the very end, the audacity! He actually had the nerve to write:
“Since that fateful night, I have remained celibate, waiting only for you. When you return, we shall reunite in perfect harmony, and I will ensure your every need is met.”
Bragging and propositioning in one fell swoop—utterly shameless! Su Yan ground his molars in fury, crumpling the letter into a tight ball before hurling it into the corner of the room.
His chest heaved with rage. After a moment, he forced himself to calm down, strode over, retrieved the letter, and stuffed it into a small box—keeping it as evidence, should he ever need to press charges.
D*mn it! Am I blind or just stupid? How could I have ever entertained the ridiculous notion that he had a legitimate excuse for what he did?
Su Yan seethed, cursing himself. Yu Wang is nothing but trash! A giant, greasy, family-sized bucket of deep-fried garbage!
Ah Zhui, you were right. Once we return to the capital, we’ll have him assassinated!
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