Chapter 05#

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The result of that absurd night was waking up the next morning to find himself lying in a bed in complete disarray, with a body burning hot and fast asleep in his arms… Song Zhiyan.

Zhou Yan froze for a moment, then quickly realized that what had happened last night wasn’t a dream but reality. For reasons unknown, Song Zhiyan—naked in this room—had run into him as he stumbled back drunk. He’d forced himself on Song Zhiyan and finished inside him. The consequence of no cleanup plus sleeping naked all night was that Song Zhiyan had developed a fever.

Zhou Yan really hadn’t expected his and Song Zhiyan’s first time to end up in such a miserable state, but there was no time to wallow in regret or remorse. He called Liang Yi, the Zhou family physician, and told him to come over immediately.

By the time Dr. Liang arrived at the old residence, Zhou Yan had already washed Song Zhiyan clean and dressed him. The boy was still asleep, his face flushed red with fever. Zhou Yan carried him back to the bed in the room across the hall, and Song Zhiyan remained oblivious the whole time, docilely letting himself be handled—like a little cat accustomed to being abandoned wherever.

The guest room had too much natural light, and Song Zhiyan’s skin was too pale. The mottled marks exposed outside his clothes were illuminated with nowhere to hide, looking rather brutal.

Liang Yi had served the Zhou family for years and knew Zhou Yan well. Because he kept his mouth shut, he knew things even Old Master Wan didn’t. After a quick examination, he hooked Song Zhiyan up to an IV drip, prescribed some anti-inflammatory medication, and before leaving, pressed a tube of white ointment into Zhou Yan’s hand, quietly advising that if he’d hurt someone, he should remember to apply some of this.

Zhou Yan said nothing and accepted it, but when he’d bathed Song Zhiyan that morning, he’d already confirmed there was no damage down there, so he took the ointment and put it in his own bedroom nightstand drawer, so the servants wouldn’t see it and grow suspicious.

After seeing Dr. Liang off, a plumber arrived. From Uncle Li, he learned it was to fix the pipes in the first-floor bathroom, and Zhou Yan roughly understood the reason for last night’s accident.

…A little too bold.

Running into his room to shower without permission, then coming out without clothes—even if unintentional, she wasn’t entirely innocent.

Zhou Yan had a meeting that morning. He instructed Uncle Li to look after the boy and left the old residence. Passing through the garden, he ran into Zhou Yun, being pushed in a wheelchair by a servant. She’d evidently seen something, giving him a suggestive smirk, though she didn’t say anything out of line. Zhou Yan kept his expression blank, only telling the servant to wheel her back inside after a while and not let her stay out in the wind too long.

The servant acknowledged the order, but Zhou Yun refused to listen. As soon as he was gone, she sent the servant back inside and navigated the garden herself with the remote controls. The ground in her path was littered with rose petals she’d torn apart, and she didn’t slowly make her way back until she’d pricked her fingers bloody.

The house was so quiet it was maddening. Bored, Zhou Yun had the servant help her upstairs to see the poor little “brother” her big brother had fucked into a fever.

She’d grown up at their grandfather’s side; her parents came home two or three times a year, so she wasn’t close to them. After they died in an accident, Grandfather brought Zhou Yan back. He was six years older than her, a different gender with too big an age gap—they had nothing to talk about, so they weren’t close either. She’d grown up lonely, like an only child.

She knew her personality was dark and twisted, and with a body rotting from the inside out, she probably wouldn’t live long. She just couldn’t be bothered to explain it to Grandfather, letting the superstitious old man find a stranger for her to marry to ward off bad luck. She’d agreed without even looking at the other person’s information. Later, she learned the person was chosen by Zhou Yan. She’d seen him at the wedding banquet—he was indeed good-looking, with a simple disposition—and that sparked her interest in teasing him, deliberately sharing the filthy scandals of wealthy families to amuse herself.

What Zhou Yan did wasn’t that.

Being gay and sleeping around promiscuously—that was a scandal. Her brother being gay at most counted as a personal stain, and it happened to stain together with this new little brother.

Zhou Yun was dying of curiosity, eager to ask Song Zhiyan what it was like sleeping with her brother. But waiting left and right, he wouldn’t wake up, so she poked his face with her finger, then pinched his nose so he couldn’t breathe, with absolutely no awareness that she was disturbing a patient’s rest.

When Song Zhiyan finally opened his eyes from all the fussing, Zhou Yun withdrew her hand and complained rather petulantly about how long he’d taken to wake up.

“…” Song Zhiyan wanted to ask why she was here, but when he opened his mouth, no words came out. His throat was too dry. In a hoarse whisper, he asked Zhou Yun where he could get some water.

Zhou Yun said she had no idea. Only when Song Zhiyan started coughing, bent over the edge of the bed, did she call for a servant to bring water, then waited on him through two glasses. She also pulled out the needle from the finished IV drip and made Song Zhiyan press the cotton swab against the injection site himself. Not long after, Uncle Li came up as well, carrying congee that Zhou Yan had ordered heated up over the phone, asking if Young Master Song wanted to eat some.

“Leave it. He’ll eat later.” Zhou Yun dismissed Uncle Li, then leaned by the bedside, scanning the love bites on Song Zhiyan’s neck and the ring of bruises around his wrist, clucking her tongue twice. “Does it hurt?”

Song Zhiyan assumed she meant the IV needle and shook his head, saying it didn’t hurt. But Zhou Yun’s next sentence was, “Then was it good?”, which nearly made him choke on the congee he’d just put in his mouth and spray it all out.

“What.” Zhou Yun laughed at him for overreacting, waving a hand lazily. “My brother didn’t tell anyone. I figured it out myself. Uncle Li and the servants don’t know my brother likes guys either—no one’s going to think that way about you. Don’t worry.”

Song Zhiyan gave a low “mm” and gripped his spoon, not knowing what to say.

“You haven’t answered my question.” Zhou Yun called him again.

“…” How was he supposed to answer that? Song Zhiyan really didn’t have the face to say it, so he just silently kept eating his congee.

“Oh, so it was bad.” Zhou Yun said with schadenfreude. “You’ve got that look of reluctance all over your face—did my brother force you?”

The blush that had faded under the medication surged back up. Humiliation and shame clamped down over Song Zhiyan’s head like a glass jar, making him feel slightly suffocated.

“Will you tell anyone?” Song Zhiyan asked.

“Why would I tell anyone?” Zhou Yun said, baffled. “Stuff like this is way more fun when it’s done in secret.”

“…” For the second time, Song Zhiyan nearly choked on his congee. He’d lost his appetite anyway, so he set down his spoon and stopped eating. “Is he… did Zhou Yan leave?”

“Went to work, not home.” Zhou Yun said. “You like him? Why else do you care so much where he went.”

Song Zhiyan said no, then sighed silently. “I’ve only met him a few times.”

Honestly, he was confused too—why Zhou Yan had done this with him, especially since he’d called Song Zhiyan’s name many times throughout. There was no possibility of mistaking him for someone else or using him as a replacement.

“So many people fall in love at first sight.” Zhou Yun shrugged. “But it’s fine if you don’t like him—as long as you like men. My brother’s not a bad catch, and if his technique sucks, practice can fix that too.”

She propped her chin on her hand, wearing the same expression she’d had that day while tearing roses apart, and said indifferently, “I don’t mind my own husband and my brother being gay, anyway. By the time it gets out, I’ll probably already be dead, so no one can laugh at me. And if you get with my brother, you’d stay and keep me company a little longer—a few less boring days for me.”

Song Zhiyan was momentarily speechless. Just as he was about to ask what illness she had, Uncle Li came back up to ask if he wanted anything else to eat, saying Cook Zhang could make something more.

Song Zhiyan said he was full and not to bother. When he looked back at Zhou Yun, she’d already reverted to her cold, world-weary demeanor, supporting herself against the wall and leaving the room without looking back.

A lot of things haven’t been explained; they’re all setup. They’ll be explained slowly later, so don’t worry.