Chapter 38
Jinbao deliberately chose a day when Que Siming was out handling some business and quietly slipped away.
He knew he couldn’t let any servants follow him to see Rong Yue and planned to be quick about it—just go and return before Que Siming noticed.
At this point, he didn’t think it was anything serious. Que Siming was probably just mad because he went out to have fun and missed dinner together. A bit troublesome, sure, but a problem that could be solved pretty quickly.
When he arrived at Rong Yue’s house, he was surprised to find a full table of wine and food.
Shocked, Jinbao asked, “How did you know I was coming?”
Rong Yue smiled with half-closed eyes, his voice soft and gentle, “I didn’t know you’d come today. I just prepare a meal every day in case you do. Lucky for me, you didn’t keep me waiting long.”
Jinbao felt a sudden pang of unease, wondering if Rong Yue had feelings for him.
It wasn’t that he thought too highly of himself, but his every move, every smile, seemed to carry a flirtatious air. The way he looked at him held a clear, almost unmistakable expectation that was hard to ignore.
As this thought crossed his mind, Jinbao became restless and uneasy, feeling the urge to bolt out the door.
But Rong Yue gently pushed him into a chair, eagerly serving him food and pouring wine.
Jinbao looked at the wine cup placed in front of him and declined, “Uh, I’m not drinking today… I’ve got important things to do later.”
He hadn’t touched alcohol in a long time. Once, his young master and Zhaocai had gotten him drunk, and he ended up climbing naked to the highest tree in the Jin family estate, howling half the night. Ever since then, he didn’t dare drink. But it felt unmanly to say he couldn’t drink, so he made up this excuse.
Rong Yue frowned slightly and softly said, “Brother Jinbao, just one drink with me. After today, we may never meet again.”
Jinbao hesitated, eyeing the wine cup in front of him.
Suddenly, Rong Yue circled the table, coming to his side, bringing the cup close to his face. He leaned slightly towards him, and a sweet, intoxicating fragrance filled the air.
Jinbao’s head felt heavy as memories of his first time accompanying his young master to a brothel came flooding back—the women with their bare chests pressing close to him exuded the same heady, blush-inducing scent.
He quickly blinked and warily eyed Rong Yue.
He knew this fragrance was something women used to bewitch men; it was said that smelling it heightened a man’s desires.
Rong Yue seemed to sense his gaze but didn’t hide it at all. Instead, he chuckled softly, put down the wine cup, and placed his hand over his, gently calling, “Brother Jinbao.”
Terrified, Jinbao shot to his feet and backed away quickly.
Rong Yue looked at him with a touch of sorrow, “Brother Jinbao, no one has ever treated me as kindly as you have. Do you disdain me like the others?”
This was the first time Jinbao had ever been so blatantly seduced, and his mind went blank. He waved his hands in a panic, stammering, “No… I, you… don’t do this…”
Rong Yue stood up, and Jinbao hurriedly took a step back.
His dark eyes instantly filled with sadness, “Brother Jinbao, I’m being sincere. You’re leaving soon, and we may never meet again. Could you leave me with a memory, at least?”I
Startled, Jinbao stammered, “Rong Yue, I… I have someone I care about.”
Rong Yue floated closer to him, his body swaying as if he was about to fall into his arms. His eyes curved slightly with a seductive charm, “If you don’t say, and I don’t say, who would know?”
Jinbao quickly dodged away. “Rong Yue… I, I must take my leave.” And with that, he turned and ran straight for the door.
Rong Yue suddenly hugged him tightly from behind, his arms clamped around Jinbao with a desperate grip, his voice breaking with sobs, “Brother Jinbao, I can’t bear to let you go.”
Jinbao’s scalp tingled with unease, barely restraining himself from shoving him off. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Rong Yue, let go of me. I don’t have feelings for you. You asked me to visit, and I came. Now, I need to leave.”
“Brother Jinbao, will we ever meet again?”
A wave of irritation and embarrassment washed over Jinbao, making it hard to respond calmly. “I don’t know. Let me go now, or don’t blame me for what happens next.”
Rong Yue stiffened, his voice soft with tears, “Brother Jinbao, have one drink with me. After that, I’ll let you leave.”
Jinbao hesitated, then sighed. “Fine, just one. But let go of me first.”
Rong Yue finally released his grip, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. He picked up a cup of wine from the table and handed it to Jinbao, his eyes filled with sorrow as he looked at him.
Jinbao sighed again, frustrated with himself for always getting into troublesome situations like this. He thought, I’ll finish this drink and be gone immediately.
Rong Yue raised his cup and lightly clinked it against Jinbao’s before downing it in one go. Jinbao glanced at him, and then, with a resigned sigh, drank his own cup in one gulp.
But before the burning sensation in his throat could fade, Jinbao’s vision suddenly blurred. In disbelief, he turned to look at Rong Yue, but his body went limp, and he collapsed to the floor.
When Jinbao woke up again, he was enveloped in a sickly sweet fragrance that made it hard for him to breathe.
He groggily opened his eyes, the dizziness still clouding his mind. He soon felt a weight on his body and slightly lifted his head, only to see a pale arm draped across his neck.
His memory returned in a flash, and a cold shiver ran through him.
He propped himself up, only to find Rong Yue lying naked beside him, his pale skin practically blinding him.
Jinbao quickly realized he was also completely naked, his legs sticky with something unpleasant, and his chest marked with faint bruises. There were no other obvious signs, but it was enough to make him tremble with shock.
Rong Yue stirred at his movement, or perhaps he had never been asleep. He opened his eyes and looked at Jinbao with a pitiful expression.
Jinbao’s shock quickly turned to rage, and he felt like he could strangle him right then and there. Pointing at Rong Yue, he shouted, “You… you… have you no shame?!”
Rong Yue’s eyes filled with tears, streaming down like rain. “Brother Jinbao, I truly like you. That’s why…”
“Bullshit!” Jinbao shouted, “You’re crazy! Shameless!”
Rong Yue lowered his head, his tears dripping onto the bedsheets. “Brother Jinbao, if you’re angry, you can… you can hit me.”
Jinbao felt a wave of nausea. He truly didn’t know how to react.
He couldn’t actually kill him, but being trapped in this disgusting and humiliating situation made him feel like he was losing his mind. He was filled with nothing but anger, pure anger. But hitting Rong Yue? Seeing his soft, pale face and frail body that resembled a woman’s—could he really bring himself to do it?
“Damn it! Bastard! You’re insane! Shameless!” Jinbao cursed under his breath, shoving Rong Yue away as hard as he could. He felt so disgusted, like a thousand claws were scratching at him from the inside. He wanted nothing more than to dive into a river and scrub himself clean for three days straight, or maybe just peel off his own skin.
He cursed himself for being stupid, for meddling in this nonsense, for pretending to be some sort of hero. Stupid! He deserved this.
Jinbao was filled with regret. If he had known he’d end up in such a disgraceful situation, he wouldn’t have lifted a finger to help Rong Yue, even if he were beaten to death.
Rong Yue clutched the bedsheets to cover himself, crying while staring at Jinbao.
Jinbao was about to jump off the bed and get dressed, ready to flee this cursed place.
Suddenly, the door burst open with a loud crash, the sound like a heavy hammer striking his heart.
Que Siming stood in the doorway, his long hair floating as if in a windless storm. His pale mask concealed his expression, but the murderous aura in the room swelled the moment he laid eyes on Jinbao, filling the entire space with suffocating intensity.
Jinbao felt as though all the blood in his body had frozen solid. He stood stiff, staring at Que Siming. Through the open door, he could see the sky had turned completely black. His first thought, absurd as it was, was Ah, it’s night already. I missed dinner with Que Siming again.
That mundane realization cut through the heavy, oppressive tension of the moment, but only for a fleeting second before the dread fully set in.
