Chapter Six: The Long Forgotten Xiao Jiu

When Wang Jiu heard this, he replied, “A man alone in a tavern is bound to grow bored, so I took on an apprentice to pass the time.”

The old woman was puzzled and looked at Qilu, who grinned foolishly. “Wang Jiu just hired someone to help out, and to keep him company when he’s bored!”

To keep him company? Xiao Jiu forced a laugh—what nonsense! So this old fox only took in an apprentice to have someone with him? If it hadn’t been him, it would have been someone else, someone else enjoying the pastries, someone else being taken out to stroll the streets, someone else sneaked into at midnight?

This was simply unbearable.

The thought of Wang Jiu doing these things with another person ignited a nameless fire in Xiao Jiu’s heart—a fire that only burned hotter with each passing moment. So Wang Jiu might use that soft, pale touch to kiss someone else’s forehead too…

Recalling the gentle sensation from the night before, Xiao Jiu’s fire was instantly doused by a bucket of cool water, leaving his face burning instead. Wang Jiu must treat him differently, mustn’t he? He’d seen his father treat his mother this way—didn’t that mean Wang Jiu liked him, not hated him?

Xiao Jiu lifted his arm to hide his reddening face. Hearing his increasingly rapid breathing, Wang Jiu walked over, concerned. “What’s wrong?” he asked, reaching for Xiao Jiu’s arm.

To his surprise, Xiao Jiu took a few hurried steps back. “I—I’m not feeling well. I’ll go rest in my room,” he stammered.

The lively atmosphere in the tavern was broken. Qilu frowned. “What’s wrong with that lad?”

The old woman chimed in, “Should we send Luzi to check on him?”

Wang Jiu sat and reassured the two elders, “He just didn’t sleep well last night. Let him rest, he’ll be fine.”

Relieved, the elders continued chatting with Wang Jiu about amusing anecdotes from their business trips. Wang Jiu listened, smiling and nodding, occasionally asking questions, and passing them tea to ease their throats. When they finished, Wang Jiu went to the kitchen to prepare some dishes, served the elders, and patiently kept them company until they retired to their rooms.

Wang Jiu brought a tray of food to Xiao Jiu’s door. He knocked, but there was no answer. “Xiao Jiu, I’ve left your meal at the door. Don’t forget to eat,” he called softly.

Turning the corner of the corridor, Wang Jiu paused out of sight. Xiao Jiu’s door opened quietly, and Wang Jiu listened for the clink of bowls and chopsticks. Relieved, he left, wondering to himself if Xiao Jiu was sulking.

Wang Jiu shook his head with a helpless smile. With Xiao Jiu’s temperament, it was entirely possible.

Inside, Xiao Jiu ate the food Wang Jiu had prepared, shoveling it in with a kind of resentful relish—they were all his favorites. See? He just knew it: the old fox must like him. Tonight, he’d force a confession from him, and mock him for playing him for so long.

Night fell faster than Xiao Jiu had expected. He lay on the bed, dozed for a while, and when he opened his eyes again, the room was enveloped in darkness.

He hadn’t forgotten his plan. Frowning, his face twisted in feigned distress, as if caught in a nightmare—one hand clutching the quilt, his breathing quickened. But as he pretended, the nightmare became real.

Once again, his vision was awash in blood-red. This time, the whispers by his ear were clearer. Someone was saying, “Ye Min…”

“Did you see? This is your true A-Ye!”

Who was Ye Min? Who was A-Ye? A wave of instinctive fear washed over Xiao Jiu. Through a crack, he saw a man approaching, sword in hand, step by step. He tried to see the man’s face, but woke with a start, gasping for breath.

His forehead was slick with sweat. Wang Jiu hadn’t expected Xiao Jiu to wake so abruptly. He tried to pull his hand back, but Xiao Jiu seized it instead—and did something Wang Jiu never expected. He’d thought Xiao Jiu would only utter one word: “Get out.”

As Xiao Jiu’s senses returned, his vision cleared, and he saw Wang Jiu’s face full of worry. Wang Jiu tried to conceal it, but the concern showed through. Xiao Jiu’s heart warmed, and he gripped Wang Jiu’s hand tighter, afraid he’d escape.

Yes—escape. Xiao Jiu had never liked anyone before, but he could feel Wang Jiu’s feelings for him as plain as day, and couldn’t run even if he wanted to. Yet in Wang Jiu’s eyes, there was always something he couldn’t quite decipher.

Now he understood: what was hidden in Wang Jiu’s gaze was a deep-seated fear—a fear that Xiao Jiu would discover his true feelings, a fear Wang Jiu himself might not even notice.

Xiao Jiu felt the hand trembling in his grasp, and a wave of tenderness welled up in him. The words he’d meant to say—sharp, mocking—caught in his throat and wouldn’t come out.

He pulled Wang Jiu’s hand over his eyes and whispered, “Don’t move. Stay with me a while, let me catch my breath.”

Wang Jiu blinked, unsure what was happening. He felt dampness on his hand—was Xiao Jiu crying? Was this a rare moment of vulnerability, asking for comfort? Wang Jiu’s mind faltered.

He had never learned to refuse Xiao Jiu; he found himself willing, even delighted, to oblige.

A sly glint flashed in Xiao Jiu’s eyes. Suddenly, he yanked Wang Jiu’s hand, pulling him down, so Wang Jiu was pressed beneath him. Wang Jiu was unprepared—he’d always let his guard down around Xiao Jiu.

Propped up on top of Wang Jiu, Xiao Jiu caught the brief panic on his face—it was a rare sight. Wang Jiu’s casually tied hair was now slightly tousled. Xiao Jiu, emboldened, gently loosened his hair ribbon.

So close, Xiao Jiu could hear Wang Jiu’s breathing grow quicker. His usually pale cheeks flushed red. Wang Jiu wanted to push him away, but couldn’t bear to forfeit this rare intimacy. He whispered, “Xiao Jiu, stop fooling around.”

Xiao Jiu twined a lock of Wang Jiu’s hair around his finger, brought it to his nose, breathed in the familiar scent, narrowed his eyes, and said stubbornly, “No, I won’t!”

Seeing that familiar childishness, Wang Jiu’s tension suddenly eased. He gazed at Xiao Jiu with a smile—one of satisfaction, of longing, of relief.

There was something too complex in Wang Jiu’s smile—it made Xiao Jiu uneasy, as if he could sense a faint, well-concealed sorrow.

Wang Jiu felt that if he didn’t say something tonight, he might never have another chance. So, testing the waters, he asked, “Xiao Jiu, is there anything you want to ask me?”

The momentary panic was gone, replaced by his usual calm composure. Xiao Jiu was a little dissatisfied, not noticing that Wang Jiu had called him “Xiao Jiu” rather than “Xiao Jiu.”

Xiao Jiu pursed his lips, suddenly let go, and collapsed onto Wang Jiu’s chest. He leaned up, bit Wang Jiu’s chin, and licked the spot. “Don’t you have something you want to say?”

The tone made it clear: now or never.

With a helpless sigh, Wang Jiu shifted Xiao Jiu’s head to his left chest, where a strong, steady heartbeat quickened under Xiao Jiu’s touch—thump, thump, thump—pounding right into his own heart.

“Can you hear it?” Wang Jiu asked.

Xiao Jiu nodded blankly. Only then did he realize just how bold he’d been—his ears blushed crimson. He raised his head, gazed at the pale lips so close, swallowed hard, and thought: since I’ve come this far, why not go a little further?

He ran his tongue over his lips, and though Wang Jiu couldn’t see, he covered Wang Jiu’s eyes with his hand, then dove forward, pressing his mouth to that pale color. Wang Jiu gave a muffled grunt, and Xiao Jiu, like a child with a sugar figure, licked his lips again and again.

Startled, Wang Jiu’s laughter slipped out between the kisses. Annoyed, Xiao Jiu bit down, threatening, “What’s so funny? I’m serious—this is my mark. If you ever dare flirt with that Tao Hong girl again, if you ever make me wear a green hat, I’ll—I’ll…” But he couldn’t think of a suitable threat.

Wang Jiu raised an eyebrow. “You’ll what?”

With a snort, Xiao Jiu bit his lip again. “I’ll eat you up, not leave a scrap behind!”

This time, the bite left a faint mark on Wang Jiu’s lip. Satisfied, Xiao Jiu heard Wang Jiu tease, “Where did Young Master Xiao learn to kiss like that? I’m truly impressed.”

“I’m self-taught!” Xiao Jiu replied without hesitation.

He rolled off, wrapped his arms around Wang Jiu’s slim waist, and declared, “You’re mine now!”

“Yes, Wang Jiu belongs to Xiao Jiu.” The Wang Jiu of Qinghe Town belonged to Xiao Jiu alone; whether Ye Min or Wang Jiu, they were Xiao Jiu’s, as long as Xiao Jiu never let go. Whatever Xiao Jiu wanted, Wang Jiu would give.

Beside him, Xiao Jiu’s breathing slowed and deepened, drifting into sleep. Wang Jiu dared not sleep, afraid it was all a fleeting dream—or worse, that if it wasn’t, one day Xiao Jiu might remember everything and stop holding him so tightly, even in his dreams.

Wang Jiu turned slightly, embraced Xiao Jiu, and planted a gentle, treasured kiss on his lips. No matter what, he would have no regrets in this life.

What Ye Min and Wang Jiu had always longed for, they now held in their hands.

Wang Jiu lowered his head, resting it against Xiao Jiu’s, a smile at his lips as he slipped into dreams—yet a tear escaped the corner of his eye.

In his dream, he was back at the Xiao household, back to that night. Xiao Jiu, grinning, held something in one hand, but still reached out his arms. As Wang Jiu picked him up, the child’s mouth softly uttered his surname, again and again—the sweetest melody he had ever heard.