[Fantasy] Chronicles of the Hehuan Palace (Complete) - 10-12

02

The next day, Qingyang's eyes were swollen like two big peaches. In the morning, when he was sent to serve tea to the young master, he lowered his head and hunched his shoulders, placed the tea in front of the young master, and hurriedly turned to leave.

"Qingyang!"

the young master called out to him, but Qingyang seemed not to hear him, only focusing on walking. Just as he was about to leave the door, a pair of large hands grabbed him, and with a turn, Qingyang was pulled into the young master's arms.

In an instant, he remembered the absurd things that happened last night, and the hairs on the back of his head stood on end. He desperately tried to break free from the young master's embrace.

"Qingyang!"

the young master shouted, actually stopping him. Qingyang was terrified, frightened by the young master's angry face, and dared not move for a moment. He obediently shrank into his arms, lowered his head, and his fair ear tips were slightly exposed among his soft hair. He was as docile as a cat admitting its mistake, and his appearance was extremely endearing.

Seeing his appearance, the young master's anger subsided somewhat, and his voice softened.

"What's wrong with you, you little rascal?"

The young master often called him "little rascal." Spoiled by him, Qingyang became increasingly audacious. Even at a young age, he dared to cause trouble all over the mansion, climbing trees to steal bird nests, catching koi in the water, and even knocking over the master's treasured porcelain vase. Yet, the young master never reprimanded him and protected him. No one else could do anything about him, so they all called him "rascal." Qingyang retorted angrily, but he could never shake off this label.

Qingyang stammered guiltily,

"No...nothing's wrong..."

"You must have something on your mind." The young master frowned at him, speaking earnestly, "Tell me everything, don't keep it to yourself."

"Young Master Minglou..."

Qingyang pouted, about to say something, but swallowed his words halfway through, only managing a forced smile,

"I'm...nothing's wrong."

"Really?"

"Yes."

The young master flicked his nose.

"Little brat, you can't lie to me."

"Yes!"

"Then tell me, what's wrong with your eyes? Has anyone bullied you?"

"No!"

"Hmm?"

Qingyang hurriedly lowered his head again, looking left and right, staring at his shoes, refusing to look into the young master's eyes.

“Qingyang,” the young master hugged him tighter, looking at him earnestly,

“You’ve served me since you were little. I’ve spoiled you and loved you, never letting you suffer the slightest grievance. I’ve been away studying for the past six months and don’t know how you’ve been. If you’ve been blamed by others, you must tell me so I can stand up for you.”

Qingyang looked at the young master, his heart aching even more.

The young master had always treated him so well…

but he absolutely couldn’t tell him this secret, otherwise… otherwise… he would definitely treat him like a monster and drag him to the authorities!

Thinking of the young master standing coldly in front of him in his dream, his eyes like knives, cutting into his heart, more painful than having his flesh torn out.

Qingyang couldn’t help but shiver. He hurriedly took a few steps back, pushed away from the young master’s embrace, and ran out the door.

That night, Qingyang hugged the newly changed quilt and begged his third brother to sleep next to him, saying he was afraid of the dark, which earned him a good laugh from his third brother. Before going to bed, he bolted the door and then placed several stools at the gate, fearing the man would reappear. He gripped the blanket tightly, his eyes wide with fear, unable to fall asleep.

When the candle wick burned out and darkness enveloped him, Qingyang, unable to resist sleep, closed his eyes and drifted into a deep slumber. But his dreams were restless, filled with many random fantasies. He dreamt of accompanying his young master to his teacher's lessons, but the master, unwilling to listen, drew plum blossoms on his arm while the old teacher recited the text. He also dreamt of going on a spring outing with his young master, who picked an apricot blossom and insisted on placing it on Qingyang's head, exclaiming that he was more beautiful than the flower. He also dreamt of the large dog from his childhood home, who always clung to him, licking his face and rubbing against him…

Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his chest, cried out, and woke up with a start. He opened his eyes and immediately sensed something was wrong. He felt something pressing down on him, rendering him unable to move. He opened his mouth to call out again, but found his mouth gagged with a cloth, unable to speak, only able to whimper.

"Don't move."

Suddenly, a voice whispered in his ear. Qingyang trembled at the sound of that voice, cold sweat trickling down his back.

The person from last night had appeared again.

The man pressed down on him, holding him tightly, roughly kneading his chest, just like last night. Qingyang was both shocked and terrified. He struggled angrily, but he couldn't overcome the other's terrifying strength. He bent his knees to kick the man's groin, but found to his despair that even his ankles were tightly bound. He was like a frog on a chopping board, completely at the mercy of the other.

Although Qingyang had deliberately worn several layers of clothing before going to bed, covering himself up completely, the impatient man tore them all apart effortlessly. He ripped open Qingyang's collar and, even in the dark, easily found the place he had been longing for. He touched Qingyang's small, newly opened breasts. The moment the man touched her breasts, he went wild, squeezing the two small, jade-like breasts together as much as he could, making them bulge out. He lowered his head, his tongue probing into the crease of her breasts, licking them gently with a soft smacking sound. His tongue moved in and out, making Qingyang so ashamed and angry that she almost wanted to bang her head against the wall. The man's licking left a layer of saliva between the breasts, glistening with moisture. His rough tongue tickled Qingyang, the subtle, itchy sensation on his skin sending shivers down his spine while simultaneously arousing his desire. He tried to push the man away, but found his hands bound behind his head and pinned down, unable to move.

The man pinched one of his nipples, kneading and squeezing it until the small pink nipple hardened like a bead. Qingyang felt both ashamed and angry, his blood rushing to his chest.

The man seemed to adore his breasts, manipulating them incessantly, as if mesmerized. He squeezed Qingyang's breasts into various shapes, and not content with just licking the cleavage, he then sucked on his nipples, employing all sorts of sucking and licking techniques, driving Qingyang to the brink of ecstasy. He twisted his body, panting uncontrollably, and unconsciously, his desire rose within him. He hated being treated like a woman, subjected to such unbearable abuse. He was filled with rage and hatred, but too weak to resist. With a cloth in his mouth, he couldn't speak, only able to desperately whimper, trying to wake his third brother, who was fast asleep beside him. Seeing this, the man bit his nipple hard as punishment. The force was so great that it almost bit off his nipple; the excruciating pain brought tears to Qingyang's eyes. He dared not resist any longer, only weeping so bitterly that the pillow was soaked with tears. They continued this fondling for a long time, until the night sky began to lighten. The man, like a nursing infant, continued to suckle at Qingyang's nipple, drawing its areolas to a rosy hue. After a while, he released the nipple and moved to the other side. He first licked the entire round breast along its outer rim with his tongue, then gently nibbled around Qingyang's areola before tenderly licking the tip and sucking it with all his might, just as before. By this time, Qingyang was dazed and confused, his penis involuntarily leaking fluid, his perineum tingling and itchy. He unconsciously rubbed his legs together, trying to alleviate the symptoms.

"Why isn't the milk coming out yet?"

the man murmured, but Qingyang was already out of his mind and couldn't hear what he was saying.

The next morning, Qingyang awoke from his deep sleep. He huddled under the covers and looked around, discovering that his breasts were swollen and bluish-purple from the man's lewd actions. His two poor nipples were bright red and swollen, glistening with saliva. Deep teeth marks were visible on his areolas. He remembered that he had been defiled by that man for most of the night...

He bit his lip, desperately suppressing the tears streaming down his face. He stealthily climbed out of bed, fetched water from the well, and hid in the woodshed. He desperately scrubbed himself, tears still streaming down his face. Seeing the unwanted thing on his chest, he felt an intense loathing. If he hadn't had this monstrous growth, how could he have attracted that elusive, wicked creature in the middle of the night! Thinking this, he scrubbed his chest even harder, until his skin ached and was almost raw.

Qingyang dared not tell anyone what had happened that night, not even his closest friend, his third brother, who knew his secret. He kept it all to himself. During the day, he served his young master as usual, but whenever he saw the young master playing the zither, reciting books, or chatting and laughing with others, his heart ached more and more.

His secret affection for the young master hadn't been a recent thing; before he was even old enough to understand, he had been sold into the mansion as a slave. The young master had doted on him since childhood, never treating him as a servant. He couldn't remember when his feelings for the young master had sprouted; he only knew that his heart would race whenever he saw the young master smile at him, and he would even have trouble speaking coherently. When he saw the young master talking to other young ladies, he was consumed by insane jealousy, wishing he could cage the young master, cover him tightly with cloth, and forbid anyone from seeing him except himself.

But he only dared to think these things. He, Qingyang, was just a lowly servant, and a man at that. What virtue or ability did he have to dare to have improper thoughts about the young master? Moreover, he had now contracted this strange illness. If word got out, it would surely terrify people, who would call him a monster.

Feeling so inferior and self-pitying, Qingyang dared not approach the young master even more. He pushed all the work of serving the young master onto his third brother, and would run away at the mere sight of the young master. Every night, no matter what he tried—even boarding up all the windows, blocking the front door with tables and chairs, and even sealing off the dog hole—he was afraid to sleep and would hide in the woodshed.

But the nightmare continued.

The man always found a way in, found him, groped his bed, and violated his breasts, causing him immense suffering each night. But when he woke the next day, the man was gone, everything was as usual, exactly the same as the night before, like a dream. Only the pain in his chest reminded him of the reality. Qingyang was in unbearable pain, but he couldn't tell anyone about this humiliation.

After several days, Qingyang became frighteningly haggard. Unable to sleep or eat, his eyes were bloodshot, and his once full cheeks had sunken. His large eyes, once so prominent, now seemed lifeless, dull as if he were insane, a chilling sight.

"Qingyang."

The thin body trembled slightly. Hearing the voice, Qingyang, like a startled bird, turned to run.

"Qingyang!"

The voice carried a hint of anger. Before he could take two steps forward, someone grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop.

"Qingyang!"

The young master's pleasant voice rang in his ears, but Qingyang stubbornly refused to turn around.

"What's wrong with you?"

The next moment, the young master hugged him from behind, turning him around. Qingyang was greatly embarrassed by this action, his cheeks inexplicably turning red.

"Are you running a fever?"

The young master worriedly brushed his hair back, pressing his forehead against Qingyang's to check his temperature. Qingyang was startled by the action and quickly pushed him away.

"What's wrong with you?" The young master looked at him, his eyes full of confusion.

Qingyang's cheeks flushed red as he murmured,

"...This isn't the rule..."

"What rule? We've always been like this since we were little,"

the young master said dismissively, affectionately pinching his little nose. Qingyang looked at the young master with his big eyes, a slight moisture welling up inside.

"I noticed you haven't been acting right these past few days. Third Brother told me that you've lost a lot of weight and can't eat since a few months ago, and they can't figure out what's wrong. So they specially invited a doctor from the east of the city. He's been practicing medicine for many years and has a lot of experience. Come with me to see him."

Upon hearing this, Qingyang was terrified. He shook his head violently, refusing to go with the young master. He even broke free from his embrace and tried to run away, but the young master pulled him back with his long arms. Unable to resolve the struggle, the young master forcibly picked him up and carried him horizontally. Qingyang screamed and kicked, but to no avail. Instead, he attracted the attention of everyone in the mansion and was carried by the young master to the hall in full view of everyone.

When the young master carried him to the bed, Qingyang cried fiercely, refusing to let the doctor take his pulse. It wasn't until the doctor lit a calming incense stick that, after a while, his body gradually went limp, and he finally calmed down, though fear lingered in his eyes. He was afraid the doctor would discover something, afraid the young master would know his secret, afraid the young master would treat him like a monster.

A moment later, after taking his pulse, the old doctor didn't say a word, simply writing down a prescription, instructing him to decoct one dose daily and take it. Then he respectfully took his leave. Qingyang knew his secret hadn't been discovered, and a great weight was lifted from his heart. Having inhaled the calming incense, he leaned his head against the pillow and drifted off to sleep comfortably.

Seeing that he was sleeping peacefully, the young master got up to see the doctor off. As he walked out the door, he carefully bolted it shut. He followed the doctor to the artificial hill, far from the room, before asking,

"Doctor, will the medicine you prescribed really work?"

"Of course it will."

"Not today's dose, but the one I had someone put in Qingyang's rice bowl before."

"Of course it will work too. I may not be very skilled, but I certainly have the ability to prepare this medicine." The doctor said, a sly smile on his face, looking at the young master:

"Young Master Minglou, didn't you personally check the effects of this medicine?"

"It did work," the young master said, but frowned, his handsome brows furrowing, his expression slightly troubled.

"He has indeed developed breasts, but there's no milk production."

"This…" the doctor narrowed his eyes.

"I tried to help him produce milk, but it didn't work."

The doctor looked understanding. He stroked his beard and pondered for a long time before slowly saying,

"As you know, this child is a descendant of Qilan. This clan has a rare bloodline, different from ordinary people. Women give birth, and men nurse. Birth and nurturing are borne by Yin and Yang respectively. Qilan men have been able to secrete milk to nurse infants since ancient times. As long as this medicine continues, given time, this child should also be able to..."

The young master raised an eyebrow slightly:

"Then why hasn't he produced milk yet?"

"This..." The old doctor hesitated for a long time. Seeing the young master's sharp eyes, he couldn't help but shrink back. After a long while, he said,

"Women need to be pregnant for ten months to nurse their infants, but Qingyang is a man... I dare to guess that perhaps he needs to experience sexual relations and understand the principles of Yin and Yang before he can..."

"You mean sexual intercourse?" The young master's eyebrows rose even higher, and a burst of anger suddenly ignited in his eyes, filled with jealousy:

“I won’t allow him to have sex with women.”

“Then…” Does that mean he can allow men? Cold sweat dripped from the old doctor’s forehead.

The young master flicked his sleeve, approached the old doctor, and demanded,

“Don’t you have any other way?”

“This…” The poor old doctor’s voice trembled, “I can’t think of any other way…”

The young master’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and the old doctor shuddered, stammering,

“Otherwise, young master, you yourself…”

For a moment, the young master fell silent, speechless for a long time. After a while, he said,

“You may leave now.”

“Yes.”

The old doctor respectfully accepted the order and withdrew, unaware of the fleeting glint in the young master’s eyes.

The next day, Qingyang brought hot tea to knock on the young master's door. Before his hand even touched the door, it opened from the inside. It was the young master who opened the door. Upon seeing Qingyang, he smiled broadly, his eyes crinkling, making Qingyang completely mesmerized.

After a moment of dazedness, Qingyang suddenly remembered his chores and quickly offered the tea:

"Young master, please have some tea."

"I was just about to look for you, and you've delivered yourself right to my door," the young master said, excitedly grabbing his hand: "Come on, let's go out together."

"Hmm?"

"The scenery is perfect today, come with me to Heron Mountain to see the apricot blossoms."

With that, the young master led Qingyang outside. Unexpectedly, the little servant's feet seemed rooted to the spot, hesitant to take a step. He tried to pull his hand back.

The young master raised an eyebrow, surprised.

"What's wrong?"

Qingyang groaned after a long pause,

"I...I'm not going."

"Why? Are you feeling unwell again?"

"No, it's not that..." He hesitated, twisting his clothes with one hand, unable to explain himself.

Last night, the nightmarish man hadn't appeared, which had brought him a great sense of relief. But this morning, the young master had summoned him for an outing. Given his current state, should he go or not? Qingyang hesitated.

The young master, unaware of his thoughts, smiled gently upon seeing his expression:

"We haven't seen each other for so long, don't you want to keep me company?"

Qingyang retorted stubbornly:

"You have plenty of people to keep you company, the daughter of Minister Liu, my cousin Li'er, the eldest and second daughters of the Liu family next door… who doesn't want to keep you company, young master?"

"How can a young lady go out and show her face in public?" the young master patiently explained as he saw Qingyang turn his head away:

"Besides, I only want to go with you."

As he spoke, he ruffled Qingyang's hair.

Hearing this, Qingyang's heart pounded wildly. He couldn't believe it. Since when had the young master started speaking to him like this? With such a tone as if he were a lover?

For a moment, he was speechless, his heart filled with indescribable emotions.

Reaching the foot of Lushan Mountain, the two climbed the steps. By the time they reached the summit, Qingyang was panting heavily. Seeing a patch of green grass before him, he disregarded everything else, rushed over, and sprawled out on the grass, closing his eyes to rest comfortably.

"Your body is really too weak,"

the young master said calmly, walking over and teasing him with a smile, seeing Qingyang's exhaustion.

Qingyang was too weak to reply, only glaring at the young master in annoyance. The young master laughed at this, and Qingyang looked helplessly at the handsome man with his mischievous grin, grinding his teeth in resentment, pondering when to secretly get revenge.

The two sat under the apricot trees, looking at the brilliant apricot blossoms covering the mountainside, silent for a moment. The grass was soft and fine, like a fine velvet carpet. The sunlight felt warm and comforting. Perhaps it was the comfort of being by the young master's side, perhaps it was the fear and anxiety of the past few days, or perhaps it was the lack of rest in so long, but a wave of weariness quickly washed over him. Qingyang closed his eyes and soon drifted off to sleep.

Seeing him asleep, the young master smiled, leaned closer, and gently took Qingyang's hand—a hand worn smooth and delicate from years of servant work—and placed a light kiss on it.

When Qingyang slowly awoke, he saw the vibrant apricot blossoms, their branches swaying in the wind. Layers of pink and white petals reflected against the azure sky. A gust of wind would occasionally send delicate apricot petals fluttering down, scattering everywhere, a scene of dreamlike beauty.

"Awake?"

The young master's handsome face came into view, a smile still playing on his lips.

A slight tickle near his ear, and a few stray hairs obscuring his eyes were gently brushed aside by fingers—it was the young master combing his hair. Qingyang then realized he was nestled in the young master's arms, his head resting on his chest. He panicked and tried to get up.

"Don't move," the young master said, pressing him down. "You have flower petals on your lips; let me remove them."

He nodded blankly, gazing at the young master's slender fingers. His hands were exceptionally beautiful, long and slender, with distinct knuckles. In the sunlight, his skin was so white it was almost translucent, revealing even the fine downy hairs.

The young master's fingers touched his lips, but seemed glued to them, unwilling to leave. He gently caressed Qingyang's lips, tracing their shape, his fingertips moving lightly to the center, gently probing inside, touching his teeth, applying a little pressure, and then further in, meeting Qingyang's soft, moist tongue.

At this moment, Qingyang was as if bewitched, losing his mind. He stared blankly at the young master's face, which captivated him so much, his mind blank, forgetting who he was, forgetting who he was. He followed his instincts, slightly opening his mouth to allow the young master's fingers to enter more smoothly.

The young master's eyes were also filled with infatuation. He used his fingertip to press against Qingyang's tongue, gently caressing it, feeling the smoothness of his tongue tip, circling it little by little. Stimulated, Qingyang's mouth was filled with a little bit of glistening saliva. The young master's fingers slowly moved, little by little, probing deeper and deeper. Until his fingers were almost touching his throat, Qingyang couldn't bear it any longer and whimpered. He withdrew his fingers, but just as he was about to catch his breath, the fingers were thrust in again, even deeper. This repeated many times, until glistening saliva accumulated and overflowed from the corners of his mouth. When the young master finally withdrew his fingers, Qingyang was already panting heavily, his cheeks slightly flushed, his eyes glazed over as he stared at him, completely unaware of where he was.

After a long while, his vision gradually cleared, and he noticed his lips were wet. Looking at the young master's hand again, and remembering the absurd scene from just moments before, his mind went blank, and he froze.

"Qingyang,"

the young master called softly.

The little servant lay there woodenly, unresponsive for a long time.

"Qingyang." The young master mischievously licked his fingers, glancing sideways at him.

"If you don't answer, I'm going to kiss you."

"No, no, no, no!!!" Qingyang jumped up from his arms, frantically waving his hands and crying out, "Young master! No! We can't do this!"

"Qingyang!" The young master stared intently at him, his eyes shimmering with something unspoken. Under that gaze, Qingyang involuntarily took two steps back, his heart pounding in his chest.

The young master caught up and grabbed his hand, his voice deep and serious:

"Don't you really know how I feel about you?"

The little servant felt the young master's hand burning hot, and trembled as he said,

"You are the master, and I am the servant. We can't..."

"I don't care, Qingyang, I only want you."

With a tightening grip, the young master pulled Qingyang into his arms, holding him tightly.

"Qingyang, my Qingyang." The young master hugged his slender waist tightly, cupping his delicate face. Looking at the blush on his jade-like cheeks, his lowered eyelashes, he sighed softly,

"Do you know, in these past six months apart, I've thought of you every single moment, of the time we spent together since childhood. At first, I was puzzled by this longing, until later I realized it was lovesickness."

He lifted Qingyang's small chin, forcing the little servant boy, whose eyes were darting around, to face him.

"And you, Qingyang?"

Hearing the young master's question, Qingyang didn't react for a long time. His heart had been pounding uncontrollably ever since he heard the young master say he wanted him.

He had never known the meaning of lovesickness before, only now did he experience it, and yet, lovesickness tormented him.

And wasn't he the same? Day and night, he longed for him to look only at him, for him to smile only at him, for him to be the center of his heart and eyes, for him to return soon.

It turned out that dreams could indeed come true.

Qingyang clutched at the young master's clothes, burying his face in his chest, remaining silent for a long time.

"Qingyang, Qingyang?"

Perhaps seeing his prolonged silence, the young master grew anxious, desperately seeking an answer, only to find his collar warm and damp.

Qingyang's tears had soaked his clothes. The young master paused, then understood, his eyes filling with tenderness. He held Xiaonu quietly under the apricot tree, letting his tears soak his collar. Fallen petals

drifted down, silent yet more powerful than words.

For a long, long time, until he mustered all his courage, Qingyang finally opened his mouth, his voice as soft as a mosquito's buzz:

"Young Master..."

"Hmm?"

Young Master Minglou's eyes reflected his image, overflowing with deep affection. This realization filled him with ecstatic joy.

He stood on tiptoe, craning his neck, but found he still couldn't reach the young master's chin. Frustrated, he whispered,

"Lower your head a little."

The young master, not understanding his meaning, lowered his head in confusion,

trying to straighten his body and raise his tiptoes even higher. Qingyang timidly raised his head, his lips just touching the young master's. He pressed his lips to the young master's soft lips, a light peck like a butterfly fluttering its wings. Before the sweet scent could spread, the pebble only swirled twice on the surface of the water. His trembling lips quickly moved away like a startled bird. Qingyang lowered his head, startled by his own bold action, forgetting where to put his hands and feet, his cheeks as red as a burning sunset.

"I...feel the same way about you, young master."

Mustering his courage, Qingyang shyly uttered the deepest words from his heart. Slightly uneasy, he raised his head, only to be met with a passionate kiss from the young master.

"Mmm...uh..."

Qingyang almost cried out. The young master's kiss on the lips wasn't enough; he even slipped his tongue into his mouth, entwining it with Qingyang's, sweetly swirling it. The young master's tongue was as nimble as a snake, deftly sweeping through every corner of his mouth, leaving behind his unique scent. A wave of intense pleasure washed over them, making it difficult for Qingyang to breathe. He let the young master kiss him gently, closing his eyes in a blissful daze.

The kiss lasted until both of them were breathless. Qingyang's eyes shimmered, a pool of spring water welling up within them. When the young master's lips parted, he gasped for breath, his face flushed crimson.

"Silly boy."

The young master affectionately patted his head, smiling,

"Why were you holding your breath when I kissed you?"

"I..." Qingyang shyly tried to explain, but before he could open his mouth, the young master kissed him again, and they were entangled for a while.

He was a little weak from the kisses and unconsciously leaned back, leaning against the tree trunk behind him. After a moment of lingering kisses, the young master's lips gently pecked the tip of his upturned nose.

"...Qingyang," the young master gently touched his forehead, one hand lightly caressing his face, the other hand restlessly sliding towards his waist, his pupils growing deeper, a faint flame of desire burning within them:

"I want you...is that alright?"

These words were too embarrassing, and the apricot petals on the tree all fell down, as if trying to hide Qingyang's shy face.

The little slave was too shy to speak, but simply opened his arms and hugged his beloved young master back.

The young master was passionately nibbling at Qingyang's neck, his love for Qingyang's slender, white neck leaving one fiery kiss after another on his earlobe, neck, and collarbone.

Qingyang, lost in ecstasy, was completely unaware that the young master's hand had slid down to his chest, caressing him, his fingers circling and sliding to the center, attempting to pinch a small nipple through the thick fabric.

"Ah!" Qingyang was startled awake by this action, and in shock, he grabbed the restless hand:

"Young master, don't touch there!"

Before leaving, he had wrapped his chest in thick white gauze, concealing his breasts, making it impossible for anyone to see what lay beneath.

If the young master discovered the secret in his chest, he dared not imagine the consequences. Tears welled in his eyes as he clutched his chest tightly, repeatedly pleading,

"Don't touch there...you can't...

"

The young master looked at him with a hint of doubt, but didn't ask further. He simply nodded and said softly,

"As you wish."

With that,

he gently moved his hand away to caress Qingyang's smooth abdomen. This brief interruption didn't stop their passion. The young master gently kissed his collarbone, his desire already aroused by the adorable little thing before him. His large hands easily slipped inside Qingyang's clothes, removing the obstructive belt, and easily discovered Qingyang's soft, drooping penis.

The sensitive spot being grasped so directly sent a shiver through Qingyang, almost making him scream.

"Don't be nervous,"

the young master kissed him again, grasping the tender shaft and stroking it up and down. His hands were large, easily enveloping Qingyang's manhood. His skillful hands, like those of a musician playing the zither, moved with measured rhythm, stimulating Qingyang until he moaned softly, his eyes squinting in pleasure. His previously limp manhood subtly hardened, and soon, shamelessly, it stood erect.

Qingyang covered his face in shame, unable to look at his lower body.

(Supplement: The latter half of post #92 has been revised, adding a small section.)

Suddenly, he felt a warm, soft sensation enveloping his lower body. Startled, he peeked through his fingers and saw that the young master had condescended to use his mouth… to hold his…thing…inside.

He had secretly seen erotic pictures in the marketplace with his third brother, so he knew what the young master was doing. He was deeply shocked and stammered,

"Young...Young master...you don't need to do such lowly work for me..."

The young master looked up at him, a smile playing in his eyes. He had Qingyang's penis in his mouth, licking the glans, trying to swallow it all the way to the base, licking around the base several times before pulling out. His tongue pressed against the glans, slowly pushing it in, even trying to penetrate the tiny opening, sucking vigorously to draw out all the essence within. His hands were also busy, caressing the two pink testicles at the base, erotically kneading and stroking them, occasionally tugging lightly with perfect pressure, causing Qingyang only slight pain, but the pleasure was overwhelming, layer upon layer.

"Mmm...ah...mmm..."

The young master sucked hard, almost making his soul leave his body. His teeth, holding the jade stem, tightened slightly, and a wave of intense pleasure, both painful and pleasurable, surged through him, irresistible. Qingyang surrendered, his body stiffening abruptly before going limp again, reaching his climax. The tip of his pink jade stem trembled, spurting white fluid straight into the young master's mouth, some even splashing onto his face.

"It's alright."

Before Qingyang could speak, the young master swallowed the semen in his mouth, then wiped the specks of white fluid from the corner of his mouth, licking it with his tongue, and laughed:

"It's sweet."

"That dirty stuff..."

Qingyang murmured shyly, extremely embarrassed. He dug his fingers into the bark behind him to support himself; otherwise, he probably would have collapsed to the ground long ago.

"How could that be?"

Although Qingyang was extremely embarrassed, she tried her best to cooperate with the young master's request, turning around and lying on the tree trunk, raising her buttocks high and spreading her legs as wide as possible to allow the young master to have his pleasure.

Her lower body clothes had long been removed by the young master and thrown somewhere, exposing her full and firm buttocks to the air. The weather was slightly cool, which made her skin break out in goosebumps, and her little hole, which had never been exposed to the light like this before, was tightly closed.

The young master embraced him from behind, caressing his waist with affection and showering him with soft, fleeting kisses. From his neck down to his waist, along his spine to his buttocks, he paused, then moved his hands to his rounded buttocks, kneading them vigorously. His tongue traced down the cleft, repeatedly licking and sliding in and out of the soft crevice, making wet, squelching sounds. Qingyang felt an intense, tingling itch. The young master's restless hands slid down, bypassing the shy, tightly closed opening to tease his perineum, repeatedly and gently scratching that fatally sensitive spot with his nails. How could he withstand such stimulation? His penis, which had just ejaculated, quietly hardened again.

"Little thing, how can you be so shameless?"

The young master noticed his erection, grasping it with one hand and teasing Qingyang.

"I...uh!"

Qingyang was about to answer when his lower body's opening involuntarily contracted due to the sudden entry of a foreign object. He turned around and saw the young master trying to insert his tongue into his honey hole.

"Ah!...Young master, this won't do, this won't do..."

Qingyang hurriedly turned over, trying to push the young master away, but his hands were grabbed tightly by the young master.

"Ugh...uh...ah..."

After several licks, the honey hole finally got used to the presence of the foreign object and could barely accommodate it. The young master's tongue went deeper into the honey hole, licking it deeply and shallowly, thrusting in and out of the hot and tight honey hole. Each thrust rubbed against the tender flesh inside the passage, forcefully churning inside, domineeringly sweeping through every part of the inside, declaring that it belonged exclusively to it. A deadly pleasure surged like a spring tide, the tingling sensation making Qingyang tremble. The tongue's entry was gradually no longer enough to satisfy him; his core was increasingly itchy, and honey-like fluid slowly seeped out from within, mixed with the young master's saliva, overflowing from the opening.

"...Ahhh!"

Still lost in the erotic stimulation, his opening suddenly tightened. He didn't know when the young master had changed positions; his nimble tongue left the opening, but immediately followed by the insertion of a finger, slowly and firmly penetrating Qingyang's body.

"Young...Young Master..."

Qingyang knelt on the ground, his chest rubbing against the tree trunk, his buttocks raised high, while the young master behind him lewdly played with his anus. Because of the previous erotic tongue penetration, his anus received the finger's entry without any resistance. The finger explored deeper than the tongue, trying its best to squeeze in, its nails gently scratching the lewd flesh, attempting to reach Qingyang's core.

"Mmm...Young Master...ah...ah..."

The young master's eyes were filled with lust. His hair was disheveled, his breathing heavy. All he could see was Qingyang, his clothes half-undone, legs wide open, his lower body naked, obediently submitting to his manipulations.

Soon, the young master inserted two more fingers. Although the opening was somewhat tight, encountering some resistance at the beginning, after some kneading and teasing, the opening quickly allowed the fingers to enter. The deeper the fingers penetrated the pink, alluring opening, the more honeyed fluid it secreted, soaking the passageway. The flesh tightly gripped the young master's fingers, unwilling to let them leave.

"Little thing, you've produced quite a bit of lustful fluid." The young master withdrew his fingers from the wet opening and put them in Qingyang's mouth, making him lick them with his tongue.

Already delirious from being played with, Qingyang had completely lost his sense of shame. He actually opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue to lick the young master's wet fingers, which were covered in his own honeyed fluid. Just as he had penetrated Qingyang's anus earlier, the young master's fingers plunged deep into his mouth again, thrusting in and out with varying depths. Qingyang's body rose and fell with the young master's movements, but his anus felt increasingly empty, which made him dissatisfied. He twisted his waist and swayed his hips, unconsciously inviting the young master to enter again.

"Young master... young master... I want..."

"Want what?"

"Want you..."

"Want me to do what?"

The young master said, pinching Qingyang's tender, white buttocks hard. He straightened up and leaned forward, embracing Qingyang, biting his earlobe, and deliberately asked indistinctly.

"Come in..."

"Come in where?" The young master's erect penis, having received no relief, was already as hard as iron. He pressed his penis against Qingyang's buttocks, lightly grinding at the entrance, but refusing to enter. This caused the incredibly thirsty little hole to open on its own, the outer flesh trembling and contracting, unable to be satisfied.

“Go in here, Qingyang.” The little slave said, reaching down to fidget with his anus, his eyes pleading with the young master.

“What will you use to go in?” The young master wasn’t satisfied, teasing him with even more shameless words.

Qingyang’s eyes welled up with tears; he could no longer bear it, his voice trembling with sobs:

“Use…use your penis…fuck me! Fuck me hard!”

As he spoke, the young master’s burning hot penis pressed against his anus. The penis was too large, and for a moment it couldn’t find its way in, only managing to insert the glans a little.

“Qingyang, relax, relax a little.”

The young master used one hand to stroke the tip of his penis while gently kissing the back of his neck and the base of his ears, giving him more pleasure.

“Mmm…”

Qingyang breathed softly, his soft moans becoming more restrained. He tried his best to open his anus wider, the glans slowly pushing in, each deeper penetration increasing his pain.

"Qingyang, does it hurt?" The young master saw his brows furrowed, as if in great pain. Even though desire had already surpassed reason, he had to stop worriedly, lest he hurt him.

He shook his head:

"It's nothing..."

He raised his hips higher to meet the young master, feeling the other's large member slowly enter his body. Although his anus felt like it was being torn apart, he could feel the fiery union of their bodies, an overwhelming sense of fulfillment. No words were needed; sweet love had already permeated every part of his body, even his fingertips could feel the warm affection coursing through his meridians. Qingyang worked hard to expand his seductive orifice, deeply embracing the young master's thick member, gradually sinking in more than halfway until it was completely swallowed. By this time, Qingyang was already sweating, the glistening beads of sweat reflecting off his snow-white skin, making him incomparably beautiful. The young master watched silently, holding him, and gently kissed his lips with tender affection. After Qingyang had endured the pain, he straightened up and slowly began to thrust.

At first, his thrusts were very small. Because of the ample foreplay, Qingyang didn't experience too much pain. The passage was slowly ground by the hard, iron-like rod, and his tender flesh tightly gripped the heat, increasingly feeling that the speed wasn't enough. The rod always seemed to fall just short of the itchy core, withdrawing before it could reach it. Therefore, Qingyang became increasingly unsatisfied, twisting his body and panting,

"Young Master... faster, faster..."

His eyes, misty with tears, were even more alluring. His body kept rubbing against the young master, his anus dripping with honeyed fluid, sliding down the gap between his opening and the young master's penis to his thighs, appearing incredibly lewd, naturally seductive, even more so than a vixen who had become a spirit.

"You said it." The young master's breath caught in his throat, and before Qingyang could react, he thrust his hips forcefully, plunging his burgeoning heat straight into the deepest part of Qingyang's body.

"Ah!!"

Qingyang's entire body trembled from the impact, and he screamed.

"Baby, my baby." His body was held tightly, and the young master kissed his sweat-dampened hair while thrusting his hips powerfully, manipulating Qingyang's anus with nine shallow thrusts and one deep one. The large glans pushed deep into the center of his anus, grinding against the most sensitive depths of his body. Each time the young master entered to the hilt, he deeply rubbed against his itchy anus, going so deep that only his testicles were stuck at the entrance. Then he withdrew to the hilt, leaving his tender flesh feeling desperately empty, yet it lingered reluctantly. Before this round of thrusting was over, while he was still savoring it, the egg-sized glans broke in again, penetrating to the deepest part of his intestinal wall, almost touching his internal organs.

"Good brother, harder... harder... fuck me to death! It feels so good..."

With such repeated, forceful thrusts, each time he thought he had reached his climax, but unexpectedly, the next wave brought an even more extreme pleasure, like a surging tide, like a raging storm. Qingyang no longer cared about propriety or shame, abandoning everything, only caring about swaying his waist ecstatically, letting the young master ravage and tease him, screaming and moaning loudly, his lust rising to the extreme peak. He saw nothing else but himself and the young master, freely engaging in intercourse, whether in the highest heavens or the deepest hell, he didn't care about anything. In this world, there was only himself and the young master, entangled together, climbing to the ultimate peak together.

The world seemed to lose its color, everything before their eyes becoming hazy. Just as he was about to reach his climax, the young master roared, suddenly increasing his strength, thrusting his hips forward with all his might, completely penetrating Qingyang's soft, wet cave. Even his testicles were half-inserted inside. A thick stream of semen sprayed deep into his body. Qingyang's body jerked violently, his own penis also spurting out a stream of semen, splashing onto the flower-strewn grass. The young master continued for a long time, the thick semen seeping deep into Qingyang's intestines until it overflowed, staining the sensitive walls with his marks. It took a long time for the flow to stop. The amount of semen was enormous; the small cave couldn't hold so much white fluid, and much overflowed, running down Qingyang's inner thighs, mixing with the previous flow of honey water, the semen spurting from his penis, and their sweat—a scene of utter debauchery.

After the climax, both of them collapsed breathlessly onto the grass. Qingyang lay in the young master's arms, eyes open, staring blankly at him.

Neither of them spoke.

Just this embrace brought them peace of mind.

They lingered for a while longer before descending the mountain and returning to their residence. Since the day Qingyang and the young master confessed their feelings, a deep affection had welled up within them. He had cast aside his previous anxieties and no longer dwelled on his nightmares. Fortunately, the man never appeared again, and Qingyang was overjoyed, believing he was finally free. Both young and vigorous, having just tasted the sweetness of passion, and seeing each other daily, how could they suppress their longing? The young master insisted on Qingyang's constant presence, dismissing all other servants. Whenever he had a spare moment, he would even neglect practicing the zither, taking Qingyang to his study.

There was a rosewood chaise longue in the room, where the young master would press Qingyang down and make love to her every day. His moans would echo throughout the study.

"Ah...Young Master, be gentle...be gentle..."

"...Mmm..."

He gasped with tears in his eyes, his legs spread wide on the couch, his knees draped over the young master's broad shoulders, his waist raised high, his alluring private parts fully exposed for all to admire.

The young master's thick penis thrust powerfully inside him, his bright red vulva stretched wide by the force of the penetration, the tender flesh of his opening tightly gripping the thick male root. With each thrust, a white, cloudy liquid flowed out, the young master's semen mixed with Qingyang's intestinal fluid, the sticky liquid soaking his buttocks, some even dripping onto the soft cushions of the chaise lounge, soaking a large patch of the cushions.

Qingyang gripped the cushions beneath him with one hand, while the other hand stroked his own penis up and down. He was fucked by the young master every day, and had already developed a taste for it. Having cast aside his initial shyness, he grew bolder and enjoyed the pleasure of making love with the young master more and more.

The rhythm slowed, penetrating deeper and deeper. The young master's penis ground deeply into Qingyang's core, forcefully rubbing the glans against the fatally sensitive protrusion inside the passage. The moist, fiery walls of his vagina contracted in waves, tightly gripping the invading penis. This manipulation made Qingyang's legs tremble with pleasure.

"Young master, faster...! Fuck me harder!"

Qingyang cried out ecstatically, squeezing his legs together, his calves rubbing against the young master's back. He twisted his hips wantonly, his vaginal walls gripping the young master's penis tightly, not allowing him to withdraw, only hoping that the young master would fuck him even more fiercely.

"Truly a natural charmer."

The young master chuckled twice, then, following Qingyang's wishes, suddenly increased the force, thrusting deeply into him. The impact made Qingyang's body tremble. He then withdrew completely, his penis slamming in again before the opening was even empty, sending Qingyang into a state of blissful ecstasy. His body felt like a small boat adrift, unsure of where to go, carried only by the young master in a sea of desire.

After nearly a hundred thrusts, the young master finally ejaculated a thick stream of semen, shooting it all into Qingyang's belly, reaching the deepest part of his passage. The young master's ejaculation was remarkably prolonged and the amount of semen enormous. The narrow walls of his vagina couldn't contain so much semen, which overflowed from the opening, soaking Qingyang's thighs and the soft cushions, giving Qingyang an incredibly pleasurable experience.

"Little thing, you've swallowed so much of my semen, it's time you bore me a child."

Qingyang's erect penis was being soothed by the young master, his fingers fiddling with the tiny tip, his nails trying to penetrate it. Coupled with the immense pleasure he felt when the young master ejaculated inside him earlier, he was already trembling and unable to hold back. Hearing the young master's provocative words, he trembled again and ejaculated, his semen even splashing onto the young master's face.

"Young master..."

Because of the discomfort from the oral sex during foreplay, Qingyang's voice was almost hoarse. He struggled to utter,

"Don't tease me... How can I bear your child..."

As he spoke, his face grew even redder.

The young master lovingly embraced him, gently biting the delicate white skin of his neck, then touching his lower abdomen, slightly swollen from being filled with semen, and chuckled,

"If you were a girl, I'd probably already have my seed inside you, and you'd surely give me a litter of big, fat boys."

Qingyang blushed at his words, but then remembered something else and his teasing mood vanished. He bit his lower lip, remaining silent for a long time.

"What's wrong?"

The young master kissed his smooth face tenderly, while his other hand mischievously rubbed Qingyang's perineum, a highly sensitive spot that always made him tremble with pleasure when touched by the young master.

After a long while, Qingyang finally looked up, muttering dejectedly,

"You'll also marry and have children in the future, won't you?"

The thought of the young master leading other women, holding children who belonged to him and others—a place he could never intrude upon—made Qingyang's heart ache.

Seeing his expression, the young master knew the little rascal was lost in thought, his mind wandering elsewhere. He could only sigh softly, pinch his nose hard, and say,

"Have you forgotten what I said? I will marry no one but you."

"This..." Upon hearing this, Qingyang's heart was stirred. He blushed at the confession and murmured,

"Who knows if you can believe me... Besides, how could Master agree to this?"

The young master didn't care:

"Do you think he can control me? I've been in charge of this household for a long time."

Then he added,

"If you still don't believe me, then let's choose an auspicious day this month, and I'll invite you in with a grand sedan chair, and marry you to me in style, how about that?"

"What nonsense!" Qingyang spat, "I'm not a woman, what do you mean by a grand sedan chair? I don't want that."

"But I want to marry you!"

The young master's tone was serious, full of determination.

Qingyang was taken aback, then lowered his head, his face flushed with embarrassment. He was already clever and cute, and looking at him like this made him even more charming.

"I am very happy that you have this intention... I don't ask for anything else."

As he spoke, he wiped away the tears that had quietly welled up in the corners of his eyes. Suddenly, he felt a strange sensation in his lower body; it was the young master's thick member that had once again invaded him, embedding itself deeply inside him. 03-06 03

"My good darling."

The young master, still in the position of penetration, picked up Qingyang and slowly walked to the desk beside him. With each step forward, the thick member inside Qingyang penetrated deeper, a sensation that made him tense his toes and groan loudly with pleasure. The young master placed his body on the desk; the cool wooden surface stimulated his skin, causing him to unconsciously clench his arousal points. This action suited the young master's wishes perfectly. He made Qingyang lie face down on the desk, his buttocks raised, and then he thrust into him from behind, powerfully pumping his thick penis, fiercely fucking his lovely little slave.

"Ah...ah...mmm..."

"Young Master...slower, Qingyang can't take it anymore...ah..."

"Mmm...I'm...I'm going to come...mmm..."

His breasts were pressed against the desk, making it hard for him to breathe. His nipples, tightly wrapped in cloth, seemed to be pressed into his breast flesh. His sensitive areolas were rubbed painfully by the smooth tabletop. Qingyang felt both pain and pleasure. His eyes were glazed over. He shook his buttocks vigorously with the young master's movements. The hot, hard flesh thrust in and out of his body again and again. Each time, it went deep and almost reached his internal organs. The entrance of his hole was rubbed until small bubbles appeared. Lustful fluids splashed everywhere. The intestinal fluid secreted by his love hole was so much that it flowed out of the entrance. It mixed with the young master's semen and dripped down his thighs. The two of them were panting and entwined, making love passionately. The room was filled with the musky scent of lust. For a moment, spring was in full bloom.

These days, Qingyang and the young master have been making love every day, indulging in passionate lovemaking. He is no longer the naive little slave who would be so angry at a single teasing remark from his third brother that he would want to punch him. Nourished by their lovemaking, he has blossomed into a beautiful young man. His almond-shaped eyes, like spring blossoms, are on his pretty face. His lips are red and slightly swollen, and his neck is covered with bluish-purple hickeys that extend all the way to his heels. Every inch of his body has been possessed by the young master. These past few days, the young master has been so vigorous that he can barely close his legs when he walks.

There is only one place that he never lets the young master touch:

his chest.

Qingyang always binds his chest tightly with white gauze, even during his lovemaking with the young master. On that day on Lushan Mountain, he refused to let the young master touch his chest. Since then, the young master has never touched him there during their lovemaking, not even glancing at it.

He breathed a sigh of relief, no longer worried about the young master discovering the troublesome things on his chest, but how could he keep it a secret forever? He always refused to take off his shirt during lovemaking, which already puzzled the young master greatly. Moreover, he longed to spend his life with the young master… how could he always insist on this…

Qingyang was cleaning the display cabinet with a duster, lost in thought, when suddenly a sharp pain shot through his chest. He cried out in pain, clutching his chest and crouching down in discomfort.

Lately, he didn't know what was wrong; his chest had been feeling subtly swollen, especially in the last two days. His breasts had become increasingly painful, and last night he hadn't slept well because of the pain. While the young master was out of the room, he secretly pulled down the white gauze to examine them and found that his once soft breasts felt hard to the touch, the two small nipples slightly hardened, even a light touch was painful, and his breasts felt heavy, as if something was piled up inside.

Could it be that the man who appeared that night had done something to him? Qingyang's thoughts raced, and he felt an increasing pain and swelling in his breasts. Helpless, he clutched his chest tightly, trying to suppress the throbbing pain.

"Qingyang."

With a soft call, the young master pushed open the door and entered the room. Seeing Qingyang squatting on the ground, he rushed over to help him up.

"What happened to you?"

"Nothing..."

Suppressing his discomfort, Qingyang forced a smile, pretending nothing was wrong:

"I accidentally bumped into the cabinet."

"How could you be so careless?" The young master, unsuspecting, helped him to the bedside with concern:

"I told you before, you don't need to do these cleaning chores. You just need to stay in your room obediently every day. Let me see where you bumped yourself. Let me rub it

for you." As he spoke, he noticed Qingyang clutching his chest tightly, paused, and withdrew his hands from his chest, asking:

"Oh, it's here. Is it alright? I'll ask that doctor to make you some more medicine later."

"Okay."

Qingyang nodded.

The young master wrapped his arms around his shoulders, his eyes sweeping over his chest before quickly looking elsewhere, making no further move.

Seeing the young master's reaction, Qingyang was somewhat stunned, a sudden pang of sadness rising in his heart.

"Qingyang."

"Hmm?"

The young master looked at him apologetically:

"I've been sent to the Hanlin Academy to edit books these past few days, so I'm afraid I won't be able to stay with you at home."

"Editing books? How long will that take?"

"It's hard to say," the young master sighed, hugging him tightly, "I won't be able to return to the manor for at least half a month, so you must take good care of yourself."

Qingyang was reluctant to part; their affection was at its peak, and even a moment's separation felt too long, let alone the young master leaving for so long.

Once the pain subsided slightly, he roused himself, grasped the young master's hand that was around his shoulder, and shook it, saying,

"Young master, would you take me with you? I've always served you closely."

"No," the young master shook his head, "Apart from the officials sent to repair books, no one else is allowed in."

"But..."

"Besides," the young master softened his voice, affectionately playing with a strand of hair by his ear, "you haven't been feeling well these past few days, so just stay home and rest."

Saying this, he silenced Qingyang's open mouth with a deep kiss.

"You'll stay home and wait for me, you're not allowed to go anywhere."

The next day, Qingyang was still lazily curled up in bed, refusing to stick his head out. The young master lifted the covers and leaned in, turning his

head and kissing him tenderly for a long time, until Qingyang was breathless before letting him go. Qingyang rubbed his sleepy eyes, put on his outer robe, and saw the young master off to the gate of the imperial city. Only when his figure gradually disappeared into the distance did he reluctantly return to his residence.

After the two became lovers, the young master settled him in a small pavilion not far from the study. It was quiet

and peaceful there, rarely visited, allowing him to spend his days and nights in passionate lovemaking without anyone noticing. Besides the young master, servants came to take care of daily affairs, requiring no effort from him and undisturbed. Previously, his third brother would sometimes come to visit, but the young master, jealous, forbade him to come. Homosexuality was prevalent in the city, and it was extremely common for servants to be chosen as concubines by their masters. Therefore, the servants in the manor were quite used to his affair with the young master. Some might gossip behind his back, but Qingyang didn't care.

He leaned against the small window, watching the willow branches by the pond sprout new green buds, clutched his chest, and sighed softly. The young master had been away for about ten days.

These days, the pain in his chest had grown increasingly intense.

What started as a slight throbbing pain had escalated to the point where he dared not even touch it. His nipples were hard as pebbles, and even the areolas were painfully erect. Sometimes, when he was alone in his room, unwilling to wear the cumbersome white gauze, the shape of his nipples would be clearly visible through his outer garment, the two protruding points clearly discernible. His breasts were swollen and feverish, even larger than a few days ago. If his upper garment was too tight, his prominent breasts would be completely exposed, causing him great anxiety. Now, he only dared to wear loose robes, fearing being seen through.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Qingyang quickly pulled his outer garment together and got up to open it, finding an elderly gentleman with white hair and beard standing at the door carrying a ceramic jar.

"Mr. Zhang, why did you personally bring the medicine?"

Qingyang was somewhat surprised; this was the same old doctor the young master had hired to care for him.

"I heard your condition has worsened these past few days, so I came to take a look and see if there's anything wrong with the prescription,"

the old doctor said slowly, stroking his beard as he handed the prepared medicine to Qingyang.

After the consultation, Qingyang answered the doctor's questions, being very cautious and careful not to reveal anything about himself. However, looking into the doctor's shrewd eyes, he felt as if the doctor had already seen through him, a feeling that lingered in his mind.

As the medicine cooled down, a strong smell of Chinese medicine rose up. Qingyang wrinkled his nose and reluctantly drank it. The old doctor stared at him with great interest, his eyes unblinking.

"Sir, is there anything else you want to ask?"

Qingyang asked, subtly indicating that he wanted to see him out.

The old man, however, seemed not to understand his meaning and asked with concern,

"Besides your loss of appetite and the low-grade fever you've had these past few days, are there any other symptoms?"

"No,"

Qingyang replied decisively.

The old man narrowed his eyes, looked him up and down again, stood up, shook his robe, and said, "

In that case, I'll take my leave."

He felt relieved and hurriedly saw the old doctor out. As he passed the door, he accidentally bumped his chest against the latch, and immediately winced in pain, almost bursting into tears.

Seeing this, the old doctor quickly asked,

"What's wrong?"

"I just accidentally bumped into the door, it's nothing," he said, enduring the pain, and forced himself to straighten up, but his hands were tightly clutching his chest.

The old doctor watched his movements, his eyes gleaming, as if he could see right through him.

"In that case, I'll take my leave."

Seeing the old doctor leave, Qingyang breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He struggled to his feet, clinging to the door, and was about to return to his room when the old doctor called him back, giving him a sly smile.

"By the way, if your chest is really sore, you might try applying a hot compress; it might relieve the symptoms."

Qingyang was stunned.

The old doctor left on his own, returning to his medicine hut. He wrote a note on his desk, gave a place name, and sent it over by a servant.

"Judging from his condition today, it's about time. Young Master should be back soon," he murmured, rubbing his lower back. "Alas, I was forced to do such a ridiculous thing, giving that child that lactation-inducing medicine. It's all Young Master's fault… He should be a benevolent gentleman, yet he has such an absurd habit… Alas!"

He shook his head and sighed repeatedly.

The night was deep and the dew heavy. A cool breeze blew in through the west window, carrying a slight chill. A crescent moon hung on the treetops, hidden beneath the dark clouds, occasionally peeking out.

Despite the moonlit night, sleep was elusive. On the small table beside the windowsill sat a jar of wine and a jade cup, the cup still holding a little wine, the jar empty.

Qingyang lay half-reclined on the bed, his face flushed. The wine had taken effect, making his body hot. His outer robe was carelessly tossed on the bed, his inner garments undone. His breasts ached terribly; he hadn't worn a white gauze for days, so they were openly exposed, smooth and firm, particularly alluring in the moonlight. He was also completely naked from the waist down, his bare legs spread wide, his limp, pink penis still hidden in the dark pubic hair. His body was like snow, its muscles perfectly proportioned, the intoxicating sensations beyond description.

He felt an unusual tightness in his chest all day, making it difficult to even sit up. By nightfall, the pain had intensified, making sleep impossible. Coupled with his growing longing for his young master, and with no other options, Qingyang secretly took a jar of wine from the cellar to drown his sorrows. He had a low alcohol tolerance, and after finishing the entire jar, he was completely drunk.

"Young...Young Master..."

Qingyang mumbled groggily, shrugging. As the effects of the alcohol subsided, the chill of the night, combined with his low-grade fever, made him feel cold. But in his drunken stupor, he had no idea how to cover himself with a blanket.

His hands groped unconsciously, and suddenly he felt a warmth as he was wrapped in a warm quilt. He grabbed the blanket and instinctively wrapped himself tightly from head to toe, making sure no air got in.

It was very warm.

But a sharp pain throbbed in his chest, causing Qingyang to wince, press his hands against his chest, curl up, and tremble uncontrollably.

A pair of large hands spread out, enveloping him completely, blanket and all.

The touch was unfamiliar, yet strangely familiar. Qingyang peered out, trying to see who was holding him. But the night was too dark, and no lamps were lit; the person's face was hidden in the darkness, only their tall silhouette was discernible.

A sudden, familiar fear washed over him—it was him, the shadowy figure from the previous night!

Even in his drunken state, Qingyang still retained a sliver of consciousness and struggled to push the embrace away. The person, who had initially held him tenderly, became enraged by Qingyang's kicks and struggles. They grabbed Qingyang's hands, pinned them behind his head, and bound them with strips of cloth, rendering him immobile. Then, they roughly ripped off the blanket and grabbed his breasts without hesitation.

"It hurts... Let go! Let me go!"

Qingyang cried out in pain. The man, seemingly an impatient lecher, grabbed one of his breasts and began to knead it roughly. The already swollen and aching breasts were instantly pierced by this grip, a sharp pain shooting through his chest, turning his face deathly pale, rendering him speechless.

The man noticed his distress and quickly released his grip, turning Qingyang's chin to examine his face in the moonlight.

Two streams of tears welled up in Qingyang's eyes as he sobbed in pain.

Seeing this, the man remained silent for a long while, then made no further move. Qingyang recovered, but the effects of the alcohol intensified, and he gradually became drowsy again. He leaned against the man's broad chest, finding the feeling reassuring. He softly called out "Young Master" twice, his eyelids growing heavy, increasingly sleepy.

Restless fingers quietly moved to his chest again, gently tracing the cleavage, then circling the firm areolas with their fingertips. The movements were so subtle that Qingyang didn't notice.

The man, still holding Qingyang close, pulled the blankets covering him wider, revealing a pair of beautiful breasts. He lowered his head and licked the smooth skin with his tongue. Though not clearly visible in the moonlight, the nipples glistened with moisture, exquisitely beautiful.

Perhaps because he had been separated from these breasts that he so adored, the man was reluctant to leave Qingyang's chest for even a moment. He teased Qingyang's areolas with his tongue for a while, then quickly lost patience and began to caress them, taking the already swollen, round nipple into his mouth and sucking on it forcefully without any restraint.

"Ugh..."

A sharp pain in his nipple caused Qingyang to groan. The man greedily sucked on his nipple, waves of stimulation shooting from his body to his nipple, but the swelling pain was actually relieved by this action.

Qingyang weakly reached out to push the man away, but his strength was futile, almost like a reluctant acceptance. The sounds of suckling echoed continuously in the room. One nipple was swollen and red from being suckled, yet it remained erect without any other signs of pain. The man, losing patience, quickly released it and moved to the other nipple. Saliva from his lips and teeth still clung to the pink, glistening tip, forming a bright silver thread.

His lips and tongue pressed tightly against the nipple, squeezing and sucking until it was deformed. The swollen and painful breasts felt much better from this suckling. Qingyang, his consciousness hazy, arched his chest and pressed his breasts against the man's mouth, hoping for more comfort for his swollen and aching breasts.

Seeing that mere licking wasn't enough, the man massaged Qingyang's swollen, round breasts with both hands, pressing the flesh down forcefully. In the darkness, his eyes were fixed on Qingyang's lovely nipples, his gaze filled with desire, brimming with what he desperately wanted to taste—the milk secreted by the men of Qilan to nourish their offspring. He

squeezed repeatedly, but to no avail. Perhaps it was because Qingyang had become sexually aroused these past few days, and had been taking the lactation-inducing medicine prescribed by Doctor Zhang, that her breasts were excessively engorged with milk, yet had not received any relief, and the milk couldn't come out for the time being. The man licked Qingyang's nipples and sucked hard a few more times, but seeing that no milk flowed out, he had to give up for the time being.

He reluctantly sniffed Qingyang's nipples, clearly able to smell a faint, rich milky fragrance. The sweet milk he had longed for was enveloped by two round, erect magnolia petals, yet it refused to come out. The man was anxious and kept massaging Qingyang's breasts, but to no avail, only eliciting moans of protest from the drunken Qingyang.

After a long silence, the man suddenly stopped massaging Qingyang, helped him lie down on the bed, lifted the obstructing blanket, and pressed himself against him. He reached down to Qingyang's genitals, grasped his already half-erect penis, and began to stroke it up and down.

Because the young master had been gone for many days, Qingyang, who had not experienced sexual pleasure for a long time, quickly became aroused. He was so drunk that he couldn't tell who the man was, only that the stroking of his penis felt incredibly good, and clear fluid of pleasure seeped from the glans. He willingly opened his legs, allowing the man to ravage him.

The man kneaded his breasts with one hand and stroked his penis with the other, moving rhythmically together. Qingyang felt incredibly comfortable from these movements. Although his breasts were swollen and aching, the man's kneading was skillful, pressing the full flesh in circles towards the nipples. The swelling and pain seemed to be gradually released. His penis was also being patiently stroked. After repeated manipulations, the man changed tactics, grabbing the glans and pressing it against his lower abdomen before quickly releasing it, causing the entire penis to spring back. Then, he grasped the scrotum at the base of his penis and began to fidget with the two scrotums that were already full of thick semen. The already trembling and beautiful penis could not withstand such stimulation. Soon, the tip of the penis trembled and began to spit out white fluid. Just as it was about to ejaculate, the man pressed the tip tightly with his hand, preventing it from escaping.

"Give it to me... umm..." Qingyang twisted his body in dissatisfaction, wanting relief, but the man used a strip of cloth he had obtained from somewhere to tie his tip shut, not allowing him to release at all.

He opened his eyes groggily, struggling to see the man lying on top of him, trying to make out his face, but the night was too dark and the moonlight too faint, and he couldn't make out the man's outline no matter what he did.

"Ugh..."

Before he could think any further, the man had already inserted his fingers into his anus, pushing them deep inside.

"Ugh... ah..."

He moaned seductively, his anus tightening around the fingers, clinging tightly to prevent the man from leaving. A second finger quickly went in, stirring vigorously inside. The wanton anus soon secreted a clear liquid to lubricate the inner walls, and the tight flesh quickly became incredibly wet. The sound of the fingers stirring inside made a smacking noise. The alluring orifice quickly became dissatisfied with just two fingers; it greedily swallowed and spat, begging for more, the overflowing fluids becoming increasingly abundant, even spilling out of the passage and wetting the anus.

Seeing that the orifice was sufficiently dilated, the man stopped massaging Qingyang's breasts, straightened up, lifted Qingyang's wide-open legs, folded them towards his chest, then grasped the two delicate buttocks, his erect and fiery erection thrusting slowly into the overflowing orifice, until fully inside. Then, the man began to thrust forcefully.

Caught off guard, Qingyang could only sway his body with the rhythm. The man's thrusts were deep and fierce, each stroke precisely rubbing against the sensitive spot inside his intestines before penetrating the very core, domineering and ruthless, completely possessing him. He had never experienced such brute force pleasure before.

"Gently... ahh... gentler... please..."

A wave of intense pleasure threatened to engulf him. Qingyang begged for mercy, struggling to turn to the side, clinging to the sheets beneath him, trying to escape. But he was pulled back and brutally pounded in again, the man's massive penis withdrawing rapidly only to plunge in again as punishment, deeper and deeper. He lost track of time; the long, relentless fucking seemed endless. The man relentlessly thrust into him, and he thought he would be fucked to death. Then, with a powerful, deep thrust, almost reaching the very entrance of his intestines, the man's surging semen shot deep into his intestinal walls. The hot, thick semen made him shudder, and he too felt himself about to ejaculate, reaching the ultimate climax.

His toes curled, the intense pleasure and ecstasy blurring his vision, making even his toes curl. But his penis was tightly bound with cloth strips, and the glans was blocked, so not a single drop of semen could be ejaculated.

"Ahhh!"

Qingyang cried out, almost driven to the brink of collapse by the pain of being unable to ejaculate. For a moment, he disregarded all shame and struggled to free his bound hands to relieve himself.

The man leaned down, laid his legs flat, and touched his perky breasts. Suddenly, he raised his hands high and slapped those round breasts repeatedly, making a loud slapping sound.

Qingyang was in excruciating pain, twisting his body frantically to escape this humiliating defilement. His breasts ached from the slaps, and his sensitive nipples couldn't bear the stimulation. But he couldn't escape the man's slaps. His two snow-white breasts swayed with his movements, rippling with each slap. In the dim night, the scene was so lewd that even the moon outside the window dared not look at it for long.

Suddenly, the man stopped patting, then grabbed one breast in each hand and began to squeeze and knead it vigorously. Qingyang breathed heavily, feeling his chest swell and become increasingly congested, as if something was about to burst out of his body. His nipples were hot and burning. The man reached out and used his fingernails to repeatedly pry open one of the nipples, pulling it outwards. He trembled twice, then suddenly, the man pressed his breasts down hard with both hands. The stimulation to his breasts reached its peak, and each nipple spurted out a thin stream of water, splashing onto the man's face.

After a moment of stunned silence, the man realized that Qingyang had finally produced milk. He hurriedly lowered his head and greedily suckled one nipple. He had finally tasted the milk he had longed for! Perhaps because it was colostrum, the splashed yellow milk was fragrant, carrying the rich and sweet aroma unique to the people of Qilan. Perhaps due to excessive excitement, the man frantically sucked at the milk that had been brewing in Qingyang's breasts, greedily taking several sips at a time until the rich, fragrant milk was almost overflowing from his mouth, before eagerly swallowing it down. Both of Qingyang's breasts were producing milk simultaneously, and while he was focused on sucking from one side, he naturally neglected the other nipple, which was gushing out colostrum. Therefore, seeing the fragrant milk overflowing from the nipple, he quickly switched back to that side, but still, a considerable amount of milk was wasted.

Qingyang's mind was a blur; although his eyes were open, they remained unfocused. He lay there in a daze, the man on top of him, his head buried in his chest like a baby, sucking on the milk secreted from his breasts.

This perception was undeniably absurd.

The Qilan man's breast milk was so sweet and intoxicating that he was captivated by the taste of milk he hadn't experienced in years. To him, it was the most wonderful thing in the world. Because he had longed for it for so long, his initial fervent desire to suckle had not subsided. He sucked hard and very urgently. After suckling for a long time, the already meager milk supply became increasingly scarce. Helpless, the man had to switch to the other nipple and start suckling, not forgetting to use his hand to push against the breast that he had just emptied, hoping to store some more to satisfy his desire.

After a short while, he probably felt that the half-supported position of suckling was a bit tiring, so he simply relaxed, pressing his body tightly against Qingyang's, even burying his penis between his legs. The man childishly rested his head on Qingyang's chest, tightly hugging his waist, curling up in Qingyang's thin arms like a mother cuddling her baby, completely unaware of how unusual it was for a grown man to be in such a position.

The next day, Qingyang woke up and was surprised to find that the usual throbbing pain in his chest was gone. The heavy, sluggish feeling that had been pressing on his heart for days was nowhere to be seen. Just as he was about to sit up to check, he felt a soreness in his lower body. His heart sank, and when he pulled back the blanket, he found his lower body in a mess. His crotch was full of dried semen, and his anus was slightly swollen, sore, and red—the usual pain he experienced after sex. Qingyang then realized he was completely naked, his breasts covered in bruises and teeth marks, his nipples erect and bright red, more than a size larger than usual.

He gasped, unable to imagine what had happened while he was drunk last night. Fragmented memories resurfaced, the frenzied scenes of the previous night vaguely piecing together in his mind. Yes, he was drunk… passed out on the bed… He couldn't remember the specifics, but the languid feeling after the release of lust, the sharp pain in his chest and anus, all reminded him of the absurd things that had happened with him last night. He couldn't help but

shiver. Qingyang knew it was him, that man, the man who had appeared in his nights several times before.

He was back!

He was terrified, he wanted to run, but his legs felt completely limp, unable to move, let alone escape.

His thin shoulders trembled, and Qingyang covered his face in pain, sobbing uncontrollably,

"Young Master..."

The man appeared again in the middle of the night, the nightmare repeating itself.

Upon seeing him, Qingyang frantically grabbed anything he could move and smashed it at him. Vases and other objects shattered on the floor, but the man was incredibly agile. He not only dodged the objects but also effortlessly reached the bedside, easily subduing the flailing Qingyang who was trying to fight him. He bound Qingyang's hands and feet, hastily tore open his clothes, and buried his face in Qingyang's left nipple, sucking hard.

Although he already knew what the man would do to him, Qingyang was still stunned by his direct action. After sucking vigorously for a while, the fragrant milk that had accumulated throughout the day was successfully drawn out.

Poor Qingyang only felt a surge of heat in his left breast, followed by a thick, wet sensation on the tip of the nipple that the man was biting. He didn't know what was happening, only whimpering in pain. Until the quiet room echoed with the sound of a man swallowing, and a warm flow continuously overflowed from his nipple, a faint, almost imperceptible milky scent wafted into his nostrils. Qingyang's mind went blank, as if struck by a boulder, leaving him dizzy and seeing stars, completely unable to believe what was happening to him.

The man, satisfied, embraced him with his strong arms, his movements like a child's, biting his nipple and suckling fiercely, like a starving person who had been thirsty for months, only the continuous flow of sweet milk could quench his thirst.

After a moment of silence, Qingyang suddenly struggled, desperately trying to break free, wanting the man, so engrossed in suckling, to roll off him. But before he could move even a fraction, the man, annoyed by the interruption, pinned him down firmly, biting his pitiful little nipple hard as punishment.

"Spare me... spare me!"

he choked, almost begging the man, abandoning all dignity.

The man ignored his words, continuing to suckle the intoxicating nipple without stopping.

Tears welled up uncontrollably. Never before had Qingyang felt such shame. He had thought his once flat chest had developed into two breasts due to some strange illness, but now he was producing milk like a young woman, and was being forced to breastfeed a man. This androgynous state was far removed from the carefree servant Qingyang he once was!

He gave up struggling in despair and closed his eyes tightly.

From then on, every night, the ghostly man appeared. Qingyang couldn't escape. No matter how much he struggled to run away, even sneaking out of the mansion one night, the man caught him, threw him onto the bed, ripped off his clothes, and forced him to breastfeed.

Throughout this time, the man's face remained blurred in the darkness; he never clearly saw what he looked like.

The act of breastfeeding filled him with such shame that he almost wanted to drown himself. Yet, the swelling and soreness in his breasts, which had lingered for days, vanished completely thanks to the man's vigorous suckling and kneading. He was even brought to orgasm by the man's erotic and lewd suckling. Later, the man's methods of suckling his breasts became increasingly depraved. He felt that Qingyang's breasts never produced enough milk to satisfy his desires, and he discovered that Qingyang could also produce milk on his own when aroused. Therefore, he focused even more on developing his body. On the bed, he would often thrust his penis forcefully into Qingyang while vigorously kneading his breasts. Three sensitive areas were being pleasured simultaneously. When the man ejaculated inside him, Qingyang's breasts would also spray milk, which would splash onto the man's face and be licked into his mouth—it was utterly lewd.

This absurdity continued every night.

He could never resist; his struggles only resulted in the man's more ruthless teasing and manipulation. Like someone who had fallen into a quagmire, the more he struggled, the deeper he sank.

"Ah...oh...I'm almost...almost there..."

Qingyang spread his legs, wrapped his arms around the man's neck, and straddled him. His tight, hot anus completely swallowed the man's penis, and he was vigorously twisting his hips up and down with the man's rhythm. The man held his hips with one hand and wrapped his arms around his back with the other, his head resting on his chest, sucking hard on one of Qingyang's pink and round nipples. The rich, sweet milk stored in Qingyang's breasts was slowly sucked out, and he would occasionally gently nibble on the tender, sensitive areola, making him even more immersed in this pleasurable lovemaking.

Spreading his thighs as wide as possible, he lowered himself further to allow the man's penis to penetrate deeper. Qingyang thrust his chest forward, using his hand to cup his other breast and offer it to the man's mouth, gesturing for him to suckle his neglected right breast.

In the darkness, the man smiled faintly, bringing his lips to the sweetly fragrant nipple, only taking a light sniff but refusing to suckle.

Qingyang blushed; he understood what the man wanted him to do.

It took a great deal of effort to suppress the shame he felt, yet even his ears turned red. He could only grasp his right breast, kneading his fair skin with his slender white fingers, his nails tracing fine lines around the areola. There was a slight pain, but this sense of humiliation only fueled greater pleasure. His anus was burning with desire, constantly gushing out sticky, lustful fluid, soaking the man's fiery penis. Pinch the delicate, tiny nipple with your fingers and bring it to the man's lips, rubbing the nipple against his lips. Qingyang was so ashamed he almost cried:

"Please, please let me...breastfeed you..."

Before he could finish speaking, the man, who could no longer restrain himself, opened his mouth and bit his nipple, sucking hard—

"Ahhh!!"

The large penis embedded inside him suddenly swelled up even more, thrusting hard into his core, reaching the deepest part of his body. The man thrust into him hard, biting his nipple and sucking milk, making him tremble with pleasure and ejaculate.

He was raped by the man while simultaneously breastfeeding him; this happened every night. He was so exhausted by the man's torment that he had lost all ability to resist, instead succumbing to the man's fierce lust. From initially fighting desperately, he gradually gave in, becoming increasingly addicted to this fiery and frenzied lovemaking. Compared to the young master's gentle and meticulous approach, the man's masculine and wanton behavior seemed to suit his taste better. The former might even seem a little too mild. When this ghostly man frantically and recklessly fucked him, he always felt a fear that he might be fucked to death. Therefore, he often tried to escape from under him, only to be dragged back and fucked even more violently. His breasts were bitten until they were swollen and swollen. The man used all sorts of lewd positions to brutally fuck Qingyang. Although it was painful, the pleasure was even greater, making him feel like he was dying and being reborn.

The man gradually unearthed Qingyang's inherently lewd and wanton side. He began to enjoy being penetrated by the man's massive penis, learning to moan wantonly beneath him, and even craving to breastfeed to relieve the swelling in his breasts from the accumulated milk. After being suckled by the man night after night, his two originally small nipples swelled considerably. Qingyang was now tainted with a seductive aura, completely separating day from night. By day, he was a humble servant sitting obediently by the small window, waiting for his young master's return; by night, he was more wanton than a harlot, letting the man pour his semen into his belly every night, leaving his crotch a mess, indulging in wild and unrestrained intercourse with the man whose name and face he knew nothing of.

Every morning when he woke up, the bed was a mess. His body and the sheets were covered with his own and the man's semen, and there were even specks of breast milk splattered on them. Qingyang dared not let anyone else clean up these things, so he could only endure the swelling and pain in his anus, tear off the sheets, throw them into the charcoal brazier, and burn them clean.

The guilt of betraying the young master overwhelmed him, a heavy weight pressing down on him, making it hard to breathe. The young master's loving gaze constantly flashed through his mind, those sharp eyes piercing through all his shame, as if questioning how he could still have the nerve to stay comfortably in the pavilion built for him. That questioning made him feel utterly ashamed, his heart burning with torment and agony. But at night, his pitiful guilt was shattered by the man, who brought him ecstatic pleasure, a joy he had never experienced before. Reason told him it was all absurd, but his body honestly nestled in the man's arms, joyfully enjoying their intimacy. The guilt towards the young master and the pleasure of being with the man were like two opposing forces, tearing his heart to pieces. Several days after the young master left, he was emaciated and had lost a lot of weight.

One day, Qingyang went to the study to clean the dusty ancient books on the bookshelf for his young master. He had spent the night in debauchery, and even now his legs were still weak, and his anus ached slightly. Although he had almost gotten used to the fact that sex no longer caused bleeding, the lingering pain was unavoidable, and his back was also very sore.

As he cleaned the dust from the bookshelf, he pounded his lower back with his hands.

"Qingyang!"

Suddenly, Third Brother's loud shout came from outside the door, which he pushed open forcefully.

"Quick, quick, to the front door!" Third Brother called out,

"Young Master is back, just arrived!"

His hand trembled, and the duster he was holding fell to the ground. Qingyang's body jolted, and he turned around in surprise.

Young Master… is back?!

He should have been overjoyed, but now… he was filled with guilt…

What should he do!

Qingyang trembled, his legs gave way, and he collapsed to the ground.

Before he could even greet him at the door, the travel-worn young master strode into the study. Seeing Qingyang, his eyes lit up, and he swept him up in his arms, holding him tightly.

Qingyang, breathless from the young master's embrace, clung to him, feeling the long-lost familiar scent. The days they had been apart had been agonizing for him.

The young master's arms tightened around him, almost painfully.

"Qingyang, my dear Qingyang, have you missed me these past few days?"

The young master was still covered in dust, and from neglect, stubble had grown on his chin. His handsome face looked tired, but he looked at Qingyang with eyes full of deep love.

Qingyang's nose stung with tears.

"Yes,"

he nodded emphatically.

This time, the young master didn't stay long in the mansion; soon he was leaving again.

"I've been so busy lately," the young master said apologetically, embracing Qingyang and gently kissing his ear.

"The letter-writing matter will take at least ten days or half a month to finish, and it might take quite a while longer..."

"It's alright," Qingyang said, resting his head against his chest. "You should take this to heart."

The young master gave a bitter smile and gently stroked Qingyang's soft hair.

"If I could, I would want to keep you by my side forever."

The little servant in his arms suddenly trembled.

Wiping away the tears welling up in his eyes, Qingyang said in a trembling voice,

"Then take me away! Anywhere is fine, I don't want to stay in the manor!"

His voice was choked with sobs, and there was a hint of heartbreaking sorrow in it. The young master turned him around, making him face him, stared at him blankly for a moment, then took his hand and said,

"Silly boy, where else can you go if you don't stay in the manor?"

Qingyang shook his head vigorously,

"I don't want to stay here!"

If it weren't for waiting for the young master's return, he might have already escaped far away and never had to suffer the humiliation every night again.

"Qingyang," the young master gently hugged him and asked,

"This Prime Minister's manor is where you grew up, it's your home, why don't you want to stay here now? Have you suffered some injustice?"

"I..."

Qingyang choked up for a moment. How could he have the face to answer this question?

He had no idea what to say, but he could only repeat over and over,

"Young master, take me away, take Qingyang with you, okay?"

"Silly boy, I promise you." The young master wiped away his tears.

"Really?" He was overjoyed and almost jumped for joy.

The young master gently took his hand and kissed it softly:

"Once things are settled, I'll take you to Jiangnan for Qingming Festival. Firstly, to sweep your Uncle Miaoyang's grave, and secondly, to help you relax, okay?"

The young master took him to sweep his uncle's grave every year, but… it would be so soon…

His face, which had been beaming with joy like a flower, quickly withered.

He probably wouldn't live to see that day… Qingyang couldn't help but smile bitterly.

"Qingyang, I have to go now. Take care of yourself, I'll be back in a couple of days."

The young master said, releasing his hold on him, bidding him a reluctant farewell. Suddenly losing his warm support, Qingyang hugged his arms, feeling a chill.

A light spring rain began to fall outside the window, carrying a slight chill.

In the middle of the night, the man arrived again, as silently as a ghost.

Qingyang huddled on the spacious, carved bed—a bed the young master had personally chosen for him, extremely roomy—yet now, he lay there almost helplessly, allowing the man to devour his dignity.

No matter how much he struggled, it was futile. Eventually, his resistance exhausted all his strength, leaving him unable to move even a finger, and the result was still the same: he was forced to breastfeed the man.

Qingyang's eyes were wide open in the darkness, tears streaming uncontrollably down his face.

During this time, the young master rarely returned. Each time he came back to the manor, he only had time to exchange a few hurried words with him before leaving like a gust of wind. Qingyang often sat idly on the bluestone threshold of the main gate, chewing on a blade of grass, waiting for the young master's sedan chair to reappear from the street corner.

"Qingyang, what's wrong with you lately? You're acting very strangely."

Every time Third Brother saw him like this, he would ask him in bewilderment, but Qingyang would always shake his head and refuse to say.

His mind grew heavier and heavier, and he became more and more haggard.

His breasts were sucked by the man every night, and the two small nipples were no longer the shy and cute ones they used to be. Now they had swollen up to the size of peanuts, with a bright red color. Even when he was changing clothes, he was always attracted by the two special points on his chest and couldn't take his eyes off them. The two round, snow-white breasts had already presented a charming charm, with the mature roundness of a young woman. His chest no longer looked like a man's and was no longer easy to expose to others.

"Young Master!"

Qingyang, who had been sitting blankly with his chin in his hand, suddenly stood up and stumbled out.

The sedan chair had just stopped at the gate, and Young Master Minglou was bowing as he stepped out when Qingyang leaped forward.

"My Qingyang."

The young master, startled by Qingyang's force, stumbled back two steps, but caught him with a smile, completely disregarding that they were on the street, and hugged him affectionately:

"Did you miss me?"

"Mmm."

Qingyang buried his head in his chest and responded muffledly.

The young master cupped his face and kissed him, then led him back to the mansion. Qingyang's greatest anticipation was this moment of holding hands with the young master, because he didn't know how much longer they could do this. How

much longer could this last?

He was almost at his breaking point.

The young master served tea to his father, listened to his admonition, offered incense to Uncle Miaoyang before the memorial tablet, and then went to the small attic to find Qingyang.

Qingyang had already bathed and was sitting by the bed waiting for him, his hair loose, the ends still slightly damp, and a faint, pleasant scent of soap emanating from him. He wore only a loose, thin, snow-white undergarment, his cheeks flushed a captivating red from the steam of the hot water.

When the young master entered and saw him, he was startled, his breathing becoming heavier.

"Young master," Qingyang said shyly, raising his eyes, his beautiful almond-shaped eyes glistening with tears,

"You haven't touched me in a long time…"

The young master looked at him, remaining silent for a long time, his fair face slowly reddening.

Seeing the young master's lack of reaction, Qingyang grew anxious. He was about to look up and say something more when the young master sat down by the bed, reaching out to close the overly open collar of his garment, revealing his collarbone.

"You've lost too much weight; you must take good care of yourself."

The young master glanced at his delicate collarbone, then looked away.

“Young Master…”

“Qingyang, I have to go.” The young master took another thick coat and draped it over him. “Take good care of yourself. I’ll come see you again in a couple of days.”

Qingyang frantically grabbed his hand, wanting him to stay, but the young master firmly pulled his hand away.

“Wait for me a little longer. I’ll come back to be with you.”

He only said this to Qingyang before turning to leave.

Qingyang sat on the edge of the bed for a long, long time, until the lamp wick flickered several times, startling him awake. He was holding scissors, about to trim the overly long candle wick, when he inadvertently glanced at his reflection in the bronze mirror beside him and froze.

His collar had loosened again, revealing his collarbone, where several deep and shallow hickeys were clearly imprinted.

Qingyang covered his mouth in horror.

“Clatter!”

Unconsciously, the scissors fell to the ground.

Since the young master returned, the two had never been intimate again. So, those marks weren’t left by the young master, but by that man, that man—

the young master had found out!

He stumbled back several steps in disbelief, crashing into the wall. As if his spine had been ripped out, he collapsed to the ground.

Overwhelmed by the immense shock, he was speechless for a moment.

"Young Master… I…"

The young master didn't say much, but his expression was clearly strange.

Qingyang squeezed his eyes shut. This humiliation felt like being caught in the act of adultery; his face burned, the fire in his heart consuming his mind. He felt wronged, resentful, sad, and heartbroken, but he had no words to express his suffering!

His breathing quickened, and Qingyang struggled to his feet. He clenched his fists, and as if having made up his mind, the resentment that had been building in his eyes surged forth like a storm.

As the night grew still and all was quiet, the hibiscus-embroidered curtains in the bedroom trembled, emitting a faint, almost inaudible sobbing sound. Then, a pale hand reached out from behind the curtains, waving frantically, like a drowning person grasping at a vine for help. After a few haphazard attempts, it could only grip the sheer curtains tightly, its knuckles turning slightly white.

"Ugh..."

A groan, whether of pleasure or pain, escaped from within the curtains. Two bodies were entangled, engaged in a frenzied act of intercourse, the air thick with the pungent scent of desire.

Qingyang was pinned beneath the man, her bosom roughly ripped open, revealing her alluring breasts. One nipple was being forcefully sucked and licked by the man, its sweet milk flowing freely, while the other pink nipple was blocked with the man's fingertip, preventing even a drop of milk from leaking out. One side was being forcefully sucked, while the other was blocked. The pleasure and pain mingled together. He desperately wanted to curl his legs up, but the man's burning penis rubbed between his legs, the glans gently brushing against his incredibly sensitive perineum. The clear fluid overflowing from the man's glans soaked his crotch.

Qingyang turned his head to look out the window, beads of sweat and tears streaming down his forehead, soaking the pillowcase. He gripped the bed curtains tighter to suppress his fear and uncontrollable trembling.

The man almost never spoke; Qingxian could only hear his low, labored breathing during orgasm, a strange sound, as if he were deliberately lowering his voice.

After suckling for a long time, until all the milk in Qingyang's breasts was drained, the man, still unsatisfied, propped himself up and spread Qingyang's legs almost to a straight line. He expertly explored the little hole that he had already fucked countless times, inserting two fingers to knead and stimulate it for a while. Then, he raised his hot penis and, without much foreplay, thrust it hard into Qingyang's anus, pumping vigorously to stimulate his desire and produce more milk.

"Mmm... ah..."

Qingyang moaned, obediently swaying his hips with the man's rhythm to allow him to penetrate deeper. Perhaps because he had become increasingly submissive to the man these days, the man had become less wary. Today, he climbed onto his bed in a great hurry and lifted Qingyang's clothes to let him breastfeed. But the man forgot one thing today: he forgot to tie Qingyang's hands.

Feigning intoxication, he moaned softly, while one hand stealthily slipped under the mattress, reaching for a tiny protrusion. Qingyang showed no sign of distress as he did this.

The man, lost in desire, remained oblivious to his actions, single-mindedly taking Qingyang's body, relentlessly ravaging him. His hands kneaded Qingyang's breasts, kneading them like dough, and teasing his nipples, hoping to elicit more sweet milk.

After thrusting for a long time, the penis inside Qingyang swelled even more. The man's rhythm became increasingly rapid, repeatedly withdrawing and then plunging in completely, the friction causing fine white foam to splash from the opening. The only sounds in the room were the lewd collisions of flesh. He took a deep breath, stopped thrusting, and withdrew his penis from Qingyang's anus. Then he turned Qingyang's shoulders, embraced his wet body, and was about to change positions when he looked down and suddenly felt a sharp object touch his lower abdomen.

"You..."

the man said hoarsely, his voice somewhat familiar, but Qingyang, in his extreme excitement and tension, could no longer recognize the voice.

Qingyang's eyes were filled with resentment and anger at being driven to the brink. His right hand, holding the scissors, trembled violently, but he still gripped the sharp scissors tightly without hesitation and stabbed them towards the man's heart. The man quickly and nimbly dodged, then snatched the scissors from Qingyang's hand, twisting his right hand behind his back, rendering him unable to move. Qingyang, his eyes bloodshot, sneered and without hesitation raised his other hand, revealing another sharp pair of scissors. He swung it, plunged the blade straight into the man's body. The man let out a low growl, curling up in pain. Then, a stream of hot liquid spurted from his wound, splashing all over Qingyang's face.

Qingyang touched it, smelling the metallic, metallic scent of the man's blood.

He gritted his teeth, saying resentfully,

"You brought this all on yourself!"

He reached for the tinderbox on the small table to light a candle.

"Stop!"

Just as the candle was lit, the man, curled up in pain, roared, rushed forward, snatched the tinderbox from Qingyang's hand, and stomped it to the ground, crushing it out.

The flame, though only for a moment, illuminated the man's slanted eyebrows, and those eyes—terribly familiar!

Qingyang was struck dumb, frozen in place!

The silence lasted almost a million years, the sound of time passing clearly echoing in his ears. He could barely make out the person before him, unable to believe it, unable to accept that the man before him was the young master who had doted on him since childhood, the one who had held him in his arms and cherished him so tenderly.

He rubbed his eyes hard, straining to see the other more clearly.

But the tinderbox had gone out, plunging the room into complete darkness, allowing only the faint outline of the man to be discerned by the moonlight.

The man seemed to let out a barely audible sigh, and resignedly, he pressed his wound, slowly crouched down, picked up the tinderbox, and lit the candlestick.

The candlelight flickered a few times, illuminating the young master's eyes, brows, and handsome face.

In an instant, Qingyang's breath caught in his throat.

"Young master... why... is it you?"

"I..."

"Speak!"

Filled with panic and grief, Qingyang only wanted to ask the young master for an explanation. The torn and tattered fabric could no longer conceal his full breasts, revealing a sliver of fair skin. He clutched his disheveled clothes, pointing to his chest and trembling as he asked,

"This inhuman state is all your doing, isn't it??"

"No," the young master smiled bitterly, aggravating his wound, and gasped,

"You are a descendant of the Qilan lineage, with a unique constitution from childhood. If you were given medicinal soup in your youth, you would develop breasts like a woman. I bought you as a slave so that you could breastfeed me."

These words were like a thunderbolt, exploding in Qingyang's heart. He stared at him in disbelief, unwilling to accept every word he uttered.

"I knew you couldn't accept this, so I kept it from you until now. If you hadn't discovered it today...

I would have kept it a secret forever."

The young master continued speaking slowly.

“I knew this day would come sooner or later,” he coughed softly, clutching his abdominal wound, looking at Qingyang with eyes full of guilt and a multitude of indescribable emotions:

“I’m sorry, Qingyang, I’m so sorry.”

The disheveled servant stared blankly.

At this moment, he seemed to be mute.

The young master’s eyes were fixed on him, afraid of missing a single change in his expression. Due to the continuous bleeding from his wound and the excruciating pain, his face grew increasingly pale.

He took a step forward very quietly, then another. He

stopped only when he was in front of Qingyang.

The young master slowly reached out his hand, wanting to touch his face, but Qingyang took two steps back and dodged. Seeing this, his hand stopped halfway, not daring to touch him again, trembling slightly.

After a long pause, he finally managed to say with difficulty,

"I know you won't forgive me... I'm sorry."

He paused, then, as if making a firm decision, took two steps forward and grasped Qingyang's hand:

"But my feelings for you have never changed—"

"Shut up!"

Qingyang could no longer suppress his anger. He furiously shoved the young master away, crying out,

"You're a liar! A liar! I don't want to see you again!"

Seeing the young master approach again, he pushed him away with all his might, causing the young master to fall straight to the ground. The push aggravated the young master's wound, and more blood gushed from the gaping hole, staining the ground horribly. The bloodstains were gruesome, but the young master ignored his injury, enduring the pain as he silently watched him, his expression sorrowful, his eyes filled with indescribable love.

Seeing him like this, Qingyang felt a pang of regret and hesitated. He paused, about to help him up, but then remembered the shameless things the young master had done to him, and immediately refused to look at him again. He hurriedly gathered his clothes, wiped the tears from his face with his sleeve, and ran to the door, flung it open.

The young master, seeing this, struggled to his feet to stop him, but Qingyang turned and glared angrily at him, roaring,

"If you dare stop me, I'll kill myself right here!"

The young master's face paled, and he stopped abruptly. Seeing his chance, Qingyang rushed out without hesitation.

"Qingyang! Come back!!"

Behind him came the young master's anxious calls, pleading for him to return.

The young servant desperately suppressed the tears welling in his eyes, clenched his teeth, and refused to look back. Under the cover of darkness, he stumbled and staggered away from the vast mansion, from the old street where he had lived for over ten years, from the young master who had doted on him and loved him, yet also deceived and betrayed him.

Young master, young master, you have deceived and toyed with me like this; I, Qingyang, can no longer trust you.

Under the moonlight, Qingyang clenched his still-childish fists and ran towards an unknown distance.

As the clamor of the servants searching behind him grew fainter and fainter until it could no longer be heard, Qingyang, hiding in the pile of bran, secretly lifted the straw covering his eyes and peered out. He saw only desolate mountains and wilderness as far as the eye could see; they were already out of the city. He couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.

The carriage stopped abruptly; it was already broad daylight outside.

He shook his head, a few ears of wheat falling from his hair.

He hadn't run far from the mansion when he discovered the servants searching for him had caught up. In his haste, he happened upon a grain cart parked by the roadside. He frantically scrambled into the wheat pile, hiding there, and then, in a daze, followed the cart out of the city.

He didn't know where to go, looking up blankly, lost and confused, unsure of the way forward. He never wanted to return to the Prime Minister's mansion.

Since that was the case…

he would just follow the cart, wherever it took him.

Qingyang pulled his thin clothes tighter and curled up in the pile of wheat straw. The slightly damp straw gave off the fresh scent of wheat bran, mixed with the smell of soil.

The smell was so similar to that time he and the young master were in the peach blossom grove, the scent of the earthy soil.

Thinking of this, he reminisced about that time, and his eyes welled up with tears again. He then thought of the young master afterward; he had lied to him, saying he was going on a long journey, but in those days, the young master appeared at his bedside every night, subjecting him to all sorts of humiliation and abuse, breaking his heart once more.

Qingyang covered his mouth, trying his best to swallow his sobs, not daring to let the coachman sitting in front notice.

The journey was bumpy and he drifted in and out of sleep, not knowing how long the carriage had traveled. Having gone without a drop of water for so long, he was both hungry and thirsty. He rubbed his empty stomach, wondering where he could find something to eat, when suddenly he noticed the surrounding noises growing louder. Listening carefully, he heard voices, but there was no shouting or commotion, unlike in a town. Peeking through a stalk of wheat, he saw a group of soldiers in military uniforms, some carrying guns and others spears. Ahead lay a watchtower with a yellow flag embroidered with a large character for "South." It seemed they had reached a military camp. A sudden tension gripped him. He quickly held his breath, lay quietly in the wheat pile, and followed the carriage into the camp.

The carriage stopped at the stables. Taking advantage of the driver's inattention, Qingyang quietly climbed down and slipped away along a secluded wall. Luckily, he didn't encounter any guards along the way, and thus remained unnoticed. Having served the young master in the Prime Minister's mansion since childhood, he had rarely seen the world. He had only heard that soldiers in the military camp were all fierce and ruthless, killing without blinking an eye. Although somewhat afraid, he was, after all

, a newborn calf unafraid of tigers. He only felt hungry and, following the aroma of food, somehow found himself in the kitchen. Overjoyed, he foolishly tried to sneak in, but unexpectedly, two or three shady-looking soldiers had followed him. Just as he stepped into the kitchen, Qingyang was grabbed by the back of his collar and lifted up.

"Hey! Trying to sneak in and steal something?"

He turned around in alarm and was met with a wickedly smiling face.

The other man's eyes gleamed with malice as he sized him up. The other two also surrounded him, leaning close and tilting their heads to look him up and down. Their direct gazes made Qingyang feel extremely uncomfortable.

"Where did you come from? I've never seen you before."

"You don't look like someone from this camp. You probably snuck in from outside."

As they spoke, they shoved Qingyang into a secluded, deserted corner.

Terrified, sensing danger, Qingyang looked fearfully at the men who looked like thugs and stammered,

"I...I was just hungry and wanted to find something to eat..."

"Food?"

one of the thugs sneered.

"You want to steal military rations? Trespassing is a capital offense, and you actually want to steal rations? Believe me, I can drag you out and behead you right now!"

The other two burst into laughter.

"I..."

"You're scared? Come on, call me 'Good Ancestor,' maybe it'll cheer me up and save your life."

"Yes, come on, call out, call out now!"

Qingyang realized these men clearly had ill intentions. He gritted his teeth, unwilling to become a laughingstock, and glanced around, only to find no one else in the quiet corner.

Seeing that he wouldn't listen, the leader of the thugs got angry, grabbed his hair and pulled him back hard:

"Are you going to shout or not? Huh! Are you going to shout or not?"

Qingyang panicked at the sight and shouted with all his might:

"Help!! Help!!!"

"Damn it!"

Upon hearing this, the man slapped him hard across the face, quickly covered his mouth, and pulled his hair to slam his head against the wall:

"I told you to shout! I told you to shout!"

He was very strong, and Qingyang's head hit the wall with a thud, making him dizzy and disoriented.

Seeing this, another slick-haired man glanced at Qingyang a few more times, drooling as he said,

"Brother, look at this kid, so fair-skinned and handsome. Who knows which family's runaway bastard he's? Why don't we brothers have a go at him?"

The leader followed his gaze, looking Qingyang up and down, his eyes gleaming with lewdness. He lifted Qingyang's chin with one hand and clicked his tongue, saying,

"His eyebrows and eyes are indeed well-formed..."

As he was speaking, the other man, already impatient, began to tear at Qingyang's already tattered shirt. Touching his soft chest, he was startled and exclaimed with delight,

"Damn! We've struck gold! It's a woman!"

The three of them immediately became restless, lewdly tearing at his clothes.

Touched by several disgusting hands, Qingyang immediately turned around and struggled fiercely. He had never experienced such a scene before. Seeing these men's lewd behavior, he felt so disgusted that he wanted to vomit and wished he could kill them. However, he was no match for the strength of the three men. Between punches and kicks, his mouth, which was gagged, could only whimper.

Seeing his thin clothes being torn off and about to be violated, Qingyang, unable to struggle, closed his eyes in despair. Suddenly, he heard several screams, accompanied by the sounds of hand-to-hand combat. He realized that the men's movements had suddenly stopped. When he opened his eyes, he saw a tall and heroic man standing in front of him. He wore a bright red cloak and silver armor. His legs were strong and powerful, and his moves were fast and ruthless. In just a few moves, he had knocked the three thugs to the ground.

When the thugs saw his appearance, they were terrified and knelt down, begging for mercy, shouting, "General Nan, spare our lives!"

The man's face remained expressionless as he sternly addressed the three men:

"You lot have violated military discipline. According to the law, go and receive fifty strokes of the cane each!"

Upon hearing this, the three thugs trembled uncontrollably and practically crawled away in terror.

Seeing this, Qingyang felt a deep sense of relief and satisfaction. He was about to thank the man when the man turned his head away, refusing to look at him.

"According to military law, trespassing in a military camp is punishable by death. Please, young lady, put on your clothes and come with me to the punishment hall to explain things."

Hearing this, Qingyang was almost speechless with anger. He immediately stood up, jumped in front of the man, and angrily said:

"Look carefully! I'm a man!"

The man turned back somewhat suspiciously, but caught a glimpse of the cleavage revealed by Qingyang's disheveled clothes. He quickly turned his head away, saying, "Don't look at what you shouldn't see."

Qingyang then remembered his unspeakable secret, and his heart trembled. He hurriedly tried to pull his clothes tighter, but after days of wear and tear, they were already tattered and insufficient to cover his body. Seeing himself in such a sorry state, he wished he could disappear into the ground.

When the man turned around, he saw Qingyang's appearance, shook his head slightly, walked to his side, and untied the bright red cloak from his shoulders to wrap it around him.

"Thank you,"

Qingyang said quickly.

The man remained silent for a long time, only raising his eyelids to scrutinize him closely. The probing gaze made Qingyang feel uneasy.

Guests often visited the Prime Minister's residence, and he had met many officials while following his young master. This man was addressed as a general, so he must be of very high rank. However, he had never seen this young general before. The man

was agile and heroic, with sword-like eyebrows and bright eyes, exuding an aura of authority.

He's a completely different person from the young master…

Oh no, why am I thinking about the young master all the time? That shameless bastard, I should have forgotten about him long ago! Lost

in these thoughts, the man suddenly spoke, his eyes fixed intently on him:

“Do you have three parallel moles behind your right ear?”

“Huh?” Qingyang touched behind his ear in surprise:

“How did you know?”

The man, his face grim, leaned closer to examine the back of Qingyang's ear. Sure enough, three tiny black moles were neatly aligned in a row. Qingyang stared in shock, speechless for a long time.

After a moment, he asked again,

"What's your name?"

"Qingyang."

Qingyang was certain. The man's previously composed expression shifted slightly, his eyes flickering, but quickly returned to normal.

"And… what about you?"

he asked tentatively.

The man paused, pondered for a moment, and then told him, word by word,

"Nanyang."

This time, it was Qingyang's turn to be surprised.

He had heard of the name Nanyang—the most revered hero of the Northwest frontier, the invincible General Nanyang!

He felt a deep respect for the dashing General Nanyang before him, and looking up at his face, he felt as if the man were a god, almost to the point of worship.

Nanyang frowned. Seeing his dazed expression, she grabbed his hand and pulled him forward. This brought Qingyang back to his senses. Remembering what Nanyang had just said, he asked in fear,

"Are you taking me to be interrogated?"

Nanyang just kept walking forward and ignored him.

A chill ran through Qingyang. His skin was delicate; even a small cut on his finger hurt, let alone the torture instruments in the military camp. His mind raced, and he carefully crafted his words before stammering to Nanyang,

"General, General… I was originally a servant. Unable to bear the beatings and abuse from my master, I seized an opportunity to hide in a grain wagon and escaped. By a twist of fate, I unintentionally wandered into your camp. Please investigate, General."

He was quick-witted, and his words flowed smoothly. His clothes were tattered, his face covered in dust, and he looked truly pitiful. A mist rose in Qingyang's eyes, making him appear incredibly pathetic and endearing.

After he finished speaking, Nanyang slowed his pace, turned to face him, and stared at him with sharp eyes.

Qingyang met his gaze, his eyes indeed sincere.

Seven or eight parts of what he said were true.

After a long while, Nanyang finally withdrew his gaze, turned, and led him in another direction.

He didn't know what the other meant and was about to speak when Nanyang asked him again,

"Since you're a runaway slave, what are your plans now? Are you going back to your hometown?"

"This..." Caught off guard by such a question, Qingyang hesitated for a long time before shaking his head:

"I was sold into slavery at birth, and I don't know where my hometown is..."

"Do you have any relatives or friends to go to?"

"Only an uncle, who has long since passed away." As

Qingyang spoke, a sudden surge of intense sorrow welled up in his heart.

Only now did he realize that in this vast world, there was no place for him anymore. Apart from the Prime Minister's residence, he had no one to rely on, but he had already decided never to return to that place.

Lost in thought, Nanyang led him into a tent.

"This is..."

Qingyang's mouth dropped open in astonishment at the furnishings in the room. A fine iron sword hung on the tent, an ebony bow sat on the table, and a campfire blazed in the hall—all furnishings he had never seen before.

Nanyang, hands behind his back, strolled to his side and stared intently at him:

"I happen to be short of a servant. If you have nowhere else to go, would you be willing to stay in this camp and serve me?"

Qingyang's eyes widened in disbelief. This General Nanyang was so concerned for him, punishing those lowly soldiers for him and now offering to help him make a living. They were complete strangers, yet he was so kind to him.

"Yes, yes! Thank you, General Nanyang!"

Qingyang clung to Nanyang like a lifeline, deeply grateful.

And so, the servant Qingyang once again took up his post, but this time his master was different—not the young master he so deeply loved and hated, but the stern and unsmiling General Nanyang.

For the first few days, Nanyang was extremely dissatisfied with him. He was upright and unyielding, with a clear sense of reward and punishment. Although he took care of Qingyang, he showed no mercy for his mistakes. The military camp was not like the prime minister's mansion; everything, big or small, had to be done personally, especially the heavy and rough work. After just a few days, Qingyang's hands were blistered, and he was so tired that he could hardly straighten his back. Only then did he realize that his previous life as a servant was simply blissful. Before, he only needed to serve the young master tea and water, change his clothes in the morning, grind ink and wash the inkstone, and spend his leisure time composing poems and painting with the young master, appreciating flowers and strolling in the garden. Now, thinking back, it was truly a life of leisure like that of an immortal. But now, he had to carry water, chop wood, feed the horses, and take care of everything for Nanyang. He was the only servant, and all the daily chores fell on his own shoulders. He was woken up by the bugle call before dawn every day and could only go to sleep after cleaning the stables at night. He was so tired that he could barely walk.

Lying in bed at night, exhausted from a long day, his bones felt like they were falling apart. Qingyang tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep.

One day, two days, three days…

half a month had passed since his escape, and whenever he had a moment of free time, he couldn't help but think of that person.

That day, he had stabbed the young master so hard, blood splattering everywhere. He wondered if the bleeding had stopped. He hoped nothing serious had happened…

No, no, the young master had sent servants everywhere to search for him; he must have been rescued, and a doctor should have treated him… But what if the servants weren't sent by the young master, but by the master who, upon discovering the young master's serious injury, had sent men to capture him in a fit of anger? Was the young master… dead…?

A heavy chill ran down Qingyang's spine; he dared not think any further.

His eyes reddened again, the heavy thoughts weighing on his heart.

He couldn't suppress his daily, daily, daily longing for him. Although he hated his deception and resented his concealment, a deep longing, like rampant weeds, secretly grew and spread in his heart.

He hated him, yet he couldn't forget his kindness, his tender eyes, his sweet words of love, his meticulous care, and his broad, warm embrace.

From childhood to adulthood, the young master had always been by his side.

But now, all that accompanied him was the cold blankets.

Qingyang pulled the blankets tighter, curling himself up even more. For days, without any relief, his breasts, brimming with milk, had been aching faintly. He knew the reason, but out of shame, he never touched them, wrapping them tightly in white gauze every day, unwilling to touch them even slightly. He remained

still.

This military camp wasn't far from the capital. When Qingyang carried water to the stables, he could vaguely see the flags fluttering on the city walls in the distance. At these times, countless emotions welled up in his heart, finally turning into a low sigh. He was still young, but his eyes already held a touch of mature melancholy.

Having spent a considerable amount of time with Nanyang, serving him daily, Qingyang gradually came to understand the temperament of this seemingly stern and cold-blooded general. She discovered that although he was straightforward and difficult to approach with ordinary people, he treated her exceptionally well, providing her with much care in her daily life. She was stranded and destitute, and General Nanyang, though a stranger and having received no favors from her, was willing to take her in and care for her—a truly fortunate thing for her. Qingyang became his servant, and because of her pretty face and delicate figure, she inevitably attracted some unscrupulous individuals. Fortunately, Nanyang discovered these attempts in time, severely punished them, even breaking their leg bones. From then on, no one dared to harbor any ill intentions towards Qingyang .

"Since you know your face attracts so many men, you'd better stay away from me!"

Nanyang said to Qingyang with displeasure after dealing with the rogue soldier. Qingyang touched her face in surprise, completely bewildered.

“Well, the people of this tribe are naturally obsequious, attracting only reckless fools…” Nanyang muttered to himself. Qingyang didn’t hear him clearly and looked up to ask a question. Nanyang turned around, saw his bewildered expression, sighed heavily, and patted his shoulder:

“From now on, you don’t need to go to the river to jump in. Stay in my tent and don’t go out much, understand?”

“Oh.”

Qingyang nodded in confusion, a big question mark forming in his mind.

Then, Nanyang took off his armor and handed it to him:

“Go and wash this armor.”

Qingyang quickly took it, and seeing Nanyang turn to leave, he asked while holding the armor:

“General, can I take your undergarments to wash as well?”

Nanyang’s back stiffened, he waved his hand, and strode out. A slight blush appeared on his face, and he looked quite embarrassed, but Qingyang didn’t notice.

General Nanyang was also puzzled; he always did the washing of his undergarments himself and never asked Qingyang to do it. The days spent in the military camp were

n't

long, nor short. Qingyang arrived in the spring, and before he knew it, spring was over and summer was approaching. He'd been there for almost two months.

The heat made the days scorching, and for several days in a row he'd had erotic dreams. He'd wake up sweating profusely, his back soaked with sweat. Lifting the thin blanket, he saw his lower body was wet and sticky, even the blanket was stained with a white, cloudy liquid. His face flushed crimson. He quickly and quietly got out of bed, secretly changed his underwear, and rolled up the soiled sheet to take to the river to wash it.

He didn't know why, but these past few days he'd been dreaming of indecent things, and every time he woke up, he was in this embarrassing state.

He had tasted the pleasures of desire and knew the cause of this nocturnal emission. Despite the shame, his heart was restless, perhaps because he hadn't experienced passion in so long, and a faint longing had quietly risen within him.

In the dead of night, the military camp was already quiet, but from the small side room where Qingyang lived, a faint moan escaped.

"Ugh..."

Qingyang lay on the bed, his hair disheveled and draped over his shoulders, his clothes half-undone, revealing glimpses of his long, slender, white legs, slightly pressed together. Following the trail upwards, along his slender thighs, to the base of his legs tinged with rouge, one would almost see his jade-like penis and private anus, but disappointingly, they were concealed by the hem of his clothing, only a few pale hairs slightly exposed on his lower abdomen. His eyes were misty and wet, slightly red at the corners, his almond-shaped eyes incredibly endearing and pitiful. Just this slightly tipsy, spring-like appearance was enough to make one's blood boil.

He was still half-asleep, not fully awake. Yesterday, the general hosted a banquet for his subordinates in the camp, and he had secretly drunk a little wine. The strong liquor in the army was too potent for him; he was already unconscious after only half a cup, and Nanyang had to take him back to his room.

As he drifted into a deep sleep, the effects of the alcohol made him feel hot all over. Half-asleep, a dark figure suddenly appeared before him. The figure was blurry, its face obscured. He stood frozen, unsure what to do. The figure grabbed him, and familiar memories flooded his mind. He cried out in alarm, "No! No!" but the figure ignored him, acting solely on instinct. It pushed him down onto the bed, stripped him naked, spread his legs, and began to fuck him with unrestrained force, its thrusts seemingly insatiable. He was almost driven mad by the act, feeling utterly humiliated, yet a deep-seated pleasure clamored within him, urging him to reciprocate, to wrap his legs around the figure, begging for more pleasure. He despised his own lewdness, yet the overwhelming pleasure made him dizzy, clinging to the man's neck. The man yielded to his movement, revealing an extremely familiar face—it was none other than the young master Minglou, whom he had served since childhood.

"Ah!"

Qingyang jolted awake, sitting bolt upright in bed. It was pitch black all around, with only the chirping of insects outside the window. A single lamp remained in the room, dimly illuminating his face.

He instinctively patted his chest; it was just a dream.

This pat triggered a throbbing pain in his chest, causing him to groan softly. He couldn't help but look down at his chest.

It was tightly wrapped in white gauze, never removed even when he slept.

Now, the pain was unbearable. After hesitating for a moment, he reached out and untied the gauze, layer by layer. Underneath, he found stains of milk on the innermost layer, some dried and stiff, others still damp and fresh.

Qingyang blushed, quickly wrapped the gauze back up, and tossed it aside.

His eyes darted away, unable to look directly at his breasts. They were erect, noticeably larger than before. If they were the same size back in the manor, they had now blossomed into round, full breasts, comparable to those of a young married woman. As a man, he had long lost his former thin chest, now appearing in a state that was unsightly. He knew his constitution was unusual, but... the thought of what the young master had done filled him with uncontrollable rage.

The throbbing pain intensified, causing Qingyang to gasp.

He hesitated for a long time before finally focusing his gaze on his breasts. He took a deep breath, composed himself, and tremblingly reached out, placing his hands on one breast. He pressed his hands against the side of the breast, gently kneading it. After a while, seeing no reaction, he grew impatient and increased the pressure. Then, he heard a soft sound, and a stream of milk spurted from his nipple, splashing onto the quilt.

His mind went blank, and Qingyang quickly covered his face, feeling ashamed to the point of burning up.

The milk that had been squeezed out did nothing to relieve the pain; instead, it intensified it. Soon, he felt the throbbing pain in his chest being constantly compressed.

The bright red nipples, just spurting out milk, still held a few glistening drops of milky white. One drop clung to the most sensitive slit of the nipple, about to fall, making the tender nipple appear indescribably alluring and seductive.

He had never cared about these two points on his chest before, but since his breasts had swelled, these places no longer felt like his own. Just touching them made him tremble with sensitivity.

Qingyang squeezed his eyes shut, suppressing his shame and avoiding touching those embarrassing nipples. He kneaded and pressed his breasts with both hands, squeezing out the milk that was causing him soreness, and then wiped it away with a white gauze.

When both sides were empty, the candle had already burned down halfway.

He let out a heavy sigh of relief, and as he was about to lie down, he felt a burning sensation in his lower abdomen. He reached down and discovered that his little thing had become erect.

Perhaps due to the stimulation just now, a tingling, itchy sensation arose in his anus, accompanied by intense heat; he could even feel the inner walls writhing.

He was aroused.

Having experienced so much lovemaking, he knew what to do. A blush of desire flushed his face, and he licked his slightly dry lips. He rolled over to lie on his side, curled his legs, and slowly grasped his penis. His

slender fingers cupped the tender, red tip, gently sliding it downwards. He breathed a sigh of pleasure at the stimulation, tightening his grip and stroking it up and down. His penis grew even harder, trembling and rising higher. He used some force, pulling the glans against his lower abdomen, then quickly releasing it. The penis bounced back and forth, pulling on his scrotum, causing the two round balls inside to sway as well.

His other hand cupped his scrotum, clumsily kneading it, then gently scratching his perineum with his fingertips. The sensitive area was being teased like this, and a little clear fluid spurted from the pale pink tip of his penis, splashing onto his lower abdomen and wetting the sparse pubic hair, making it instantly damp. Qingyang's chest heaved more rapidly, his breathing becoming heavy.

He unconsciously tightened his legs, the pressure on his anus intensifying the heat, the opening slightly parted, desperately hoping something would be inserted.

"Ah...ah..."

A soft moan escaped his lips, Qingyang's body burning with heat. His already ivory-white skin was now flushed a delicate blush with desire.

Fine beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. He reached for his anus, hesitated briefly, then, finding the entrance, inserted a finger straight in. The opening, long deprived of pleasure, was dry and tight, unable to withstand his rough handling. He shuddered in pain and quickly stopped.

Suppressing his cry of pain, he withdrew his hand with a hint of fear after the pain subsided, afraid to touch that area again.

He could only diligently please his own member, his hand stroking faster. More and more nectar flowed from the glans, sliding down the shaft to his thighs, leaving some of the erotic fluid on his skin.

With one hand, he stroked his penis up and down, while his other hand, not daring to probe the inner walls of his anus, could only knead the folds around the opening, gently scratching it, which provided some pleasure. His penis stood erect, and the stroking speed increased rapidly, like a storm. His mind was a complete mess, dizzy and disoriented, but waves of pleasure crashed over his lower body, and Qingyang could no longer suppress his moans. Suddenly, his whole body convulsed, his glans twitched, and a stream of cloudy white semen spurted from its tip, splashing everywhere between his legs.

"Huff... huff..."

The pleasure after ejaculation lasted for a long time. Qingyang stared blankly, breathing rapidly, his chest heaving. He was still immersed in the pleasure of masturbation and had not yet come to his senses.

However, although the front was relieved, the tingling and itching in his anus was even stronger, clamoring for emptiness and yearning for the fiery desire to be absorbed. His sensitive nipples stood hard and erect, longing to be rubbed, ravaged, and sucked.

Not enough! Not enough!

He wanted more!

His throat tightened, and his eyes became hot. Qingyang suddenly pulled the blanket over his head, trying to hide his low sobs.

For several days, Qingyang had been in a daze, as if he had lost his soul. Nanyang was puzzled by this, but he was busy with military affairs and had no time to care about such things, so he had to let it go. One night, after training, Nanyang couldn't find him when he went to the kitchen for dinner. He found Qingyang squatting blankly in front of the stove, lost in thought, making soup. The firewood was burning brightly, and the water was almost gone, but he was unaware of it, still sitting there like a wooden statue, as if his soul had wandered off somewhere.

Nanyang sighed inwardly and walked up to him, saying,

"What are you doing?"

Qingyang, resting his chin on his hand, was lost in thought and didn't hear a word he said.

Seeing his expression, Nanyang patted him on the shoulder and shouted,

"Qingyang!"

Startled by the shout, the dazed servant jumped up and turned around to see General Nanyang standing behind him.

"General..."

He snapped out of his reverie and quickly bowed. Then, remembering the soup simmering in the pot, he rushed to add water, busying himself for a while. Realizing he had left the general standing there, he bowed repeatedly in apology.

"Look at you, so clumsy. How did you ever work as a servant?"

Nanyang teased, finding his appearance amusing, but there was no blame in his tone.

Qingyang blushed, knowing he wasn't being difficult, but too embarrassed to answer.

Seeing that he remained silent, the general turned around and said,

"Tomorrow someone from the palace will come with an imperial decree that lunch will be served in the camp. Go outside and fetch some good wine later."

"Yes, sir."

Qingyang patted the dust off his clothes and quickly replied,

"I'll go right away."

He started to leave.

"Wait," Nanyang called after him.

"What else does the general need?"

Nanyang paced slowly to his side. He was half a shoulder taller than Qingyang, so he deliberately bent down and whispered in his ear,

"You've been restless these past few days. Have you been bullied?"

Qingyang blinked and shook his head,

"No, no."

"Really?"

How could he tell the general about something so shameful? Qingyang shook his head, then nodded emphatically,

"Really."

Nanyang looked him over suspiciously. His eyes were sharp, and Qingyang felt uncomfortable under his gaze, as if all his shameful thoughts had been seen through.

A moment later, Nanyang added,

"If you've been bullied, just tell me. Don't worry about anything else."

"Yes," Qingyang replied gratefully, "Thank you, General."

Nanyang had indeed taken good care of him, which moved Qingyang to tears. He had gone to the training ground more than once, seeing General Nanyang's tall figure in the distance, riding a powerful black horse, commanding the soldiers in their drills. Thousands of troops galloped under his command, worshipping him like a god. He greatly envied General Nanyang's heroic appearance.

Hot soup boiled in the pot, bubbling and sizzling, its aroma filling the air.

"General, I want to ask you..." Looking at Nanyang's caring gaze, Qingyang mustered his courage and spoke.

"Speak,"

Nanyang listened carefully.

The young servant nervously tugged at his sleeve, thought for a long while, and then stammered,

"My... my former master, he always treated me very well, but later... he deceived me. I was furious when I found out, so I ran away... and even stabbed him."

After saying the last sentence, Qingyang nervously twisted his fingers, his heart pounding.

Nanyang raised an eyebrow:

"So?"

"Uh?"

After a moment, Qingyang stammered,

"I don't know how bad the wound was, so... I've been a little worried..."

"Do you want to see him?"

"I..."

"You're allowed to go." Nanyang replied, "But you have to be back before 9 AM tomorrow."

Qingyang hurriedly waved his hand:

"I... I didn't mean to ask for leave."

"It doesn't matter," Nanyang narrowed his eyes at him, "Since you miss him, go see him."

He lowered his head, his heart filled with a jumble of emotions, all the bittersweet memories of the past.

Missing him, indeed, he had always missed him.

These past few days, not a single day had passed without him thinking of him. He thought of how hard he had hit him that day, of the way the young master looked at him as he clutched his bleeding wound, of the young master's heart-wrenching cries as he left. He was so badly injured, would he die?

Qingyang stood there, stunned, tears streaming down his face.

Seeing his expression, Nanyang shook his head, then said softly,

"I don't know what happened to you, so I can't say much. But I've noticed you haven't been happy for a single day these past few days. Think about it carefully. If you're willing to reconcile, your master seems easy to get along with, so have a heart-to-heart talk with him. If you can't forgive him, then stay with me, or I can help you find a way to make a living outside. From now on, never see him again, not even in death."

Never see him again?!

Qingyang's heart skipped a beat.

The next day, he carried a small bag of silver coins and rode into the city.

He bought two catties of fine white wine from the distillery, filled a wine jar, tied it to the saddle, and adjusted his wide-brimmed hat to completely cover his face. He awkwardly cracked his whip and rode his horse down that all-too-familiar street.

The vermilion-lacquered, gold-plated gate was tightly shut, the plaque bearing the large characters "Xuanfu."

Qingyang hid around the corner, gazing at the Xuanfu gate from afar. Several apricot blossoms extended from the wall, the ones he had planted fifteen years ago. He was only two years old then, barely able to walk, always babbling and following his young master around the garden. One day, his young master returned from the academy, his hands behind his back, mysteriously saying he had a gift for him, but hiding it from him, leaving him utterly fascinated. Seeing that the young master refused to show it to him, he threw a tantrum, rolling on the ground and refusing to get up, making a spectacle of himself for many onlookers. Seeing the tears welling in his eyes, the young master slowly took out the item to show him – a small apricot sapling. Only then did he stop crying and smile, contentedly taking a small shovel and planting the sapling with the young master inside the mansion gate.

Fifteen years passed, and the sapling had grown into a lush, verdant tree.

Qingyang gazed at the apricot blossoms, lost in thought for a long time, until he heard footsteps ahead. He looked up and saw four sedan chair bearers carrying a silver-topped official sedan chair, which had stopped at the entrance of the Xuan Mansion.

His breath caught in his throat, and his heart pounded.

The sedan chair curtains were drawn back, revealing the handsome face of the man inside. He slowly stepped out, and a servant immediately came to support him respectfully. The man moved somewhat slowly, his figure noticeably thinner than before. His usual official robes seemed too large, and his face was gaunt, his cheekbones prominent, and his complexion as pale as paper. Supported by the servant,

he slowly walked towards the door. He stopped at the entrance, intently studying a notice posted nearby. He asked the servant a few questions in a low voice, and upon receiving the answer, seemed quite disappointed. He lowered his head slightly, coughed softly twice, glanced at the portrait again, and then slowly entered the room.

During this time, Qingyang was so tense he dared not breathe.

How had he become so thin?

Qingyang suddenly felt a difficulty breathing.

Yet… deep down, there was a quiet joy. The young master's injuries weren't so severe; he could still walk freely. It seemed he would recover.

A tremendous weight lifted from his heart.

Qingyang remained motionless, staring at the spot where his young master had just been.

A long time passed before the gate closed again. Filled with trepidation, he rode his horse towards the Xuanfu gate. He didn't want to go near there, but to return to the military camp, he had to pass through that gate; there were no other alternative routes.

Passing the gate, Qingyang couldn't help but glance sideways. He saw a wanted poster with a reward for information leading to his arrest, and on it was his portrait.

His heart tightened. He lowered his head; though his face was hidden by his hat brim, he was still worried about being recognized. He squeezed his legs tightly against his horse's flanks and cracked the whip. The horse immediately took off galloping. Frustrated, Qingyang spurred his horse forward when he saw a man approaching, carrying a tall pile of things that obscured his face. Apparently, the man hadn't noticed his horse. Just as they were about to collide, Qingyang quickly pulled on the reins, causing the horse to stop abruptly. He nearly fell off. Startled by the commotion, the man dropped what he was carrying. Looking up, he saw Qingyang frantically shouting to stop his horse, inadvertently revealing his face beneath his hat brim.

"Qingyang!"

he called out, rushing forward.

Qingyang jolted, finally recognizing the man—it was his long-lost Third Brother.

"You're finally back!" Third Brother exclaimed joyfully upon seeing him, "Do you know how frantically we've been looking for you these past few days!"

Qingyang's eyes widened.

"Come on, hurry back with me," Third Brother said, trying to pull him off his horse. "You have no idea how worried the young master was. He's overjoyed to see you back."

Qingyang pulled his hand away, avoiding Third Brother's movement.

"Hmm?" Third Brother found his action strange.

Qingyang shook his head, staring intently at Third Brother.

"I... don't plan to go back."

"You fool, what nonsense are you spouting!" A look of bewilderment crossed Third Brother's face as he tried to pull him back again. "Hurry back with me."

Qingyang didn't answer him. He looked at Third Brother, shook his head vigorously, gripped the reins tightly, raised the whip high, and lashed it down!

The horse sped across the street like a whirlwind, leaving Third Brother and Xuanfu far behind.

Back in his tent, Qingyang carried the wine jar into the general's main tent. Upon entering, he immediately sensed a tense atmosphere, quite different from usual.

A young man in fine clothes lay on a wooden couch behind a low table, one hand propping up his head, legs crossed, exuding a nonchalant air. His features were exquisitely handsome, with strikingly beautiful eyes, the corners of which slanted upwards, carrying a hint of frivolity. Qingyang's entrance immediately attracted the young man's attention, his probing gaze following him, scrutinizing him unceremoniously.

No one but Nanyang was qualified to sit on this wooden couch in the general's tent; who was he?

Qingyang felt uneasy under that gaze, lowering his head deeply and cautiously saying to Nanyang, who stood beside him,

"General, the wine is ready."

Nanyang's expression was not good; he merely nodded slightly and gestured for Qingyang to place it aside.

Qingyang obeyed, placing the wine jar on the wooden table by the window, bowing slightly before turning to leave.

"Wait a minute."

The young man suddenly spoke, then put down his crossed legs, stood up, and walked a few steps to Qingyang.
Qingyang lowered his head and saw that the other man was dressed in fine clothes and had been in Xuanfu for many years. He had seen many high-class people and knew that the other man must be a nobleman at a glance. Therefore, he bowed properly.

“Oh,”

the young man lifted his chin, giving a flippant snort, “This little thing does know some manners.”

Nanyang glanced at him, frowned, and said sharply,

“What are you doing?”

The young man smiled slightly, focusing only on Qingyang, and said without turning his head,

“I only touched him, and you’re already angry?”

As he spoke, his other hand slid restlessly across Qingyang’s face, gently pinching his delicate cheek and caressing his lips.

Qingyang tried to pull away, but found the man’s grip incredibly strong; the hand supporting his chin was like an iron clamp, rendering him completely immobile.

“Second Prince,” Nanyang intervened, his brow furrowing even more, “Please stop.”

The man glanced at him with a half-smile, his eyes gleaming,

“Who is this little thing to you? Why are you protecting him so much?”

“He is my personal attendant.”

“Personal…attendant?” The man paused, then pinched Qingyang's nose as if teasing a kitten or puppy:

"When did you get a personal attendant? How come I didn't know?"

"A trivial matter, no need for Your Highness to worry about it."

The man's hand froze, anger clearly rising in his eyes, but he quickly suppressed it, his gaze turning cold.

Sensing his hand was unsteady, Qingyang quickly pulled away.

Nanyang said to him,

"You may leave now."

Upon hearing this, he felt as if he had been granted a pardon and hurriedly rushed out of the tent.

As soon as he stepped outside, a gust of cold wind hit him, and he realized his clothes were sticking to his skin; he had been sweating from nervousness.

Although the man's behavior was frivolous, he possessed a sharp aura. His actions had been almost flirtatious, yet the menacing presence in his eyes had instilled a deep fear in him.

That's right, just now, the general called him the Second Prince… In this world, there was only one person whom the General of Nanyang could address as Second Prince—

Qingyang abruptly stopped, his mouth agape in astonishment.

It was Lu Ling.

Born to the Empress, the younger brother of Crown Prince Tu Feng, the Emperor's most favored prince, rumored to be arrogant and unruly, the Second Prince Lu Ling.

Qingyang glanced back at the tent behind him, and couldn't help but worry for the general.

Unbeknownst to him, the moment he stepped out of the room, the General Nanyang he had been worrying about, before he could even resist, was grabbed by the collar by Prince Lu Ling and slammed against the wall.

Enraged by this treatment, Nanyang glared at Lu Ling and said in a low voice,

"What are you doing!"

"What am I doing? Of course, I'm going to do you."

Lu Ling pinched his face, gently stroking his cheek, his alluring eyes smiling:

"Although that little servant's face feels much softer, I still prefer touching your old man's face."

"Stop talking nonsense!" Nanyang's face flushed with anger. He mustered all his strength to break free from Lu Ling's grasp, but although the other man appeared slender, his strength was far greater than even Nanyang's, a martial artist, and he couldn't escape at all.

“You’re always like this, you can’t even listen to a joke.”

“Let me go!”

“How could I?” Lu Ling chuckled. “You think you can escape like last time? I’m not as soft-hearted as my older brother, easily letting you go after a few tearful pleas.”

“You!”

“Don’t forget, I still have a score to settle with you!” Lu Ling’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Who gave you permission to hire this personal servant?”

Nan Yang looked at him sharply.

“My own!”

Seeing the way he looked like he wanted to bite himself, Lu Ling laughed.

“You’re quite bold.”

As he spoke, he gritted his teeth and bit down on Nan Yang’s exposed neck, leaving a deep tooth mark.

“Having such a tender little servant by your side day and night must suit your taste, right? He looks so frail, can he serve you as well as I do, both in and out of bed?”

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