“No tears, but some tissue damage and bone bruising. Really, kids these days, texting while driving-” Old Doc Li shakes his head and Wei Qing holds in a snort at the inaccurate (but hilarious) dragging of Yang Wushe by his white-haired private physician. This is why it is important to treasure the elder generations.
They have so much to teach us.
Based on prior calls, the man brings along a portable pharmacy, only for Wei Qing to wave it away.
“Oh?” Doc Li breaks into a smile at the soft look that passes between his patient and his patient’s caretaker. “Good! Good! Very good, acetaminophen is enough, it’s better not to pollute your body!” He snaps the case of painkillers closed before Second Master Wei has the chance to regret his decision and waves himself away and into the elevator like a cartoon caboose.
Pffft-
The poor man must have really suffered these last years, overprescribing based on the whims of someone determined to stay sick. Wei Qing breaks into full-bellied laughter. Who needs drugs when you have such people fluttering around you? Proving his point is Yue Fei, who rolls his eyes with a chuckle of his own before grabbing him an icepack and disappearing to grab his chargers and the latest stack of books on behalf of the new patient in the living room.
When he returns, Wei Qing blinks up at him, very wronged.
“Yes, yes, you were very good.” The faux-pout disappears at the praise. And then really, really disappears when Yue Fei reaches for the buckle of Wei Qing’s belt.
Wei Qing would ask for clarification, but he gives himself the gift of as many seconds of fantasy as he can squeeze out of this situation. Even if he knows perfectly well that Yue Fei must be doing something therapeutic, it’s the little lies that get one through the day. The moments when he can pretend that Yue Fei’s glances are lingering just a little longer, that his hands are a little less honest.
So Wei Qing lays still and feels his rushing heart heat his cheeks, as the man of his dreams slides his belt free and neatly coils it up on the table. He (barely) avoids whimpering as those same deft fingers pop the button of his pants and pull down the fly. Very, very quickly raises his hips to facilitate his own undressing, hissing a bit as his heart outpaces his head and he manages to tweak his own injury. But he’s not going to sweat the small things. After all, this is another chance to show his self-improvement and ability to be honest and take care of himself. Ask for what he needs, accept the help that’s given, avoid opiods. Classic.
Which isn’t to say he’s not setting himself up to suffer. Not masturbating to this is going to be infuriating. Even the way Yue Fei neatly folds his slacks is erotically appealing. Or maybe he’s just hopelessly fixated. Either way, that’s a problem for future him. For now, he can just bask in the moment.
The atmosphere warms, though whether Yue Fei feels it too or it’s just Wei Qing’s own hot skin radiating outwards– there’s no telling. He’d like to think that Yue Fei had paused, just a little bit, at that last stretch of zipper and the tilt of his hips, but he can’t be disappointed as long as he doesn’t investigate it. If this is a sugar-spun dream, he’s not going to be the one to reach out and pop the bubble surrounding them. Though the silence between them, the odd pause during the pants-folding…
Finally, Yue Fei takes mercy, directing his comments towards their bookshelves instead of to his flush-faced employer, “You shouldn’t put weight on it, and should keep it raised and iced for at least a few hours before moving. Slacks seem uncomfortable.”
Yue Fei gives context and the safety of professional distance, disappointing and sweet all at once. Wei Qing loves him for it even if it makes him want to climb the walls.
Yue Fei picks up a pair of oversized sweats from the sideboard and slides them up Wei Qing’s legs, the outer edge of his thumbs creating a burning line from knee to hip along Wei Qing’s outer thighs. He very kindly doesn’t remark upon the new bulge that the waistband catches on, right before sliding home.
Which is good, because if he did, even to say something sarcastic, Wei Qing would probably end up begging him for touch, for more words, for anything. Even disdain could be hot, though that’s a very, very dangerous train of thought for someone as praise-driven as Wei Qing.
Yeah, Wei Qing thinks his brain might be broken. Good attention, bad attention, he just has a constant need for Yue Fei to keep his gaze on him. To matter to the man, in any capacity at all. It’s already the height of good fortune that Yue Fei seems happy to feed these odd appetites, so he needs to keep being a good boy. And he’s willing to be good forever. Really, really good to Yue Fei. The very best he’s ever been.
It helps that being good is so delightfully entertaining.
Even the run-of-the-mill sweatpants feel delicious against his skin.
—
While Wei Qing daydreams rather obviously, Yue Fei piles pillows under his injured leg and readjusts his ice pack. He makes warm tea, white ayurvedic coiling above the mug as he wraps Wei Qing’s hands around it and sends two Advil into his mouth, fingers twitching at the brush of lips that accompanies his patient’s acquiescence.
“Wash it down- Good.”
Wei Qing takes a few more sips before Yue Fei has him set it on the coaster near his head. He hands him a t-shirt, but this time doesn’t help him unbutton. After all, no matter how helpless Wei Qing is trying to make himself look (cute), taking off an Oxford while laying down really doesn’t require any jostling of his legs. Even someone with weak abdominal muscles like Wei Qing can manage a half-situp to pull off a shirt.
More importantly, Yue Fei also wonders why he chose to take off Wei Qing’s pants in such a manner– and he’s hardly going to continue to engage in such behavior without a clear understanding of his own motives. He’s not the type to get carried away. Especially when it could hurt Wei Qing.
So he waits by the side and takes back Wei Qing’s old clothes and disappears into the laundry room to contemplate his own actions, trying not to catalog this most recent peek at Wei Qing’s soft chest and how he lay so prettily. As the dryer hums in the background, Yue Fei slaps his own cheek.
Not the purpose of any of this. He’s here to take care of Wei Qing. That’s what’s important. His personal feelings and failings and foibles are superfluous. The gods don’t send you back to get your dick wet, they send you back to right great wrongs. At least, that’s his best guess, given that no one has bothered to explain why or how he’d been reborn.
Yang Wushe is a good reminder of the stakes, and why he can’t lose focus.
If he’d been more focused, how could that asshole possibly have hit him with his car?!
The rest of the day is spent checking in on Wei Qing while keeping his own strange feelings in check, distracting them both with shows and banter and easy-to-cook comfort foods. By the time the sun sets and he helps Wei Qing hobble to bed, Yue Fei’s best guess is that his rebellious feelings are a delayed trauma response. A natural reaction to seeing Wei Qing hurt in a way that could have been bad, to see the man who hurt him, who was bad. Was unforgivable, even.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
Vfflcu Tjcu Qertf jujlc–
Tef Mfl mjccba obgmf tlr olrar ab rabq mifcmtlcu, jr tf rlar bc atf fvuf bo tlr yfv jcv qffgr bea ja atf aklcxilcu ilutar bo j mlas yjatfv lc vjgxcfrr. Lf vbfr cba ybatfg klat ygfjatlcu fzfgmlrfr; tf xcbkr atja atfgf lr cb wjulm qjaafgc atja klii wjcjuf ab rafjvs tlw cbk atja Qfl Hlcu lr gfralcu jcv j cluta bo tlr bkc gfugfar lr ragfamtlcu bea yfobgf tlw. Lf qewwfir tlr wjaagfrr jcv ylafr tlr ilqr jcv rdeffhfr tlr bkc mjgbalv ecali tf’r vlhhs fcbeut obg atf gjuf ab kfjxfc. C aglmx ogbw tlr sbeat, agjulmjiis erfoei jujlc.
If Yue Fei was the kind of assistant who carried a gun, he really might have shot the man.
Unloaded an entire clip into that wretched body, filling that poisonous mouth with so much choking blood that it could never open up to hurt his Wei Qing, not ever again. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t done anything yet– when Yue Fei saw him, what he saw was Wei Qing’s broken body in those awful photographs, what he felt was his cold hand and dislocated joints, when he’d gone to the morgue to identify him. The state of his body, the way it had all been documented like he was a clinical specimen, instead of someone bright and infuriating and precious. He felt all that rage, all that regret, from not being able to stop Wei Qing, from not being able to get justice for him.
For not having Wei Qing matter to the person who had killed him.
How dare he appear before them.
For years, Yue Fei had wanted to tear out his throat with his own teeth, wanted to cut him into pieces slowly, and throw each piece off a fucking building, until that trash understood his wrongs, and his disqualification from forgiveness. He’d hated him until it was the only feeling he was capable of experiencing, the only bedmate he had.
Those feelings had not turned to ash after Yang Wushe’s death or Yue Fei’s rebirth.
The hurt remained.
But today, Wei Qing had been in his arms, in pain, and the idea of pulling away from him was too terrible. Revenge wasn’t worth setting him down, letting him get dirty, letting him take a single step away when he was in such a vulnerable condition. So he’d restrained himself and sublimated those dark feelings into taking care of Wei Qing, buying muffins and calling Dr. Li and doing laundry. Normalcy, the soft soothing of caretaking. It had always worked before; it still worked now. It was good to be reminded that he still had the privilege of spoiling his master, that was what was most important.
It was unacceptable, for his care to take second place to his hatred. As long as he protects him well enough, they’ll never even need vengeance.
That little reminder had gotten him through the day, but it couldn’t hide the confusing mix of fear and softness and even lust that wove into his protectiveness towards Wei Qing.
Yes. Lust.
He’s very afraid that’s what this is, for all that he’s tried to avoid it.
It is only now that the danger is passed that he can feel those feelings rising, demanding something like introspection, even though he doesn’t want to give it. He thinks crossing the line like he had– undressing Wei Qing without clearly explaining it– might have come from that place that he’s been trying not to look at. Come from being willing to do anything to keep Wei Qing away from Yang Wushe and his ilk.
Even-
Even take their place. Be the kind of man Wei Qing wanted, needed, without the taste of betrayal that always accompanied him. What if-
What if the best protection is to fill the position? To ensure no toxic love can bloom, by himself becoming Wei Qing’s person?
After all, in his last life– in what still might be their future in this life– Wei Qing fell in love with Yang Wushe.
Fell in love with him beyond reason, beyond self-preservation. Died when he was confronted with the falseness of their connection. That kind of passion– can it really be avoided so easily? Is one inexpert flap of his wings possibly enough to prevent such a world-ending tsunami? Yue Fei doesn’t think so.
He’s not sure any small meeting can change things so completely.
And yet-
Yue Fei’s heartbeat intensifies, as he thinks back to the morning.
Wei Qing had been icy to Yang Wushe, flat-out rude even. Sure, he’d tensed up and looked dumbstruck when the guy first left that ostentatious fucking car of his, long enough for Yue Fei’s heart to fall into an icy cellar of panic, but then his entire attitude had hardened. He’d alienated the man, not even taken a second look at his false intentions or punchable face. The love at first sight didn’t materialize, the dog blood meet cute melted away, almost on a dime. Yue Fei had replayed the entire conversation a half-dozen times, and as far as he could tell, it came down to Yang Wushe being rude to him.
That’s when things had shifted.
Yang Wushe was rude to him. Yang Wushe set himself against Yue Fei, and that was enough for a Wei Qing who didn’t know that snake to choose a side. That was it. It made Yue Fei feel important, in a way that gifts and bonuses and dependence hadn’t quite managed. Like Wei Qing genuinely wanted to protect him, rather than just falling into passively accepting his protection.
But Yang Wushe is not stupid, and worse still, is annoyingly persistent. Probably, after a few rounds with those substitutes of his, he will treat Wei Qing’s refusal as an exciting game, rather than a demarcation. Yue Fei knows that it is folly to underestimate him.
The number of failsafes and roadblocks that Yang Wushe had bypassed while ‘courting’ Wei Qing the first time proven that. He and Wei Qiwan had run themselves ragged trying to keep Wei Qing out of that man’s clutches, and they had failed rather miserably. Even when they’d sent endless articles and bank drafts and all sorts of evidence into Wei Qing’s hands, it hadn’t made a difference. Yue Fei wasn’t even sure Wei Qing had bothered to read them. To consider that he might be in a monster’s clutches.
All because Yang Wushe was just as dedicated.
And that dedication terrifies Yue Fei. Terrifies him now, terrified him then.
Surely… With a few more meetings, Yang Wushe could figure out the way to Wei Qing’s unguarded heart, and they’d all be doomed again. Wei Qing rarely fell in love, but when he did– it was a deep well to drown in, with smooth enough sides that he’d never climb out of it. Even this recovering, well-behaved version might become obstinate and unstable if he falls in love with someone that encourages such sickness in him.
But if he’s already in love by the time that happens…
Then will it matter if Yang Wushe tries to seduce him?
But…
Yue Fei doesn’t want to. Not like this. Not if he can help it. If he gives in, if he does this, then isn’t he just as bad? Treating Wei Qing’s feelings as something to weigh the future against, instead of a precious gift? If he accepts Wei Qing’s pursuit with a secondary objective, isn’t it still using him? Wouldn’t Wei Qing still be upset? And how can he even know which parts of this are selfless and which are selfish, when everything is such a tangled mess?
Yue Fei scrubs his face clean and dreams about strange, impossible things. Like a different kind of life together with Wei Qing. Beside him still, always, but… different.
—
Yue Fei’s dark circles are bad enough the next morning that after a breakfast worth of light ribbing, Wei Qing hobbles away to get him something that is (allegedly) guaranteed to fix eyebags. The label is in French, and includes gilded bees for some reason, even though those are normally high on the list of ‘things to keep away from eyes’. Marketing teams. Baffling creatures, the lot of them.
Yue Fei thinks it looks more like whipped honey. Smells like it too.
He looks more closely.
Yeah…
He’s 90% sure this is just honey, packaged and sold solely for the sake of conspicuous consumption. European luxury sells, after all, especially in this market. Yue Fei wonders if it would taste good on toast.
Wei Qing mistakes Comrade Yue’s silent dragging of the bourgeoisie.
“What? I don’t need it now that I’m in bed by ten every night, so– might as well use it.” Yue Fei’s not convinced but takes the expensive jar of European magic nonetheless. After all, anything taken from Wei Qing’s recovery kit is one less thing to encourage bad behavior, right? Even if it’s just honey with some lavender added.
Okay, so that sounds like bullshit even in his own head. Yue Fei admits it– he’s definitely loopy from his dreams and treating strange things as love tokens because his mind is a labyrinth of equal parts rationality and delusion.
He blames Wei Qing’s drama stories. And general cuteness.
Yue Fei laughs at himself and tosses the gift into his private bath. The laugh turns airier when he notices Wei Qing (who should still be on the sofa for another hour of icing) peeking in like his suite is a secret and forbidden place, instead of part of Wei Qing’s larger apartment. Part of his possessions.
Then again, he’s not sure his little master has ever even been in here; certainly not since his father bought the place and moved them out of the high school dormitories in the name of rewarding Wei Qing for being first in the district. In the past, Wei Qing had always been good about Yue Fei’s privacy, or maybe just indifferent?
Right. Up until five months ago, Wei Qing hadn’t been curious about this part of him at all.
It’s not quite as funny anymore.
“Having fun?” Yue Fei steps back and lets Wei Qing see inside the neat, tidy, and utterly boring apartment-within-an-apartment. Other than a few stacked books and a hamper of clothing, there’s nothing to differentiate it from a catalog room. Wei Qing looks fascinated nonetheless, though he acts very well-behaved despite the snoopage. Once caught, he limps back to his couch-nest instead of coming in and interrogating the non-existent dust bunnies.
Being good is after all a full-time position. But there’s no beating the benefits.
Delicious food, great companionship, and impressively immersive storytelling– the most cherished Wei Qing’s ever felt with his pants on. What Wei Qing doesn’t realize (because certain people are inscrutable) is that he’s not alone in the sentiment. Not alone in thinking about whether this softness could really continue on forever.
Or in worrying about Yang Wushe ruining it.
—
Wei Qing’s leg heals quickly enough– there’s a brace that (barely) fits under his slacks and a reliance on ice packs and massages that is probably psychosomatic (but lovely). Caretaking becomes a nightly ritual, a sweetness shared but never commented upon between them. Something that will be safe as long as they don’t stare too deeply into it, physical contact that lingers and slowly drags them into glorious ambiguousness.
Ten days after Yang Wushe’s forced introduction via blunt force trauma, Wei Qing convinces Yue Fei that he can bend well enough to take a bath instead of those showers of his. He really has missed being able to channel his inner jellyfish.
Tragically, the pornographic trope of Yue Fei helping him wash does not materialize.
Stupid bodily autonomy and respect for boundaries and privacy, always getting in the way of his life finally imitating the art he consumes so eagerly. Ah, at least he’ll always have his lotus bubble bombs, and bathroom 5G.
While Wei Qing is disappearing into a mass of light pink bubbles while watching episode 92 of his palace drama, Yue Fei is on the phone. To a friend. Ish? Look, it’s complicated. Technically, the person on the other end is something between a friend, paid assistance, and the ghost of Christmas past.
It probably says something bad about Yue Fei, that this is his go-to for emotional support.
“So- what’s the issue, exactly?” An uncle who sounds like he smokes three packs a day while coal mining manages to cough through the receiver. Yep, this is Yue Fei’s best friend, or… well… something like that. Maybe it’s better to call him his adoptive guardian? Not that anything had ever been legally formalized between them.
“…I already said, ” Yue Fei grinds out. The old man’s memory might be going after all. He feels that little annoyance that always comes midway through conversation with dreadful conversationalists. Not that he’s one to talk.
“You stinky brat, ‘I might have feelings for my boss’ is the start of a conversation, not the end of it! This boss- is it that cute little kid you nanny? If so, you should self-reflect-”
“That cute little kid is only four years younger than me.” Yue Fei interrupts the righteous upbraiding. He suddenly feels like this is a very important point. For reasons.
“And?”
“…He’s 24. I’m 28.” At least physically. “You know that right? It’s important to me that you know that, or I’m going to have to call Auntie Liu and see about getting you a nurse. Or a dementia screener. Or both.”
Like always, these two old men (one in a young man’s body) end up griping at one another endlessly.
Thank God Wei Qing takes long baths.
“Really though, so what?” Mr. Smoke finally waves off the sarcasm and remembers that once upon a time, he was a social worker. Although whether or not he was a good one, to have a client still calling him more than a decade later, who could say? “Finding someone you like, that’s a gift. Especially with that personality of yours.”
Bad social worker in Yue Fei’s opinion, if anyone asks.
The man sighs at his silence. “Now, now, Xiao Yue. Are you really so surprised? That kid is all you talk about. Who knows, maybe it’s fated! Don’t worry so much, and just see what happens. Maybe you’ll find true happiness.”
“Or maybe it would be throwing a grenade right in the middle of my life and ruining everything.”
“You say he already confessed?”
“…a bit.” Yue Fei’s voice goes soft, as if it’s forbidden to speak of such things out loud. Like there’s some magic in the air that he’d be disrupting. Like it’s one of those donated toys that will be snatched away if anyone discovers he treasures it.
The man sighs something nostalgic that might be a laugh.
“Ah, a shy Xiao Yue, who knew such a thing was still possible? This old man feels young again! Ah, my show is about to come on- anyway, Xiao Yue. If he’s already said it, and life isn’t over, it seems like you can be a little more serious. Not to mention, putting feelings back in a box– tch, you should remember from your youth, how much of a challenge that is. Embrace it, try it out, send me a matchmaking fee if you get married.”
The world’s least professional social worker (who cares that he’s retired!) hangs up without any type of resolution. Damn fortune cookie man. Yue Fei might as well have gone to an electronic palm reader, for all the clarity he was given.
…Then again, as always, calling Lu-laoshi was less about getting clarity than being given permission to do things, like have feelings. In his last life, those calls, after Wei Qing had died… dark wasn’t the right word to describe them. Lu-laoshi had even toddled over from his little retirement community in the north and showed up at his door, portable oxygen in hand, to keep him from doing something insane after Yang Wushe had died and denied his vengeance.
In comparison, being told to go for it and accept his boss’s feelings, even if they might not last, even if it might not work–
Eh, he’s not sure he’s going to accept the permission, but it’s nice to have it all the same. Nice to explain a little bit to someone, someone that knows at least a little about what Wei Qing means to him, and have them not warn him away from altering their relationship. Have them act like he could be worthy of more than this.
Then again, Lu-laoshi had always been rather insistent that Yue Fei wasn’t as broken as he thought. Maybe he was right, maybe he was wrong, but for now, there really isn’t any rush. Time can only bring clarity, and as long as Yang Wushe stays away, they have plenty of that, don’t they?
Time for Wei Qing to realize how boring he is and take back those words before Yue Fei hurts himself by believing them. All the time in the world. Yue Fei will be patient and let his master see a little more of the world.
And if Wei Qing still wants him, even when he becomes a form of delayed gratification–
Well, maybe Yue Fei will give in. After all, it has to mean something, that even now, he can’t forget those two kisses.
thanks for the chapter! ♡♡♡
first time reading this without crying midway, though having read the first 18 chapters exclusively past midnight might have influenced that…
Yue Fei’s murderous thoughts 😍😍😍😍😍 and we learn a little bit more about his backstory!!! I’m so curious how he ended up working for the Wei family in the first place. We get ever closer to the reciprocation of feelings… if only they knew both of them were reborn, it would make communication so much easier 😭
Thanks for the chapter and a little peka inside of yue fei’s violent thoughts~
Thank you for the update ❤️💯
Ah – Lu-laoshi must have been involved in getting Yue Fei out of the commune and into school or work huh? It’s kind of hard to help Yue Fei remember he’s not much older than Wei Qing when one of them is watching his favorite show while playing in pink bubbles 😄
Why have I forgotten the 2nd kiss? I know the 1st was wen wq drunkenly went for it. Wat was the 2nd?
Probably because it was such a small and gentle one~Chapter 16, when Wei Qing remembers the drunk kiss and gives Yue Fei a sober & chaste one to express his interest.
Oh yea the one full of love. Thx
Each time I read a chapter I’m so excited! Last time I was trying to read even though I was falling asleep so I’ve finished the chapter only now (and re-read it with a clear mind and open eyes helped a lot) because. It. Is . So. Cute.
Ah, I’m so glad!
And honestly, having to re-read is partially my fault, because this chapter in particular is about 1k words longer than it should be– I just couldn’t find an appropriate place to chop it.
Don’t worry it was my pleasure to do so, I had twice of the fluff ~