Chapter 33

Chapter 33

There wasn’t a single normal person around—what kind of coherent story was this?

A suffocating wave of grievance rose within him. The Young Marquis gazed out the window, his thoughts adrift, and let out a cold snort. “Oh, so *you* realize it was presumptuous? You’ve been presumptuous with me all along!”

As he spoke, past incidents surged into his mind, unstoppable as a tide. The Young Marquis’s expression instantly darkened; his voice turned glacial. “How dare you call me weak? Words weren’t enough—you even had to grope me all over… Even dough isn’t kneaded like that. If I’m delicate, then you’re nothing but a bully who preys on the weak! Worse than street ruffians—and yet you still have the audacity to call yourself a gentleman…”

Wen Yu was momentarily stunned—then, for the first time, a faint, fleeting amusement flickered across his beautiful face. “When have I ever claimed to be a gentleman?”

Luo Qianyu frowned, his gaze returning to the beauty as he replied icily, “Don’t play dumb. Even if you’ve never said it outright, your speech, habits, conduct—even your family background—each radiates the dignified, refined bearing of a Wen family young master. There’s not a flaw to be found.”

“Even if you’re not a gentleman, deep down, you *want* to be perfect, don’t you? How many maidens have lost their hearts to you? ‘My dear Yu,’ ‘Master Wen,’ ‘Sweetheart Yu’… Haven’t others called you that often enough? Guard Wen may not say it aloud—but I bet you savor it inwardly.”

At this, a rare, unmistakable flash of surprise lit Wen Yu’s eyes—a sight seldom seen on that composed face.

After a brief pause, he replied slowly, “No one has ever called me that.”

The carriage fell silent.

Luo Qianyu was equally stunned.

When he regained his composure, his throat tightened and his cheeks flushed rapidly—his expression utterly priceless.

“…”

He remembered now.

“My dear Yu,” “Master Wen,” “Sweetheart Yu”—Wen Yu had *never* heard these before, because such endearments and pet names weren’t uttered by young ladies. They were all spoken by the buy-stock gongs to the protagonist shou!

Influenced by them, he’d mixed them up in his anger and blurted them out unthinkingly. Using such terms mid-argument didn’t just sound jarring—it carried an unsettling trace of lingering intimacy.

At this point in the plot, though various buy-stock gongs had already begun circling the beauty, Wen Yu was still the Young Marquis’s Personal Guard. The high-speed carriage hadn’t even departed yet—and no one had addressed him that way.

He was the first… and he’d used *more than one*.

Luo Qianyu pressed his fingertips to his forehead, overwhelmed by a surge of shame. His chest trembled faintly—he wished he could vanish into the floorboards.

In that brief silence, the atmosphere inside the carriage truly did grow subtly awkward—it wasn’t his imagination.

Young Marquis Luo turned his head slightly, cleared his throat, and silently reassured himself: *I’m one of the buy-stock gongs too—so what does it matter if I said it?* Having justified himself, he quietly shifted blame: “You haven’t heard it *yet*, but you will in the future. Still, this Young Master wishes to remind Guard Wen…”

“A gentleman’s image is hard to maintain. Pull a string too tight for too long, and it snaps.”

Sensing the other’s gaze upon his face, Luo Qianyu refused to meet his eyes—instead, he stared out the window.

“You possess integrity, uphold principles, fear no authority, and even dare defy your superiors…” You’re also the Capital’s First Beauty, naturally endowed with the protagonist’s mesmerizing charm.

Luo Qianyu added this silently—but left it unspoken. Instead, he continued, “All of this strikes me as ruffian behavior now—but should you meet someone else in the future, you’ll appear entirely different to them… becoming a difficult yet irresistible target. The more fiercely you cling to your gentlemanly façade, the more intensely they’ll crave you.”

“Your pride will only serve *their* purposes. Won’t you regret it?” He propped his chin on one hand and met the Personal Guard’s gaze.

Silence lingered.

Until the other’s voice broke the quiet.

“A so-called gentleman upholds virtue, is gentle as jade, adheres to rules in every action, and follows righteousness in every move.”

Wen Yu remained calm, his voice cool and measured as he spoke: “I have never been a gentleman—nor have I ever sought to bind myself with that title… Even if one *is* a gentleman, beneath the veneer of virtue lie shadows and selfish desires—merely concealed in the heart, left unspoken.”

Luo Qianyu was taken aback.

His lips moved—but for a moment, he was utterly speechless.

The last time he’d coaxed so much from Wen Yu was during the Gathering of Sages Hall, when he’d teased him—lifting his chin with a folding fan… Melting even a corner of this icy Little Beauty was no easy feat.

Moreover, he’d seized this opportunity merely to warn the protagonist shou: such fiery temperament might suit *him*, but against those hungry wolves awaiting in the future, it would only fuel their lust.

He hadn’t expected the beauty to submit obediently—but at least not to be *this* unyielding. That way, he might suffer less later… in bed.

Yet Wen Yu’s words had shaken him—leaving him momentarily stunned.

The Young Marquis’s brow twitched. He held back—but couldn’t resist asking, “You harbor selfish desires and hidden thoughts too?”

What selfish desires could the protagonist shou possibly have?

Impossible to guess.

“…If all you wish is to cure your birth mother, clear the Wen family’s name, or someday return to court to achieve great deeds and renown—none of those count. They’re simply struggles against fate, expressions of human nature.” Luo Qianyu said awkwardly.

Wen Yu’s expression shifted faintly—but he only parted his lips and replied, “No.”

Luo Qianyu waited—yet heard nothing more.

“?” His curiosity hung by a thread—neither fully ignited nor dismissed. When he looked up, he realized this towering block of ice had clammed up again.

No wonder they called him an ice-cold beauty—utterly un-warmable!

“Never mind.”

Luo Qianyu didn’t press further—but neither did he grant his Personal Guard a pleasant look. He lifted the curtain; they’d likely reach the manor in another quarter-hour. But now, with his hair loose and his hairpin confiscated by the Princess, encountering others would be fine—but if his mother, Lady Sun, saw him like this, she’d be terrified out of her wits.

There were no spare hairpins or ribbons in the carriage. Luo Qianyu’s gaze flickered—then settled on the red hair ribbon tied around Wen Yu’s wrist. He paused.

“…”

What now? Borrow it? Or just snatch it?

Wen Yu had worn it for so long. It would be strange if he treasured it purely out of sentiment. If it were a keepsake to identify the Mysterious Guest—that would be even stranger, considering he’d seen it that night at West Moon Lake yet never returned it… Could it be that Wen Yu simply *really* liked this hair ribbon?

If he liked it—why wear it only on his wrist?

…Besides, why was he overthinking this? It was *his* thing to begin with!

After a brief hesitation, Luo Qianyu maintained his half-reclining posture, lifted his leg, and rested his boot on the side seat—saying only, “Guard Wen, come here.”

Because his tone was serious, Wen Yu didn’t grow wary or refuse this time. Due to the carriage’s height, he had to lean down slightly as he approached.

Seizing the moment, Luo Qianyu wrapped his arm around the other’s neck and tightened his grip. His fingertips brushed the fresh bite mark he’d left—the blood hadn’t dried yet, and his fingers smeared a few drops, causing Wen Yu to frown faintly and inhale sharply—though not enough to cry out in pain.

His relationship with Wen Yu was currently strained—and this posture… would undoubtedly provoke the other’s resentment.

But that wasn’t his goal.

“Does it hurt? Is it still bleeding?”

After a moment of silence, Luo Qianyu tilted his head—exposing his snow-white neck. “If you feel wronged, I’ll allow you to bite me back.”

“…I won’t dodge.”

Wen Yu's pupils contracted. His body, pulled down by the sudden grip on his neck, remained still, one hand braced against the edge of the couch, knuckles white from gripping.

When the other still didn't move, Luo Qianyu turned his head slightly. In that instant, he realized the distance between them was even closer than when he had bitten him earlier. Warm breath brushed against his skin, raising goosebumps.

An uneasy feeling rose in Luo Qianyu. One hand reached down and grasped Wen Yu's wrist.

Then, pinching one end of the crimson ribbon, he gave it a tug. The ribbon fell into his palm, and he clenched his fist around it.

Having achieved his goal, Luo Qianyu pushed the man away and said quickly, "Fine, don't bite me. I'm taking this instead."

He casually tied up his hair. The ends of the ribbon hung down, entwined with the dark strands, red and black peeking through.

Luo Qianyu remarked offhandedly with disdain, "A red hair ribbon? What awful taste."

This time, it was Wen Yu who stood frozen in place, a hint of bewilderment in his eyes.

With complete lack of consideration, Luo Qianyu rested his head on his arm, stretched out his long legs—though they felt weak, he still didn't remove his boots—and claimed the side seat.

The carriage suddenly slowed. The servant outside raised his voice slightly, asking through the curtain, "Young Master, the South Street shops are just ahead. They have the chestnut pancakes you love. Shall I buy a few?"

Having been punished harshly today, the Young Marquis was in low spirits and had little interest. "No need. Head straight back to the manor."

"Yes, Young Master," the servant replied, then seemed to remember something and hurriedly added, "Young Master, if you're hurt anywhere, the jade ointment for healing wounds is in the second compartment of the wooden chest—the one with the green bottle. It's easy to find if you need it."

Luo Qianyu recalled that Lou Xian had given it to him to keep in the carriage; it was quite effective. He thought about getting up but felt his whole body heavy. Lifting his gaze slightly, he called, "Guard Wen."

Getting no response, Luo Qianyu couldn't help but frown slightly and called again, "Wen Yu."

After a long silence, Wen Yu finally spoke, his voice somewhat hoarse. "...What?"

"Didn't Guard Wen insist I was injured?" Luo Qianyu closed his eyes, feeling worn out. His dark hair spilled over the soft couch. Fortunately, the carriage was fairly steady, and the noise of the marketplace seemed blocked off in the distance, growing increasingly faint.

"Wherever you think the injury is, take off the clothes there."

Luo Qianyu said softly, "Help me apply the medicine."