Chapter 27: If You Can’t, Don’t Push Yourself

Chapter 27: If It's Too Much, Don't Force It

Li Zhiming was utterly frozen, his body manipulated like a puppet on strings, his eyes glazed over, lost and unfocused. When he realized what was happening, his ears burned red to the roots like ripe tomatoes.

Sang Yu let out a couple of satisfied hums, closing his eyes slightly with a pleased expression. "The young master's hands are as good as any medicine."

Fuck.

He wanted to pull his hand back, but it was gripped in a death hold, forced to move back and forth, making his face redder and redder until his whole body felt like it was about to explode.

He never imagined he'd end up as someone's personal Thumbelina.

What the hell.

Regret upon regret flooded his mind.

He shouldn't have brought him out to wander around, shouldn't have talked so long with Miss Cui, shouldn't have let him go off by himself, and definitely shouldn't have harbored those filthy thoughts about lingering at a brothel.

Now it was all coming back to bite him in the ass.

Every second felt like an eternity.

His palm felt scorching hot, aching with a raw sting. His hand didn't even feel like it belonged to him anymore.

Might as well chop it off.

Suddenly, a long, drawn-out sigh came from just behind his ear, blowing warm breath onto the back of his neck like a feather brushing against his heart—light, airy, and ticklish.

"What are you doing? Are you feeling better?"

Li Zhiming pulled his neck in, extremely wary.

Sang Yu nestled against his back, his voice hoarse: "Not enough."

!

Suddenly, he felt like his hand was a water pump, working hard, drawing water up from the well and irrigating the fields.

Serving the people!

As a machine, once charged, you work—you can't go on strike.

Finally, the deep well's water was drawn up, and the fields were successfully irrigated.

The water pump had done its duty.

Li Zhiming stole a glance at his own disgraceful paw, then silently turned away, his heart filled with bitter indignation: "Hurry up and wipe it off for me."

Gross.

Sang Yu, being good-natured about it, fetched a towel, wet it, and carefully wiped each of his fingers.

This bastard had a hint of pink at the corners of his eyes, his lips curled up slightly, and such focused, handsome features—truly beautiful. Even "a gentleman fair as jade" wouldn't do him justice.

No wonder those women wanted to use underhanded tactics to share his bed.

The love of beauty is universal.

As he wiped, Sang Yu leaned closer to Li Zhiming, grazing his earlobe almost imperceptibly, his long lashes sweeping across his fair, delicate skin.

He breathed in the faint, elegant fragrance on him, then slowly circled his slender waist with his arms, his voice tinged with seductive charm and a hint of threat: "The young master did well. I'll spare your life."

"..."

Ugh, this bastard.

Li Zhiming fumed, about to get up, when his heart lurched. He snatched Sang Yu's hand as it slid downward, his throat constricting with nerves: "What do you think you're doing!"

Sang Yu let out a low, mischievous chuckle, kept glancing downward, then wrapped around him again, wicked and sly: "I noticed the young master... seems to be reacting. Since you helped me, I can return the favor."

Goddammit!

He was a normal adult male—having a physical reflex was perfectly normal, right?

But having it called out like that was still mortifying.

He didn't dare let go, composed himself, and said with a straight face: "This is a normal phenomenon. You'll experience it too when you're older. It's like being tired—just because you're a little sleepy doesn't mean you have to sleep."

"If you're sleepy, why force yourself to stay awake?" Sang Yu retorted.

"..."

"It's just a figure of speech. Humans aren't animals. What happened earlier was a special case. Normally, people can control themselves. Those who can't are beasts. And I'm a normal person, got it?"

Sang Yu, who'd just been called a 'beast,' gazed at him meaningfully and obediently let go.

Li Zhiming let out a sigh of relief, his body relaxing as that burning sensation slowly faded.

"Let's hurry back."

"Nope."

Sang Yu tugged on him, looking all innocent: "You said it yourself—I'm a special case. I can't help it. You're the one who got me into this state, so you have to see it through to the end."

"What?!"

It's still not done?

His head spun, and his reddened hand was yanked back for another round.

Goddammit.

It's not like his chrysanthemum was ruined—just a little tired. No big deal.

Having thought it through, Li Zhiming gave up struggling and fully embraced his penance.

Who knew how long passed—Sang Yu seemed to have endless energy, but Li Zhiming was already drowsy. Eventually, he just flopped over and fell asleep on his own.

When he woke up, he was lying in his own bed.

Keeping watch beside him was Feng Yin.

Feng Yin looked at him with a strange expression—three parts puzzled, three parts bewildered, three parts sympathetic, and one part contemptuous.

A pie chart materialized in his head.

"Young master, you're finally up."

Li Zhiming rubbed his foggy head: "When did I fall asleep? What time is it now?"

Feng Yin went to pour a glass of water and handed it over: "Young master, have a drink first. That Nanxun guy carried you back yesterday, and it's already noon now."

"Wait, I slept that long?"

"Yeah. You were overexerted, young master, so you need to rest up. I've already had the kitchen make you some good broth—you should take care of yourself for now."

Feng Yin hesitated, then tentatively reminded him: "Young master, um, you know, when you're doing... that kind of thing, you need to watch your health. If you're not up to it, don't... don't force it."

"???"

What "that kind of thing"?

Not up to what?

Li Zhiming's face darkened for a moment: "What exactly did Sang Yu tell you?"

That reaction was all Feng Yin needed to be fully convinced.

He shook his head: "Nothing, nothing. I was just making stuff up. Young master, rest for a bit—I'll go see how the kitchen's doing."

Li Zhiming sat there in the room, confused.

Yesterday.

Sang Yu carried him back and ran into Feng Yin at the door.

When asked about it, he just said one thing: "He went to the Spring Breeze Pavilion and passed out from exhaustion."

What kind of place is the Spring Breeze Pavilion?

A place for letting loose and having fun.

Exhaustion?

What kind of strenuous activity could you even do there???

Drinking, eating, listening to music—none of that takes any effort. The only thing that would take effort... that would be...

Yikes.

Even Feng Yin felt embarrassed, hastily ordering the kitchen to prepare extra tonic, hoping to build Li Zhiming back up.

There was no way he could be lacking in that department.

Li Zhiming drank the potent tonic, his mind full of questions. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

Why was there also a hint of pity in Feng Yin's gaze?

He'd been stared at with that look all day and couldn't just sit there anymore.

He slammed his hand on the table.

"Tell me, what bullshit did he feed you? Talk!"

Feng Yin was startled but kept shaking his head: "He didn't say anything, I swear."

"Really?" Li Zhiming's face darkened as he growled, "Looks like you don't want to work for me anymore."

"Okay, okay, I'll talk. He just said one thing—that you went to the Spring Breeze Pavilion and, uh, passed out from exhaustion and fell asleep."

"I—"

Screw your 'exhaustion'—I was just sleepy!

Dammit.