After the Fake Young Master Betrayed the Australian Farmer - Chapter 36

“Adams Wilson, we are finished.”

Han Yan watched coldly as the door was pushed open. The moment his gaze met Adams’s, he rose, walked straight to him, and swung his hand across Adams’s face.

A crisp crack cut through the air. Adams’s head was thrown to the side by the force of the blow, and a bright red handprint immediately flared up on his cheek.

Adams raised the back of his hand to touch his rapidly swelling cheek. He looked at Han Yan, who stood expressionless with a cold, ghostly light in his eyes. Adams’s Adam’s apple bobbed with difficulty.

“Did I… do something wrong?”

“If it is about last night, I apologize. I am sorry. I overstepped my bounds.”

“I will stay in my place from now on.”

Adams finished the last word in a hoarse voice. Han Yan stared at him for a long time, then suddenly let out a cold sneer.

“Adams, is it fun to play make-believe?”

Adams froze, reflexively asking, “What?”

Han Yan held up his phone toward him. Two overlapping icons in the center of the screen felt like an invisible hand squeezing Adams’s throat. His expression instantly turned wretched. His eyes darkened, and he pressed his lips into a tight line.

“Tracking me before, and now installing a GPS on me. Let me guess, is the next step locking me up?”

“Locking me in the house so I cannot go anywhere, forcing me to stay by your side for the rest of my life?”

Adams remained silent. A bone-chilling cold spread through Han Yan’s limbs. His hands, hanging at his sides, clenched into fists, and a raging fire rose in his chest, nearly burning him to ashes.

“Adams, what the hell do you take me for?”

“I am a person—a living, breathing person! I have my own social life, my own world. How is what you are doing any different from keeping a pet?”

His chest heaved violently. The corners of his eyes turned a deep red from the surge of emotion.

“I was just… afraid you would leave again, like last time.”

Seeing the swirling anger in Han Yan’s eyes, a flash of hurt pierced Adams’s heart. He reached out, attempting to soothe him, but his hand was slapped away.

Han Yan curled his lip in a mocking sneer. “Afraid I will leave? Fine. I am leaving right now.”

“Adams Wilson, we are finished.”

He pushed past the stunned Adams and strode toward the door. Just as his hand touched the doorknob, his wrist was gripped tightly from behind.

“Where are you going?”

“Where I go is none of your business! I said we are finished. Stop bothering me! I never want to see you again!”

Han Yan tried violently to shake off the restraint, but Adams only held on tighter. The force was so great it felt as if his wrist bones were about to snap.

In the next second, the world spun. He was suddenly hoisted over Adams’s shoulder. Hanging upside down, he could only see the floor, unable to see the other man’s expression.

“Dammit! Adams, are you freaking crazy? Put me down!”

He pounded wildly on Adams’s back, kicking his legs and struggling with all his might.

Adams raised his hand impatiently and delivered a heavy swat to Han Yan’s buttocks. The loud smack echoed in his ears, and the burning pain made Han Yan’s cheeks flush uncontrollably.

Dammit, Adams is a lunatic!

He was slammed onto the bed, his head burying deep into the pillow with a force that made him see stars. Adams pinned both of Han Yan’s hands above his head with a single hand, his knee forcefully prying Han Yan’s legs apart. He roughly tore open Han Yan’s clothes and leaned down to bite him, leaving his own marks.

Han Yan arched his back in pain. Not to be outdone, he bit down hard on Adams’s earlobe. The metallic taste of blood instantly filled his mouth, followed by a muffled groan from above.

Adams ignored his bleeding earlobe. He flipped Han Yan over, gripped his waist, and brought his palm down on Han Yan’s slightly swollen buttocks.

Han Yan’s body shivered. He turned his head and cursed angrily, “Adams, you actually dared to hit me! You son of a…”

Adams pressed Han Yan’s head back into the pillow. He rubbed his rough thumb casually over the skin and patted Han Yan’s red-marked backside.

“Keep it up.”

“Get lost!”

With his face buried in the pillow, Han Yan’s fierce tone lost all its intimidation. Adams lay on his back, gripping the back of Han Yan’s neck to force his head up. His tongue pried open Han Yan’s teeth, blocking all further curses.

The blood on Adams’s earlobe had coagulated, leaving a brown trail down his neck. Han Yan leaned his neck back and raised a hand to push Adams’s head away, only to be met with another smack on the buttocks.

Han Yan gazed at Adams’s increasingly blurred face. He raised his arm to cover his eyes. The finger marks on his arms were bruised purple and blue. Physical tears fell from the corners of his eyes, and a low sob escaped his throat.

“You bastard!”

The tone—a mix of disappointment, anger, and grievance—made Adams’s movements falter. Then, as if provoked, sweat flew onto Han Yan’s abdomen with a sudden, violent movement. Adams pressed his palm down firmly on that spot.

Han Yan’s waist instantly arched, like a bow drawn to its limit, before sliding back onto the bed powerlessly.

Adams bit Han Yan’s lip, tasting the saltiness of his tears. He whispered hoarsely, “Do not leave me, babe.”

Hearing the sound of the stove and cooking from outside the door, Han Yan dragged his exhausted body out of bed. His legs felt weak, and he nearly fell to the floor.

Enduring the aches all over his body, he found a turtleneck in the wardrobe and put it on. Then, he gathered his important documents. Looking at the phone on the nightstand, he hesitated for a moment but chose to leave it behind just to be safe.

God only knew if that maniac had installed more software on it.

He pushed the window open quietly. As he climbed over the windowsill, he accidentally strained himself; his face went pale, and he cursed Adams a hundred times in his heart.

He stumbled toward the train station. By the time he reached the crowded station, a layer of cold sweat had broken out on his forehead.

He boarded the train. As soon as he sat down, the sharp pain made him spring back up.

Dammit, just how badly did that lunatic hit his backside?

“You alright?”

A Westerner sitting opposite him noticed Han Yan’s strange behavior and asked out of kindness.

Han Yan forced a faint smile, slowly sat down again, and replied, “Yeah, I am good.”

Although he tried his best to control his expression, he could not help but grimace in pain. His head felt heavy perhaps from the pain and his temples throbbed uncomfortably. The man looked him over and asked if he needed help, but Han Yan politely refused.

He endured the difficult journey until he finally stood beneath Han Jue’s apartment building. By then, his back was completely soaked with cold sweat.

With trembling fingertips, he pressed the number for Han Jue’s apartment. After two brief beeps, Han Jue’s voice came through.

“Who is it?”

“It is me, Han Yan.”

Hearing Han Yan’s weak tone, Han Jue opened the door immediately without a word.

Han Yan stepped into the elevator and leaned against the handrail, gasping for breath. He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to stay conscious. When he reached the floor and the elevator doors opened, his vision suddenly went black. Just before his thoughts faded into darkness, two cries of alarm sounded simultaneously.

“Yanzi!”

“Han Yan!”

Han Yan’s sleep was incredibly restless. One moment he dreamed he was being roasted over a fire, and the next he was frozen into an icicle.

After an unknown amount of time, a tickle in his throat made him cough twice. Suddenly, he felt something cool on his forehead, and he slowly opened his eyes.

“You are awake?”

Han Yan’s vision gradually focused. Once he saw Han Jue’s face, he remembered he was at Han Jue’s home. He gave an “Mhm,” but even that single sound made his throat feel as if it were being cut by a knife.

“You have a fever. You fainted in the elevator earlier and nearly scared me to death.”

Han Jue adjusted the damp towel on Han Yan’s forehead. He watched him for a while and sighed softly.

“Adams called me. He sounded quite frantic, but I did not tell him anything about you.”

Han Yan lowered his gaze and said in a raspy voice, “Thank you.”

Seeing this, Han Jue said no more. He told Han Yan to get some rest, then turned and left the room, closing the door.

Faint voices of conversation drifted from outside. Han Yan did not dwell on who the other person was; his eyelids felt heavy, and he fell asleep again.

When Han Yan finally woke up for good, it was nearly dawn. He moved his still-aching limbs. Just as he opened the door, a figure tumbled to the ground with a thud. If he had not dodged in time, his foot would have been crushed.

“Ouch! Yanzi, could you say something before you open the door next time? Ooh, that hurts!”

Xie Yu sat up on the floor, rubbing the back of his head. Han Yan felt speechless.

“How was I supposed to know you were crouching at the door? And why are you still here?”

Han Jue poked his head out from the kitchen. “He was clamoring to see you all day and refused to leave. He was the one who helped me carry you inside earlier.”

“He was so worried when you had a fever; he almost cried!”

This description was a bit exaggerated, but Xie Yu had been genuinely frantic, boiling water and fumbling for medicine, making a mess of the apartment.

Han Yan glanced at Xie Yu. Seeing the obvious worry in his eyes, he gave Xie Yu’s head a little shove.

“Thanks.”

Xie Yu gave a light snort, scrambled up quickly, and ran into the kitchen to bring out a bowl of porridge.

“Hungry? Here, I made this myself. It is priceless, and only you get to eat it.”

Han Yan looked at the porridge with suspicion. “Are you sure you made this?”

“Who else?”

Han Yan silently took a step back. Seeing this, Xie Yu bristled.

“What do you mean? Do you look down on my cooking skills?”

“I am afraid I will be poisoned to death before my fever even breaks.”

Han Yan knew exactly how good Xie Yu’s cooking was; they were on the same level. Seeing that Xie Yu was about to explode, Han Jue rushed over to intervene.

“Han Yan, do not worry. I was watching while Xie Yu was making the porridge. It will not kill anyone.”

Well, if he had not been watching, his kitchen might have been blown up.

With Han Jue’s guarantee, Han Yan sat down tentatively and took a spoonful. Confirming there was no strange taste, he began to eat.

Suddenly, Han Jue’s phone rang. Han Yan thought it was Adams, and his heart tightened. He saw Han Jue’s expression grow serious. Finally, Han Jue said “Okay” and hung up.

Han Jue put his phone down and met Han Yan’s gaze. After a moment of hesitation, he spoke. “Mom, she… they issued a critical illness notice. Are you coming back to the country with me?”