Don't You like Little Dogs? Now that I'm Taking Liberties, You're Suddenly Reluctant? - Chapter 23

The fire was quickly brought under control by organization personnel arriving with extinguishers. The chaos subsided just as fast; the attackers were all on the ground, either dead or severely incapacitated.

Pei Ye, breathing heavily, returned to Jiang Si’s side. A few specks of blood were splattered across his face, and the killing intent in his eyes hadn’t fully faded. However, his voice carried a faint, uncharacteristic urgency: “Master, are you alright?”

Jiang Si’s gaze swept over his face before landing on his left arm. The black fabric had been sliced open, and a small patch of dark blood was spreading, mixed with the foam and filthy water from the fire-fighting efforts. He looked disheveled.

“It’s a minor wound,” Pei Ye said, following his gaze and dismissing it immediately.

Jiang Si said nothing, turning away. “Let’s go.”

“Yes.”

On the way back, the atmosphere inside the car was even more stagnant. The wound on Pei Ye’s arm wasn’t deep, but blood continued to seep out slowly. He seemed to feel nothing, his focus entirely on the road.

Jiang Si, looking out the window, suddenly spoke: “Fast reactions.”

Pei Ye’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “It is my duty.”

“But next time, prioritize ensuring you are in the optimal defensive position rather than focusing solely on the attack,” Jiang Si said, his voice unreadable. “Your life is worth much more now than it used to be.”

Pei Ye’s heart skipped a beat. It sounded like a reprimand, yet it carried a hidden note of recognition… and concern?

“Yes, Master,” he whispered.

The car pulled into the apartment garage. They entered the elevator one after the other. In the confined space, the faint metallic scent of blood from Pei Ye’s arm became more pronounced.

Jiang Si suddenly said, “I’ll tend to your wound when we get back.”

Pei Ye froze, then stammered, “It’s a small scratch, I can handle it myself.”

“Come here.” The elevator doors opened. Jiang Si walked into the home, leaving only those two words behind.

Pei Ye paused, watching Jiang Si’s back as he walked toward the master bedroom. He hesitated for a moment before following. His heart accelerated uncontrollably.

Master is letting me into his bedroom? This was likely the first time since he had reached adulthood. Entering his Master’s bedroom.

Jiang Si’s bedroom remained cold and pristine. He motioned for Pei Ye to sit and opened a professional-grade medical kit.

“Take off the coat.”

Jiang Si took out disinfectant and gauze, his tone brooking no argument.

Pei Ye obeyed, shedding his tactical jacket until he was left in only a black, sweat-wicking undershirt. The fabric around the wound on his left arm was soaked with blood and grime, clinging to his skin.

Jiang Si looked at the injury. It wasn’t long, but it was deep enough to require cleaning and a few stitches. He pulled on a pair of disposable gloves and picked up a disinfectant swab.

“This might sting.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Pei Ye’s voice was raspy.

He could feel Jiang Si’s gaze on his arm. Every so often, the man’s cool fingers would brush against his skin, sending tremors through him. He fought to remain still, his back rigid. Jiang Si’s movements were skilled and calm, as if he had done this a thousand times.

The alcohol stung the wound sharply, but Pei Ye didn’t even flinch; only his breathing grew slightly heavier.

Just as Jiang Si was preparing the needle for the stitches, his movements stopped abruptly. His gaze was fixed on the left side of Pei Ye’s chest directly over his heart.

Because Pei Ye had removed his jacket and was wearing a thin, black shirt now soaked through with sweat, water, and traces of blood, the damp fabric clung tightly to his skin. It clearly outlined the contours of the body beneath, and…

The silhouette of a tattoo.

The shape of the ink looked like letters?

Jiang Si’s eyes turned into bottomless pools. He looked up at Pei Ye.

Pei Ye immediately sensed the shift in the atmosphere. His heart stopped for a full beat. He looked down and saw his damp shirt clinging to his chest; the outline of the name was almost perfectly visible.

A wave of sheer panic seized him stronger than any fear he had felt in battle. He instinctively wanted to raise his hand to cover it, but he forced himself to remain motionless, as stiff as a stone.

No! Master can’t see this.

Jiang Si didn’t speak. He simply watched Pei Ye with a scrutinizing, icy pressure. The air felt frozen.

After a few seconds, Jiang Si reached out. His gloved fingertip pressed lightly against Pei Ye’s left chest, right over where the tattoo showed through the fabric.

Pei Ye jolted, nearly jumping out of the chair, but Jiang Si’s other hand clamped down on his shoulder.

“What is this?”

Jiang Si’s voice was flat, yet it carried a suffocating weight. Pei Ye’s face drained of color. His lips moved, but no sound came out. His greatest secret had been exposed in the most sudden way possible to the one person he never wanted to find out.

Jiang Si’s finger didn’t move. In fact, he applied more pressure, tracing the outline of the name through the wet fabric.

“Take it off,” he commanded, his voice low and hard.

Pei Ye’s mind went blank. The shame and fear were overwhelming, but he could not defy an order. With trembling fingers, he began to undo the buttons of his shirt. One, two… the damp cloth fell open, revealing a muscular chest covered in a map of old scars.

And there, directly over his heart, was the dark, clear tattoo:

“Jiang Si.”

The lettering was sharp and bold, seared into the skin as if it were meant to be etched into the heart itself.

Jiang Si stared at the name for a long time. His face remained a mask impossible to tell if he felt anger, disgust, or something else. There was only a profound, devouring silence.

Pei Ye closed his eyes in despair, waiting for the judgment to fall. He felt stripped bare, exposed to a freezing wind. Seconds ticked by like an eternity.

Suddenly, he felt Jiang Si’s touch again. This time, through the thin layer of the rubber glove, the man’s fingertip began to slowly trace the lines of the name every stroke, every curve. The contact was cold, yet it brought a searing sensation.

Pei Ye snapped his eyes open, meeting Jiang Si’s unfathomable gaze.

“When did you get this?” Jiang Si asked. His voice was still calm, but it held a new, unidentifiable quality.

“…After I was transferred back to your side,” Pei Ye whispered, his voice dry and shaking.

“Why?”

Pei Ye bit his lip, unable to answer. How could he say it was because of a sick, unspeakable love and a desire for absolute possession? That he wanted his Master’s name carved in the place closest to his heart?

Jiang Si didn’t push for an answer. He looked at the tattoo, then back at Pei Ye’s pale, tense face. Suddenly, he withdrew his hand and resumed the stitching, acting as if nothing had happened.

However, his movements were slower now, and perhaps a bit heavier. Every pass of the needle through the skin brought a sharp, heart-pounding sting. Pei Ye grit his teeth, enduring the psychological and physical torment.

When the stitches were finished, Jiang Si cut the thread and applied a dressing. He then looked up, his gaze falling back onto the tattoo over Pei Ye’s heart.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice slightly raspy.

Pei Ye looked up, stunned. He had expected every reaction but this one. He opened his mouth, but his throat was so dry it pained him. He could only squeeze out two words: “…It doesn’t hurt.”

Jiang Si set the tools down. He reached out again, his fingers sliding slowly up Pei Ye’s forearm until they rested at the edge of the tattoo. The heat of his touch was clearer now, almost burning.

“When you got it,” Jiang Si said, his tone impossible to read, “were you thinking of me?”

Pei Ye’s breathing completely shattered. He looked at Jiang Si, his eyes filled with unmaskable panic, shame, and a deep, desperate hope. He could not answer, nor could he deny it.

Jiang Si’s finger traced the letters again. Every movement made Pei Ye shiver.

“Good.”

Ultimately, Jiang Si left him with only that word. He withdrew his hand and turned toward his study, as if everything that had just happened was merely a trivial matter, he had handled in passing.

He left Pei Ye sitting there alone, shirtless, the tattoo over his heart feeling as though it were on fire. The word echoed in his ears.

Good?

What did it mean? Was it recognition of his loyalty? Or something else?

Master hadn’t been furious. He hadn’t cast him out. He had even personally tended to his wound. Yet, this calm left Pei Ye even more lost, the surging, twisted emotions in his chest nearly breaking free.

Slowly, with trembling fingers, he buttoned his shirt, hiding the name once more. It looked as if nothing had changed. But he knew that from the moment Jiang Si’s finger touched that tattoo, everything was irrevocably different.

Outside, the sky grew dark and the city lights flickered to life. Pei Ye stood up and straightened his clothes, pushing his feelings back into the depths of his soul. He was the calm, obedient assistant once more.

Only his fingertips were deathly cold.