Gold-Devouring Bottom: A Guide to Pampering - Chapter 23.1

The air froze instantly. The only thing lingering in the room was the echo of the slap.

Shen Xinghuai hadn’t expected his own hand to be so capable. The slap had been loud, crisp, and sharp—he could have sworn he heard an actual echo.

As the sound faded, a wave of dread rose from the soles of Shen Xinghuai’s feet, racing up his spine to the back of his head. He felt a literal chill at the crown of his skull. At that moment, he was certain: the “madman” wasn’t dead, but he certainly was.

Gazing into those dark, haunting eyes, Shen Xinghuai was convinced that he would end up just like the furniture—dismantled and smashed into a million pieces.

He cursed himself. Why, as a perfectly functional human being, did he have such a meddlesome hand? Why did that slap have to be so damn loud? If the sound had been even a little softer, he could have lied through his teeth—insisting he only meant to touch him, perhaps just a bit too forcefully.

The owner of those dark eyes continued to stare, unblinking, as if calculating the exact millisecond to rise and tear him apart.

Shen Xinghuai was on the verge of tears—genuine, frantic tears. He hadn’t just slapped the man’s face; he had essentially slapped a tiger’s backside.

Finally, the man on the bed moved. He braced his arms, intending to sit up.

It’s coming! It’s coming! He’s going to rip me to shreds!

Panic flared in Shen Xinghuai’s heart. His troublesome hands flew up again, and in a sudden dive, he threw his arms around the man, pinning him back onto the bed. “Brother!”

Usually, his “Brother” was sweet and soft; today, it came out with the booming desperation of a bandit king. Even he was surprised by his own lungs.

Ye Xiuchen lowered his head to look at the person clinging to him. Feeling the stinging heat on his cheek, shadows swirled in his dark eyes. “Shen Xinghuai!”

Shen Xinghuai swallowed hard and looked up. His eyes were rimmed with tears he had just managed to squeeze out. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? How could you be so reckless with yourself!”

Ye Xiuchen looked down, his gaze fixed on the reddened corners of Shen Xinghuai’s eyes. “So you slapped me?”

“Hitting is affection, scolding is love.” Shen Xinghuai’s voice trailed off as he leaned back against Ye Xiuchen’s chest, pressing down firmly to prevent a breakout.

Muffled against the man’s chest, his voice sounded thick with a sob. “When the doctor told me about your condition, my mind went blank. I only hit you because I was so anxious! Promise me you won’t do this again, okay? I was so scared—scared something would happen to you, scared of losing you.”

The room was silent. Pressed against Ye Xiuchen, Shen Xinghuai could clearly hear the man’s heartbeat.

After a long stalemate, Ye Xiuchen’s impatient voice finally drifted down from above. “Get up.”

“No.” Not until you promise not to tear me apart.

Ye Xiuchen took a deep breath. Grabbing Shen Xinghuai by the arms, he peeled the person off his chest. “Get out!”

The man’s grip was incredibly strong. Shen Xinghuai winced. “Ow, you’re hurting me.”

The hands on his arms stiffened for a second. The pressure lightened, but the grip remained. Ye Xiuchen hoisted him up and began leading him toward the door, stepping over the sea of debris.

Shen Xinghuai’s knees hadn’t fully recovered. Dragged along and caught off guard, his toe clipped a fallen cabinet door. He stumbled, his injured leg slamming into the floor. “Ah!”

Ye Xiuchen hoisted him off the ground almost instantly, but Shen Xinghuai could already feel the sharp sting of glass shards piercing his knee.

You bastard! You’re dead!

He had rushed back from the hospital out of the goodness of his heart, afraid this man would work himself to death, and this was the thanks he got?

Now, Shen Xinghuai wasn’t just red-eyed; his eyelashes were wet. “It hurts! Brother, it hurts so much!”

The ice-sculpture version of Ye Xiuchen finally showed a flicker of humanity. The darkness in his eyes flickered. “Let me see.”

He reached out to roll up Shen Xinghuai’s pant leg, but his hand was swatted away. “Don’t touch it! It hurts!”

Ye Xiuchen’s hand froze at his side. His breathing grew ragged. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“No, it hurts too much to move.”

Ye Xiuchen leaned down, scooped him up in a bridal carry, and set off with long strides. “Then I’ll carry you.”

Shen Xinghuai marveled inwardly. Despite not eating or sleeping for days, the man could still carry him steadily. He truly was an energetic, physically gifted freak. But fearing the man might collapse and drop him, Shen Xinghuai wrapped his arms tightly around Ye Xiuchen’s neck, tucking his face into the crook of the man’s shoulder and letting out occasional whimpers. “It hurts.”

Downstairs, Uncle Ming and the servants saw the Young Master finally emerge after days of isolation. Their hearts soared—Mr. Shen really did have a way.

They hurried over, but stopped short when they saw Shen Xinghuai’s tear-streaked eyes. Only Uncle Ming dared to approach. “Young Master, what happened to Mr. Shen?”

“He cut his leg.”

Having cared for him at the hospital, Uncle Ming recognized it was the injured leg. He began to fret. “Dr. Lin said Mr. Shen’s leg hasn’t fully healed yet. He needs careful attention. To have a new injury on top of the old, what do we do? I’ll call Dr. Lin right now.”

“No need. I’m taking him to the hospital!” Ye Xiuchen had already reached the door.

The person in his arms nuzzled against his neck, whispering, “I don’t want to go to the hospital. No.” The beds are small, the sleep is bad, and the food is bland.

He hadn’t actually intended to go to the hospital; he just wanted to “walk” Ye Xiuchen. A mad dog is like any other dog—if you tire them out, they don’t have the energy to wreck the house.

Ye Xiuchen’s expression darkened. Just as he was about to bark a refusal, the person in his arms acted like a kitten, rubbing his forehead against the skin of Ye Xiuchen’s neck. His voice trembled with immense grievance. “I won’t go. I’m just not going.”

Ye Xiuchen opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He turned around and carried the man right back up the way he came. Before entering the elevator, he barked at Uncle Ming: “Tell Lin Xiao to get over here immediately!”

Back on the fifth floor, Ye Xiuchen returned Shen Xinghuai to his room and placed him gently on the bed. But the moment his bottom touched the mattress, Shen Xinghuai tightened his grip on Ye Xiuchen’s neck and burrowed into his embrace. “It hurts!”

Ye Xiuchen remained bent over for two seconds before picking him up again. “Does this hurt?”

Shen Xinghuai nodded weakly, his voice hoarse. “It hurts, but it’s a little better than the bed.”

Ye Xiuchen’s irritation had been worn down to nothing, leaving only a sense of helplessness. He had caused the injury; he had no choice but to keep holding him.

Shen Xinghuai shifted in his arms. “Walk around. It’s tiring when you just stand in one spot.”

Ye Xiuchen’s eyes were cold, his face grim, but he began to pace slowly with the man in his arms.

Lin Xiao arrived in a whirlwind, followed by Han Yurong. Upon entering and seeing the two in that position, they froze. Why are they still hugging? The Young Master’s boyfriend was certainly a handful.

However, as a doctor, Lin Xiao regained his composure quickly. He approached with his medical bag. “Xiuchen, put him down. Let me see the wound.”

Ye Xiuchen didn’t move.

Thinking his condition had worsened to the point of hearing loss, Lin Xiao shouted, “Put him on the bed! I need to see the wound!”

Ye Xiuchen exhaled. The icy edge was gone from his voice, replaced by resignation. “He says it hurts on the bed. Examine him while I hold him.”

Lin Xiao: “…”

Lin Xiao and Han Yurong exchanged a look. Did those words actually just come out of Ye Xiuchen’s mouth?

This was new. Since when did Ye Xiuchen care if someone was in pain? Usually, the more someone suffered, the more excited he got.

The “Boyfriend Treatment” was truly something else. During his episodes, the madman was usually aggressive toward everyone; even blinking was too much effort for him. Now, he was actually being patient, refusing to let the boy go.

Han Yurong was even more surprised than Lin Xiao, quietly observing the man and his passenger. “Xiuchen, do you feel tired?”

Tired?

“What do you think?” Ye Xiuchen shot him a look. Holding a grown man and walking constantly without a moment’s rest—of course he was tired.

Han Yurong smiled. Feeling tired was a good sign. Days ago, his senses had been numb. Feeling fatigue and engaging in a back-and-forth conversation meant he was slowly returning to a normal state.

Encouraged but cautious, Han Yurong didn’t press further—this young master was a ticking time bomb. He signaled Lin Xiao to check the injury.

“Mr. Shen, bear with me.” Lin Xiao carefully rolled up the pant leg.

This, Lin Xiao leaned in, even squinting. Finally, on Shen Xinghuai’s knee, he found a shallow scratch.

“Uh, we need to disinfect and bandage this immediately.” Otherwise, it might heal on its own. “Mr. Shen, I can’t keep holding you for this. Please endure it.”

Shen Xinghuai nodded. “Okay.”

Ye Xiuchen placed him on the bed and prepared to stretch his aching arms. Before he could turn away, his sleeve was caught. “Don’t go.”

The strength wasn’t great, yet it managed to tether the raging lion firmly in place.

Watching the subtle interaction, Han Yurong’s eyes sharpened with meaning. “When someone is injured, they experience mental tension which heightens the pain. Having someone close nearby can reduce that tension and alleviate the discomfort.”

Ye Xiuchen’s eyes flickered with doubt, but he sat down on the edge of the bed anyway.

Shen Xinghuai unceremoniously used him as a backrest, leaning into his arms.

Lin Xiao pulled out a disinfectant swab and carefully cleaned the area. Throughout the process, Shen Xinghuai didn’t make a sound, merely pursing his lips. However, cold sweat broke out on Ye Xiuchen’s forehead.

Shen Xinghuai didn’t scream, but his hand was digging into Ye Xiuchen’s arm. When he finally let go, his nails had left four deep little crescents on the inside of the man’s forearm.

Once the wound was treated, Lin Xiao slowly packed his bag. He didn’t seem ready to leave, glancing at them as if he had more to say. Han Yurong was also lost in thought.

“Xiuchen,” Lin Xiao cleared his throat. “The cuts on your arms are quite deep. Let me handle those as well so they don’t get infected.”

Ye Xiuchen was wearing a black shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. Several cuts of varying lengths marred his forearms—likely from flying debris when he was smashing things. Some had scabbed over; others were raw and oozing blood whenever he moved. Shen Xinghuai’s clothes were even stained with a few spots of blood from being held.

But to Ye Xiuchen, these injuries were nothing. “No need. You can go.”

Kicking the bridge down after crossing it. Classic Ye Xiuchen.

Han Yurong and Lin Xiao shared a look but said nothing more. The man was a volatile explosive; he looked calm, but one wrong word could pull the pin.

Lin Xiao pulled out some fresh gauze and disinfectant and left them on the nightstand. “Then Xiuchen, have Mr. Shen help you later. The wounds need to be tended to.”

Before leaving, the two doctors gave Shen Xinghuai a long, meaningful look.

Shen Xinghuai felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. As the room fell silent, Ye Xiuchen stood by the bed like a statue. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides as he fought to suppress his emotions. After a long while, he finally calmed down, though his voice was still strained. “I’m going back to my room. Do not disturb me again.”

Shen Xinghuai guessed he was planning to go back to his room to continue his “madman” routine. So dedicated to the persona.

He stretched his freshly bandaged leg forward so the culprit could clearly see the evidence of his “crime,” then called out softly, “Brother.”

Ye Xiuchen’s gaze landed on the knee. The normally fair, smooth skin was now wrapped in white gauze, with bruising visible at the edges. It was an eyesore against his pale skin. Ye Xiuchen couldn’t pretend not to see it. “It’s hard for you to walk. If you need anything, tell Uncle Ming.”

Shen Xinghuai lowered his head, showing him only a disappointed crown of hair. He murmured petulantly, “Some things are inconvenient, besides, Uncle Ming is very busy.”

Ye Xiuchen was already losing his patience. “Then find someone else.”

“Everyone else is busy too.”

Silence fell. After a long moment of no response, Shen Xinghuai slowly looked up, meeting a pair of scrutinizing eyes.

The man’s gaze was deep, carrying an undeniable pressure. “Shen Xinghuai, do you think I can’t tell you’re doing this on purpose?”

Shen Xinghuai blinked innocently. So, what if I am? He shifted his leg slightly. “My knee really hurts. I think my leg might be ruined.”

Ye Xiuchen took a long, deep breath. “What exactly do you want?”

Shen Xinghuai looked at the cuts on the man’s arm and picked up the disinfectant and gauze. “I’m going to bandage your wounds.”

He reached out to pull Ye Xiuchen’s bleeding arm toward him. The madman tried to pull away, but Shen Xinghuai anticipated the move and gripped him firmly.

“Don’t be afraid. I’ll be very, very gentle. I won’t hurt you.”

Shen Xinghuai paused, frowning slightly. Why did that sound so weird?

Shen Xinghuai lowered his eyelids, carefully picking up a disinfectant swab to wipe away the blood surrounding the wounds. Afraid it might sting, he leaned in close from time to time to give the cuts a gentle blow. “There, it doesn’t hurt.”

When someone is truly focused on a task, they possess a certain charm; when that focus is paired with gentleness, it evolves into an irresistible magnetic pull.

As Ye Xiuchen watched Shen Xinghuai’s handsome profile, his resistance slowly bled away, and his tense muscles began to relax.

Shen Xinghuai discarded the blood-stained swab and took out a fresh one. “I’m good to you, aren’t I?” He looked up, gazing at him with a sweet, gentle expression, waiting for an answer.

Meeting his eyes, Ye Xiuchen’s gaze faltered. “If it weren’t for holding you all that time, would I have bled this much?” His words were sharp, but the icy coldness in his eyes had thawed.

Shen Xinghuai gave a sheepish grin and continued tending to the wounds.

Once the blood was cleared, he gently laid gauze over the cuts, muttering to himself, “I checked out of the hospital early just to come back and stay with you before my own injuries even healed. You hurt me, but I didn’t even blame you; I’m even bandaging you up.”

Ye Xiuchen: “…”

Shen Xinghuai tied the gauze on the man’s arm into a neat bowtie. He opened his mouth to ask if it looked cute, but stopped when he saw Ye Xiuchen’s look of utter disdain.

Fine, forget it. As long as I think it looks good.

A knock sounded at the door. Uncle Ming appeared, accompanied by two servants carrying a spread of fragrant dishes. Seeing Ye Xiuchen’s dark face—and the bowtie on his arm—Uncle Ming’s face stiffened into a forced smile. “Young, Young Master, Mr. Shen, dinner is served.”

Ye Xiuchen’s episodes were usually accompanied by a loss of appetite. Though his mood had improved, he still didn’t feel like eating. He stood up to leave. “I’m going.”

But he didn’t get far. Shen Xinghuai had already hooked a firm arm through his, signaling to the butler. “Uncle Ming, put it on that table over there.”

Since Shen Xinghuai wasn’t mobile, the desk in the room had been temporarily repurposed as a dining table.

As the servants set out the utensils, Uncle Ming stood diligently by. “Young Master, Mr. Shen, please enjoy your meal.”

Shen Xinghuai naturally raised his arms toward Ye Xiuchen. “Carry.”

Once is a fluke, twice is a habit. Ye Xiuchen had already given up struggling. Under the stunned gazes of the servants, he conscientiously carried the boy to the table.

Shen Xinghuai gestured to the seat beside him. “Sit.”

Ye Xiuchen hesitated. Shen Xinghuai ladled a bowl of porridge and held it out to him. “Here.”

Ye Xiuchen had no appetite. “I’m not eating.”

“I know. It’s not for you to eat; it’s for you to blow on it until it’s cool for me.” Shen Xinghuai said it so naturally, as if there were absolutely nothing wrong with the request.

Ye Xiuchen stood by the table, staring at him. His patience was at its absolute limit.

Sensing a disaster, Uncle Ming stepped in with a smile. “Mr. Shen, let me help you.” More accurately, let me save you.

But Shen Xinghuai knew exactly what he was doing. Unfazed, he turned to the butler. “Uncle Ming, we don’t need anyone here. Why don’t you take the staff and clean up Brother’s bedroom?”

Uncle Ming had caught a glimpse of that room earlier; it certainly needed a deep clean. Seeing that the Young Master didn’t object, he nodded immediately. “Certainly. I’ll get right on it.”

Once the room was empty again, Shen Xinghuai beckoned Ye Xiuchen. “Come on. No one’s watching now—eat whatever you like.”