Gold-Devouring Bottom: A Guide to Pampering - Chapter 23.3

Shen Xinghuai responded with a lukewarm, “Fine. Go ahead, start telling it.”

Ye Xiuchen racked his brain for a long while but couldn’t squeeze out a single sentence. From childhood to adulthood, he had never once encountered anything resembling a bedtime story.

Losing his patience, Shen Xinghuai’s sarcastic streak flared up again. “How about I tell you one instead?”

Without waiting for a “yes,” he began: “Once upon a time, there was a black rabbit and a white rabbit. The white rabbit asked the black rabbit to go out and find food, but the black rabbit refused. So, the white rabbit went out alone, found some food, and brought it back to share. The black rabbit took one bite of the white rabbit’s carrot, spat it out, and asked: ‘Why is the carrot you found so tasteless?'”

“The white rabbit immediately reached out and slapped the black rabbit across the face. ‘I asked you to find food and you couldn’t find anything, yet you have the nerve to complain that my carrot has no flavor!'”

Shen Xinghuai finished the story and looked at Ye Xiuchen with a cheerful grin. “Brother, was my story good? Don’t you think the black rabbit deserved that slap?”

In the darkness, Ye Xiuchen touched his cheek, feeling an inexplicable surge of empathy for the black rabbit. “It was good. I’m sleepy now.”

“Are you really? Perfect. I’ll tell one more and you’ll be out like a light. Once upon a time, there were two tigers on a mountain, and they—mph!”

Ye Xiuchen didn’t want to hear any more of his metaphorical little fables. He clamped a hand over the boy’s mouth. “Stop talking. Go to sleep.”

With his injured knee, Shen Xinghuai couldn’t kick him. He could only wiggle and struggle. “Let go! I want to tell it!”

Ye Xiuchen sighed, flipped over, and pulled the boy into a restrictive embrace, locking him down. “Be quiet and behave, or I’m going to get the tape to seal your mouth and tie your hands and feet together.”

The “madman” might not be good at acts of kindness, but he seemed remarkably proficient at this kind of kinky, perverted talk—especially now, while he was still in an unstable mental state.

Shen Xinghuai nodded begrudgingly. “Fine. I won’t move. Sleeping.”

Ye Xiuchen released his grip and slid the boy back to his original side of the bed. “Stay on your side.”

Shen Xinghuai returned to his pillow. After all the tossing and turning, it was past midnight. He closed his eyes, and drowsiness soon swept over him.

Ye Xiuchen, however, didn’t find sleep so easily. As he lay there unable to drift off, his emotions grew irritable. Every nerve in his body tightened and screamed, and his breathing grew ragged. Just as he reached his limit and was about to bolt upright, a leg unceremoniously slammed onto his stomach. “Hiss.”

It wasn’t just the leg. A persistent arm followed suit, executing a “chokehold” move that momentarily cut off his breath.

In his sleep, Shen Xinghuai had successfully dispersed the man’s irritability with a well-placed limb. Looking at the person now sprawled halfway across him, Ye Xiuchen had never been more speechless in his life. He finally understood why the boy insisted on such a large bed; given his “martial arts” style of sleeping, a smaller bed wouldn’t have provided enough room to maneuver.

Just as he was debating whether to shove the leg off or toss the arm aside first, the boy moved again. He pressed his hip against the man’s side, seemingly attempting to fling his other leg over him as well.

Ye Xiuchen stared into the darkness, exasperated. He rolled over, gathered Shen Xinghuai’s limbs, and pushed him away. But before he could even settle back down, the boy clung to him again.

The sleeping Shen Xinghuai was incredibly stubborn, as if he wouldn’t rest until he had pinned the man beneath him.

After pushing him back several times, Ye Xiuchen was mentally exhausted. When Shen Xinghuai lunged for the umpteenth time, Ye Xiuchen made the first move.

His large hand clamped around the boy’s waist, pulling him firmly into his chest. With a solid torso blocking the way and his waist held in a death grip, Shen Xinghuai could no longer roll around. He let out a small, dissatisfied hum, nuzzling against Ye Xiuchen’s chest before finally settling down.

Afraid the boy would climb him again, Ye Xiuchen kept him held close. Shen Xinghuai’s slender back pressed seamlessly against his chest. At such close range, Ye Xiuchen didn’t even have to lower his head to smell the fragrance on him.

It was a faint, fruity scent—sweet but not cloying. It reminded him of a small plant he used to keep while studying abroad. The plant loved the sun, so he kept it by the window. Every night as he curled up under his desk to sleep, the breeze would carry that sweet scent past his nose.

The fragrance surrounding him now was very similar, but tonight, his mood was entirely different. He wasn’t huddled in a pathetic, dark corner. He was lying on a bed like a normal person, waiting for sleep.

Realizing this, Ye Xiuchen had to admit that a sliver of light was beginning to pierce through his cold, dark heart. It was a feeling of joy, followed quickly by greed. He pulled the person closer, burying his face in the crook of the boy’s neck.

That night was exhausting for Shen Xinghuai.

He had a very long dream. At first, he was rock climbing, agile and swift as he scaled a cliff face. But just as he was about to reach the summit, a rope fell from the sky and bound him tight. He spent the rest of the night struggling against the cords, but they were too long and wrapped too tightly. He spent the entire night working at them until he finally woke up from pure exhaustion.

Relieved that he no longer had to untangle ropes, he took a deep breath and prepared to give a long, comfortable stretch.

Huh? Why can’t I move?

He opened his eyes to see a face very close to his own. An arm was draped over his waist, pinning them together seamlessly. The grogginess of sleep vanished instantly as he swallowed hard, processing the situation.

He was tucked in Ye Xiuchen’s arms. Had Ye Xiuchen held him like this all night? And with such a death grip?

Shen Xinghuai moved his stiff neck to put some distance between them. The man beside him remained closed-eyed, but his brow furrowed slightly as if displeased by the withdrawal. Subconsciously, he shifted closer to follow the movement.

Is he actually asleep?

Shen Xinghuai stared at him with wide, joyful eyes. Wait, is his insomnia cured? I really am a miracle worker!

Perhaps his gaze was too intense, as Ye Xiuchen eventually felt it and slowly opened his eyes. Their gazes met. Those dark, cool eyes reflected Shen Xinghuai’s silhouette. There was a moment of blankness before they returned to their usual, brooding depth.

Shen Xinghuai tested the waters with a soft, “Morning.”

Ye Xiuchen’s gaze darkened. He looked away, muttered a “morning” in return, and silently withdrew his hand.

Finally free, Shen Xinghuai tried to move his body, but immediately let out a sharp hiss of pain. Because Ye Xiuchen had held him so tightly, he had slept in one position all night. His waist was sore and numb. “Why did you hold me so tight?”

Ye Xiuchen sat up on the edge of the bed. For once, his gaze was uncharacteristically dazed as he stared at the carpet. “If I didn’t hold you tight, you would have been riding on top of me.”

Shen Xinghuai: “…”

Shen Xinghuai suspected he was lying. He was sure he was a quiet, well-behaved sleeper, incapable of such a wild “riding” posture. “Nonsense.”

Ye Xiuchen let out a huff. “Next time, I’ll record it.” With that, he got up and headed for the bathroom.

Shen Xinghuai rolled his eyes at him. He had helped the man overcome a psychological hurdle, and instead of a “thank you,” he got a threat to record his embarrassing sleeping habits? Typical “mad dog” behavior.

He craned his neck and shouted toward the bathroom, “But you slept last night, didn’t you! I told you my bed was comfortable, right?”

Silence was his only answer.

In the bathroom, Ye Xiuchen stripped off his pajamas and stood under the showerhead, staring blankly at the handle.

Did I sleep?

I did.

A dreamless night. A full night’s rest.

The injury on Shen Xinghuai’s knee was mostly healed; he could now put weight on it if he held onto something. However, his waist was so stiff from the night before that it hurt more than the injury. When it was time for breakfast, Ye Xiuchen had to carry him to the dining room again.

The moment his bottom touched the chair, the pain in his back flared, and he couldn’t help but let out a groan.

Uncle Ming, hearing the sound, hurried over with a soft ottoman. “Mr. Shen, let me prop up your leg.”

Shen Xinghuai waved him off, bracing his hands against his lower back. “It’s not my leg that hurts. My waist is just really sore.”

Sore waist. Sore. Waist.

Sitting across from him, Ye Xiuchen lifted his eyelids and looked at him with a gaze that was unreadably deep.