Gold-Devouring Bottom: A Guide to Pampering - Chapter 5

On what grounds?

Shen Xinghuai rolled his eyes internally. Hah! As if you aren’t more aware of the grounds than I am. What a drama queen.

But when it came to acting, Shen Xinghuai had never lost a match! He leaned his body to the side, settling himself firmly and comfortably into a certain someone’s arms.

The front of Ye Xiuchen’s robe fell completely open. He ended up with a full embrace of a warm, soft person pressed against his chest.

Ye Xiuchen looked down, meeting a pair of eyes filled with feigned affection and shyness. Moist lips murmured softly: “On the grounds that I already belong to you, Brother.”

Ye Xiuchen knit his brows, staring at the supple, obedient person in his arms. After a long moment, he pushed him away without a shred of pity. “Don’t lean on me. It’s too hot.”

Shen Xinghuai stumbled back two steps before finding his balance. He closed his eyes for a brief second. No wonder everyone calls you “incapable.” You deserve it!

But since he was living under another man’s roof, the show had to go on. After finishing his silent curses, he turned back around, his eyes brimming with tenderness. “Then I won’t lean. I’ll fulfill all your requests, Brother, because I love—”

“Stop!” Ye Xiuchen pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. “Go to sleep.”

Shen Xinghuai: “…”

Shen Xinghuai studied his expression, testing the waters. “Goodnight then, Brother. Oh, by the way, what time can I go home tomorrow?”

Ye Xiuchen caught his gaze from the corner of his eye and let out a dry scoff. “Home?”

Shen Xinghuai processed his tone and felt a jolt of alarm. He’s not going to let me leave, is he? “Yes. It would be quite inconvenient for me to stay at your place, wouldn’t it?”

“Didn’t you just say you were mine? Isn’t it only natural for you to live in my house?” A streak of malicious mockery surfaced in Ye Xiuchen’s eyes. “From now on, you’ll eat on my tab and spend my money. Just focus on being my person.

Are you happy now?”

Shen Xinghuai’s right eyelid gave an uncontrollable twitch. He knew this line all too well.

In the original plot, on the first day Ye Xiuchen had dragged the original owner home, he had grabbed him by the throat and snarled those exact words to humiliate him. The original owner, being lofty and proud, couldn’t endure such degradation. He tried to escape by jumping out of a window that very night, but failed and broke his leg in the process.

Shen Xinghuai’s face paled. He absentmindedly touched his own leg, a chill running through him. He had clearly changed the plot—the madman wasn’t in jail, and his grandfather hadn’t died from a heart attack—yet the trajectory between him and Ye Xiuchen was still falling back into the original groove. He was still trapped in this house, and it had happened even earlier than scheduled.

Seeing his panicked daze, Ye Xiuchen felt a flicker of triumph. “Why the silence? Are you angry? Do you feel insulted?”

Shen Xinghuai blinked at him. “I’m just too moved. Brother, you’re going to support me, aren’t you?” Better not regret it; I’m very expensive to keep.

Ye Xiuchen frowned. “Truly not angry?”

Shen Xinghuai offered a sweet smile. “I’m thrilled to bits! You’re so kind, Brother.” He wasn’t going to be narrow-minded and self-destructive like the original owner.

Watching him smile, however, robbed Ye Xiuchen of his sense of victory. He waved him off irritably. “Go to sleep.”

Shen Xinghuai cast a lingering, longing look at Ye Xiuchen’s massive bed and blew him a casual kiss. “Goodnight, Brother. Mwah.”

Ye Xiuchen stared coldly as he walked out of the room.

Soon, the door creaked open again, and a small head poked through the gap. “Brother, don’t forget about the bed tomorrow. Make it even bigger, and while you’re at it, make the bedroom a bit more spacious too.” He was the one who said he’d support me.

Ye Xiuchen exhaled slowly. “Talk to Uncle Ming tomorrow about whatever changes you want.”

Shen Xinghuai did not sleep well that night. The guest bed was small and uncomfortable, and his sleep was plagued by a relentless stream of dreams.

He dreamt of fragments of his imprisonment. Ye Xiuchen stood before him, drenched in blood, his large hand tightening around Shen Xinghuai’s throat. He laughed with a manic, bloodthirsty intensity: “You will never escape!”

A powerful sense of suffocation brought a cold sweat to his skin. Shen Xinghuai wanted to push him away, wanted to scream, but he couldn’t make a sound no matter how hard he tried.

“No! Ye Xiuchen!” He jolted awake.

He sat up abruptly, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. His gaze swept unconsciously across the room, only to collide with a solitary, upright figure in the corner. He locked eyes with a pair of dark, haunting eyes.

Dream and reality blurred. For a moment, he couldn’t tell which was which. His eyes widened in terror as he stared at Ye Xiuchen, a chill creeping into his hands and feet.

The curtains were only half-drawn, leaving the room in a dim, murky light. Shen Xinghuai couldn’t see the man’s expression clearly, but the habitual mockery in his voice was unmistakable: “Finally awake?”

Still submerged in the horror of the nightmare, Shen Xinghuai instinctively recoiled, his back hitting the headboard. Like a startled lop-eared rabbit, he huddled obediently in the small corner of the bed.

Ye Xiuchen possessed a dominant, predatory streak. The more Shen Xinghuai retreated, the closer he approached. He eventually sat down right beside him, slowly and gently tucking in the corner of the quilt.

The movement should have been tender, but coming from him, it was chilling. It was the momentary mercy shown by a Reaper before the harvest—the split second before the scythe swings down to claim its prize.

Ye Xiuchen reached out and clamped his hand around the “little rabbit’s” jaw. His cold gaze fell on Shen Xinghuai’s face, scrutinizing it. “A nightmare? I heard you calling my name just now. Tell me, what did you dream about?”

Shen Xinghuai’s long eyelashes fluttered. He couldn’t be sure how much of his sleep-talking the man had heard.

Forcing himself to calm down, he worked his emotions until his eyes turned a tell-tale red. He pulled away from Ye Xiuchen’s hand and threw himself into the man’s embrace with a look of pure grievance.

Caught off guard by the sudden armful of warmth and softness, the mocking smile on Ye Xiuchen’s face gradually faded. He looked down at the fluffy head buried against his chest.

Ye Xiuchen: “…”

When Shen Xinghuai spoke, his voice carried a sob. “Brother, the dream was so scary.” It really was scary—I was about to be strangled to death by you.

Ye Xiuchen wanted to push him away but didn’t know where to grab him. He hissed a warning through gritted teeth: “Let go. There’s no one else here; you don’t need to act!”

Upon hearing that, Shen Xinghuai only hugged him tighter. “Don’t be mean to me. I only feel safe when I’m in your arms. In the dream, I was worried sick. I dreamed you were being bitten by a pack of mad dogs. They dragged you into their kennel, and you were covered in blood, talking nonsense, calling me ‘Papa’ and begging me to save you. But I couldn’t beat those dogs by myself.”

Hearing the audible creak of Ye Xiuchen’s clenching fist, Shen Xinghuai timely released his grip. He took the man’s index finger and pressed it against the corner of his own eye. “Feel it, Brother. My eyes are still wet.”

There was indeed a lingering dampness at the corner of his eye. Ye Xiuchen’s cool fingertip brushed over it, picking up a trace of warmth. But the moment he remembered this was all an act, he pulled his hand back in disgust. What a performer. “Drama queen.”

Shen Xinghuai put some distance between them, deciding not to take the bait. “Brother, is there a reason you’re in my room so early?”

Ye Xiuchen glanced at his watch. “11:40 AM. Early?”

Right, not exactly early.

Shen Xinghuai pushed at his blanket dissatisfiedly. “This quilt is too heavy, and the bed is hard. I couldn’t sleep a wink.”

Ye Xiuchen gave him an unreadable look before tossing a document envelope into his lap. “For you.”

Shen Xinghuai took the envelope, surprised by its weight. He reached inside.

His fingertips brushed against something cold and metallic. After feeling the shape, he instantly recoiled. Inside the envelope was a handgun.

Shen Xinghuai steadied his nerves and pushed the envelope away. “Brother, what is the meaning of this?” You want me to take you out? Isn’t this a bit too direct?

Seeing his flustered state, Ye Xiuchen felt a strange sense of satisfaction. “If anyone else comes to cause you trouble, don’t hold back.”

Shen Xinghuai glanced at the bag. He wants me to just pop anyone who causes trouble? The madman was an old fox; he wasn’t giving him a gun out of kindness—he wanted to use Shen Xinghuai as his weapon.

“I’ll just take bodyguards when I go out.” Even if firearms were legal here, he had no intention of being someone’s trigger man, nor did he want to go out and get into a shootout with a bunch of thugs.

Ye Xiuchen scrutinized him nonchalantly. “One more thing. You’re coming with me to meet my grandfather this weekend.”

Meet his grandfather? Alarm bells rang in Shen Xinghuai’s head.

In the original story, Old Master Ye died of a heart attack after hearing that Ye Xiuchen had been imprisoned. That death was one of the primary reasons Ye Xiuchen became so obsessed with torturing the protagonist. The Old Master was the only person Ye Xiuchen truly cherished. If Shen Xinghuai could leave a good impression, his future would be much easier!

“This weekend? Isn’t that a bit rushed?” It was already Thursday.

“You don’t want to meet my grandfather?” Ye Xiuchen’s face darkened instantly.

The man had the temperament of a cornered dog—he could snap at any second. Shen Xinghuai explained, “I just think it’s a bit sudden. I’m afraid I won’t have enough time to prepare.”

Ye Xiuchen let out a noncommittal grunt, stood up, and walked out.

Shen Xinghuai finished his morning routine and went downstairs. Ye Xiuchen was gone, but Uncle Ming was waiting for him. Perhaps Ye Xiuchen had said something before leaving, as the attitude of the butler and servants had improved significantly. They immediately asked what he wanted to eat.

Shen Xinghuai ordered a few specific dishes and asked Uncle Ming to pick up a new phone for him; his old one had been tossed out of a car by that obnoxious man in sunglasses.

Uncle Ming stood by, recording the requests in a small notebook. It wasn’t that the list was long, but rather that several ingredients he requested could only be sourced from specific high-end restaurants.

By Uncle Ming’s rough estimate, this “simple” brunch was going to cost six figures.

Clutching his ledger, Uncle Ming secretly called Ye Xiuchen to report the price. “Master, what should we do?”

A blood-curdling scream of a man rang out from the other end of the line; the Ye lunatic was clearly “busy.”

After a pause, Ye Xiuchen’s cold, heavy voice came through: “You’re calling me about such a trivial matter?”

Uncle Ming choked on his words. A single meal was indeed a small thing, but six figures for one meal, three times a day, would eventually become a very large thing. “Master, it’s 275,000.”

“Am I bankrupt? Can I not afford such a small amount?”

Uncle Ming mentally cursed himself for meddling. “Understood, Master. I will prepare it for Mr. Shen immediately.”

“Don’t call me about these trifles again.”

After eating and drinking his fill, Shen Xinghuai headed into the garden for some fresh air and digestion. Lying in a rocking chair, he pondered his situation. Since the plot connecting him to the madman was inescapable, the status of an official boyfriend was infinitely better than that of a caged canary.

This upcoming visit to Old Master Ye was the perfect opportunity to solidify his status; he couldn’t let it go to waste.

He pulled out his new phone and dialed Ye Xiuchen’s number.

The call was picked up quickly, followed by a deep, cold male voice: “Speak.”

“Where exactly are we meeting Grandfather this weekend?”

“The ancestral estate.” The man didn’t spare a single extra word.

“And in what capacity will I be visiting?”

Ye Xiuchen’s gaze out the car window darkened, and his tone dropped several degrees. “Speak plainly. All these questions—are you looking for an excuse not to go?”

“I’m going, I’m going! Why do you always misunderstand me, Brother? I just want to be clear so I can choose the right clothes.”

Ye Xiuchen: “…”

Ye Xiuchen paused for a beat. “As my boyfriend.”

Shen Xinghuai: “Then I’ll pick out a few outfits and send the photos to your WeChat in a bit. You can help me choose.”

“Mm.”

After hanging up, Shen Xinghuai added Ye Xiuchen on WeChat.

The madman’s profile picture was a void of solid black, and his name was just a single period—at a glance, it looked like a discarded burner account.

The original owner had used his real name as his display name, and Shen Xinghuai didn’t bother changing it.

Shen Xinghuai: [Your Little Cutie has suddenly appeared!] GIF

Shen Xinghuai: Which of these do you think is most appropriate?

Shen Xinghuai: [Photo] [Photo] [Photo] [Photo] [Photo]

Ye Xiuchen stepped into the elevator just as his phone erupted with a string of notification pings. His hand, hanging at his side, involuntarily clenched into a fist.

The assistant following behind him paled, trembling with fear.

Due to his childhood environment, Ye Xiuchen was hyper-sensitive, prone to irritability, and harbored an extreme hatred for being rushed or suddenly interrupted. Even if there was a massive emergency, the assistant only dared to call once; if it wasn’t picked up by the third ring, he would hang up immediately and wait for Ye Xiuchen to call back.

He wondered which death-seeking fool had dared to spam so many messages today.

With a cold face, Ye Xiuchen swiped open his phone. The assistant silently wiped cold sweat from his brow, praying to himself: Whoever sent those messages is absolutely finished.