Little Sweet O Transmigrates Into the Body of the Villainous Fake Young Master - Chapter 7

Teng Yingzhi dragged his feet in the bathroom for quite a long time. When he finally came out, Teng Song still hadn’t left; his long legs were crossed as he sat by the small desk, casually flipping through an art book. He wasn’t leaning his head down very much; his dark eyes were hooded, giving him the appearance of someone looking down upon the world.

He didn’t look up at the sound of the door opening. Hand lazily turning another page, he said flatly, “Apply the ointment.”

Yingzhi let out a docile, quiet “oh,” walked over to the bed to obediently pick up the medicine, and instinctively held it out to him.

Teng Song finally raised his eyes, but he made no other move. In the deep depths of his pitch-black pupils, no emotion could be discerned. He simply looked at Yingzhi and said, “Apply it yourself.”

Yingzhi let out another “oh,” his heart thumping uncomfortably. He wanted to guess whether his brother was currently angry, but he couldn’t read him at all. Pulling over a small footstool, he sat down close to Teng Song and slowly squeezed the ointment into his palm, preparing to pat it onto his face.

Perhaps because the sense of reliance hidden in his deliberate choice to sit close by was too obvious, a subtle hint of amusement flickered in Teng Song’s eyes. He spoke just in time: “Rub it evenly and warm it up in your hands before applying it to your face.”

“Oh.” Yingzhi obediently pressed his hands together and began to rub them back and forth with earnest focus.

Teng Song watched him silently. Sitting on the low footstool, the boy looked tiny. Beneath his fluffy bangs were the brow bones he had cried red earlier, and his eyes were still rimmed with pink. However, that layer of helpless grievance had completely faded, leaving only a very distinct handprint on his fresh, pale cheek. Sitting there properly with his red eyes, the rustling movements of his hands made him look exactly like a harmless, docile little animal.

The kind that wouldn’t even bite if pushed into a corner.

No wonder He Ji had dared to bully him the moment he stepped through the door.

A sudden wave of annoyance washed over Teng Song. “You got hit and you didn’t even know to fight back?”

Yingzhi pressed his ointment-covered hands to his face, massaging the skin as his eyes darted around in panic—anything to avoid looking up.

How could he not know to fight back? The moment he was slapped, his mind had been consumed by pure rage. If there had been a knife nearby, he would have loved to drive it into He Ji… but hadn’t he just been ruthlessly sanctioned for trying?

“Speak,” Teng Song demanded, his tone sharpening.

Yingzhi lowered his head and mumbled softly, “There won’t be a next time.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he peeked up, only to lock eyes with Teng Song’s stern gaze. It was obvious the man was not satisfied with that answer. Yingzhi’s heart immediately began to fluctuate wildly, and he instantly chose to slide into a smooth surrender. “I was wrong, Brother! Next time he bullies me, I will definitely hit him back!”

Teng Song let out a soft sigh and shook his head helplessly, dissatisfied with this answer as well, but he didn’t press the boy further.

He didn’t spend much time with Yingzhi. For the first dozen or so years of the boy’s life, they hadn’t exchanged more than three sentences. They had only truly grown close starting from the night of New Year’s Eve two years ago. On that night, Teng Song had been as visibly tense and furious as he was tonight; even Teng Ruicheng hadn’t dared to speak to him, and everyone else had hidden far away, terrified of doing anything that might trigger a total explosion.

Yet Yingzhi, possessing a courage from God knows where, had carried a small plate of homemade strawberry cake and cautiously knocked on his study door.

Teng Song still remembered the expression on Yingzhi’s face at that time—fearful, panicked, hands visibly trembling as if a blade were pressed against his neck. He had been terrified to that extent, yet for some reason, he had insisted on coming in to deliver the dessert.

It was also at that moment that Teng Song had caught the scent of peach-wine on him, only to discover with astonishment that the inexplicable rage that had plagued him for years was instantly eroded to nothing by the fragrance.

The strange thing was that others couldn’t smell this wine fragrance at all. A long time ago, a scent had suddenly appeared on Teng Song’s own body that he could smell but others were completely oblivious to; he had even doubted if his own sense of smell was malfunctioning. Though he later learned to control and hide it, he still couldn’t suppress the rage built up over years.

Until Yingzhi and his strawberry cake walked into his study.

Over two years of interaction, Teng Song had thoroughly grasped Yingzhi’s nature: docile, obedient, but also quick-witted and vibrant. He smiled at everyone, and the family doted on him; he was entirely a flower raised in a greenhouse. He also seemed to crave close relationships; every time he was with Teng Ruicheng and He Xitang, Teng Song could read a trace of filial longing in his eyes.

With a personality like that, it was inevitable that he wouldn’t be able to cope when suddenly faced with a dramatic change in his parentage and an aggressive, powerful character like He Ji.

Teng Song couldn’t force a change overnight either. He had seen Teng Ruicheng and He Xitang’s attitudes downstairs just now; they clearly pained more for He Ji. The couple hadn’t said a single word even though Yingzhi, whom they had raised and doted on for twenty years, had been struck. One didn’t need to think to know how aggrieved the boy felt inside, and his future days in this house were unlikely to be easy.

“I’ll be sleeping in the guest room here for the next few days.” Teng Song closed the art book. Since that couple was useless, someone had to protect him. Of course, within this decision lay a shred of Teng Song’s own selfish motives.

Yingzhi’s eyes lit up instantly, and he looked at him in pleasant surprise. “Really?”

*Perfect!* The plot had already begun, and the time left for him was short. Being able to spend more time with his brother meant he could cling to this golden thigh even tighter!

Touched by his gaze, Teng Song couldn’t help but reach out and pat his head.

Yingzhi dragged his footstool a bit closer again. “Brother, how long do you plan to make him kneel?”

“Until he admits his mistake and apologizes to you, or until you forgive him yourself.” Teng Song stared at him. “Do you want to forgive him?”

Yingzhi felt that if he nodded right now, it might disappoint his brother, so he shook his head. He didn’t want to forgive He Ji anyway; he just hadn’t wanted He Ji to hate him. But since his brother had taken charge of the punishment, letting He Ji kneel a bit longer was fine—his cheek still hurt quite a bit!

The two talked for a while longer. It was mostly Yingzhi talking, while Teng Song flipped through the art book, occasionally offering a cool, detached response without looking up. Yingzhi had long since grown accustomed to his lofty, aloof nature, so his little mouth kept running at the side like a solo stand-up comedian.

Altogether, about an hour had passed. Yingzhi felt it was enough; He Ji really was in poor health, and if he kept kneeling, something might actually go wrong. He also worried that aside from He Ji, his parents would grow to hate him as well.

Thus, he tugged at Teng Song’s sleeve and said, “Brother, I’m going down to check on him. What if he already wants to admit his mistake?”

“I’ll go with you.” Teng Song smoothly set down the art book, stood up, and adjusted his cuffs before heading out first.

Yingzhi was temporarily at a loss for words. He had originally wanted to go down alone so that even if He Ji refused to apologize, he could secretly lie to his brother that He Ji had repented, thereby wrapping up this farce quickly.

Now…

Forget it.

He could only hope He Ji would act like a decent human being.

The two descended the stairs, their steps completely silent against the carpet. Before they even turned the corner, they heard Teng Ruicheng’s voice bitterly urging He Ji to just admit his mistake and apologize.

He Ji’s voice already carried a hint of weakness, yet his tone remained unyielding: “I am not wrong!”

Teng Song looked down at Yingzhi, his lashes relaxed and his gaze teasing.

Yingzhi knew his brother could see right through his little scheme, and he couldn’t help but sigh in his heart. *This He Ji… it’s truly hard to help him even if I wanted to.*

Stepping out ahead, he saw He Ji from a distance, still kneeling with his back perfectly straight. He looked like he was about to hit his limit; his breathing was visibly shallow and rapid, his face deathly pale. As they drew closer, Yingzhi could see that his thin lips were an unsettlingly bright red. Every unnatural detail indicated he was already incredibly weak and merely enduring on sheer willpower.

The moment Yingzhi appeared, a surge of intense hatred erupted in He Ji’s eyes. He glared at him through tightly clenched teeth, his gaze filled with nothing but malice and humiliation.

Teng Ruicheng had intended to ask Yingzhi to help plead for mercy, but the moment he looked up and saw the purple-and-blue handprint on the boy’s cheek, the words died in his throat.

He hadn’t expected He Ji to strike so hard.

On the contrary, He Xitang acted as though she hadn’t seen Yingzhi’s injury at all. Her thin eyebrows shot up as she immediately barked with harsh severity, “Mr. Teng said it requires your forgiveness for Xiao Ji to stand. Why haven’t you quickly given Mr. Teng your answer? What, you caused him to be hospitalized from an allergy and now you need him to kneel and beg you?”

*Ahem!*

Standing nearby, Shu Di set down her black tea cup and deliberately cleared her throat, reminding them in a cold voice, “The Mistress must have misheard. Mr. Teng’s instruction was for Master He Ji to admit his mistake to the Young Master.”

She was speaking for He Ji’s benefit, explicitly telling him that Mr. Teng had already determined the walnut crisps were something he had intentionally eaten to frame the Young Master. Forcing him to kneel for a long duration was a direct warning to keep his head down and stop causing trouble.

His stubborn refusal to apologize wouldn’t alter Mr. Teng’s perspective or decision. He could either keep kneeling here, or wait until his heart couldn’t take it anymore and be sent back to the hospital, but as long as he didn’t die, he would have to return and resume kneeling the moment he was discharged.

He Ji was smart; he understood the implication perfectly, but he hadn’t made his decision yet.

Anything else would be fine, but forcing him to apologize to Teng Yingzhi?!

Earlier upstairs, Yingzhi’s mood had improved slightly from being coaxed by Teng Song, but coming down to face He Ji’s hateful gaze and his mother’s wildly biased command, his mood plummeted once more.

“Go ahead, I’m listening.” Yingzhi suddenly lost any desire to help He Ji. Whether he helped or not, He Ji would hate him, so why should he go out of his way?

Standing deliberately in front of He Ji and looking down at him, it truly looked as if He Ji was kneeling to him.

The two seemed to have returned to the art studio from not long ago, except their positions were completely reversed. The one standing high above was now Yingzhi, while the one reduced to impotence and helplessness was He Ji. And what was being shredded this time wasn’t a canvas, but He Ji’s pride.

“Teng Yingzhi!” He Xitang scolded. Normally with Shu Di present, she wouldn’t show her favoritism so blatantly, but right now she was truly infuriated by Yingzhi’s posturing. Just as she was about to lash out regardless of the consequences, she caught sight of Teng Song unhurriedly stepping into view and walking straight toward them. In an instant, every nasty word and soaring emotion was forced right back down her throat.

Teng Song arrived without saying a word, nor did he offer He Ji a single glance, even though He Xitang had already had Uncle Lu go upstairs once to report that He Ji was feeling physically unwell. This meant Teng Song knew perfectly well that He Ji was showing signs of a medical episode, yet now that he had finally appeared, he didn’t even spare him a passing glance.

His attitude was exactly as Shu Di had put it: completely clear. If you don’t want to admit your mistake, then keep kneeling.

He Ji finally realized the truth. His scheme itself had been riddled with holes from the start, and compressed under Teng Song’s absolute authority, he had no choice but to lower his head despite the suffocating resentment in his chest.

“I’m sorry, Yingzhi…” He Ji finally spoke, his voice faint and drifting. He kept his head lowered, so Yingzhi couldn’t see his expression as he said it, but under the light, he could see glittering droplets falling and seeping into the carpet, vanishing instantly.

Yingzhi thought to himself silently: Is He Ji crying out of pure rage, or is he actually heartbroken?

—

Support