The Gloomy Overseas Student Rewards His Hubby With Some Thirst Traps - Chapter 35

Chapter 35

The manor, spanning nearly 500 hectares, was usually bustling near dinner time. Servants would be moving about preparing the meal, people would be cleaning the artificial lake, and gardeners would be trimming the flower beds outside.

But at this moment, it was deathly silent.

Seine had not yet stepped out of the car. He was looking down at his phone, staring at a message from his grandmother.

[Seine, I am extremely disappointed in you. I taught you to pursue the person you love, to respect and cherish them, and to confess properly to be together. After all this time, how can you be exactly like your grandfather? You scoundrel! If you don’t want to end up like him, let that boy go. He doesn’t even like men.]

Seine replied: [Grandmother, he is also Chinese; I think you would like him very much. Help me convince Old Bass not to interfere between my father and me.]

[Seine, I will not help. Let your grandfather beat you to death. Not only did you force someone, but you forced an eighteen-year-old child who doesn’t even like men. He will never love you.]

Seine frowned and typed back: [Grandmother, he will. You don’t understand. I am not like Grandfather, and he is not like you. We are different from every other “lunatic” in this family.]

[Get lost!]

Seine sighed; his grandmother clearly wouldn’t help him. It seemed he would have to offend her. He took a deep breath, surveyed the unnaturally quiet manor, and ran through his cards in his head. Once confirmed, he stepped out of the car with composure and entered the estate.

He patted the Belgian Malinois guarding the door and bypassed the outdoor gardens. The moment he stepped through the front gates, his sharp ears caught the sound of a gun cocking. Seine dodged instantly. A second later, the vase behind him was blown to pieces by a shotgun blast, shards flying everywhere. Within seconds, tiny cuts appeared on his ear, neck, and the back of his hand, blood quickly seeping out.

Seine felt a slight sense of relief. His grandfather was indeed getting old and soft-hearted; otherwise, he would have fired the moment Seine was next to the vase. It wouldn’t have killed him, but it would have left him seriously injured.

In truth, Seine had only been scaring Yu Yan-shuang. If word really got out that he was gay, Old Bass wouldn’t want to kill Yu Yan-shuang—he would want to kill Seine. But because Seine didn’t have time to watch Yu Yan-shuang constantly, he decided to frighten the boy first. After all, rumors in the outside world already claimed a Bass family member had been beaten to death for being gay.

Turning the corner past the partition, Old Bass and his father, Charles, were already sitting in the living room. Two doctors stood nearby holding cooling boxes. Charles had a neutral expression, as if he had long expected his son to be gay. In Charles’s mind, compared to Old Bass’s madness and his older brother’s romantic obsession, he was the only “normal” one in the family.

“Two choices,” Charles stated. “First: donate your sperm now and hand back all the resources under your control. Your name will no longer be associated with the Bass family, and you can be with that person.”

“Second: marry the woman we’ve chosen today and father a child. You will at least be allowed to live with the Bass surname.”

Old Bass said nothing, but his face was grim as he held his hunting rifle. Clearly, they had reached an agreement.

Seine glanced at Old Bass. His once golden hair was now streaked with white. Years ago, Old Bass had tried to kill his own gay son, causing a massive scandal until the grandmother intervened. To the public, that son was “dead,” and his name had been moved to a distant branch of the family tree. No one dared tell Old Bass what his son was doing now.

“Grandfather, Uncle Ash has recently become a figurehead for a gay rights organization. He was on TV talking about how you once humbly knelt and begged Grandmother for a single look,” Seine said, selling out his uncle without hesitation.

Old Bass’s blue eyes narrowed instantly, his dark gaze sweeping toward Charles.

“Mother wouldn’t let me tell you…” Charles explained quickly. “It’s not as exaggerated as Seine says.”

“Uncle also called you a pathetic madman and said Grandmother still doesn’t like you,” Seine added coolly.

Old Bass’s face turned livid. “Fine, Seine. As long as you don’t make a scene like your uncle—play around if you must, but come back to marry and have children—I won’t care.” He stood up abruptly, staring coldly at Charles. “You think you’re the master of the house now? Think I’m old? You’re no match for your brother, and you’re no match for your son. You actually tried to hide this from me?”

Old Bass had only stepped back to vacation in Iceland with his wife because Charles was “obedient.” No wonder they suddenly wanted to go on vacation, Old Bass sneered.

The criticism stung Charles, but he was used to not talking back. Once Old Bass left, Charles looked at Seine: “You’ve offended your grandmother. She’ll have your grandfather whip you to death. She loves Ash most.”

Seine crossed his arms. “Now it’s just the two of us. Shall we talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about regarding your removal from the family. While you were betraying your faith last night, your cousin made double what your team did during the oil price surge. The side branches are laughing at you,” Charles sneered.

Seine smiled. “What do you mean ‘betraying faith’? I was just having sex with a man.”

Charles looked disgusted, unable to believe his “perfect” son would speak this way. At this moment, he finally showed genuine emotion. His son had been his pride—compared to Ash, he at least had a successful heir. But his son was exactly like Ash. He should have noticed; Seine never wanted to date women. It wasn’t “purity” at all.

“Seine, the fact that a disgusting homosexual like you is my son brings me shame. Don’t think you can oppose me yet.” Charles took a breath, regaining his gentlemanly composure. “It won’t be hard to take back what I gave you. I just need your sperm now. You are completely rotten.”

“Not hard? The congressman you support and that army colonel… I happen to know a few of their secrets,” Seine replied calmly. “Don’t forget, you can still father children. Your sperm works too. Why won’t you let my mother go?”

Charles didn’t want to discuss this. He followed Christian tenets and would be faithful to the end. He had chosen Seine’s mother based on aesthetic standards and didn’t plan to change her. But she was restless, so he had promised to let her go once Seine graduated, married, and had children. It seemed fate intended for them to never part.

“Those are just minor setbacks, Seine. You can’t threaten me. I’ll use force if I must.” Charles sneered. Seine clearly wasn’t afraid of the family finding out, which meant he had prepared a counter-move. If Old Bass were still here, he could have pressured Seine to yield. But with the congressman’s election and the colonel being key pieces in his next move, Charles couldn’t afford to lose them. But he wouldn’t show he cared; that would only make Seine more arrogant.

Charles looked at his bodyguards. “What are you waiting—”

“I will still marry after I graduate,” Seine interrupted. “Don’t worry. If we fight, no matter who wins, Father, I guarantee the entire Bass family will fall a tier.”

Charles frowned. “You’re still willing to marry?”

“I’m not a brainless romantic like my uncle. The Bass family must belong to me,” Seine said. “Father, as long as you keep your mouth shut, no one will know about this.”

Seine felt the Bass genes weren’t great anyway; better to stop at his generation. Why bring another “little monster” into the world? Would he end up like Old Bass, watching his sons become either mentally ill or mediocre?

Charles gripped his cane tighter. He didn’t believe the promise—both knew it was a stalling tactic. But Old Bass, who used to love his eldest son, now hated him because the disappointment was too great. On Old Bass’s 43rd birthday, his mother had finally moved back in, only for the eldest son to flamboyantly announce his boyfriend—and admit to stealing his own brother’s boyfriend. Charles’s mother had taken her anger out on Old Bass ever since. Currently, Old Bass had no interest in managing Seine, especially since Seine was being “discreet” about sleeping with a man.

“This is what I promised Mother. I will fulfill her wish. A son and a husband shouldn’t both disappoint her,” Seine said. “So, do we have a deal?”

He was indeed stalling. Since childhood, his mother had never cared about his studies, life, or feelings. Whether he was hurt or honored, she was indifferent, only ever saying: Seine, grow up quickly and get married so I can be free. He had promised, and he would do it. He would let Yu Yan-shuang go in three years, and that would be the real battle.

Charles wouldn’t let go. Seine knew his father was such a perfectionist that he wouldn’t tolerate a failed marriage and wouldn’t let the mother leave. Charles and Seine were destined to fight for the Bass resources; as long as Charles held the core power like Old Bass once did, the mother would never leave. Regardless, Seine didn’t need his mother’s love; he’d consider this fulfilling the debt of his bloodline.

Charles calculated his cards. His son was both his pride and his shame. He wanted to suppress him, yet he gave him projects to test him because of others’ praise. He wanted Seine to succeed, yet wanted him to fail—failure would mean Old Bass’s judgment was wrong again, but failure also meant his own boastful life would be mocked. He watched Seine grow up in this contradiction of defense and praise, as Seine slowly devoured everything the family owned.

In this moment, he couldn’t force Seine. But he decided then and there that it would be better to clip his son’s wings.

Charles gave a hypocritical smile. “Deal.”

…

Yu Yan-shuang saw Seine three days after that night. He had finished his work schedule for the week and went to the kitchen supervisor to resign.

The supervisor hesitated. “Are you sure? You finally got the hang of it. It’s not easy to find campus jobs.” Many poor, ambitious kids wanted these spots.

Yu Yan-shuang insisted. The supervisor didn’t push, though he noted Yu Yan-shuang was wearing designer clothes from head to toe. When he first arrived, he acted like a young master who knew nothing, but his “designer” clothes then didn’t fit well. Now, he was a skilled worker dressed in high-end brands. The supervisor concluded that because the boy was so handsome, he must have hooked up with someone rich. His admiration turned to slight disgust. American women wouldn’t like this thin Chinese guy, would they? Must be an older woman who likes ‘little white faces.’

“At your age, taking shortcuts to leap classes will lead to a heavy fall later,” the supervisor said. “Better to walk the path step by step.”

Yu Yan-shuang was confused. The supervisor used some old English slang he didn’t quite catch. He thought it meant “walk forward step by step and luckily find a shortcut.”

“Mind your own business,” Seine responded coldly, staring at the supervisor with displeasure. He had no intention of letting anyone else walk Yu Yan-shuang’s “shortcut.”

Seeing Seine, the supervisor’s face changed instantly. “Mr. Bass, what brings you back here?”

Seine ignored him, picked up Yu Yan-shuang’s bag, and looked at the supervisor. “He is my assistant. I chose him. He is excellent, smart, takes good care of himself, quirky, beautiful, and very good at making people happy.”

The supervisor was baffled. Are those words for an assistant or a wife? He laughed along anyway. “Of course, he does work—”

“I don’t need your evaluation.” Seine interrupted rudely and pulled a dazed Yu Yan-shuang outside.

Yu Yan-shuang looked at Seine in silence. Had Seine been hurt? He smiled inwardly. Seine is definitely ‘bent’ now. He doesn’t even realize how bad he is. Then he remembered: Seine knows Chinese! Did he know how much Yu Yan-shuang hated him when he cursed him? Within seconds, he rationalized it: The man is bent; his ‘little head’ is controlling his big head. He thinks everything about me is good.

Seeing Yu Yan-shuang’s silence, Seine whispered: “Usually so good at talking back, why no reaction today? Did I screw you stupid?”

Anger rushed to Yu Yan-shuang’s head. He wanted to use Seine as a punching bag. “Shut up!” He checked his surroundings and relaxed when he saw no one was close. “I thought you were being merciful and letting me go.”

“Don’t fantasize. I just let you rest. Today, we can get down to business,” Seine announced. “Let’s go to my dorm.”

Yu Yan-shuang almost yanked his hand away, then remembered Garcia’s “commandments.” Garcia’s first rule for flattering a sugar daddy: make them happy, fulfill their needs, then “casually” mention what you want. Garcia had gotten plenty this way and told Yu Yan-shuang that if he really wanted to break up, he should ask for even more.

Yu Yan-shuang decided to flatter him first. He had learned a lot from Garcia in three days. He took a breath, steadied his heart, and took Seine’s arm with a sweet smile. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long.” He couldn’t bring himself to say “honey” or “darling”; it felt too gross.

Seine’s brow twitched. He studied Yu Yan-shuang, unsure what he was up to. He had been busy with the oil recovery plans and had sent many messages, but Yu Yan-shuang hadn’t replied once—not even to the “Benefactor” account. He only felt better when his scouts reported the boy’s simple routine of school, work, and talking only to Garcia.

However, this morning, a high school friend on his AI team detected Yu Yan-shuang browsing exchange student programs. Even though Seine knew the boy didn’t like him, after forcing him to call him “husband” during their intense night, he had briefly deluded himself into thinking Yu Yan-shuang might love him. Regardless, it didn’t matter. It was only for three years. This sudden flattery was likely for the exchange program.

Fine. Seine wouldn’t hold back or “care” for him today. “Then today, try to ‘take in’ a bit more. Don’t scream that you’re dying like last time.”

Yu Yan-shuang’s smile froze. He was only so big; he felt like he was going to meet his ancestors last time. Garcia’s voice echoed in his ear, so he forced a smile: “Okay… haha, of course.”

He had realized escaping via exchange was impossible and returning to China was hard because Seine had scouts. His only path was Garcia’s method: make the sugar daddy sick of him!

“Then ‘eat’ it all. I know how to whet your appetite. We should succeed today,” Seine added.

Yu Yan-shuang: “…” He wants me dead. He really wants to send me to my ancestors. Bastard Seine, always pushing his luck! This benefactor is too hard to serve!

“Ah… what a pity. The doctor said to stop these ‘bad behaviors’ for a month,” Yu Yan-shuang said, feigning regret but struggling to hide a happy smile, resulting in a weird expression. “Hahaha… such a pity.”

Seine put an arm around him and pulled out a tightly wrapped bag from the car. Yu Yan-shuang had a bad feeling.

“The doctor only said that because he felt sorry for you. You really are likable; even the doctor who watched me grow up is helping you,” Seine said, dragging him toward the dorm. “Two days of rest is enough. I’ve given you three.”

Seine had originally just wanted to have dinner with him because he heard the boy wasn’t eating well, but the little guy was being naughty.

Yu Yan-shuang thought sadly: If I refuse him now, will it work? No. Garcia said that while his sugar daddies were “date” partners, the result was the same: people get tired of too much sex. He suggested Yu Yan-shuang go out with Seine more often to kill the “novelty.” Yu Yan-shuang figured if they were going to do it, they should do it a lot.

“Fine, let’s do it a few more times,” Yu Yan-shuang thought. Garcia said benefactors get bored easily. Better to cling to Seine and drain him—maybe he’d get physically exhausted and his wallet would be emptied too. He gave Seine a malicious smile: “Take it all in!”

…

When Seine carried Yu Yan-shuang out of the shower, the boy felt faint again. How was it only the beginning and he already felt like he did with hypoglycemia? He looked back at Seine. His gray eyes were downcast, and his lashes were wet from the shower. He looked like a wet puppy—quite obedient.

He expected to be carried to the bedroom, but Seine sat him at the desk in front of his laptop. Seeing Seine take things out of the bag—and not seeing the familiar condom boxes—Yu Yan-shuang asked nervously, “You’re not using them?”

He didn’t want to be “cleaned” again… He noticed Seine loved seeing him dazed. Every time he snapped out of it, Seine’s pleased face was right there.

Seine saw Yu Yan-shuang turning pale and smirked. “Didn’t you like it? You were even clamping—”

Yu Yan-shuang leaned in and kissed him to shut him up. Seine was stunned. This was the first time Yu Yan-shuang had initiated a kiss and used his tongue. A little straight boy who’s never tasted ‘meat’ is indeed easy to train. Last time, Seine had to force him to kiss him just to slow down. He enjoyed the kiss while trying to prepare the boy so he wouldn’t suffer as much.

He had no idea Yu Yan-shuang was thinking of Garcia’s advice: “I had a benefactor with a toxic tongue, and I kissed him into silence.” Yu Yan-shuang planned to kiss Seine into submission. Look, Seine was quiet now!

But soon, Yu Yan-shuang tensed up. Seine isn’t a puppy; he’s a terrifying wild dog! He couldn’t even keep his mouth around Seine’s lips anymore. Why was he being tormented like this? He was sitting on Seine’s lap, back to him, twisting to kiss until he started to slip and Seine caught him.

Yu Yan-shuang saw his own calves next to Seine’s thick, masculine thighs—they were twice as thick as his, and much hairier. The contrast reminded him clearly: he was being “had” by a man.

Seine guided Yu Yan-shuang’s limp arms to rest on the desk as if he were taking a nap. He didn’t understand why they were at the desk. Was he supposed to study? The laptop was on. Yu Yan-shuang curiously tried to look at the screen, but Seine’s rough hand pressed him down.

“Don’t move. Sink your waist.”

A moment later, perhaps because Seine pressed too hard—he was always accidentally hurting him with his strength—Yu Yan-shuang’s body suddenly sank. His pupils dilated; he felt like he was falling.

“Scared? Why the sudden shaking?” Seine pressed against his back to keep him from falling, pulling him into his embrace. He kissed the nape of the boy’s neck. “Didn’t you want to learn business? Look, Yu, these are the core secrets of the Bass Group. If you understand them, they’re worth millions. If you don’t, I’ll have to punish you.”

Yu Yan-shuang’s lashes fluttered. He couldn’t even see the screen, let alone understand it. Seine was already punishing him. He regretted his bold words from earlier.

Seine saw his dazed state and used his left hand to guide Yu Yan-shuang’s hand on the mouse to click to the next page. “Don’t get distracted. Learn well.” Seine toyed with the boy’s long, pale fingers, forcing his own fingers between the narrow gaps of the boy’s hand.

Yu Yan-shuang felt uncomfortable. The screen full of English made his head spin. He looked at Seine’s left hand and noticed a callus on the index finger. So that’s where it is. Both hands were similar, but the right hand usually had a more prominent callus from holding pens. Seine, being athletic, had calluses a hundred times harder and more numerous than Yu Yan-shuang’s delicate hands.

Yu Yan-shuang tried to pull his hand back, his voice tearful. “Seine, can you sand down your calluses?”

Seine laughed, his handsome face looking more youthful than his family had ever seen. “I think only your ‘softness’ can wear them down.” He kissed the boy’s ear, his arm muscles tensing. Yu Yan-shuang’s pupils dilated again. “Do you know which finger has the most prominent callus?”

How could he not know? Last time in the hotel shower, when Seine was worried about his fever, he had “cleaned” him very thoroughly. “I don’t know you well enough,” Yu Yan-shuang stammered, refusing to answer. This benefactor talks too much! When will he let me go?

Seine pushed further. “You don’t know? Then let’s try them all, shall we?”

…

Yu Yan-shuang never expected that at a time like this, Seine would make him do elementary math. One plus one plus one finally equaled 0.5. It defied all logic!

He could feel Seine’s eight-pack abs pressed against his back. The top-floor window was open, the wind blowing his black hair in the sunlight. His mind was a blur. He finally remembered something and prodded Seine: “Is this all you’ve got? I’m getting sleepy.”

Garcia said that sometimes rich kids run out of money. If you insult their wealth or ability, they’ll buy you things—though the benefactor usually dumps you the next day. Yu Yan-shuang figured this would make Seine let him go from the desk. He was tired and wanted to sleep.

“Then let’s go rest on the bed. You sleep,” Seine said, carrying him to the bedroom. His hair swayed in the breeze. When he put him on the bed, Seine fell with him, forgetting to pull back his strength. Or perhaps he did it on purpose.

The moment his face hit the pillow, Yu Yan-shuang let out a sharp cry.

“Yu?” Seine thought he had crushed him and sat up to check, only to find the boy’s eyes rolling back, his body shaking uncontrollably. He’d never seen this and didn’t dare touch him. He waited for the boy to come to, then stroked his cheek and kissed his forehead. “What’s wrong? Where did I press?”

Yu Yan-shuang cursed Seine’s hypocrisy in his heart. He couldn’t find anything in Garcia’s plan for “hypocritical benefactors.” He felt useless—a little straight man ruined by a cunning gay man. He buried his face in the pillow, feeling utterly humiliated. He didn’t speak for a long time until a sob came from the pillow.

Seine realized he was crying and comforted him: “It’s okay. It’s not like you haven’t ‘gotten wet’ before.”

But Yu Yan-shuang wasn’t crying about that. He was crying because he realized this was his life now. Could he ever be “straight” again? Was he a little gay now? It seemed he already was.

…

Yu Yan-shuang’s face was still damp. Seine had returned in a hurry and hadn’t brought clothes. The boy sat on a chair cushioned by Seine’s jacket, wearing only Seine’s oversized shirt, lazily watching Seine change the bedsheets.

It was a strange sight. Seine was actually doing chores—though not very well. The new sheets were dry, but wrinkled.

Seine lost his patience, picked up Yu Yan-shuang, and coaxed: “Alright, it’s clean. Can we continue?”

Yu Yan-shuang’s relaxed face turned miserable again. Again… why is he never tired? I really haven’t mastered Garcia’s skill of getting dumped.