The Loyal Dead Soldier Did Not Plan to Run with a Bun (Pregnant) - Chapter 9

Wei San went into the water wearing his undergarments and trousers, wrapping himself up tightly.

“Doing it like this… won’t you be uncomfortable?”

Wei Zheng looked at him in surprise, feeling a slight sense of dissatisfaction in his heart. Wrapped up so tightly, how was he supposed to make a move?

The dead soldier, with his head bowed and face flushed red, stammered, “This is fine for this subordinate.”

Wei Zheng curled his lips, unable to openly tell him to take his clothes off, and could only arch his eyebrows with regret. “Then so be it.”

The fantasy of playing in the water with a beauty was gone; there was only a dead soldier dutifully and meticulously scrubbing him down.

Wei Zheng’s amorous thoughts were completely extinguished by the dense and unromantic dead soldier, and the entire bathing process was exceptionally ascetic and free of desire.

After the dead soldier finished washing him, he thought to serve him in dressing, completely unaware of how seductive he looked, wearing a white undergarment that clung tightly to his skin when wet, half-concealing and half-revealing his form.

Wei Zheng’s gaze fell upon the faintly visible crimson and the taut, narrow waist; the tip of his nose felt a little warm.

As if to cover it up, he rubbed the tip of his nose. “I will dress myself. You go and wash quickly, so you don’t have to make another trip.”

Wei San had intended to say that this was the Master’s bathroom, and how could a lowly dead soldier use it? Wei Zheng, as if seeing through his inner thoughts, spoke quite dismissively: “Could it be that you intend to go back with me all dripping wet?”

Wei San lowered his head to look at his current state, scratching the side of his neck in embarrassment. “It is my subordinate’s lack of foresight.”

Wei Zheng had thought he would obediently wash himself here; he never expected that the dead soldier intended to return to the dead soldier camp’s public bathhouse.

Wei Zheng: “…”

He couldn’t help but ask sincerely: “Is my bath pool poisonous?”

Wei San explained with complete seriousness: “It is because this subordinate’s body is ugly, and I fear I would soil the Prince’s eyes.”

Wei Zheng remembered the scars, large and small, on the dead soldier’s body and suddenly understood.

So the little dead soldier is thin-skinned.

Wei Zheng’s inner displeasure dissipated. He was still quite considerate; naturally, he couldn’t let him run back to the dead soldier camp in the night wind while dripping wet.

He picked up the clothes and walked toward the screen to the side. “Fine, go wash. That way I won’t be able to see.”

Unsurprisingly, he received a look of gratitude and admiration from the little dead soldier.

Wei Zheng felt his heart swell, finding it very satisfying. As he tied the belt of his undergarments, he began to ponder how to trick the little dead soldier into using the ointment for fading scars.

Dressing didn’t take long. The dead soldier was still in the bath pool; the sound of trickling water was neither light nor heavy, but it was exceptionally evocative as it struck the eardrums.

Wei Zheng, who didn’t claim to be a saintly gentleman, turned around with his arms crossed over his chest, looking through the screen to see a blurred silhouette.

Wei Zheng’s gaze traced the outline of the dead soldier, the aggression in his eyes undisguised.

It has been nearly ten days since that day… it has been so long since I was intimate with him…

He lowered his eyelids, his gaze darkening slightly.

In the pool, Wei San felt a vague chill on his back, a persistent, imperceptible sense of being watched following him like a shadow, but when he tried to focus on it, there was nothing there.

He suppressed the suspicion in his heart, attributing it to the cold night wind, never suspecting Wei Zheng, who shared the same room.

It was half an hour later when he returned from the bathroom to the side hall. Wei Zheng was half-lying on the soft couch, his collar half-open, his waist-length ink-black hair draped carelessly, with water droplets dripping from the tips of his hair.

“Master, please allow this subordinate to treat your wound.”

Wei San held the medicinal oil, kneeling on one knee beside him, staring at the wound on his forehead—which was becoming increasingly shocking with heartache in his eyes.

Wei Zheng’s eyes shifted. “Alright.”

Wei San, who had prepared himself to be rejected, could not help but reveal an expression of joy. He had never imagined that someone as humble and lowly as an ant could touch a Master whose existence was equivalent to that of a god from such close proximity.

“Master, forgive this subordinate.” He was as devout as a believer who had received the favor of a god, carefully tucking Wei Zheng’s forehead hair behind his ear.

The medicinal oil had a pungent smell. Wei San dabbed some on his fingertips, and when he applied it to the wound and gently massaged it in, his fingertips trembled slightly.

He did not dare to be distracted for a moment, fearing he would not control his strength well and hurt the Master, so his movements appeared somewhat stiff.

Wei Zheng tilted his head slightly, his gaze fixed directly on Wei San’s cheeks, which had been flushed red by the steam after his bath. He pressed his tongue against his canine teeth, wanting to bite down and try a taste to see if it was as sweet and soft as a honey peach.

The master and servant each had their own thoughts; neither knew what kind of undercurrents were surging beneath the other’s calm surface.

More than half of the blue and purple on the forehead had been dispersed and looked less striking than before. Wei San was filled with a sense of accomplishment. When he pulled his hand back to cover the medicinal oil box, he realized the way his Master was looking at him was somewhat terrifying.

His reflection was in those pitch-black, deep eyes, and for a moment, he had the illusion of being imprisoned in a cage.

The two made eye contact. Wei Zheng did not hide the possessiveness in his eyes in the slightest. He curled the corners of his lips slightly and let out a faint hum of praise: “I didn’t expect you to be so stiff in personality, yet your hands are so soft.”

Wei San’s heart trembled slightly, his earlobes turning slightly red from the tease.

He always felt this look was familiar, particularly like that secret guard who had taken his innocence.

He threw this thought to the back of his mind in less than a second, despising himself in his heart how could he compare the Master to that scoundrel?

To avoid thinking too much, he remembered that the Master’s hair was still wet, so he suggested: “Master, please allow your subordinate to dry your hair for you.”

He remained in the posture of kneeling on one knee. When Wei Zheng heard this, he sat up straight; when he looked at him again, he was looking down from a position of superiority.

Wei Zheng pursed his lips slightly and said “alright.”

Wei San used his internal energy to dry Wei Zheng’s hair bit by bit. The smooth strands of hair slid between his fingers; for a moment, he was in a trance, actually generating a desire to secretly hide a strand of the Master’s hair.

When he realized what he was thinking, his pupils trembled in shock. He felt he was truly too despicable and filthy how could he be so disrespectful to the Master?

The hair was already eighty percent dry. As if the hair in his hands was burning hot, Wei San retracted his hand at lightning speed and retreated three steps away from the soft couch, in a manner quite like someone fleeing in panic.

Wei Zheng noticed his anomaly, but after observing carefully for a long time, he only saw Wei San’s guilt and annoyance.

So… what interesting things was my little dead soldier thinking about just now?

Wei Zheng’s curiosity was piqued, but he would not go digging for the truth immediately, because the dead soldier was thin-skinned and easily frightened away.

In any case, he and the little dead soldier had a long time ahead; he would know whatever he wanted to know eventually, so why must he get to the bottom of it right now?

Wei San was filled with guilt, only thinking of escaping this place quickly, but just as he opened his mouth to request leave from the Master, the Master frowned in distress.

“Your current identity is the male concubine I snatched. Now that the entire capital knows I am obsessed with you, yet after snatching you back, I don’t favor you every night—tell me, won’t others be suspicious?”

Wei San’s thoughts were led by Wei Zheng; his first reaction was that he was right, yet vaguely, he felt something was strange.

“But this subordinate…”

He pondered for a long time, trying to sort out the logic, but Wei Zheng interrupted his train of thought and continued to push the advantage.

“Since you are my male concubine, you must get used to being close to me as soon as possible. Otherwise, when we face the Crown Prince and Father in the future, if we are this distant, how can we fool those two thousand-year-old foxes?”

Wei Zheng stood up and pressed toward him. Wei San backed away instinctively, but suddenly remembering that the person in front of him was his Master, he forcefully resisted the urge to retreat.

Wei Zheng put his arm around his shoulder, pulling him into his embrace with no room for refusal. The person in his arms shrank back, but obediently offered no resistance.

“Right, just like this; you are doing very well.” He curled his lips pleasantly, his palm stroking the dead soldier’s hair whorl, smoothing down the wonderfully textured, silky hair from top to bottom.

He looked exactly like a big-tailed wolf luring its prey into a trap.

Wei San, encircled in his embrace, had a blank mind, his nose filled with the Master’s clear and domineering sandalwood scent, which seemed to make even his waist go soft.

Wei Zheng didn’t go too far, only holding him for a while before letting him go.

“You performed very well just now, but to make it more realistic, you must practice more in the future; you have to adapt as soon as possible.”

He acted the part of a gentleman, as if he really was just preparing for acting in the future.

Wei San’s brain had already been stirred into paste; naturally, he agreed with whatever the Master said.

By the time he came to his senses, he found that he had somehow ended up lying on the bed with the Master, and the Master was propping himself up to tuck him in.

Wei San jumped up instantly, so flustered he nearly rolled right off the bed.

Wei Zheng pressed down on his shoulder with quick reflexes and said with poise: “It is late at night; where do you intend to go instead of sleeping?”

Wei San stammered: “This subordinate… this subordinate will just sleep on the floor.”

As a dead soldier, how could he share a bed with the Master? If the Commander found out, he would surely be skinned alive.

Wei San was absolutely terrified of that.

Wei Zheng squinted slightly, feeling the little dead soldier was truly stubborn enough to make one angry. He pulled the dead soldier and pressed him back onto the bed. “Lie down properly; you are not allowed to go anywhere.”

Wei San wanted to say more, but his eyes glanced toward the side of the bed from time to time, clearly not having given up the idea of lying on the floor.

Wei Zheng was unhappy, so he simply stretched out his arm and gathered the person into his embrace.

“Behave and be my warming pillow; don’t move around.”

Wei San instantly dared not move, then heard him add in a hazy and muddled tone: “I am sleepy; don’t disturb my sleep.”

He was likely truly exhausted; after saying this, Wei Zheng fell into a deep sleep with rhythmic breathing, leaving behind Wei San, who was so nervous he lightened his own breathing.

He clutched the corner of the quilt, wide-eyed with a pair of misty peach-blossom eyes, completely unable to understand how the situation had turned into this.

His peripheral vision fell on the arm draped across his chest before moving away quickly; Wei San’s heart suddenly began to beat like thunder.

He couldn’t say what emotion was throbbing; his mind was blank, remembering only the Master’s instruction not to wake him.

The next day, Wei San opened his eyes in a daze. Because his spirit had been too tense, he had not slept well; faint dark circles hung under his eyes, making his already pale complexion look even more haggard.

Wei Zheng had already woken up. He was lying on his side, one hand propping up his head, and seeing Wei San wake up, he teased slowly: “Your complexion really fits the image of having indulged in desire all night.”

Wei San flushed red instantly. The malicious Wei Zheng pretended to think for a moment, then added: “But looking like this seems to lack flavor; we must make some marks so others will be convinced that I pampered you well last night.”

Wei San, who understood the hidden meaning in his words: