The Richest Man’s Boyfriend Lives in a History Textbook - Chapter 12

Night deepened. Aisley bid farewell to Fred and walked alone back toward the tent, carrying a wine bottle.

Along the way, he caught several soldiers who were secretly spearing fish to roast and eat.

He kept his hands behind his back and didn’t really scold them much, only punished these men by making them run a lap around the camp.

Then, under these men’s astonished gazes, Aisley casually ate the fish clean.

“It’s burnt,” Aisley leaned against the tent and critiqued fussily.

The crowd: … If you think it’s burnt, then don’t eat it! Yet you went and ate it so thoroughly you didn’t leave us even a scrap.

Having eaten and drunk his fill, Aisley left satisfied, leaving behind a pile of “this man is such a bastard” curses.

On the way back, Aisley gazed at the star-filled sky, an illusory shadow flickering before his eyes. He pressed his head, his eyelid twitched, and his brain throbbed with pain in waves.

He took a deep breath, and a sharp light flashed across his eyes for an instant before fading away.

The light of the stars shone into his eyes.

“Stars…”

Aisley murmured these words in Lyteye language, sneering as he lowered his eyes.

He continued striding forward, humming a folk tune from his homeland in a low, hoarse voice.

“The gods are so wonderful, even their jokes are so marvelous…”

Outdoors it was silent, a faint, almost imperceptible voice drifting in the air.

“A wish? I don’t like doing favors that demand repayment. Meeting once is enough to settle it.”

****

Xingyuan started out full of fighting spirit, but after less than two hours of walking, the soles of his feet began to ache faintly.

Xingyuan panted for breath. He took out the water he’d prepared in advance from his backpack and drank half the bottle in one go — only then did he have the energy to keep walking.

After walking continuously for five or six hours, Xingyuan had walked himself silly.

When he saw the camp, his legs went weak and he nearly collapsed to his knees; the soles of his feet had gone numb, having lost all sensation.

Xingyuan forced himself to stand straight, his whole body aching. He was practically about to collapse, but the thought that as long as he kept pushing through he’d be saved gave him a burst of willpower that forced him to keep stumbling forward several more steps.

Xingyuan wouldn’t be trampled to death.

But he’d still have to endure the pain of being forcefully trampled right before dying.

Because of this, Xingyuan still didn’t dare lie down where he was.

Dizzy and swaying, the red dot drew closer and closer to him.

Just when he truly couldn’t hold on any longer, Xingyuan finally caught sight of that familiar tent.

Whew…

Xingyuan’s eyes nearly closed on their own.

Supporting his aching waist, he limped his way inside. There had been a lot of wind and sand along the road, and combined with him tripping and stumbling every so often, the young master was looking anything but refined at this point.

The youth carried a “small worn-out bag” on his back, his hair a mess, his face grimy, looking exactly like some poor relative rushing in from some remote corner to seek shelter.

The little young master was truly pitiful, but the little young master also cared about his appearance.

Seeing that there were two living people guarding the entrance up ahead, even though no one could actually see him, he still felt too embarrassed to walk past them like this.

Xingyuan used his water purification sphere to clean himself up from head to toe, and washed his hair too — his school uniform was made of a special material, immune to dirt, so he didn’t need to worry about that.

He gave himself a careful sniff, and only once he confirmed there was no odor did he feel at ease enough to walk over.

Before he even reached the entrance, the smell of alcohol hit him in the face.

Xingyuan curiously opened the tent flap, and sure enough, the smell of alcohol grew even stronger.

Had this man been drinking?

Xingyuan was somewhat curious about the reason, but he knew that he and this man existed on parallel lines, and thought to himself that even if he knew the reason, he wouldn’t understand the full context behind it.

The moment he entered the tent, it was as if all his bones had been taken apart — his entire body felt like it was falling to pieces.

Xingyuan dragged his heavy body over to his little corner and took off his backpack.

Fortunately, his bedding was still there.

Xingyuan was slow at making his bed, and with his body aching all over, he collapsed before he’d made much progress.

The hard ground pressed painfully against Xingyuan’s lower back; his face showed a bitter expression, and he crawled back up, grumbling miserably, to finish making the bed.

Ah, life was too hard. But what could be done? The road of a great figure was always full of hardship.

Xingyuan once again took off his school uniform to use as an electric heating blanket. The little young master, who had never touched a drop of dishwater with his ten fingers since childhood, began learning to smooth out every wrinkle.

Just then, a pained groan came from the bed beside him.

Xingyuan turned his head at the sound, but the edge of the bed was somewhat high, and with no lamp at night, Xingyuan couldn’t quite make out what was happening over there.

“Cough, cough...” The man coughed heavily, his labored breathing especially conspicuous in the quiet night, seeming to suppress some kind of pain beneath it.

Setting aside the fact that Xingyuan was staying here as a guest, the man had helped him so much in the past — even if there was nothing Xingyuan could do, it was only right to go check on him.

Xingyuan set down the blanket he was about to pull over himself and stepped into his shoes to walk over.

The night was rather cold, and Xingyuan shrank his neck in a bit. Since he was getting ready to sleep, he’d stripped down to just an undershirt, and wore only a pair of shorts on his lower half.

He quietly walked to the front of Aisley’s bed. By the starlight, he saw that the other man’s face was slightly flushed from being a bit drunk. His brows were tightly furrowed, and one hand covered his temple as if he were enduring something. His chapped lips parted and closed, occasionally emitting a groan of pain.

The cause was obvious at a glance — it seemed this man was drunk and had a migraine.

Xingyuan had barely drunk any alcohol growing up, and didn’t know what being drunk felt like. Seeing the other person in discomfort, he frowned and sighed too.

Ah, what should he do?

Xingyuan pressed his lips together, and stepped forward wanting to reach out and give him a massage, but stopped himself.

Part of the reason was that he couldn’t reach to press on the spot anyway, and the other reason…

Xingyuan looked down at his feet, only to see that he was standing on the corner of the man’s blanket.

Xingyuan: …

Although the blanket wouldn’t get dusty from him stepping on it, Xingyuan still felt embarrassed.

“Sorry,” he said softly, and was about to step back, but he was a beat too slow.

Aisley raised his hand to cover his forehead, and in the same motion casually pulled up the blanket that had slipped down. Xingyuan, caught off guard, lost his balance and was about to fall backward. Reflexively he grabbed at something random to catch himself, but instead accidentally pitched forward.

Xingyuan’s forehead knocked directly into the blanket, his face slamming into it, his nose stinging with pain from the impact. Because his face was buried too deep, Xingyuan couldn’t breathe fresh air, and felt slightly short of oxygen.

Of course, that wasn’t the important part.

Xingyuan’s mind went blank. He caught the strong scent of hormones, and his face flushed red all the way to his ears.

Beneath his face was something hard; what lay under the blanket at that spot should be the man’s abdomen.

Xingyuan’s scalp went numb, his hair practically standing on end.

His fingertips trembled, his toes kicked wildly, and he scrambled in a panic to find somewhere to brace himself. Even though his entire body was sore and weak, he forced himself to prop his body up to get his face off the blanket.

Xingyuan’s heart pounded wildly, his eyes rimmed faintly red from panic.

A trace of relief crept into his heart — thank goodness no one had seen him, thank goodness nothing he’d done had affected anything…

Let this shameful incident be buried here, known to no one.

Xingyuan finally found something to brace against. He was straddling his legs, just about to get up and leave, when at that moment the man let out a low “mm” and suddenly turned over.

Xingyuan’s whole body was dragged along by the blanket, and he was flipped completely onto the inside of the bed.

Xingyuan: …

His aching back pressed against the soft, smooth, slightly cool bedding. After such an exhausting day, he had finally found a place to rest. Even though his nerves were taut with tension, the body’s own craving for comfort still made all his strength drain away, his limbs practically pressed flat against the bed.

Once he relaxed, Xingyuan no longer had the strength to get up.

However, this matter couldn’t just be left alone. Xingyuan hurriedly braced both hands against the bed, wanting to get up and leave. But the half-asleep Aisley then turned his arm over and lay down on his side.

Xingyuan’s body was trapped, pinned without leaving even a sliver of a gap — there was no way to leave now.

After a few seconds, Aisley finally sensed something was off, and raised his arm.

Xingyuan seized the opening and hurried to slip away, but as it turned out, Aisley only pulled the blanket over before setting his arm back down again.

Xingyuan: …

The other man’s heavy breathing washed over his face; Xingyuan couldn’t even swallow his saliva. He lay there dazed, not blinking, completely stunned.

The warmer the bed got, the more panicked Xingyuan became. He had no ability to warm a bed himself — he needed his own “electric heating blanket” for that.

This turn of events was too hard to have predicted; it had suddenly blown past the limits of what Xingyuan could accept. The face before his eyes was so clear in his field of vision — every scar, every pore, all visible.

Xingyuan’s face grew redder and redder, flushing all the way down to his neck.

He closed his eyes, his eye sockets burning hot, his mind churning into a complete mess.

Xingyuan thought that he himself had really been too reckless back then. To keep himself in check, he had locked the exit, unable to open it until Monday. This had now sealed off his retreat — he couldn’t log off even if he wanted to, not unless he died.

Xingyuan lay there in a daze, thinking to himself, he was already trapped like this — how else could he possibly “die”?

Did dying of embarrassment in public count?

Xingyuan was rendered witless, and he spent the most agonizing night of his life staring at the man’s face. During that time, he wished countless times that the man’s arm would press down just a little further, so that he’d get logged off.

But in the end, it remained nothing more than a fantasy.

—

Aisley could always wake up before the horn sounded, and this time was no exception even though he’d had wine before bed.

He opened his eyes hazily, and before he could even make out what was in front of him, he first caught a faint, delicate fragrance.

Aisley was instantly wide awake. Not until he made out, by the moonlight, the fair, delicate youth before him did Aisley’s heart seem to stop beating for an instant…

He couldn’t remember how he managed to get out of bed without waking the youth. Throughout the whole process his nerves were taut, and his arm, corded with sturdy muscle, gently tucked the corner of the blanket back into place.

Without meaning to, he caught sight of the youth’s fair, pale arm, and Aisley’s eyes snapped shut at once.

Not until he was certain the blanket was properly tucked did he dare open his eyes again.

The entire time, he didn’t dare look at the youth’s face; he held his breath, not daring to breathe, while fumbling about in a fluster. He hurriedly opened a chest and pulled something out, then simply grabbed his own outer coat.

Before he stepped out, he turned back and gazed deeply at the youth once more, then took his clothes and left the tent.

The guards truly couldn’t figure it out.

No one knew quite what was going on, but today, before the horn-blowing time had even arrived, the Legion Commander came rushing flustered out of his tent.

He did have his military boots on, but the rest of him was thoroughly disheveled, and he was even carrying his outer coat in his hand rather than wearing it.

How were the guards supposed to describe this scene?

It looked exactly like the Legion Commander had gone to sleep with a woman, and after taking his clothes off found out something wasn’t working, and got thrown out by her.

Blown by the cool breeze, Aisley finally calmed down quite a bit. He draped his coat over his shoulders and walked alone.

After a while, he took out a cloth pouch containing some dried leaves.

He took out a piece of paper, rolled it up, and once he’d lit it, he held it between his lips.

Sparks flickered; Aisley took it out and exhaled a puff of smoke.

He didn’t know what this thing was — back when they’d attacked some small place, there had been slaves cultivating this plant.

He’d heard that this stuff was addictive once inhaled; if not for the special circumstances, Aisley wouldn’t have touched it at all.

Smoke curling around him, Aisley took one last drag, then pinched it out and tossed it away.