The Sickly Beauty is Too Good at Seducing - Chapter 33

Seeing Shen Congbai suddenly freeze up, Feng Yu playfully blew a puff of air onto his eyelashes. Noticing a tiny teardrop clinging there, he said helplessly, “Why are you crying again?”

He lowered his head and gently took the droplet into his mouth. The salty moisture instantly flooded his tongue. Feng Yu lowered his gaze, a flash of pity appearing in his amber eyes that even he hadn’t noticed.

He thought to himself: I was clearly helping him find a job, so why does it feel like I’m the one committing a forced abduction?

Shen Congbai felt a bit embarrassed. He sniffed and muttered in a muffled voice, “You’re so annoying.”

Fearing his words lacked intimidation, he glared back fiercely. His eyelids were still red, and he wrinkled his small face to scold, “Go away, you stink.”

He wasn’t lying about that. The fight between Feng Yu and Shen Que had been intense; it was inevitable that he’d be carrying the scent of sweat and blood. Initially, Shen Congbai had suppressed his pickiness out of guilt, but now that Feng Yu had poked his “young master temper” back out, he refused to endure even a little discomfort.

Shen Congbai delivered a kick to the man’s leg, intending to show him who was boss. However, he missed his angle, and his big toe slammed directly against the man’s thick, sturdy knee. The impact against the hard bone sent tears springing to his eyes instantly.

“Mm!”

Shen Congbai yanked his foot back. His big toe turned a pale pink, curling up piteously. He sobbed, “Feng Yu!”

Feng Yu reacted first, catching Shen Congbai’s foot in his palm and massaging it slowly. He lowered his head to coax him, “My fault, my fault. Does it hurt a lot?”

Shen Congbai turned his head away, refusing to look at him. He shifted his ankle to break free, but in the next second, he felt a damp sensation against the bruised big toe.

Shen Congbai’s eyes went wide. He shrieked, “Feng Yu! Are you gross or what!”

The latter let go only after tasting the “sweetness.” Before Shen Congbai’s hand could smack the top of his head, he seized the boy by the waist, hoisted him over his shoulder, and strode toward the bedroom.

His brow furrowed with a hint of regret. He had been so focused on prying that other person out of Shen Congbai’s heart that he’d forgotten it would be cold near the window; the boy’s arms were freezing.

Shen Congbai wasn’t actually as fragile as he imagined, and the heater was on in the house. He simply had a cold constitution; his limbs were never warm in winter. Plus, Feng Yu’s palms were so hot that his own body temperature felt even colder by comparison.

Feng Yu tucked him into the bed, wrapping him tightly in the quilt. Only then did his furrowed brow relax slightly. He used his palm to check the temperature of the boy’s forehead, asking worriedly, “Do you feel unwell?”

Shen Congbai finally had a chance to speak. He instinctively shook his head, then remembered he was supposed to be angry. He grabbed a handful of hair on top of Feng Yu’s head and pulled his face down. “Hypocrite!”

Asking only after you’ve already done it—you refined hypocrite! Villain! Scoundrel! Pervert!

Feng Yu endured it until just before the third slap landed, at which point he caught the boy’s wrist.

Shen Congbai retracted his hand. Seeing the faint finger marks remaining on the man’s neck, his fire dimmed. Fearing Feng Yu would retaliate, he curled himself into a ball and hid back under the covers. His eyes, peeking out from the quilt, were round and bright, making him look exceptionally obedient as he watched Feng Yu unblinkingly.

He said cautiously, “You started it, you’re not allowed to hit back!”

Feng Yu reached out with his thumb, his rough pad lightly grazing Shen Congbai’s thin eyelid. A soft laugh escaped his throat. “You little heartless thing. When have I ever actually laid a hand on you?”

Shen Congbai gave a small “Hmph,” his eyes full of disbelief. He hadn’t in the past, but a man’s heart changed faster than the weather; he didn’t dare gamble on whether Feng Yu would suddenly go crazy.

Feng Yu ground his back teeth, his heart aching from the boy’s lack of faith. He stood up and gave a rough ruffle to Shen Congbai’s messy black hair. “I’m going to go make you some ginger soup. Otherwise, if the Little Master gets sick, my secretary will be absent tomorrow.”

As he turned to leave, his cuff was caught by a light force. It felt like a fish fry gliding past duckweed, sending ripples through his heart.

Shen Congbai’s grip was tiny, but it acted like an unyielding chain, pulling the much larger man back to his side. He refused: “My health is better now. I won’t get sick that easily.”

And it’s definitely not because ginger soup tastes bad.

Regarding this man who seemingly didn’t care about the past hurt and repeatedly helped him through crises, Shen Congbai having lost the “tree” that was Shen Que naturally transferred a portion of that reliance onto Feng Yu.

He bit his lip nervously, his voice muffled by the quilt. “Thank you.”

Feng Yu frowned and checked his forehead again. “It seems you really did catch a chill.”

Shen Congbai knit his brows. “I’m being serious.”

“I know. And I’m answering you seriously.” Feng Yu pulled his hand back and stood over him. The shadow he cast completely enveloped Shen Congbai. He said, “Shen Congbai, never say ‘thank you’ to me.”

Feng Yu looked down, locking eyes with the boy’s helpless gaze. His words hit Shen Congbai’s heart like a stone. “When you act this cautiously, it makes me feel very sad.”

Those people had actually raised Shen Congbai into this. The once-arrogant little master had become so careful, speaking so softly for fear of offending someone and being thrown out again.

In Feng Yu’s mind, Shen Congbai should be pampered and spoiled, receiving endless affection in his arms. Whatever happened, he would be there to take it all for him.

Shen Congbai looked blank for a moment. Before he could react, a large hand grasped the back of his neck. In the next instant, Feng Yu’s wild features loomed large. Like a rabbit caught by the scruff, Shen Congbai was forced forward until his forehead pressed against Feng Yu’s.

Feng Yu’s voice was magnetic and husky, like a demon’s murmur enticing an angel to fall. “You need to learn to depend on me again. You can’t leave my side anymore.”

Shen Congbai’s lips pressed even tighter together. He looked at Feng Yu and asked helplessly, “But… didn’t you say before… that we… we were even?”

Shen Congbai’s mood took a dive. He had thought he could resolve the debts and regrets of his past life, but after all this work, he seemed to owe more and sink deeper.

“I regret it.” Feng Yu interrupted his thoughts, adding with a straight face, “Suddenly, I don’t want to let you go anymore.”

Shen Congbai was no match for someone like Feng Yu, who had been steeped in the circles of power since childhood. Sure enough, after that sentence, his expression became visibly dazed. He repeated stupidly, “Regret it?”

“Mm.”

Having said that, Feng Yu turned and walked out, leaving Shen Congbai frozen in place, struggling to digest this sudden notification.

The corner of Feng Yu’s mouth, hidden from view, curled upward. He wasn’t like that idiot Shen Que. Simply trying to shield the bird under his wings would only cause it to rebel. Only by raising the boy in a sky of his own making could he let him soar happily and freely.