Transmigrated as the Villain and Driven Crazy by the Vengeful Male Lead - Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Having Your Fish and Windchime Too. Provoking Me Isn’t That Simple…

Lu Shuyao leaned against the doorframe, watching expressionlessly as Li An fed Su Cheyue.

Li An did everything like he was racing toward a reincarnation; he fed him frantically, one spoonful after another. At first, Su Cheyue opened his mouth to eat, but after a few bites, he suddenly swung his hand and knocked the spoon away.

“Are you mental?!” Li An roared. He picked the spoon up, and without even wiping it, tried to feed him again. Su Cheyue blocked him again, this time sweeping the entire bowl off the bed.

“Get out.”

“Eat or starve! I’m done serving you!” Li An glared viciously at the man on the bed.

Lu Shuyao walked over. “Why didn’t he eat?”

“How should I know?” Li An snapped. “The Second Young Master has had a terrible temper since he got back from the Ghost Purgatory. He’s impossible to please!”

Lu Shuyao knelt to pick up the porcelain shards, but he flinched the moment he touched one. The food had just come off the stove; it was hot enough to make anyone fly into a rage.

Dammit.

Lu Shuyao shot a furious look at Li An. Li An, knowing he was in the wrong, muttered stubbornly, “The Second Young Master has no sense of taste anyway!”

No sense of taste? Does that mean he can’t get burned? Does that mean it doesn’t hurt?! Even if his tongue can’t feel it, can’t his esophagus feel it?!

Lu Shuyao’s expression turned unusually cold. “Get out.”

Li An “tsk’d” and left.

After tidying the floor, Lu Shuyao went to the small kitchen. After making sure no one was watching, he fished a small, still-thrashing fish out from his sleeve. “Good thing I hid one,” he whispered. “It’s a bit thin, though.”

Lu Shuyao had known how to cook since he was a child. The reason he learned was that to keep his parents’ hearts, he first had to keep their stomachs. Though it hadn’t helped much, he did everything seriously, and his culinary skills were quite good.

Before long, he returned to the room with a bowl of creamy, fragrant white fish soup. “Eat this.”

He guided Su Cheyue’s hand to touch the rim of the bowl. “This isn’t hot. I cooled it down with cold water.”

Su Cheyue lifted his eyelids. “Lu Shuyao?”

“Mhm?” Lu Shuyao looked up.

Su Cheyue said flatly, “No need to be nervous. I can’t see, but I recognize your hands.”

Lu Shuyao felt even more nervous hearing that.

Following the touch of Lu Shuyao’s warm hand, Su Cheyue took the spoon, scooped a portion, and held it out in front of Lu Shuyao. “Drink,” Su Cheyue commanded.

Lu Shuyao tilted his head, confused.

“Afraid to drink?” Su Cheyue smiled—a smile that could light up the room—but his words were far from warm. “Is it poisoned?”

Lu Shuyao knit his brows, unable to follow the man’s erratic thoughts. He opened his mouth and took a sip.

Mmm, delicious! A true chef doesn’t taste their own work, so he hadn’t tried it before serving, but this sip was highly satisfying.

“Is it good?” Su Cheyue’s eyes were like a cold pond. “If you like it, there’s plenty more.”

“?”

Before Lu Shuyao could react, Su Cheyue grabbed the soup bowl and—splash. He threw the whole thing onto Lu Shuyao’s face and clothes.

Silence filled the room. It felt as if the air itself had stopped flowing.

Su Cheyue didn’t get the reaction he expected—no soup thrown back, no slap to the face. The long silence made him increasingly uneasy; after all, he didn’t know how many more words he would be able to speak today. “Lu Shuyao!”

Even when angry, the man was beautiful. Lu Shuyao let out a low chuckle and casually wiped the thick white soup from his face. “The taste is excellent. It’s a shame I hid this fish for so long.”

With soup still on his fingertip, Lu Shuyao reached out without a thought and wiped it across Su Cheyue’s lips.

Su Cheyue hadn’t expected a wet, cool, soft sensation on his lips. It appeared and vanished in an instant. He froze for a second, his pale neck flushing red. He swung a palm out, cursing: “Get out!”

Lu Shuyao caught his thin wrist. “Provoking me isn’t that simple, you know.”

“My dad used to pin clips on me, and my mom used to pinch me with her long nails. Compared to that, Su Cheyue, this doesn’t hurt at all.”

As he spoke, his throat felt tight. In the past, when facing his parents, he’d swallow his pride; if they slapped him, he’d give them a smile in return. He’d treated himself as if he were heartless and painless, chasing after others for a bit of warmth. How hard could it be? If he could do it for his biological parents, he could do it for Su Cheyue.

Before, it was for love. Now, it was for survival.

“Even if it’s just to stay alive,” Lu Shuyao whispered to the man who couldn’t hear, “you have to drink this soup. Before you make your comeback, Su Cheyue, we only have each other to rely on.”

…

As the sun began to set, Lu Shuyao left the room and found the system. “What is Su Cheyue’s Hatred Value now?”

The system checked and reported a cold number: 2500.

Lu Shuyao, not understanding where he lost points: “…Great. Just one zero away from being a total ‘250’ (idiot).”

[Is it possible that you, the visitor, are the ‘0’ here?]

“Shut up.”

Waste of a bowl of fish soup. Fish-bro, have a safe journey.

…

Night fell.

Lu Shuyao hadn’t returned. Su Cheyue sat on the bed, replaying everything in his head. What did this youth want? This boy he once viewed as a nephew and disciple, whom he had taught during his stay at Qifeng Ferry?

During that month in the Ghost Purgatory, while being bitten, torn apart, and remade, Su Cheyue had thought about it constantly. He thought of the face he saw and the hand he touched right before he fell. The blood was too thick; he couldn’t tell if the youth was trying to push him or save him.

At Qifeng Ferry, the boy never showed any interest in men. So why was he willing to marry him as a male wife now? Su Cheyue didn’t believe there wasn’t an ulterior motive. Is he sacrificing himself so his aunt doesn’t have to marry a cripple?

Since returning, the Desire-Probing Pearl in his body had suddenly begun to pick up the desires of those around him. And they were all evil desires. He could see the hypocrisy of his uncle and aunt, the mockery and malice of the disciples. He realized how naive he used to be, thinking kindness was universal.

But now, because of the pearl, he had to endure all the filth and malice in the world. For instance, the desires of this grinning young man—no, young man now—his evil desire:

“Escape Su Cheyue by any means, it would be better if I could defeat him… then go back to play video games and eat river snail rice noodles…”

So, although he didn’t know what “video games” or “river snail rice noodles” were, the sincerity of that man’s marriage was indeed fake. Heh.

…

The next morning was bright and sunny.

When Su Cheyue opened his eyes, the pupils that had been out of focus for days were stung by the light. The scattered light slowly gathered into a clear point.

White bed curtains. Su Cheyue froze. He turned his head very slowly to look around the room. The table, the books, the zither… everything was the same. Except for… a sofa?

The sunlight was brilliant. A tall, thin figure pushed the door open, dispelling the gloom. Lu Shuyao walked in carrying a tray, his purple robes crisp and his ponytail fresh. Seeing him awake, he gave his usual smile and said something. Su Cheyue couldn’t hear it.

However, this didn’t stop Su Cheyue’s mood from improving. He half-closed his eyes and relaxed, letting Lu Shuyao help him up and scurry around bringing him breakfast: a bowl of pumpkin porridge, a dish of pickles, a piece of purple sweet potato, and four bean-paste buns.

Though the youth was still strikingly beautiful, he was quite different from the silent, gloomy boy in his memories. Su Cheyue thought: Even if he’s a wolf, when he’s wagging his tail to serve someone, he’s as likeable as a puppy.

A slight curve appeared at the corner of his mouth. He took the chopsticks and began to eat.

Lu Shuyao also felt Su Cheyue was different today. He sat nearby, chin in his hand, watching him eat with a grin. He felt Su Cheyue’s gaze was very accurate today, as if he could see. When the man looked at him, his eyes weren’t empty; they were three parts indifferent and seven parts wary.

Once the man on the bed was full, Lu Shuyao cleared the dishes and leaned in with something hidden behind his back. “I went down the mountain yesterday. I bought a sofa and some ingredients, and I brought you a gift.”

Su Cheyue didn’t like people getting too close. It was fine when he was blind, but now his brow darkened and he moved further back.

Lu Shuyao thought he’d accidentally touched him. He didn’t mind. He smiled, and his hand suddenly whipped out: “Ta-da!”

The object in his hand let out a matching ting-ting-ting sound.

Su Cheyue stared as Lu Shuyao’s lips moved. He pulled out a string of… windchimes?

These weren’t ordinary chimes. Lu Shuyao had bought them at the most famous spiritual treasure shop in Yangshuo. They were made of glass tubes with white petals and feather knots—simple and elegant, fitting the room’s style.

Normally, they made a crisp sound in the wind, but if touched with spiritual energy—even a tiny bit—the sound could be heard from a hundred miles away. This was a pricey treasure, but fortunately, Lu Qingsong had provided a massive “dowry” for Shuyao.

Lu Shuyao’s logic was simple: with this windchime, the Second Young Master wouldn’t have to throw bowls or break glass to get attention, whether he could speak or not. It wouldn’t hurt him or waste things. Perfect!

Lu Shuyao happily hung the chimes by the bed, took Su Cheyue’s hand, and guided him to touch them. Then, he used his finger to write a word in Su Cheyue’s palm: “Lu.”

He touched it twice and wrote: “An.” Three times: “Yang.” Four times: “Xun.”

The meaning was: ring it once for Lu Shuyao, twice for Li An, three times for Su Qingyang, and four times for Su Xun.

However, the condition was that these people had to infuse their energy into the chime first so it would “recognize” them. Among them, Li An was a slacker, Su Xun had hidden motives, and Su Qingyang was… well, Su Qingyang. None of them were frequent visitors. So for now, one, two, three, or four rings—they all called for Lu Shuyao.

The chance to show off has arrived!

Lu Shuyao finished his explanation and looked proudly at Su Cheyue’s expression, only to find the latter staring down at his palm.

Did he not understand the drawing?

Lu Shuyao was about to repeat the gesture, but when he tried to grab that elegant hand again, the Second Young Master sharply slapped his hand away.

Lu Shuyao: “?”

He looked up, and the man’s eyes clearly shouted: DO. NOT.

Wait… can he see?

After the shock of Su Cheyue suddenly speaking, Lu Shuyao’s threshold for surprise was much higher. He calmly waved five fingers in front of Su Cheyue’s face to test him.

Su Cheyue: “…………” I don’t want to expose myself.

But Young Master Lu wasn’t easily fooled. After a silent stare-down, he smiled: “Second Young Master, did you ever play the ‘clapping palms’ game as a kid?”

Su Cheyue: “?”

“It’s all about who has the faster reaction.”

At that, Lu Shuyao suddenly reached out as if to touch his lips again. Remembering yesterday’s annoyance, Su Cheyue instinctively dodged.

Lu Shuyao smiled triumphantly. His wrist flicked, his fingers sliding through Su Cheyue’s soft hair, and as he withdrew his hand, he twirled a lock of it between his fingers.

Su Cheyue opened his mouth: “Lu Shuyao!” No sound.

Great, the voice function was offline again.

Lu Shuyao looked happily at those parallelogram eyes—they were a hundred times more beautiful when full of life than when empty. Currently, they were wide with silent fury.

He pulled Su Cheyue’s hand again and brushed it against the windchime. A clear ding, like water hitting stone, rang out.

“I’m here,” Lu Shuyao said.