May 19, 2026
Chapter 94 — Make a Pitiful Face • Acting Like A Rogue
After taking his medicine that morning, Yan Shengrui quickly drifted into a groggy sleep. He didn’t wake again until Shopkeeper Zhang arrived to haul away the wine; the bustling noise outside roused him. Feeling much better, he had intended to get up and take a look—but then he remembered what Ling Jingxuan had said before leaving that morning. Without hesitation, he lay back down again.
After all, it hadn’t been easy to get his Jingxuan to agree to stay and keep him company. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity like this—how could he possibly let it slip by?
But as he waited and waited, though he clearly heard Ling Jingxuan’s voice outside, the man never came in. Yan Shengrui couldn’t help growing increasingly anxious and irritable. Dressed only in thin inner garments, he kept glancing toward the door, even getting up several times to check the latch, afraid he might have accidentally bolted it himself. Yet… Ling Jingxuan still showed no sign of coming in to see him.
Only after Ling Jingxuan told the Zhao-Han couple to wait did Yan Shengrui—his ear pressed to the door—finally hear footsteps approaching. He immediately dashed back into the bedroom, practically diving onto the bed.
The door opened softly. Footsteps drew closer.
Lying there, Yan Shengrui thought for a moment. Just as Ling Jingxuan stepped into the room, he abruptly turned over to face the wall, presenting his back in silent protest.
Ling Jingxuan paused mid-step, the corner of his mouth twitching. Was he a child or something? Who throws a tantrum like that?
“Shengrui, feeling any better?”
Grumbling inwardly aside, Ling Jingxuan was genuinely worried about his illness. Sitting down at the bedside, he reached out, intending to turn him over—but Yan Shengrui huffily shook off his hand and muttered in a muffled voice, “I won’t die. Come see me when I’m about to—won’t be too late then.”
Honestly—did that sound like something a grown man should say?
Ling Jingxuan felt a headache coming on. Rising to his feet, he made a show of leaving. “In that case, I’ll come back when you’re at death’s door.”
“You’re really leaving?”
Yan Shengrui spun around at once, grabbing his clothes, his expression pitiful. He had clearly said he’d come back soon to keep him company, yet after returning he’d taken so long without even thinking of him. Was it so wrong to feel a little aggrieved?
“Enough, stop pretending,” Ling Jingxuan sighed helplessly as he sat back down. “Shopkeeper Zhang came personally to collect the wine—I can’t just ignore him, can I?”
As he spoke, he took Yan Shengrui’s wrist and checked his pulse. Only after confirming that the cold had mostly subsided did he quietly relax. This man—more shameless than the two little buns at home—was truly both exasperating and oddly amusing.
“So you just leave me behind?”
Understanding was one thing; accepting it was another. Yan Shengrui gazed at him resentfully. Those tiger-like eyes, usually so domineering before outsiders, were now filled with naked accusation, as if Ling Jingxuan had committed some unforgivable crime. The sight made Ling Jingxuan’s lips twitch, half amused.
“You make it sound like you’ve got a terminal illness. Stop fooling around. Get up, take a bath, and change your clothes. It’s almost time for lunch. This afternoon I’ll go out with you for a walk—get you moving, sweat it out. Sleep again tonight and you should be fine by tomorrow.”
Grabbing his hand, Ling Jingxuan pulled him up. Yan Shengrui followed the motion and wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in his neck and nibbling at it as he muttered, still sounding faintly petulant, “You said it—don’t go back on your word later. Lately it’s been fixing the house and making jam… you haven’t spent any time alone with me at all.”
“Alright, stop it. I’ll have Old Song bring in two buckets of hot water. Hurry up and get up.”
His neck was sensitive to begin with; being nibbled at like a dog made Ling Jingxuan itch all over, pushing him away in protest. If this went on, it wouldn’t just be one person needing a bath.
“Let me kiss you once more.”
Catching him off guard, Yan Shengrui cupped his face and pressed his lips to his. Ling Jingxuan had intended to resist, but remembering he was still sick, he simply let it go. Turning sideways to kneel on the bed, he rested his hands on Yan Shengrui’s shoulders and responded to the kiss instead.
Their breaths tangled, warm and close, the kiss deepening as one took the lead, drawing the other in with a teasing persistence that felt almost as if he meant to drain him dry.
Pulling back at last, breath uneven, Ling Jingxuan shot him a look.
“…Trying to wring me dry, are you?”
The fierce kiss went on for several full minutes. When they finally parted, Ling Jingxuan couldn’t help gulping down mouthfuls of fresh air, his lungs starved of oxygen. His already red lips were now coated with a glistening sheen of moisture, slightly swollen, making them look even softer—almost inviting.
Yan Shengrui swallowed unconsciously. It took nearly all his self-control to stop himself from pouncing again. Jingxuan’s pull on him was growing stronger by the day—so much so that even he wasn’t sure when he might lose control and simply take him.
“Oh, right—I ran into the owner of Xinyuan Restaurant today. His name’s Zeng Shaoqing, from the number one marquis household of the Qing Dynasty—”
“Zeng Shaoqing?!”
Before he could finish, Yan Shengrui’s expression twisted, his voice erupting in a rough shout at the mere mention of the name. One second he had been lying on the bed—next, he was already standing before him, eyes wide.
Ling Jingxuan’s tone turned faintly sour. “Yes, Zeng Shaoqing. A stunning beauty, the dangerously alluring kind.”
Damn it—so what if they were childhood friends? Did he have to react like that?
“Hm? Wait—Jingxuan, are you… jealous?”
Catching the unmistakable edge in his voice, Yan Shengrui tossed aside his earlier thoughts, bent down, and met his gaze. A bright smile slowly spread across his sharp, handsome face.
Ling Jingxuan rolled his eyes. “And what if I am?”
Being jealous so openly and unapologetically—honestly, no one else could pull it off quite like him.
Yan Shengrui’s mood soared. He pulled him into a tight embrace. “Of course you can be! Jingxuan, you’re jealous for me—haha…”
Jealousy meant he cared.
Overcome with delight, Yan Shengrui lifted him and spun him around on the spot. His Jingxuan cared about him—how could he not be thrilled?
“Alright, alright—I’m getting dizzy, haha… put me down!”
Spun like that, Ling Jingxuan quickly forgot the faint irritation from before. Their laughter intertwined, lingering in the air long after.
By the time they appeared together in the main hall, lunch was already prepared. The whole family—including the Zhao-Han couple —sat waiting at the table. The two of them made no effort to hide anything, walking over hand in hand before taking their seats.
“Shengrui, are you feeling better? Don’t push yourself. If you’re not well, eat and go lie down again—and have Jingxuan take another look at you. Poor thing, falling sick in this heat…”
Ling Wang-shi, who had long since accepted him, fussed over him with concern, worried his illness hadn’t fully passed. Of all things, she feared sickness in the family the most—memories of when Jingxuan and Jinghan had fallen ill still lingered vividly in her mind.
“I’m fine, Mother. Just a minor cold. Jingxuan’s medicine worked well, and I’ve always had a strong constitution. After sleeping most of the day, I’m already much better.”
Yan Shengrui had no shame at all. Ever since Ling Chenglong and the others moved in, he had started calling them “Father” and “Mother.” Now, the words rolled off his tongue even more naturally than they did for Ling Jingxuan and his brothers. The old couple couldn’t have been more pleased.
“A strong body doesn’t mean you can act recklessly. Many illnesses start from a simple cold. I had Aunt Song brew you another dose—drink it after the meal.”
On this matter, Ling Wang-shi’s tone left no room for negotiation. Yan Shengrui could only nod helplessly. Ling Jingxuan chuckled and chimed in, “Mother, anyone listening would think you were the physician.”
“Long illness makes its own doctor, haven’t you heard?” she shot back, glaring at her teasing son. Then she lowered her head, unable to hide the trace of sorrow in her voice. “Back then, when Jinghan first fell ill—it was just a cold too. I thought it was nothing… who would’ve known…”
At that time, the family hadn’t split yet. All the money was controlled by the old lady Jingxuan was still young and hadn’t yet shown any academic promise, so the elders didn’t favor them. When they said Jinghan was sick and wanted to call a doctor, the old lady scolded them harshly instead. In the end, she had taken out her own dowry money and sent Ling Chenglong to the village healer to grab a random cold remedy. They brewed it and gave it to him, then left it at that.
Who would have thought that mistake would cost him over a decade?
Every time she thought of it, guilt and pain twisted in her chest. If only she had been more careful back then, less careless… how could Jinghan have ended up bedridden for so many years?
“Mother, haven’t I recovered now? Besides, I run every morning and practice boxing with Xiao Wen and the others. My body’s much stronger now.”
Seeing this, Ling Jinghan, who sat beside her, spoke up without hesitation to comfort her. The past was already past—back then, they had had no choice, hadn’t they?
“Exactly, Mother. You can’t keep living in the past,” Ling Jingxuan added, backing him up while shooting Ling Jingpeng a meaningful glance. “Look at how good things are for our family now. Life’s only going to get better and better—you can’t keep bottling things up like this, or sooner or later it’ll make you sick.”
Ling Jingpeng quickly caught on. “Big Brother and Second Brother are right. Mother, let’s not think about those upsetting things anymore. When Second Brother passes the imperial exam and becomes a xiucai, you’ll be the mother of a scholar.”
“You three really know how to talk.”
Ling Wang-shi couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. “Alright, alright, I’m not sad anymore. Let’s eat—eat.”
Each of the three brothers comforted her in their own way, and even Ling Chenglong, who had been sitting tensely beside her, broke into a foolish grin. A life like this… it was something they hadn’t even dared dream of before.
“Oh, right, Jingxuan—how’s the wine selling?”
In the middle of the meal, Ling Chenglong suddenly asked. The others perked up as well. When Shopkeeper Zhang had come to collect the wine earlier, they had all been startled, then busy helping move the jars, leaving no chance to ask how it had sold.
“Not bad. Let’s not talk about that while we’re eating. Shopkeeper Zhang placed another order for quite a bit of jam today—we’ll go over the details later.”
As he spoke, Ling Jingxuan casually ladled a bowl of tomato and egg soup for Yan Shengrui, smoothly brushing the topic aside. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them—but forty thousand taels was no small sum. His father was soft-hearted and indecisive; if word somehow reached the Ling family… he had to be cautious.
“Father, Mother—try this braised fish. Aunt Song’s cooking just keeps getting better.”
Instantly catching his meaning, Yan Shengrui stood and placed pieces of tender fish belly into the bowls of the two elders. Pleased, they quickly forgot the earlier topic. The couple exchanged a subtle, knowing glance. Across the table, Ling Jingpeng and Zhao-Han couple noticed nothing unusual, though Ling Jinghan’s eyes flickered with quiet understanding. Of course, he supported his elder brother—better safe than sorry.
“Thank you for your praise, Master Sheng.”
Standing nearby, Song Yang-shi beamed with delight. For this family, she had put a great deal of thought into their meals, constantly changing dishes day by day, afraid they might not eat well.
“No need to wait on us—go eat with Old Song and the others,” Ling Jingxuan said, waving her off.
Song Gengniu ’s family, from top to bottom, were diligent, steady, and loyal. Their only flaw was being overly bound by propriety, which sometimes made things feel a bit stiff.
“Well…” Song Yang-shi hesitated. The masters treated them well—how could they simply accept it as a given?
“If I told you to go, then go. Why so much nonsense?”
“Yes, yes…”
At Yan Shengrui’s command, Song Yang-shi instinctively trembled slightly, no longer daring to hesitate. She bowed and withdrew at once. The others couldn’t help but smile.
Sometimes, a “villain” had his uses.
Of course, Yan Shengrui was nothing like a true villain—he had never once raised his voice in this household. But the natural authority he carried without anger was enough to command respect and a hint of awe from anyone around him.
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Translator: LazyHermitGal
Author: LazyHermitGal
A Lazy Hermit Gal wondering in the void and falling into the translation abyss.
