Chapter 29

Sometimes You Fuzhou felt that he needed to scrutinize Yu Yan’s words just as carefully, word for word, the way Yu Yan did to him.

By the second day, even as a Sentinel, he was starting to feel worn out. When yet another round began, he finally said to Yu Yan, “Didn’t we agree to go out today?”

Yu Yan arched a brow, smiling as he kissed You Fuzhou. He lifted You Fuzhou to keep him from soaking in the water too long and risking problems, but his actions didn’t match his words: “Baby, I never said it was today.”

As he lightly nipped at the side of You Fuzhou’s neck, the bite marks on his own nape—left by You Fuzhou in the chaos—were revealed. Some had scabbed over, while others were still in the process: “I said ‘later.'”

You Fuzhou didn’t have time to recall if that was true before his thoughts scattered, never to gather again.

For seven or eight days straight, they never left the house.

If Yu Yan hadn’t given him breaks in between to cook meals—and if it hadn’t been any less intense than a heat cycle—You Fuzhou might have suspected Yu Yan was in heat.

In the end, You Fuzhou couldn’t take the absurdity anymore. He asked Yu Yan what it would take to finally step out the door. Yu Yan kissed him and cooed reassuringly, “Baby, why don’t you take the lead this time?”

You Fuzhou knew exactly what he meant. Yu Yan had brought it up more than once before, but only as a casual probe. This time, it was clearly no probe.

You Fuzhou knew he couldn’t escape it. He nodded silently, his ear tips flushing red, and under Yu Yan’s gentle guidance, the blush spread all the way to his neck.

After all these years, You Fuzhou was still the same—easily embarrassed, yet unexpectedly honest and obedient.

If he didn’t know how, Yu Yan taught him, and he learned.

Even if it felt utterly ridiculous to You Fuzhou, as long as he was sure Yu Yan wasn’t teasing, he’d nod and give it a try.

A Sentinel’s stamina meant he had no trouble lasting the full course. The only real issue—beyond the sheer embarrassment—was that Yu Yan would occasionally move along with him during the pauses, making it incredibly hard for You Fuzhou to endure.

But Sentinels were honest creatures.

He admitted it felt good for him too, so he didn’t complain about Yu Yan’s behavior.

In the end, it finished. After resting that day, they both woke early the next morning. You Fuzhou washed up and, as was his habit, did some empty-stomach training before breakfast. Yu Yan went to make breakfast.

You Fuzhou liked soupy, watery foods. He could eat dry stuff, but never much. When Yu Yan noticed, he half-imagined a cat that refused dry kibble and only craved canned food.

Very cute.

So Yu Yan cooked noodles and fried a soft-boiled egg for You Fuzhou—You Fuzhou didn’t like fully cooked yolks; he found them dry and choking.

Some Sentinels were picky eaters, and Yu Yan found this trait of You Fuzhou’s adorable. At first glance, You Fuzhou seemed wild, like a beast king roaming free through the mountains and forests. Sometimes his words and actions even carried a bandit-like edge. His face looked noble, but not the delicate, pampered sort. Yet in these little details, he revealed a touch of young master fussiness that wasn’t annoying at all…

Just so cute.

Such a vivid, lively Sentinel.

When You Fuzhou came over, Yu Yan had just finished serving two bowls of noodles.

You Fuzhou picked up his bowl, and Yu Yan turned to grab chopsticks and spoons, pouring him a glass of fresh milk as well.

Discovering You Fuzhou’s fondness for fresh milk had been a surprise.

Most of their time together had been spent on ships or battlefields, with few peaceful days and even fewer chances for fresh milk.

A few years back, during a Freedom Alliance conference on the Main Planet, they’d had a rare bit of downtime. At the vending machine in the alliance building, while buying water, Yu Yan had seen You Fuzhou select fresh milk—and sensed the Sentinel’s wave of delight…

Yu Yan hadn’t asked then, but afterward, whenever they landed and he had time, he’d make a point of buying You Fuzhou a few bottles.

The first time, You Fuzhou had frozen. Yu Yan smiled and asked, “Do you like the gift?”

Of course he did, though he couldn’t remember ever telling Yu Yan: “…Yeah. How did you know?”

Yu Yan explained, “Back at the alliance building, after one sip of fresh milk, Mianmian’s tail tip was wagging so hard I wanted to grab it.”

You Fuzhou: “.”

He hadn’t realized his spiritual body betrayed so many little secrets. Mainly because, aside from Yu Yan, few dared to stare at it—not because of the White Lion, but because he was an S-class Sentinel.

You Fuzhou’s ears grew warm, and he reached to take the milk and go, but Yu Yan gently pushed his hand back with the bottle.

You Fuzhou looked at him, and he looked back. Their eyes met, and finally You Fuzhou murmured softly, “A-Yan.”

Yu Yan handed him the milk bottle: “Mm.”

He added, “Why don’t you call me that more often?”

Yu Yan knew why, of course. You Fuzhou was still in his early twenties back then, always a bit shy.

Over the years, he’d grown less bashful and could even fire back occasionally under Yu Yan’s teasing. But he was still the Sentinel who turned into a blushing kitten at the drop of a hat.

Still, Yu Yan wanted to hear him say it.

He loved hearing You Fuzhou call his name.

You Fuzhou: “…”

He mumbled low, “You’re always… making me say it.”

He didn’t think it was his fault: “Makes me think every time I’m about to call you… whose problem is it, really?”

Listening to You Fuzhou’s grievance, Yu Yan lowered his head: “It’s because you never call me that I have to do it.”

You Fuzhou: “…”

Maybe this Guide should check if he even believed his own words.

But Yu Yan knew exactly how to play him, because You Fuzhou really did fall for it every time.

In the end, You Fuzhou gave in helplessly and called out again: “A-Yan.”

That was as good as agreement.

Yu Yan’s eyes curved in a smile. He leaned in to kiss the corner of You Fuzhou’s lips, perfectly hiding the scheming glint of triumph in his gaze. Between them, there was no need for secrets anyway—but the fun of young lovers was in the mutual understanding, the things left unsaid: “Baby, next time you want something to eat or anything you like, just tell me directly.”

You Fuzhou wasn’t used to relying on others, likely due to his past environment. He rarely expressed his own desires, especially over trivial things.

He always put others first.

Even in love, his Sentinel nature made him seem so caring, always deferring to his partner’s wishes and ideas.

As a result, You Fuzhou seldom voiced his own needs.

Yu Yan noticed that everyone—even Rong Yao—tended to idealize him a bit.

As if You Fuzhou could handle anything, like an unshakeable mountain… And since he never complained or showed emotion, people naturally overlooked him in so many ways.

Yu Yan knew You Fuzhou did the same to himself.

Probably the environment, or past experiences—he was used to being the “big brother” figure.

But that didn’t mean You Fuzhou had no preferences, or didn’t need anyone by his side.

He was a Sentinel. Sentinels’ spiritual worlds were the most fragile; they were made to rely on their Guides without overthinking.

Yu Yan took You Fuzhou’s hand and said softly, “I’m not just your Guide—I’m your partner.”

He raised his hand to caress You Fuzhou’s cheek. His mental energy spread like a gentle web, enveloping him tenderly: “You can depend on me.”

A Guide’s greatest strength was mental energy. It could regulate a Sentinel’s emotions, build spiritual barriers—but before devices that amplified mental power were invented, what allowed Guides to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Sentinels was their most powerful ability:

Influencing thoughts.

Especially a Permanent Mark on a Sentinel, which let a Guide effortlessly alter their Sentinel’s memories.

Yu Yan wasn’t above entertaining the idea. He wasn’t a pure soul to begin with; from the first glance, he’d been drawn to You Fuzhou like a dingy moth to flame, unable to look away.

But in the end, he didn’t. You Fuzhou’s purity shone like the sun, blinding and exposing all his shadows.

Instead, he used gentler methods, drawing You Fuzhou closer bit by bit.

Yu Yan called him obedient, and he was.

After hearing Yu Yan out, You Fuzhou didn’t protest that he was the Sentinel, the strong and sturdy one, or anything like that. He just nodded: “Okay.”

You Fuzhou rarely refused Yu Yan—except maybe in bed.

But that was when Yu Yan got too ruthless.

Like last time, when he deliberately blocked You Fuzhou’s senses, leaving him able to see and hear but feel nothing.

That eerie sensation built up until Yu Yan deemed it enough, then returned his senses in a rush. It was like an explosion of pent-up everything—not gradual, but hitting all at once, including echoes of past sessions, slamming into You Fuzhou like a heavy punch.

Yu Yan had half-mermaid blood, after all. Down there!

That was when You Fuzhou said no.

Because Yu Yan’s ruthlessness went too far, You Fuzhou straight-up…

But by then, it was too late to refuse. Yu Yan had gotten to try what he’d always wanted. Afterward, he held You Fuzhou close, soothing him tenderly even as he did things that matched his tone not at all—but suited his inherently aggressive features perfectly.

The final session of Spiritual Guidance drew to a close. You Fuzhou had just returned from the battlefield, only to receive such intimate care from his own Guide. Exhausted, he fell asleep right there in Yu Yan’s arms before he could even take a bath.

In the end, it was Yu Yan who scooped him up and carried him off to get cleaned.

Someone had deliberately numbed You Fuzhou’s senses, turning what should have been a quick wash into a drawn-out affair.

The next day, You Fuzhou woke up feeling sore and out of sorts from head to toe. Of course, he knew exactly what Yu Yan had done to him the night before while he slept.

With the Permanent Mark binding them, and Yu Yan willingly opening his Spiritual World to You Fuzhou, there were no secrets left between the two men.