Chapter 43: Training Guidelines

The ancients called temperance a virtue.

It was a form of order, a control over pleasure and desire.

Insatiable greed, a lack of restraint—it was like downing wine laced with poison, where a fleeting moment of bliss led to utter ruin. Greed corrupted the spirit and withered the flesh, so—

Wen Jiang, having straightened his clothes, looked at Xie Qi and said, “You should take a cold shower.”

“…Oh.” Xie Qi, kneeling properly on the floor, responded slowly.

Xie Qi looked even more deflated, his dissatisfaction and disappointment expressed through his Supernatural Ability.

Winds swirled around Wen Jiang, splitting into small streams of air that nuzzled warmly against his skin, wrapping around his fingers like several invisible puppies eager to lick their master’s palm and nuzzle their fluffy heads underneath.

Who could resist such an assault? Only someone with a heart of stone, utterly cold and ruthless.

The stone-hearted Wen Jiang said, “Put your ability away.”

“…” Xie Qi looked even more deflated, then muttered in a low voice, “It’s not really under control.”

Last night, the air currents had rubbed and nuzzled Wen Jiang in the same way, but Wen Jiang had let it slide then, leading Xie Qi to only now realize that the air flows were indeed stable and controllable—they were an extension of his own desires. He could easily twist them into pretzels in midair, but reeling them back in? That was the hard part.

“…” Did that even make sense? Supernatural Abilities were so bizarre. Wen Jiang held up a hand, showing a number that represented the number of releases, reviewing with Xie Qi: “How many times?”

Xie Qi glanced at his hand, blinked rapidly, and mumbled vaguely, “Just… that many?”

Just that many? Between the two of us, who was the one hit by a Charm-Type Esper Ability? Wen Jiang reminded him to face reality: “That’s already more than at the hotel.”

Xie Qi’s gaze dropped to the floor, sweeping from one end to the other with pointed intent: “That’s pretty normal, right?”

Wasn’t it said that men tended to finish quickly the first time? But after a few more rounds, they got the hang of it and improved. Same logic here—the sessions lasted longer than at the hotel, and there were more of them… That was perfectly reasonable.

No, it wasn’t! Wen Jiang remained unmoved. He’d already spotted the vicious cycle: Xie Qi’s Supernatural Ability was unstable, so he needed release to vent his desires; satisfying those desires led to even more desire building up for the next round; failing to satisfy that amplified the instability, requiring even more release; which then spawned even greater desires—

What was this, aspiring to become a perpetual motion machine?

Wen Jiang pondered countermeasures as Xie Qi glanced up at him, then lowered his head to stare at the handcuffs on his wrists.

At the start, he’d been bound with ropes twisted around his body, hands tied behind his back. Now the ropes lay in tatters on the floor. Xie Qi knelt obediently, hands resting on his thighs, silver handcuffs gleaming—easily breakable, just like the ropes, offering no real restraint. Red wax traces still clung, hardened, to his shoulders and back.

Wen Jiang hadn’t planned to use every toy, but that was per “round,” and one measly round clearly wasn’t enough for Xie Qi. The fact that they’d ended up using everything showed just how long they’d played. Time to call it.

Xie Qi disagreed.

There were plenty of complaints out there about husbands who weren’t “fierce” enough, boyfriends who “couldn’t cut it,” or new hookups who turned out to be total “duds.” So why was it reversed here? They hadn’t even gone all the way properly, and a Combat System esper with S-Grade stamina ratings didn’t get it.

Xie Qi stayed silent for a moment, then suddenly asked, “Was it a hassle?”

“Not really,” Wen Jiang said honestly. “You’re pretty obedient.”

The lack of restraint in frequency stemmed largely from Wen Jiang never calling a halt.

If Xie Qi had suddenly gone feral mid-session, his ability rampaging and wrecking the place with intent to harm, that would be bad.

Of course, Wen Jiang could handle it—he was S-Grade too—but it’d be a hassle, and it would mean Xie Qi’s mental state was far worse than imagined. Normal people didn’t turn into mindless beasts that easily.

So it was good news that Xie Qi’s indulgence remained “controllable.”

He wouldn’t devolve into ignoring commands and just using others for release. He’d just grow more urgent—like with the ropes sliced into segments. That wasn’t Xie Qi breaking free on his own; it’d happened the second after Wen Jiang said, “You can untie now.” A wind blade severed the bonds, Xie Qi half-rose, and his right arm wrapped tightly around Wen Jiang’s waist.

But he was compliant.

“Xie Qi.” Wen Jiang just had to glance down at the head pressed against him, yank the rope on the Neck Collar, and Xie Qi would be tugged upright, breathing hotly, apologizing within two breaths.

Accompanied by a more pronounced physical reaction.

It might seem like a subtle difference on the surface, but the underlying gap was vast. Wen Jiang never worried about Xie Qi disobeying—like picking up a glass of water, he didn’t fret if it’d leap from his grasp.

Still, they couldn’t maintain the status quo forever, could they?

If it were just occasional excess or a bit more than average, it could be chalked up to youthful vigor or S-Grade physiology. Let it slide. After indulging Xie Qi this long, Wen Jiang felt no fatigue himself—he’d mostly just sat there, nothing too taxing.

If they ever got to spanking Xie Qi or something down the line… well, that would be more effort. Later for that.

S-Grade or not, endlessly stoking desire didn’t sound healthy. You didn’t squander top-tier physiology like this.

Wen Jiang had the distinct feeling that if he didn’t call stop, Xie Qi never would first. They called the Xie Family heir “emerging from the mud unstained”—a lofty marble statue, untouched by the world’s garish temptations, barely sparing them a glance. After these two rounds, though, Wen Jiang saw no sign of that.

This guy even had little schemes of his own.

Maybe it was genetic, or family influence—talent always there, just hidden until now. Or the opposite: repressed so long that now, having had his first taste of meat and craving the flavor ever since, he was hooked.

For that, one nasty counter was to go overboard: give him whatever he wanted until it exceeded his limits.

Like someone obsessed with burgers—if you kept force-feeding them past fullness until they puked, they’d lose their taste for burgers, maybe for a good long while.

So, squeeze Xie Qi to his physical limits, and maybe…

Wen Jiang studied Xie Qi seriously. Xie Qi sensed the gaze, lifted his eyelids to meet it, expression calm.

Not a drop of sweat on him so far. Child of the Storm, human weapon, monster beyond reason—plenty of chuunibyou titles he’d earned early and widely.

Just… that?

Better not risk it. What if he got addicted for good? Wen Jiang figured he should consider Xie Qi’s future prospects.

Picking fights with Xie Qi, only for his ability to glitch and him snapping complaints—that was off the table. New angle: could the mind be tamed through non-violent nurture? Very common.

Fear worked, but options for making people compliant were more often… rewards.

Like what they’d just done, or the videos: one side inflicting humiliation or pain that registered as intense pleasure, so the other begged for more willingly.

Hmm. If his earlier conclusion was that Xie Qi needed training, now it was time to set the “guidelines.”

Plants in a pot needed watering on a schedule, so many hours of sun daily. Pets got fixed portions at set times, walks of certain lengths. Aspiring experts practiced specific drills for set durations in categories. All “training.”

“Xie Qi.” Wen Jiang leaned down slightly, right hand cupping Xie Qi’s chin. He saw Xie Qi’s pupils dilate faintly, breath hitch.

They needed rules. Ones including rewards.

“You’ll be more obedient, won’t you?”

Xie Qi’s eyes were like a midnight lake, still and dark. In the shadowed reflection, he saw himself. Wen Jiang always said things no one else would dare to him. Xie Qi’s hand twitched unconsciously on his knee, unsure what to feel.

So Xie Qi asked, “…And if I’m obedient, what happens?”

Wen Jiang said flatly, “I’ll be pleased.”

His index and middle fingers brushed the chin lightly, like a feather, a butterfly’s wing.

“If I’m pleased, I’ll reward you.”

Plants varied—drought-tolerant or moisture-loving, sun-worshippers or shade-dwellers. Pets had habits. What was the perfect reward?

Not too much, or he’d grow greedy; not too little, or ineffective; meaningless, and it wasn’t leverage; too explicit, and it lost novelty and anticipation; can’t break promises, but don’t be too rigid—randomness sparked guessing, pondering what obedience earned more.

Easy. Wen Jiang lowered his lashes: “Drive me to school tomorrow morning.” Do well, and you can stay over again tonight.

Silence flowed through the room. Wen Jiang never doubted Xie Qi’s sharpness, so he didn’t worry it’d hurt him.

Sure, it leveraged emotions and desires a bit, but not for selfish gain. The goal was singular: make Xie Qi’s Supernatural Ability compliant.

Xie Qi’s jaw shifted faintly under his fingertips. Wen Jiang asked, “Can you pull back the wind now?”

A little motivation spurred greater effort. The winds encircling their bodies, rubbing at wrists, slowed gradually, losing cohesion, merging back into still air.

Xie Qi’s lips parted. He still felt parched, yet oddly… satisfied: “Yeah.”

The guidelines seemed viable. Wen Jiang gently patted Xie Qi’s head.