Master of Masters 41

Chapter 41: Master Shouldn’t Think About Other Little Dogs

The soup in the kitchen bubbled, its rich aroma filling the room. Wien added a spoonful of seasoning and stirred the soup with a ladle.

“Hiss…”

He suddenly lowered his head, his hands gripping the edge of the stove tightly. The rising steam hit his face, the stinging pain in his red and swollen wounds intensifying.

Wien’s wounds hadn’t fully healed since that last time. The female insect’s exceptional healing ability meant the surface injuries didn’t last long; the marks Master left on him one day would be almost gone the next.

The rapid healing process also brought intense sensations: the unbearable itching of new flesh growing, and the thin, sensitive skin of the newly formed tissue.

Wien desperately wanted to rub his arm against something to relieve the itching, but this was strictly forbidden by He Yue. The obedient doggy could only grip the corner of the stove tightly, every muscle in his body tense.

He Yue checked every day, almost obsessively adding new injuries to old ones, sometimes even twice a day, morning and evening.

He Yue’s arms wrapped around Wien’s waist from behind, embracing his strong body. He buried his face in Wien’s broad, solid back, the texture of the wool sweater and the warmth of his body against his skin.

“Surprise inspection.” He Yue’s muffled voice came from behind Wien.

Wien had brought several layers of clothing, but they were all black, tight-fitting turtleneck sweaters, the only difference being the direction of the stripes.

…

“What’s going on?” He Yue poked his head out from beside Wien’s arm, his hair slightly messy. “Weren’t you supposed to be making dinner?”

The steam from the boiling soup and He Yue’s words made Wien’s ears redden.

“Bad doggy…”

He Yue shook his head, feigning exasperation, and nuzzled his face against Wien’s back.

“What are you doing?” He Yue asked knowingly.

They could only cook because Xiao Lu not only locked my chapter 800 times but also demanded I make up the missing word count, so cooking it is.

He Yue was still standing behind Wien, his arms around his waist, his head resting on his reassuringly solid back, his words making the innocent doggy blush. He felt the back against his cheek warming up, the skin on Wien’s neck flushing.

“Making, the dishes Master likes.”

Wien opened the memo app on his optical device and scrolled to the recipe section.

The memo contained a detailed record of He Yue’s culinary preferences, including flavors and cuisines. He Yue leaned against Wien, carefully reading the notes.

He Yue’s gaze softened as he scanned the memo. He saw the various cuisines listed, detailed and organized, each word seemingly imbued with Wien’s care and affection.

It was what He Yue was most familiar with: his favorite dishes, his preferred tastes, the trivial little preferences he had occasionally mentioned. Every detail had been meticulously recorded by Wien.

Wien’s affection was always subtle, almost imperceptible, like a gentle rain. He carefully offered his devotion, even if He Yue didn’t notice.

He Yue leaned against his back, his voice low and slightly touched. “Why do you keep track of these things?”

His finger lightly traced the lines of text, each word seemingly whispering Wien’s deep affection.

Wien stood before him, his hands steadily stirring the soup, not daring to turn and look at He Yue’s expression. He knew He Yue was reading those words, feeling the carefully recorded details. Wien didn’t mind; in fact, he could do even more, even better.

“These,” He Yue pointed to a section of the memo, smiling faintly. “You even recorded these? I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned them.”

Wien’s movements paused slightly, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, then he replied softly, “Master mentioned them occasionally, some of Master’s little habits, like how you like grilled salmon, spicy hot pot, and sour sauces.”

His tone was matter-of-fact, his usual focus unwavering. “And also… you don’t like bitter things, and you like sweet little cakes.” He spoke with a gentle thoughtfulness.

He Yue’s smile softened even more. He knew he had only casually mentioned these habits during their chats on the optical device, yet Wien had still remembered them.

He had spent so little time with Wien, so little that he could count the days. He was surprised that Wien could remember so much just from their online conversations.

It had been a long time since he had seen such sincere and pure affection in reality.

“You really are a good boy.” He Yue leaned closer to Wien’s ear, his voice warm and low. “I don’t need you to say anything, I know you’re always silently watching over me, taking care of me.”

Wien’s hand trembled slightly, his heart involuntarily quickening. He could never get used to He Yue’s gentleness, each time stirring a deep affection within him. Even though he knew He Yue might not treat him like a lover, might not even reciprocate his feelings, he couldn’t help but love his Master even more deeply.

Wien didn’t reply, only turning slightly to look at He Yue’s deep eyes, reflecting his focused expression.

He Yue also noticed the faint blush in Wien’s eyes and couldn’t help but chuckle, releasing his hold on Wien’s waist and walking to the other side of the kitchen.

“I like every dish you make.” He Yue’s voice drifted over, soft and low. “Whether it’s the noodles you’re good at, or the fried rice you occasionally try… every dish makes me feel your care.”

Wien silently watched He Yue’s back, a warmth spreading through his heart. He had unknowingly engraved He Yue’s preferences in his mind, from his favorite staple foods and soups, to his subtle taste preferences, and even the little things He Yue had casually mentioned – all meticulously recorded by Wien. These became his guide for cooking for He Yue, each meal a silent expression of love.

“What level of spiciness does Master prefer?” Wien asked softly, his voice carrying a hint of nervousness.

He Yue replied casually, “Not too spicy, but with a bit of a kick.”

Wien nodded and continued adjusting the spiciness of the soup, precisely catering to He Yue’s taste.

He Yue leaned against Wien, continuing to browse the records on his optical device. He would occasionally interrupt Wien’s cooking, and Wien would stop and use his other hand to operate the device, ensuring He Yue could clearly see the text.

On every page, beside He Yue’s name, various dishes were carefully listed by Wien.

He Yue scrolled for a long time; the memo seemed endless, a long list of his preferences.

Most of the content was taken from their chat logs on the optical device. He Yue even found excerpts of their conversations, detailed down to the specific day and hour.

“Can you remember everything written in the memo?” He Yue asked curiously.

The content covered a wide range of topics, like a research guide about him. If it were an exam, this memo would definitely earn a high score.

He Yue was curious if Wien actually remembered everything.

“I remember, I remember every single item.” Wien replied confidently.

He Yue randomly stopped at a certain entry and glanced at the note.

“You wrote here that Master likes paintings with black and red combinations. What’s that about?”

Wien’s hand stirring the soup paused. He replied, “Last time, Master showed me a new painting and said you particularly liked the effect of deep red and black pigments combined.”

“What’s the point of recording that?”

Wien tilted his head, slightly puzzled. “Can’t I record it if there’s no point?” He paused, then continued, “Or perhaps it has no use now, but does that mean it will never be useful in the future? Everything about Master is important to me. I think maybe one day it will be useful.”

“That’s because we haven’t talked much. If we were together every day, and so many little things happened between us, could you remember every single one?” He Yue asked.

Wien lowered his head, his fingers fiddling with the end of the ladle.

“Yes, I’ve spent so little time with Master, so I want to use this method to relive the few stories we have, as if Master is with me every day.”

For some reason, He Yue felt that Wien resembled a dejected puppy.

He was wagging his tail, expressing his dissatisfaction to his Master, but without the possessiveness that would encroach on He Yue’s life.

If he were truly a fierce dog, he might have directly taken He Yue away, far from the colonel’s house, claiming him as his own.

But Wien didn’t do that. He was always the little dog carefully guarding his Master’s everything.

Perhaps one day, if He Yue told him that he was just working on a mission, not truly invested in any of his dogs, Wien wouldn’t blame him.

He Yue took a deep breath, gently closed his optical device, and placed his hands on Wien’s shoulders, feeling his warmth and firmness. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, the love flowing from his very being could still be felt by He Yue.

“The dish you’re preparing now should be my favorite, right?” He Yue’s voice carried a hint of anticipation.

“Yes.” Wien smiled, a gentle look in his eyes. “It’s Master’s favorite, hot and sour seafood soup.”

He Yue’s heart warmed, and he nodded with a smile, his gaze unconsciously shifting to everything on the kitchen counter. It was a familiar and heartwarming scene: Wien’s busy figure, radiating warmth, and He Yue standing beside him, quietly watching. The kitchen was filled with aroma, and also with their silent companionship.

Time seemed to stand still, all the busyness and trivialities of life fading away. Because they had each other, and that was enough.

The wind and snow howled outside, as if trying to shatter this warm scene, but it was blocked by the windows, leaving a sanctuary for the two of them.

As Wien continued cooking, he would occasionally pause and look at He Yue.

He Yue would sometimes pick up a seasoning bottle and add some of his favorite spices, and Wien would seamlessly take over, carefully adjusting the amount of each ingredient.

There weren’t many words exchanged between them, but every action was filled with understanding and care.

“Almost done,” Wien said softly, stirring the soup, a look of satisfaction in his eyes. “I know you like a rich seafood broth. This pot will definitely suit Master’s taste.”

He Yue smiled and leaned closer. “I know, Wien is the best doggy.”

With the final seasoning added, the seafood soup was finally complete.

Wien turned off the heat and brought the pot to the table. They sat down, facing each other, and smiled.

Wien looked at He Yue, his heart filled with a warm sense of contentment. The warmth of the kitchen seemed to linger around them, but it wasn’t just the aroma of the food, but also the warmth of their companionship.

He Yue scooped a spoonful of soup, blew on it to cool it down, and held it to Wien’s lips. “Try it, is it the flavor I like?”

Wien took the spoon, tasted the soup, and smiled. “It’s Master’s favorite flavor.”

In this warm kitchen, time seemed to stand still, only the understanding and warmth between them, like the soup, growing stronger, more inseparable.

The sound of running water came from the bathroom. Wien plugged in the hairdryer, trying to learn how to use it.

He Yue had entrusted the arduous task of drying his hair to Wien. It always took him a long time to dry his hair, sometimes his arms would get sore even before it was half dry.

Long hair, especially a thick head of long hair, was truly troublesome at times like this.

Wien struggled with the hairdryer. With his short hair, he had always been carefree, and with a military female’s physique, even sleeping with wet hair wouldn’t cause a headache.

As soon as he received He Yue’s instructions, he searched on his optical device for how to use a hairdryer properly, which acupoints to massage to relax the scalp, and how far away to hold it for the optimal temperature and airflow.

Wien roughly dried his own hair with a towel and sent a message to a long-haired female colleague at the research institute:

Wien: [Emergency, I have a strange question for you.]

Colleague: [What is it?]

Wien: [When using a hairdryer on long hair, is it better to dry the roots first, or the ends?]

Colleague: [?]

She sent several shocked emojis, probably because the question of drying long hair seemed completely out of character for Wien, the short-haired, stoic military female.

After a moment of silence, his colleague sent him an article about hair drying. The first point was that one should start drying from the roots.

The article’s title was dramatic, and the writing awkward, but Wien still read it carefully, word by word.

When He Yue’s hair was finally in his hands, he still seemed clumsy.

The wet hair was most fragrant at this time, not an overpowering scent, but a fresh, clean fragrance. Wien carefully inserted his fingers into He Yue’s hair, gently directing the warm air towards the roots.

His fingers were strong, the muscles in his arms flexing.

He Yue, under the warm air and skillful massage, relaxed completely, entrusting his senses to the female insect behind him. Wien, of course, treated him with utmost care, using all the techniques he had just learned.

“Take a break.”

He Yue, his hair half-dry and warm, reached up and turned off the hairdryer. He showed Wien the screen of his optical device, the chat log showing only a few messages he had sent at different times.

“This brat is ignoring me.”

Wien glanced at the name on the contact list: Colonel Koeyle. His heart sank, a surge of jealousy he couldn’t suppress.

He put down the hot hairdryer and wrapped his arms around He Yue from behind, gently embracing him.

“Is he deliberately not replying, or does he really not have time to check his optical device?” He Yue, oblivious to the burning jealousy behind him, found Wien’s embrace comfortable and leaned back against him.

His half-dry hair, slightly rough, felt soft against Wien’s skin. He Yue nestled in his arms like a contented, lazy cat.

Wien’s gaze wasn’t on the optical device, but lowered, fixed on the flushed face in his arms, reddened by the steam from the bathroom and the warm air from the hairdryer.

“Don’t look at me, look at this!” He Yue noticed his distraction and, displeased, tilted Wien’s chin up, forcing him to look at the optical device in his hand.

The optical device didn’t show whether the message had been received, but every time He Yue opened it to send a message to Koeyle, the latter’s avatar was gray, never lighting up.

“He can’t possibly be in simulation training 24/7, can he? Can’t he check his optical device during breaks?”

He Yue had a bad feeling, perhaps due to the increasingly loud wind and snow outside, or perhaps the gloomy, overcast sky, and he couldn’t help but worry about the disaster.

The only colonel in the entire insect race, the strongest fighter in the entire base, and even the greatest hope for overcoming the nuclear hole crisis. He Yue, like the other female insects commenting on the news, also hoped Koeyle could find a way to solve the puzzle inside the nuclear hole.

Both for the survival of this planet and for his own.

Koeyle’s resolute figure rushing into the snowstorm last time, and his parting words, still bothered He Yue.

He Yue typed a few words and sent the message.

Of course, Colonel Koeyle, who had previously set He Yue’s messages to top priority and special alerts, didn’t reply instantly this time either.

[Moderator, can you even take a closer look?? What’s wrong with a hug? I’m asking you??]

“Master…”

Wien reached out from behind He Yue and turned off the optical device in his hand. He leaned in, resting his chin on He Yue’s shoulder, nuzzling his face against his affectionately, a hint of grievance in his actions.

“What’s wrong?” He Yue bent his legs, letting the strong female insect behind him wrap his arms around his legs, holding him close.

“Master can’t do this…”

The little dog complained softly, not daring to openly criticize his Master.

He Yue ruffled his hair with the towel. “Do what?”

“Master can’t be in little dog’s arms, thinking about other insects, chatting with other insects.”

Wien said cautiously.

He was worried about not handling this properly, the line between showing vulnerability and being unreasonable wasn’t clear.

Wien carefully observed He Yue’s expression.

He had spent a few intimate days with He Yue, a stark contrast to their previous perfunctory meetings, and his possessiveness had grown.

He Yue rubbed Wien’s hair with the towel even more vigorously.

“Why not? You naughty little dog is lecturing me now.”

Wien’s heart sank.

“I’m sor…”

“So cute.”

Wien’s apology died in his throat.

He Yue’s teasing words made Wien’s heart pound.

His secret possessiveness was acknowledged, like a small sapling struggling to grow in a crevice, now transplanted into fertile soil, bathed in sunlight and given fertilizer, growing rapidly.

Wien was both angry and anxious from jealousy, wanting to teleport to Koeyle and grab him by the collar, demanding to know why he wasn’t replying to Master’s messages.

But he held He Yue close, his voice softening, both pleading and coaxing.

“Master shouldn’t think about other little dogs.”

He Yue found his jealous look even more endearing and amusing, his heart softening. He turned and nestled himself in Wien’s arms.

Wien’s chest was still warm, especially the side where the skin had been broken.

But He Yue deliberately pressed his forehead against Wien’s soft chest, nuzzling against it. The soft, yielding feel was comfortable even against his forehead, and he was pleased by the soft moan from above, turning his head and wrapping his arms around Wien’s waist.

“The colonel is a bad doggy for not replying to Master’s messages.” He Yue said, a hint of displeasure in his voice.

Wien hugged him back, his arm pressing against He Yue’s slightly damp, cool hair. He knew it was opportunistic to criticize Koeyle at this moment, but his heart ached with jealousy, and he couldn’t help himself.

“A good doggy will always reply to Master’s messages instantly.”

He Yue was amused by his petty competitiveness, but he enjoyed it, not pointing it out.

The wind and snow howled against the windows like the apocalypse, and even in the sealed room, safe from all danger, the sound was unsettling.

But He Yue, nestled in the warm bedroom, didn’t feel any discomfort.

The slight unease caused by the disaster gradually dissipated in Wien’s embrace.

Held in this warm embrace, he felt safe and secure.

“Wien, sleep with me tonight?”

Wien, still battling the hairdryer, vaguely heard He Yue’s words and immediately turned it off. He wondered if he had imagined those longed-for words amidst the noise of the hairdryer.

He Yue turned around and saw his little dog staring at him blankly, the hot hairdryer still in his hand.

“I said, the wind and snow are too loud tonight, let’s sleep together.”

“Okay…” Wien agreed, and as He Yue turned away, he quickly turned the hairdryer back on, concealing the slight trembling in his hand.

The running hairdryer felt even hotter in his hand.

His heart pounded, louder than the howling wind and snow outside.