Chapter 9

Yin Wuji, who had looked over at the sound: “……”

Feeling the reaction intensify, he snapped in embarrassment and anger, “Shut up.”

Shadow Twelve obeyed the Master’s command, sealing his lips tight, determined not to make the slightest sound lest he displease the Master again.

The Shadow Guard’s forbearing expression was quite interesting. Yin Wuji wanted to watch a while longer, but mindful of the Shadow Guard’s belly, he rose in time.

Those pitch-black eyes rolled, and a puzzled gaze landed on Yin Wuji. Yin Wuji asked, “Feeling disappointed?”

Shadow Twelve shook his head, releasing his grip on the brocade quilt. Only after a long while did he climb up from the bed, his earlobes red enough to bleed. Yin Wuji reached out and pinched one; from the corner of his eye, he caught Shadow Twelve quietly grabbing the hem of his clothes.

The neatly pressed underclothes were now a crumpled mess. Apparently, besides that Shadow Guard uniform, this undergarment would have to be discarded too.

An hour later, the Physician stepped into Rose Garden once more. He peeked in carefully and found the Manor Master still there, watching him with a half-smile.

The Physician’s heart thudded. He had the strange illusion that the Manor Master meant to settle accounts with him.

Perhaps it wasn’t an illusion.

The Physician crashed to his knees—a motion he’d performed many times these past days, long since practiced. Prostrating himself, he babbled an apology, “I shouldn’t have disturbed the Manor Master’s leisure.”

“Leisure?” Yin Wuji, his face full of mockery, rolled those two words around his mouth before finally working out the thread of it. Instead of anger, he laughed. “What leisure?”

He’d torn the Lord Shadow Guard’s sash to pieces—didn’t that count as leisure? And this room in disarray—was that not the aftermath of coupling?

At this thought, the Physician said carefully, “The Manor Master should still be cautious.”

After all, the Shadow Guard was no longer the Shadow Guard he once was. He couldn’t withstand much rough handling.

Things seemed to be straying further and further off course. Yin Wuji rapped a knuckle against the edge of the bed and said coldly, “How considerate of you.”

“It is my duty to ease the Manor Master’s burdens—” Halfway through, the Physician sneaked a glance at Yin Wuji. The Manor Master’s face was terrible. His mind went blank, and his words swerved with it: “Perhaps I should first take Lord Shadow Guard’s pulse.”

After Yin Wuji nodded, the Physician shuffled to the bedside. The Shadow Guard had already obediently extended his wrist.

The Physician said, “It has stabilized. But he absolutely must not channel his Internal Energy.”

“Good.” Shadow Twelve touched his belly without a trace. “Thank you for your trouble, Physician.”

In the past, after taking the pulse, the two of them would chat a little. But today, with Yin Wuji present, the Physician packed his chest briskly, wanting only to leave as fast as possible.

“Wait.”

It was Yin Wuji who called him back. The Physician’s hand paused, his smile strained. “Manor Master, is there anything else?”

“Look at this for him.”

Without giving the Shadow Guard any say, Yin Wuji dragged the Shadow Guard’s leg out. With nothing covering it, the Physician could see everything clearly—the bruises on the knee looked like the accumulation of years. Taking a jar of ointment from his chest, the Physician said, “Apply it to the injury twice a day, and it will take effect.”

With that, the Physician shouldered his chest, but he didn’t dare leave, head bowed, awaiting Yin Wuji’s instructions.

Yin Wuji picked up the white porcelain jar and examined it. Looking up, he found the Physician still standing there. “Out.”

“Yes.”

The Physician made himself scarce, exhaling on the corridor. Another day survived without being replaced.

In the room, the porcelain jar was cool to the touch. Opening it, the ointment inside was white. Yin Wuji was still studying it when a pair of hands suddenly reached out.

Those hands carried the same devotion as their owner. Yin Wuji frowned. Shadow Twelve said, “Master, allow this Subordinate to hold it.”

The medicine would do no good sitting with the Master.

The jar rolled once in his palm. Yin Wuji asked, “Not using it now?”

The question made him pause. Shadow Twelve said in a small voice, “This Subordinate will handle it.”

The way he always had after every injury. Any Shadow Guard would treat himself quickly, so as to carry out the next mission smoothly.

Truthfully, this hardly counted as an injury at all—Shadow Twelve didn’t take it seriously in the slightest. But examining his wounds was the Master’s order, and Shadow Twelve dared not defy it.

“Handle what?” Yin Wuji turned around, staring at the Shadow Guard sunk into the bed. The faint flush hadn’t left the Shadow Guard’s face—he really did look rather like a man with whom everything had already been done.

Rubbing the tooth mark he’d left on the Shadow Guard’s nape, Yin Wuji pressed close to Shadow Twelve in a suggestive posture, though his tone remained exceptionally flat. “Are you thinking that it would be just fine if This Manor Master really did do something?”

There was even some barely-contained irritation in it. He knew perfectly well what had happened four months ago, yet today he had nearly repeated the mistake.

Right. How could the Master ever touch him? The Shadow Guard’s mood sank. “This Subordinate wouldn’t dare.”

Yin Wuji deliberately stroked the Shadow Guard’s shoulder. Even through the clothes, wherever Yin Wuji touched still trembled faintly. The Shadow Guard looked up helplessly, eyes wet. At his wit’s end, he finally pressed down on Yin Wuji’s teasing hand.

But quickly, he realized this was the Master’s amusement, and let go, leaving the Master free to do as he pleased on his body.

It was only touching his waist and such. His throat bobbed as he swallowed—he could bear it. He just couldn’t understand why the Master was doing this. Didn’t the Master dislike it?

Hotter and hotter, until even the Shadow Guard’s thoughts slowed a beat.

The spring scenery on the Shadow Guard’s body was truly enticing. His initial disgust gone, Yin Wuji grew somewhat unrestrained.

When he’d had his fill, Yin Wuji wickedly withdrew. The Shadow Guard’s temples were damp; his gaze slid downward—other places were probably damp too.

The underclothes the Shadow Guard had crumpled in his own fists now hung loosely from his body. When Yin Wuji glanced over, his eyes darkened, and he pulled the Shadow Guard’s underclothes straight.

The Shadow Guard, who had been about to gather his own clothes, froze. He leaned forward and asked, “Master, haven’t you had enough?”

He parted his underclothes, promoting himself with all his might. He probably understood this was a shameful thing to do—the red on his face hadn’t faded since Yin Wuji began his wandering hands.

And so Yin Wuji, who had already had his satisfaction, nearly lost control again at the sight of the Shadow Guard’s forbearing expression. Scooping out the ointment, he spread it over the Shadow Guard’s knees with none-too-gentle strokes.

How did he keep touching this Shadow Guard, over and over?

Yin Wuji’s hands were strong—he hadn’t noticed it himself—until a drop of sweat fell onto the back of his hand.

The Shadow Guard’s face was covered in sweat. When the pain grew sharp, he bit his own lip, and now the lip had split too, beads of blood rolling down together with the sweat.

It was only rubbing his knees. Had the Shadow Guard’s endurance declined?

His gaze skimmed past the belly. Yin Wuji’s fingertips stilled. “Why didn’t you cry out when it hurt?”

“This Subordinate assumed the Master wouldn’t like it.”

Especially in bed—he had to restrain himself at every turn.

Yin Wuji, who had never once truly taken him from beginning to end: “……”