Chapter 43: The Instructor Trains His Dog

“Isn’t it normal for people to be a bit selfish?” Lin Jianxi smiled at him. “Didn’t you say being nice to everyone is self-harm? So isn’t it fine for me to look out for myself?”

“…But he’s hurting people.”

Xu Song’an knelt before him, not daring to meet his eyes. “He’s hurting people.”

“It’s a debatable question from the start,” Lin Jianxi said with a soft exhale. “I’ve thought about it too—between two people who keep hurting each other, who’s more right and who’s more wrong? But there’s no answer. I’ve mulled it over for ages, and still nothing.”

Counting his time in the previous two worlds, Lin Jianxi had lived nearly a century. All those years, the question had haunted him every day, yet he’d never found an answer.

In time, he’d stopped dwelling on it and just let things play out.

Lin Jianxi stood, and Xu Song’an reached out to steady him. He borrowed the support to straighten up.

Xu Song’an stayed kneeling on the floor.

Lin Jianxi had a rough idea now.

Xu Song’an was the protagonist.

The one who’d threatened him before, sold his photos, spied on him.

In his presence, he’d cloaked himself in sheep’s wool, playing the innocent lamb and fooling him completely—while Xu Song’an himself tumbled into the whirlpool, unable to climb out.

Lin Jianxi knew he ought to hate him, but he simply lacked the energy. He stared at the other’s hair, zoning out for a moment.

The old impressions Xu Song’an had left were fading, overwritten. Gazing at the man before him stirred a strange sense of fracture in Lin Jianxi’s chest.

In the past, he would have helped him up, saying it was all circumstantial, beyond anyone’s control.

But today, exhaustion weighed on him, body and soul.

Xu Song’an was unfortunate in a way—Lin Jianxi had poured all his energy into the previous two protagonists and had none left for selfless forgiveness.

Yet Xu Song’an was fortunate too. Lin Jianxi had no desire to forgive, but no urge for revenge either.

He looked at him like a stray dog wandering by.

Pitiable. Tempting to toss it a leftover bone.

He couldn’t stand to see a living thing suffer.

Lin Jianxi’s gaze held no emotion as he looked down at him. “If you truly want to atone, first figure out exactly where you went wrong.”

Xu Song’an nodded, making no move to rise. He stayed right there on his knees.

Lin Jianxi said nothing more. He headed to the bathroom for a shower, only realizing afterward that he’d forgotten pajamas.

He knocked on the door. “Xu Song’an, bring me a fresh set of pajamas.”

“Okay.” The reply came quick. Maybe his legs had gone numb from kneeling so long—Lin Jianxi heard a thud, like Xu Song’an had tripped.

Lin Jianxi sighed.

He stuck his hand out the bathroom door and took the pajamas.

After changing, he toweled his hair and pushed the door open. There was Xu Song’an, kneeling right at the threshold, head bowed.

Lin Jianxi sidestepped him calmly and went to blow-dry his hair.

Xu Song’an spoke up. “I can help you with that.”

Lin Jianxi shot back, “Did I say you could talk? Stay quiet.”

Xu Song’an shut his mouth.

Lin Jianxi wasn’t cruel at heart, but he knew how to wield cruelty—like banishing him to kneel outside, out of sight all day. That would leave Xu Song’an stewing in restless anxiety.

But that was excessive.

So he let Xu Song’an stay kneeling in the room.

Lin Jianxi grabbed a plastic bag and squatted by the shattered bowl, picking the fragments up one by one and dropping them inside. The herbal scent wafted up, and he asked offhandedly, “For calming the nerves?”

“…To soothe pheromones,” Xu Song’an said after a brief hesitation.

“Herbal medicine does that?”

“…Yeah.”

Lin Jianxi’s hand paused over the shards. He tossed the bag aside, sat on the bed, and looked down at Xu Song’an.

He crossed his legs, leaned forward a touch, propped his chin in his hand, and said, “Xu Song’an, do you just love to lie that much?”

Panic flashed in Xu Song’an’s eyes for an instant.

“I don’t want to hear any more falsehoods.”

“It’s not herbal medicine, it’s—”

“Did I ask a question? You answer and that’s it.”

“…” Xu Song’an ducked his head.

Lin Jianxi looked away, snagged the cigarettes from the bedside table, and lit one with his head tilted.

He exhaled smoke rings in silence, his peripheral vision flicking to Xu Song’an’s crotch before returning impassively to his smoking.

His heat period was likely just a day away—maybe mere hours. The pheromone scent leaking out was beyond what an inhibitor patch could hide.

Xu Song’an’s reaction was simple biology.

Lin Jianxi didn’t mind. He finished the cigarette and ground out the butt in the ashtray. “Go clean up that mess on the floor.”

Xu Song’an rose and got to it.

Lin Jianxi watched him squat there. The kid was nothing like the brash show-off from their first meeting, just as he’d suspected—under all that swagger and confidence lurked profound insecurity.

Xu Song’an didn’t bother with a rag. He scooped the spilled medicine bit by bit into the plastic bag with his bare hands.

It would take ages.

Lin Jianxi tossed him a pack of tissues. “Use these.”

Xu Song’an’s throat worked. “Thank you.”

Lin Jianxi asked, “What did you add to it?”

Xu Song’an froze mid-tear on the wrapper. “My blood.”

“…”

“I know you won’t let me mark you, but going without a mark is agony. A bit of Alpha blood makes it much easier.”

Lin Jianxi smiled. “And what about you?”

“Me…?” Xu Song’an blinked in confusion.

Lin Jianxi cast a pointed glance at his crotch. “Need me to spell it out? I can smell your scent too, Xu Song’an.”

“…”

Lin Jianxi stood and squatted in front of him, eyes closing briefly. “It’s like… mint, but laced with this intense, sweet aroma.”

“Sorry!” Xu Song’an fumbled for an inhibitor patch in a panic. Lin Jianxi looked up. “Don’t move.”

Xu Song’an went still.

Lin Jianxi circled around to face him and leaned against the bedside table. “Hand.”

Xu Song’an extended it hesitantly. Lin Jianxi shoved up the sleeve and, sure enough, found a deep gash.

“What’d you cut it with?”

“…A knife.”

“Which one?”

“The small one from the kitchen.”

Lin Jianxi said, “That the only way?”

“…Yeah.”

“Then I’ll give you some of my blood too.” Lin Jianxi turned toward the kitchen, only for Xu Song’an to grab his arm.

“Don’t—”

“Xu Song’an, you have no right to stop me right now.”

“Instructor, I don’t need that. I can just endure it…”

Lin Jianxi said sternly, “Let go!”

Xu Song’an truly broke down. Holding his hand, he slowly sank to his knees on the floor, his voice thick with sobs. “Don’t get hurt on my account again, Lin Jianxi. Please, I’m suffering so much. You’re the only person in this world who’s ever been kind to me. I can’t bear the thought of you getting injured time and again because of me.”

Lin Jianxi lowered his eyes. “After thinking about it for so long, do you know where you went wrong?”

“I know, I know,” Xu Song’an nodded frantically. “I shouldn’t have retaliated against Shen Yuxiu. I… I could have found another way, at least not like this…”

“Xu Song’an.” Lin Jianxi’s tone suddenly softened, as if the sternness before had all been an act.

“Wh-what?” Xu Song’an stared at him in bewilderment.

“Even now, you still don’t know where you went wrong.” Lin Jianxi pressed, “Besides bloodletting, were there other options?”

“…”

Xu Song’an’s hands began to shake. He couldn’t even bring himself to meet his gaze.

“You won’t even tell me the truth, but you keep insisting I should retaliate against you. That was a lie too, wasn’t it?”

“…No.” Tears splashed onto the back of Lin Jianxi’s hand from Xu Song’an. “No… it was real… I really thought it through… I shouldn’t have gone after Shen Yuxiu, and I shouldn’t have lied…”

“Then tell me the truth. Besides bloodletting, what were the other options?”

“…” Xu Song’an gritted his teeth. “Other bodily fluids.”

“Oh.” Lin Jianxi voiced the words plainly, without a hint of restraint.

Xu Song’an ducked his head even lower. “I didn’t mean it like that. Don’t get the wrong idea.”

“But I do.”

Lin Jianxi crouched down in front of Xu Song’an and tilted his chin up with one hand. “Do you want to drink my blood?”

Xu Song’an shook his head.

Lin Jianxi went on, “What about the other one? Do you want that?”

“…” Xu Song’an froze in place.

Lin Jianxi fixed him with a steady gaze. “This is the last time I’m asking. Where, exactly, did you go wrong?”

“…Is this a reward?”

“Call it whatever you want,” Lin Jianxi said, staring into his eyes. “Just answer the question.”

“Can you give me a little more time?”

Lin Jianxi checked the watch on his wrist and patted Xu Song’an’s cheek. “It’s ten minutes to nine. Let’s make it neat—give me your answer at nine.”

For the next ten minutes, Lin Jianxi stepped out onto the balcony for some fresh air, leaving Xu Song’an kneeling there alone. He didn’t spare him a single glance.

The room fell utterly silent, save for the whisper of wind in Lin Jianxi’s ears.

The System hesitated. “You want him to bite you…?”

Lin Jianxi cut it off. “He won’t figure it out.”

“…”

“He’s only this subservient right now because he likes me. His mindset is set in stone—he can’t arrive at the real answer.”

“So, what is the answer?”

“Hurting Shen Yuxiu wasn’t entirely wrong. From his perspective, it makes sense,” Lin Jianxi explained. “But the original host is innocent in all this. He simply pursued true love, which indirectly harmed the protagonist, and now he’s facing this kind of revenge. It’s nothing like the first two worlds, where the original hosts actively hurt the protagonist—revenge made sense there. But here? Xu Song’an wronging the original host is the real mistake, and he won’t even realize it, not even up to his dying breath.”

“His feelings run hot and straight, twisted into obsession. He harbors this bone-deep hatred for Shen Yuxiu, and for anyone else, even the slightest irritation is enough to make him lash out, torturing them to death. The original host is a prime example. He likes me, so if I told him the sun rises in the west, he’d believe it without question. The day he learned it rises in the east, he’d curse the sun for its ingratitude. It’s an exaggeration, but you get the idea. I need him to obey me completely—no more hurting people, and it gives Shen Yuxiu a chance to breathe.”

~~~

Ten minutes later, Lin Jianxi turned around. “What’s the answer?”

“…” Xu Song’an shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t know… I still think the same as before—that—”

“Then don’t say anything.”

Lin Jianxi stretched out on the bed. “I’m tired.”

“I’ll draw the curtains.” Xu Song’an remembered his dislike for sunlight and started to rise.

Lin Jianxi eyed him coolly. “Did I say you could get up?”

“…No.”

“Kneel.”

Xu Song’an dropped back to his knees.

Lin Jianxi really was exhausted. Half-dozing, he murmured to the System, “Is there any red flower oil here?”

System: “Yes.”

Lin Jianxi murmured an acknowledgment, already planning to rub Xu Song’an’s knees when he woke up. Kneeling that long would leave them aching.

Lin Jianxi slipped into a hazy sleep, oblivious to Xu Song’an’s torment in that moment.

It wasn’t his knees that hurt.

It was lower down, throbbing with an ache that left Xu Song’an in agony.

The room reeked of Lin Jianxi’s scent, and there he was, lying right in front of him. Even turned away, the curve of his body made Xu Song’an’s throat work convulsively, heat flooding through him.

Lin Jianxi’s breathing came slow and even.

Xu Song’an’s fingers twitched. Burning with desire, he teetered on the edge of madness. What reason he had left screamed at him to obey, not to do it, absolutely not… but the need was excruciating…

“Instructor?” Xu Song’an ventured, testing.

Lin Jianxi didn’t stir.

Xu Song’an drew a shaky breath. His eyes roved hungrily over Lin Jianxi, tracking every twitch and shift—even the barest flicker of a fingertip stalled his breath.

…

~~~

Lin Jianxi wasn’t asleep at all.

That single call had jolted him awake just a second before he might have drifted off, but he was too indolent to respond.

Not until ragged breaths and the rustle of fabric reached his ears.

Lin Jianxi kept his eyes shut, listening in silence.

…

~~~

Unsure whether Xu Song’an had finished or not, Lin Jianxi suddenly spoke. “What are you doing?”

Every sound from behind cut off abruptly. From across the space between them, Lin Jianxi could even hear the thunderous pounding of Xu Song’an’s heart.

“It’s nothing,” Xu Song’an coughed. “I’m kneeling.”

“Oh.”

Lin Jianxi resumed his pretense of sleep.

…

~~~

It was probably over.

Lin Jianxi heard Xu Song’an let out a sigh of relief.

He spoke flatly in response. “Go wash your hands, then come back and keep kneeling.”

“……………………”