The Second Young Master’s Obedient Husband : Chapter 4

Liang Yu lowered his eyes to look at the person in his arms, his Adam’s apple moving involuntarily. That slender waist trembled slightly in the crook of his arm. So fair, Liang Yu thought, how could someone who had been fleeing famine for years still be this fair, and he wondered how the boy had managed it. His features were delicate, his nose tip small and refined, his lips a pale pink, and when pressed together the lip bead pouted slightly, looking terribly pitiful.

Without realizing it, Liang Yu leaned closer. He caught a scent, a mixture of medicinal herbs and cooking smoke, with a faint, almost imperceptible sweet fragrance that burrowed into his nose and made his heart itch. Su Qingyu lowered his eyes, his eyelashes still trembling, but he no longer struggled.

Liang Yu bent his head closer, his nose tip almost brushing that vermilion birthmark Su Qingyu suddenly turned his head away, his ear tips burning red, and even that exposed stretch of neck took on a faint pink hue.

“Brother Liang Er…” His voice was as light as a mosquito’s hum.

Liang Yu finally came back to his senses, let out a low laugh, and released his hold.

He picked up his own basket with one hand, hoisted the back basket onto his shoulder with the other, and looked back at the person still standing motionless: “Lead the way.”

Su Qingyu pressed his lips together, wanting to say it wasn’t necessary, but when he met those eyes that seemed to hold a smile, he swallowed the words back down. He turned and walked down the mountain, his steps somewhat hurried, as if trying to escape from something.

Liang Yu followed behind, his gaze settling on that slender waist ahead. The walking posture was soft, the waist twisting in gentle arcs, and the legs wrapped in old cotton trousers swayed lightly with each step.

Tsk.

Near the foot of the mountain at the end of the village, several mud brick houses huddled together. Su Qingyu’s home was the last one, with a crooked fence wall and a courtyard gate made of just a few wooden planks tied together.

Pushing open the courtyard gate, coughing sounds came from the west room. Su Qingyu’s footsteps paused, and he looked back at Liang Yu, as if wanting to say something, then lowered his head and walked toward the kitchen.

The kitchen was low and small, the cooking stove black with soot, and the water in the pot was still warm. Su Qingyu crouched down to start the fire, his fingers pinching the fire starter, trembling several times without managing to light it.

Liang Yu set the back basket down at the doorway, walked over and crouched down, taking the fire starter. His fingers brushed against Su Qingyu’s fingertips, subconsciously pinching them, then letting go.

The fire caught, and he stuffed it into the stove chamber, the dry grass crackling as it burned.

Liang Yu didn’t get up, and in his crouching posture he turned his head and asked: “Where’s more firewood?”

Su Qingyu was startled, and pointed toward the pile of firewood in the corner of the yard. Liang Yu took a look, stood up and walked out, stacking Su Qingyu’s back basket together with the firewood from his own basket, then picked up the axe and set to work on the unchopped logs.

Su Qingyu stood in the kitchen doorway, watching that tall figure from behind. The sleeves were rolled up to the forearms, revealing tight muscle lines, and with each axe fall the wood split cleanly, the chopped firewood stacked in neat rows.

After chopping the firewood, Liang Yu picked up the water buckets and walked out. The village well was down the slope, and he made several trips back and forth to fill the water vat.

Su Qingyu stood in the kitchen doorway holding a bowl, the water inside freshly boiled and cooled for a while, now at just the right temperature. Liang Yu set down the buckets, took the bowl, his fingers brushing against Su Qingyu’s again, and drank the water in a few gulps.

Su Qingyu lowered his head, his ear tips still red: “Second Brother Liang… stay for a meal before you go.”

Liang Yu raised his eyes to look at him.

Su Qingyu felt uncomfortable under his gaze, turned and entered the kitchen, took out two eggs from the hanging basket, first put the porridge on to cook, then steamed two bowls of egg custard on top, took another small pot, and cut radish to stir-fry.

Liang Yu set the bowl on the table and leaned against the door frame watching Su Qingyu.

The firelight from the stove chamber reflected on Su Qingyu’s face, making that pregnancy mark shine. The profile lines were soft, and the lowered eyelashes cast faint shadows beneath his eyes.

The porridge boiled, bubbling and gurgling. Su Qingyu plated the stir-fried radish, the egg custard was ready too, and the aroma of the food drifted out.

Su Qingyu tested the temperature, and when it was no longer hot, handed a bowl of egg custard to him, then served a large bowl of porridge.

Liang Yu took the bowl but didn’t move, just watching Su Qingyu like that. Su Qingyu felt flustered under his gaze, turned to go tidy the stove, but his wrist was grabbed.

The bowl was placed on the wooden shelf beside them.

Su Qingyu was pulled into that embrace, his back against the edge of the stove, and he looked up to meet those dark eyes. Liang Yu bent his head close, nose tip touching nose tip, their breaths intertwining.

“Second Brother Liang…”

“I helped you with so much work.” Liang Yu’s voice was low, carrying a lazy tone. “Shouldn’t I ask for some payment?”

Su Qingyu’s eyes widened, his eyelashes sweeping across Liang Yu’s face.

Liang Yu smiled, bent his head and kissed that vermilion birthmark.

Su Qingyu’s entire body went rigid, his fingers clutching Liang Yu’s sleeve, his body trembling violently. The kiss moved from the vermilion birthmark to his eyelid, then to his nose tip, and finally stopped at the corner of his lips, pressing against the corner without fully landing.

“Hmm?” Liang Yu’s voice squeezed out from between his lips.

Su Qingyu’s lips trembled, but he said nothing.

Liang Yu pressed close, and that warm fragrance seemed to grow stronger, as if emanating from deep within his bones, lingering at the nose tip and bewitching the heart. Liang Yu cursed himself inwardly, gritted his back teeth, but still couldn’t resist, and pressed his lips down, taking those two soft pieces of flesh between them. Just as he had imagined, they were impossibly soft.

Su Qingyu’s entire person was trembling, his fingers tightly gripping Liang Yu’s sleeve, but he didn’t push him away. Those lips carried the warmth of the kitchen, lightly pressing against his lower lip, and Su Qingyu’s breathing grew chaotic.

Liang Yu’s breathing grew heavier.

Liang Yu had lived twenty-two years, had seen blood on the battlefield, had endured winters at the border pass, and in the years since returning to become a hunter, he had not never thought of taking a wife. Village matchmakers had worn out his threshold, and he had met with several prospects, but he always found them not soft enough, or too wooden. He dragged on until now, when peers his age had children running all over the ground, and Liang Yu still lived alone in his own courtyard.

Today counted as his first taste of this softness.

That waist in his palm was soft as if boneless. Through several layers of coarse cloth, he could still feel the softness and warmth of the flesh beneath, even softer than he had imagined. The scent on his body burrowed into his nose, the cooking smoke of the kitchen mixed with a faint soapberry scent, and there was an indescribable warm fragrance wafting out from the collar opening.

Liang Yu’s palm pressed against that waist, moving upward a few inches. His fingertips brushed past the ribs, and through the thin fabric he could feel the fine trembling of the skin beneath.

Su Qingyu let out a muffled hum, turned his head away, and when his lips parted a thin silver thread stretched between them. His face was completely red, from cheeks to neck, and even that pregnancy mark at the corner of his eye was flushed a vivid red, his eyelashes damp with tears that had somehow welled up without him noticing.

“Second Brother Liang…” His voice was light and soft, carrying a tremor. “Don’t…”

Liang Yu lowered his head to look at him.

Those eyes were watery, holding panic, holding shyness, but no disgust. His lips were sucked into a bright red, slightly parted as he gasped for breath, revealing a glimpse of white teeth.

Liang Yu’s thumb brushed across the corner of his lips, the skin beneath his fingertip burning hot. Su Qingyu shrank back, but didn’t dodge, soft as if he couldn’t stand steady.

The firelight in the stove chamber dimmed, leaving only a few embers glowing red. The aroma of porridge still floated in the air, mixed with the intertwined breathing of the two people.

Liang Yu’s palm was still pressed against Su Qingyu’s waist, and he could feel Su Qingyu’s heart beating wildly. He wanted to do something more, but feared he would truly frighten the boy away. This little ger looked soft, but was probably stubborn to the bone. Today when that Liu Lai-zi touched him, he had bared his teeth and claws wanting to bite the man, fierce as could be, Liang Yu thought, and a light laugh escaped his throat.

He released his hold and stepped back half a pace.

Su Qingyu steadied himself against the stove, lowered his eyes not daring to look at him, his fingers clutching his collar and pulling it tight.

Liang Yu glanced at him, turned and picked up the bowl of porridge, drank it in a few gulps. He set the bowl back on the wooden shelf and walked out.

Walking to the kitchen doorway, he paused again.

“Where is your mother’s medicine?”

Su Qingyu was startled, and looked up. His eye rims were still red, a tear hanging on his eyelashes, looking pitiful enough to make one ache.

Liang Yu didn’t wait for his answer, and rummaged through the basket himself, found the medicine packet, added new firewood to the stove, and the fire burned again. He set the medicine pot on the fire, bubbling and gurgling as it cooked. Su Qingyu stood beside him, at a loss watching him, wanting to say something but swallowing it back down.

Liang Yu crouched before the stove, poking the fire with a piece of firewood. The firelight reflected on his face, softening those sharp contours.

“Your father is gone, your mother is sick, and you’re the only one left in the family?” Liang Yu asked without raising his head.

Su Qingyu made a soft sound of affirmation, his voice light.

Liang Yu said nothing more. When the medicine was cooked, he strained it and poured it into a bowl, set it on the stove, stood up and dusted the ash from his hands, then finally raised his eyes to look over.

“If you have difficulties in the future, come find me.”

Su Qingyu stared at him blankly.

Liang Yu took a step forward, his fingertip rubbing that vermilion birthmark. Su Qingyu went rigid.

“I live at the front of the village, the second son of the village head’s family, Liang Yu.” The skin beneath his fingertip was warm. “Know the way?”

Su Qingyu nodded, his eyelashes lowering again.

Liang Yu withdrew his hand, turned and walked out. Walking out of the fenced yard, the sky had already darkened, Liang Yu’s footsteps paused, and he looked back.

In the kitchen doorway, Su Qingyu was still standing there in a daze, motionless. Liang Yu pressed his tongue against his cheek, that warm fragrance still seemed to linger at his nose tip, bewitching his heart into chaos. He steadied his mind and walked away quickly.