The Second Young Master’s Obedient Husband : Chapter 13

Who knew how long had passed before the movements finally came to an end. Liang Yu let out a muffled groan, his whole body collapsing onto him, breathing heavily. Su Qingyu was shaken by that final thrust until his whole body trembled, a very soft whimper escaping his throat, and then he made no more sound.

The room grew quiet, leaving only the interwoven breathing of the two, and the faint crackle of sparks in the charcoal brazier.

Liang Yu held the person in his arms. That body was terribly soft, terribly hot, terribly fragrant, making one wish to hold him like this forever, for a lifetime.

Su Qingyu moved, his ink black hair spread loose, the flush of crimson not yet faded, and shrank further into his embrace, his eyes half closed, slowly recovering his strength.

Liang Yu’s hand stroked the slender back, his callused palm moving up and down stroke by stroke. The man who was usually poisonous of tongue now spoke in a remarkably gentle tone, like coaxing a child.

“Recovered yet?”

Su Qingyu nodded, his face buried in Liang Yu’s chest, not daring to lift it.

Liang Yu laughed, his long arm reaching out to grab the cup from the small table beside the low couch, pouring water from the teapot for him, and bringing the rim of the cup to Su Qingyu’s lips.

“Drink some.”

Su Qingyu drank from that hand, small sip by small sip. The cool water entered his throat, moistening his parched and smoking throat, and also bringing some clarity.

The charcoal fire crackled once.

Su Qingyu lay there, his body still soft, his heartbeat slowly settling, yet his mind was in chaos.

No marriage, no betrothal, and he had followed a man just like this.

If others found out, his reputation would be ruined. What would those village gossipers in the village say? A young man who fled from the famine, climbing into the second son of the Liang family’s bed for silver? Even her mother would likely be the subject of backbiting.

Su Qingyu closed his eyes, his eyelashes trembling.

But when he opened his eyes, there was no regret within them.

Surviving was more important than anything. Those empty things, those reputations and faces, how could they compare to his mother’s life, how could they compare to his own life? If he could not survive, what use were those things?

Just as he was thinking, a kiss suddenly fell upon his face.

Su Qingyu opened his eyes and met those eyes so close at hand.

“What are you thinking about?” Liang Yu held the soft and fragrant person, and kissed him again, “your brow is furrowed so tightly.”

Su Qingyu shook his head and said nothing.

“Did it hurt just now?” Liang Yu’s voice softened, rarely carrying a few traces of tenderness.

Hearing Liang Yu’s words, Su Qingyu’s face flushed completely red again. He opened his mouth but could not speak, and finally buried his face into the hollow of his neck, saying muffledly: “A little.”

“It’s like this the first time,” Liang Yu’s voice sounded from above, carrying a hint of coaxing, “it will be better from now on.”

Su Qingyu said nothing, only shrank further into his embrace.

Liang Yu’s hand caressed his back, then suddenly spoke again, his voice lazy: “That waist of yours is too slender. When I held it just now, I didn’t dare use force, I was afraid I’d snap you in two.”

Su Qingyu’s earlobes burned hot, and his face grew hot again.

Liang Yu saw his appearance, and the smile in his eyes deepened. His lips pressed against that burning earlobe, speaking indistinctly: “…so soft and tight, it nearly took my life.”

Su Qingyu’s whole body trembled, his hands gripping Liang Yu’s waist tightly, his earlobes red as if about to drip blood, even that section of slender white neck dyed with pink.

Liang Yu released the earlobe, looked at his appearance, and the smile in his eyes grew even thicker.

“Alright, I won’t tease you anymore.” Liang Yu reached out and pinched his soft face, his voice carrying a vague smile, “Sleep a while? Or are you hungry? I have pastries there, osmanthus cake, bought from town.”

Su Qingyu shook his head and said: “Not hungry.”

Liang Yu held him tenderly for a while, and only when the breathing of the person in his arms gradually steadied did he release him, get up, and step down from the low couch.

In the corner there was a small stove, and on the stove sat a copper pot. The hot water inside was still warm at this moment. Liang Yu poured half a basin, added some cold water, and carried it to the side of the kang.

He wrung out a cloth and wiped Su Qingyu’s body.

Su Qingyu was so shy he wanted to hide, but was held down, and could only close his eyes and let others do as they pleased. The cloth was warm, and the places it wiped felt refreshed, though those hands were somewhat dishonest, always touching a few extra strokes while wiping.

Su Qingyu lay obediently, letting him arrange him, his body trembling, occasionally letting out a soft moan.

After wiping, Liang Yu took out a set of clean undergarments for Su Qingyu to change into. The undergarments were large, hanging loosely on his body, revealing that section of slender white neck and a small patch of fair chest.

Liang Yu looked twice, averted his gaze, and also gave himself a hasty wipe.

The soiled clothes were piled at the foot of the bed. The undergarments bore some stains, and the padded jacket was wrinkled. Liang Yu picked them up and tossed them into the basket in the corner. There were a few of his own garments in the basket as well, piled together.

He changed the water in the basin to clean water, and scrubbed those few undergarments and inner garments. He applied soapwort, washing them piece by piece clean. The drying rack was beside the charcoal brazier, and he spread the garments flat over it. The red glow of the charcoal fire reflected upon them, the wet garments emitting faint white steam, and by tomorrow morning they would be dry.

A patch of the cushion on the low couch was wet and could no longer be slept on. Liang Yu took out a new cushion from the cabinet, shook it open and spread it, and casually tossed the soiled bundle at the foot of the bed.

“Come here.”

Su Qingyu crawled over, was pulled into a kiss by Liang Yu, and tucked into the quilt. The new bedding was very soft, carrying a scent of cotton and sunshine.

Liang Yu poured another cup of warm water and brought it to the bedside.

Su Qingyu still had his eyes closed, his side lying posture unchanged. Liang Yu sat at the bedside and lightly patted his face.

“Qingyu.”

Su Qingyu moved, slowly opened his eyes, hazy and unfocused, looking at Liang Yu, as if not yet reacting.

Liang Yu brought the bowl to his lips: “Drink some more water.” Su Qingyu drank from his hand, small sip by small sip, drinking half a small bowl, then turned his head away and would drink no more.

Liang Yu set the bowl on the small table at the head of the bed, and helped him lie back.

Liang Yu also lay down, pulled the quilt tight, and looked down at that face in his arms. He suddenly felt that all these years, he had been living for nothing. He kissed him, tightened his arms, and pulled him into his embrace.

“Sleep.”

Su Qingyu closed his eyes, nestled in his embrace, and gradually fell asleep.

Outside, the snow was still falling, rustling against the window paper. Inside the room it was quiet, leaving only the faint crackle of the charcoal fire, and the interwoven breathing of the two.