Asking Miao Ciyu for help came at a price—both Miao Ciyu and Ruan Qing knew that.
Ruan Qing trembled slightly, lowering his head to avoid Miao Ciyu’s aggressive gaze. “…No, never mind. I was just speaking out of anger earlier.”
Anger? A shadow flickered in Miao Ciyu’s dark eyes. Threatened, more like.
Being dragged aside without resistance—there was no explanation other than that man having leverage over him.
Those of the same kind could always recognize each other. With just one glance, Miao Ciyu had sensed the man’s danger and noticed him tailing Miao Qing. That was why he had silently followed them in turn.
Yet he hadn’t expected to see that man pull Miao Qing into the bushes. Even if Miao Qing refused to talk, Miao Ciyu had no intention of letting him go.
Anyone who coveted Miao Qing deserved to die.
Miao Ciyu’s gaze bore into him. “What did he threaten you with?”
Ruan Qing pressed his lips together before murmuring, “…Nothing. He didn’t threaten me.”
Miao Ciyu sneered. “Then why wish him dead?”
His voice was icy, chilling to the bone, and Ruan Qing’s eyes wavered with panic.
“I didn’t—I just… I just didn’t like him.”
Despite Ruan Qing’s efforts to stay composed, the tremor in his voice betrayed him. The threat was obvious.
Seemingly done with excuses, Miao Ciyu shoved Ruan Qing against a tree, gripping his chin to force their eyes to meet. “Tell me. What did he threaten you with?”
His expression was stormy, fingers digging in with enough force to hurt. The command in his tone signaled impending fury.
Pain brought a gloss of tears to Ruan Qing’s eyes, and he could no longer hide the truth.
“He… He filmed us at the lake. He said if I didn’t let him be the other man, he’d tell Miao Li.” His voice shook, edging into a sob.
“You agreed?” The darkness in Miao Ciyu’s eyes deepened to something terrifying, the air around them turning frigid.
Tears welled as Ruan Qing shuddered, words shrinking to a whisper. “I—I had no choice. He had the video. I was scared…”
“Mmm…” Before Ruan Qing could finish speaking, his chin was tilted up sharply, and a scorching heat pressed against his lips, stealing his breath and rendering him speechless.
Miao Ciyu’s kiss held no warmth—it was fierce, almost as if he were suppressing some unspoken fury.
Ruan Qing’s lips ached from the force, the pain stinging so sharply that the corners of his eyes reddened, tears pooling in his lashes.
He instinctively tried to retreat, but his back was already pressed against the tree, leaving him no room to escape.
Pushing Miao Ciyu away wasn’t an option either; his hands were full, and the slightest movement would send everything tumbling to the ground.
The rural path was unpaved dirt, especially here behind the thicket. The night’s sudden chill had left dew clinging to the grass and leaves, droplets pattering onto the damp earth below.
If his things fell into the wet soil, they’d be ruined—and worse, it would rouse Miao Li’s suspicions.
So Ruan Qing stood rigid, tears glistening, letting Miao Ciyu have his way.
But his compliance only spurred Miao Ciyu to grow bolder. When Ruan Qing felt the man’s hand slide downward, his face paled. He forgot about the items in his arms, reaching desperately to stop those wandering fingers.
The motion sent a few things spilling to the ground—though not too many, since one arm still clutched the rest. It could be passed off as an accident, a simple miscalculation.
Yet the fallen items did nothing to deter Miao Ciyu. The moment Ruan Qing reached out, his wrist was seized, yanked upward, and pinned above his head against the tree.
Just as Miao Ciyu was about to escalate further, his gaze flickered. He stared at Ruan Qing’s restrained hand, then abruptly stilled, his brow furrowing.
“What’s this on your palm? Are you hurt?”
He dragged Ruan Qing’s hand closer, inspecting it with rough insistence.
The scrape had been minor to begin with—just a faint graze—and by now it was nearly healed. But the skin still flushed a delicate pink, the color stark against his jade-pale flesh, almost artful in its contrast.
Ruan Qing tried to pull free, but his feeble strength was no match. “…From carrying things,” he murmured.
The excuse was plausible; his arms were laden with goods.
But Miao Ciyu knew exactly who those things were for. His expression darkened briefly before he fished a small bottle from his pocket, sprinkling its contents over Ruan Qing’s palm. His voice was icy.
"Don’t get hurt."
Miao Ciyu applied medicine while explaining in a low voice, "Blood attracts gu worms and agitates them. If that happens, the herbs in the fields won’t be enough to suppress them."
Though his voice was still cold, his movements were incredibly gentle. The cool touch of the medicine glided over Ruan Qing’s palm, carrying an indescribable tingling sensation that made his hand tremble slightly.
As if worried Ruan Qing wasn’t taking it seriously enough, Miao Ciyu paused and added two more words: "You’ll die."
Once the gu worms were agitated, they wouldn’t stop until their target was dead.
Miao Village was a breeding ground for gu worms. No one could stop tens of thousands of frenzied gu worms—not even him or Miao Linyuan.
The moment the worms caught the scent of a living person’s blood, they would devour them completely, leaving nothing behind.
It was only thanks to the fact that Ruan Qing’s injury was a mere scrape. If even a drop of blood had seeped out, going near the fields would have been suicide.
Miao Ciyu appeared calm, but his fingertips trembled imperceptibly as he applied the medicine—though the motion itself hid it well.
It was the aftershock of fear, the dread that something could have gone wrong.
In truth, the moment Miao Ciyu mentioned the gu worms, Ruan Qing’s face had paled, his eyes filling with terror. He stammered, "T-then what about this wound? What do I do?"
The injury wasn’t serious, and since he’d already been near the fields without stirring the gu worms, it clearly wasn’t a problem. But Miao Ciyu still couldn’t relax. After finishing, he pressed the medicine bottle into Ruan Qing’s hand.
"Apply it three times a day. Stay away from all fields for the next two days."
Ruan Qing clutched the bottle tightly and nodded with solemn seriousness, like a well-behaved child being entrusted with an important task.
Except he wasn’t a child—he was already past eighteen.
The boy’s lips were beautifully shaped, their usual sickly pale pink (from too little sun) now completely replaced by a deep flush after their earlier reckless kisses.
They were so red they seemed to glisten, damp and tempting, as if painted with rouge—just begging to be kissed again.
Miao Ciyu’s throat moved slightly. Unable to hold back any longer, he gripped Ruan Qing’s wrist, pulled him into his arms, and then tilted his chin up, sealing their lips in a domineering kiss that brooked no refusal.
Thank you for the chapter!!
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