Guide of the Sichuan Tang Clan C39

Chapter 39

At the indecent sound, Mujin’s massive length swelled even further. Holding both Eunmyeong’s and his own in one hand, Mujin began to move slowly. As he stroked upward with care, from the root along the shaft, a sharp, electric sensation surged from Eunmyeong’s toes all the way up his spine.

“Hah… ngh…!”

Panting, Eunmyeong lowered his gaze. Originally, the guiding he had intended was nothing more than helping Mujin relieve himself.

I didn’t need to get dragged into this too…!

As if sensing Eunmyeong’s wandering thoughts, Mujin abruptly quickened his hand.

“Hah—ah, ah…!”

Heat flooded his vision as he was worked in that scorching grip. His legs spread shamelessly, as though inviting Mujin to stroke him more easily.

“Nngh—ah! Y-Young Master… ngh…!”

“Haa…”

Even as he gasped uncontrollably, Eunmyeong did not forget to send his guiding energy through. Fortunately, it seemed that the act was indeed aiding the guiding—the once-tangled waves visibly began to smooth and settle.

Gradually, Eunmyeong’s reason slipped away. Fluid gathered at their tips, slicking them both as it served as its own lubricant.

Mujin, glaring down at him, sank his teeth into Eunmyeong’s pale shoulder. The moment a groan escaped his lips, Eunmyeong’s body arched like a bow.

“Ahh—!”

They climaxed together, breath spilling from them in unison. Thick fluid dripped down onto the bedding below.

Strength drained completely from Eunmyeong’s body. He stared up blankly at Mujin, who sat astride him. The man who was usually so impassive now wore an expression twisted with raw excitement.

Lowering his gaze, Eunmyeong saw it clearly—the waves had stabilized.

In a dry voice, he murmured,

“…It’s more efficient than just holding hands, isn’t it…?”

To think that a single release could calm things this thoroughly. At Eunmyeong’s muttering, Mujin’s expression hardened.

“Then do you intend to do this with other men as well?”

At the harsh warning in his voice, Eunmyeong met his gaze. When he merely blinked, displeased, Mujin seized both of his cheeks.

“Tang Eunmyeong.”

With his cheeks squashed, Eunmyeong could only widen his eyes.

“Treatment goes no further than holding hands.”

“……”

“Do you understand?”

If he said no, it looked as though Mujin might crush his cheeks entirely. Unsure whether it was a threat or a command, Eunmyeong nodded quietly.

Only then did Mujin’s expression soften. Lying down beside him, he pulled Eunmyeong into his arms. As their bodies pressed together again, Eunmyeong muttered uneasily,

“I think we should… wash up…”

“I’m still in pain.”

A lie. Nestled against him, Eunmyeong glanced at Mujin’s chest. Sensing his gaze, Mujin pulled him even closer, blocking his view of the waves.

“It’ll take a while yet to recover.”

“You look perfectly fine.”

“My stomach is unsettled. My chest feels tight as well.”

That wasn’t even within the scope of guiding. Listening to the obvious lie, Eunmyeong leaned into his embrace anyway. Unlike before, Mujin’s body was warm.

“Then… just for a little while.”

You said you were in pain. Eunmyeong wrapped his arms around Mujin’s waist. It was nearly sunset by the time the two finally returned to their respective places.

After that day, many things changed.

For one, the men who used to rush over at the slightest injury as though they were about to die vanished. Instead, most now declined even when Eunmyeong told them to get acupuncture.

They would eye the needles with regret, yet retreat step by step, and Eunmyeong watched them with suspicion.

Even Yuseong doesn’t cling to me anymore these days.

The child who used to plaster himself to Eunmyeong’s back during every personal training session was now practicing throwing blades in a corner of the training grounds. Sometimes, when their eyes met, he would wave—but he never came closer.

And Tang Mujin doesn’t seem bothered at all.

What Mujin did care about was the guiding from the day he attempted Mancheon Hwau. Every time Eunmyeong took his hand, Mujin’s gaze would trace over his body with unsettling persistence, and Eunmyeong did his utmost to pretend not to notice.

Not only during guiding, but even while eating, or like now, while sorting medicinal herbs—Mujin’s gaze followed him. It was different from before, heavy with heat.

Sigh. I should stop thinking about it.

Just as Eunmyeong set down the herb he was holding,—

“Young Master.”

Turning, he saw a maid bowing her head. The ribbon in her hair marked her clearly as one of Cheongwoo’s attendants.

“The Clan Head summons you. Young Master Mujin as well, and….”

Her gaze shifted toward one side of the training grounds.

“Jeongho-nim is to be brought along too.”

“Now?”

“Yes. We will inform the others, so please follow me for now.”

The thought of the four of them together made him uneasy. Mujin and Cheongwoo alone were enough to spell disaster—adding Jeongho on top of that…

Unaware that he himself was one of the bombs, Eunmyeong shook his head, thinking of the others.

“Before we go, may I ask a few things?”

“Yes, Young Master.”

“Um… is the Clan Head angry?”

At the unexpected question, the maid lifted her head. Meeting her startled eyes, Eunmyeong pressed on.

“How is his mood? Did he sleep well today?”

“…Why do you ask?”

“And has he eaten?”

So he might be in a slightly better mood. Back at the Guiding Center, whenever the director or team leader summoned him, Eunmyeong would always ask their secretary about their condition first—had they eaten, slept well, what sort of mood they were in. Recalling those days, he added,

“So I can either entertain him a bit, or at least sit quietly without irritating him.”

The maid studied Eunmyeong for a long moment, as though weighing his intent. After some deliberation, she replied,

“…If that is your aim, it would be better to entertain him.”

“Entertain?”

“He seemed to prefer that.”

“Does he like somersaults too?”

Our center director did.

“…Perhaps….”

Unsure whether her answer was correct, the maid trailed off. At that, Eunmyeong murmured to himself, “Entertain….”

The maid stole a glance at him. No matter how she thought about it, he was a strange man—asking about the Clan Head’s mood, something no one else ever dared to do, and openly vowing to perform antics. He was unlike any other member of the Tang Clan.

Did he ingest the wrong poison as a child or something…?

But even stranger than Eunmyeong was Cheongwoo.

Even while presiding over elder councils and handling the affairs of the clan, Cheongwoo would often speak Eunmyeong’s name aloud.

“Has he run out of candied fruits? He seemed to enjoy them last time.”

Had she not seen Eunmyeong herself, the maid might have assumed Cheongwoo was raising some sort of pet that survived on sweets.

Words spoken aloud were fewer than the thoughts held within. There was no doubt that Eunmyeong’s name was etched far more deeply into Cheongwoo’s heart.

“Please follow me.”

Whatever his thoughts, the maid’s duty was to obey. Plastering on a practiced smile, she led the way.

Eunmyeong was dumbfounded.

“Ugh—! I will accept any punishment you deem fit!”

Jeongho knelt before Cheongwoo, bowing his head deeply. Thud, thud—he slammed his forehead against the floor, prompting Mujin and Eunmyeong to grab him in alarm.

“Th-that day, I explained that the Young Master and the Hero were lovers, and that was why they often behaved so shamelessly! Ngh—! I should have thought of another excuse…!”

Cheongwoo sat within, with the other three lined up before him. Perhaps displeased by the arrangement, he leaned back in his seat.

It seemed he had just returned from an elders’ meeting; today he wore a robe of deep green. It was less ornate than when they had met before his residence, though a long hairpin still adorned one side of his hair.

Despite his refined attire, whether due to his masculine features or the sheer pressure he exuded, he appeared all the more formidable. Stroking his firm jawline, he asked,

“So. You claimed that the Young Clan Head and Eunmyeong are lovers?”

“…Yes.”

“In this Tang Clan of Sichuan, two men? And not just any two, but the Young Clan Head and a physician?”

“I—I beg your forgiveness! Please, just kill me…!”

“No.”

His lips curved upward slightly.

“A clean death would be too kind.”

Jeongho’s face collapsed as though he had been told his days were numbered. A sob burst from his lips.

So quick to cry. Eunmyeong watched the trembling ponytail in silence. Beyond him, Mujin looked utterly uninterested in offering any help.

In the end, that left only Eunmyeong. He could not ignore Jeongho’s tearful gaze. Letting out a low sigh, he turned to Cheongwoo.

“Please stop teasing him. You’re making him cry.”

“A child defending another child—how amusing. Though I truly was considering killing him. What should I do now?”

“I saw your lips trembling.”

Whenever he teased someone, there was a telltale smile—a crooked lift at the corner of his mouth, eyes gleaming with amusement.

Yes. Just like now.

“But your place does not seem to be there, does it?”

“……”

“What shall we do? Would it be more entertaining to make a joke sound like truth?”

The hem of his green robe rustled softly. With a pleasant chuckle, Cheongwoo propped his chin on one hand.

The words recalled the previous elders’ meeting, and Eunmyeong felt his cheeks warm. Finding it cute, Cheongwoo laughed aloud.

“Well? I find neither option objectionable.”

His eyes curved wickedly, fine lines forming at their corners. Eunmyeong swallowed hard at the sight.