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    Chapter 165 Heshi’s Bi (1)

    Yegyeol froze, unable even to breathe.

    Was it a dream? Or perhaps a mirage conjured by a longing too desperate to bear? His hands, neither pushing nor pulling, trembled helplessly against Haryang’s chest.

    The soft warmth prying into his rigid lips told him this was real. Unlike the chill air of dawn, it burned with searing heat.

    The red shadows of silk swayed across Haryang’s face, and for a moment Yegyeol thought he was clad in a wedding robe.

    Is this truly allowed?

    The moment he had yearned for had arrived, yet instead of triumph, unease loomed. Normally, he would have crushed such hesitation with ease, but with victory so near, his feet refused to step forward.

    Without thinking, Yegyeol pressed against Haryang’s chest. His strength was weak, yet Haryang recoiled as if scalded.

    “Se… Senior Brother…”

    Yegyeol’s lips parted, damp and trembling. His eyes, brimming with both arousal and fear, darted away, unable to look him straight on.

    “This… this isn’t right. It’s not allowed…”

    Halting words tumbled from his lips, and Haryang, who had been listening in silence, finally asked:

    “What is it that frightens you so?”

    Yegyeol’s lips worked, but words failed him. Suddenly he remembered the young lovers he had seen on the silk street of Sichuan, just before he met the Black Ghost. They had chosen bright red silks for their wedding.

    They would never know his torment. No prohibitions of the martial world, no codes of honor to restrain them. They could declare their love openly, be blessed by all, and wed without shame.

    But Yegyeol could not bare his heart. Instead, he schemed to ensnare Je Haryang with tricks, to wrap his arms around him like chains. Because he knew this man, too good for him, would still fall with him into the abyss.

    “…It would stain your name, Senior Brother.”

    He knew how foolish the words were, yet they spilled out, steeped in fear.

    Haryang was a hero of the martial world, admired by all, Yegyeol’s savior. To finally claim such a man, and yet hesitate like one standing on virgin snow, afraid to leave the first footprint.

    To break him down and take him into his arms was terrifying. He had schemed thus far, but had never once imagined what came after.

    He had been loved before, but knew love never lasted. Neither in his past life, nor in this one, had he learned how to keep it. And now, with a bond built upon deception, how could he guess its future?

    This ignorance shook him.

    “You seem to be mistaken.”

    Haryang’s lips released a voice as cold as steel.

    “This elder brother has nowhere higher to climb, and nowhere further to fall.”

    Indeed. He had chosen to remain in the place where he had been abandoned, unable to return anywhere else.

    Honor and reputation meant nothing. Beneath the skin of the chivalrous hero lurked searing desire, and Haryang had chosen to embrace it.

    “So do as you wish.”

    He brushed the shadows across Yegyeol’s face with a soft hand.

    “Whatever happens here will remain our secret.”

    The gentle promise—of a secret kept between them—made the strength drain from Yegyeol’s hands.

    I don’t know anymore.

    He shut his eyes. His Guide was asking for him.

    This time, Yegyeol did not refuse. He accepted Haryang.

    “Hhn, ngh…”

    Haryang’s tongue slipped into his mouth, teasing his sensitive palate. At the same time, guiding energy surged into him, wild joy bleeding through it.

    A shiver coursed through Yegyeol’s body, resonating with Haryang’s emotions. With nothing more than a kiss, his eyes flushed red. Seeing his disciple’s face colored with heat, Haryang felt an unbearable thirst.

    Just a little more. A little more.

    He knew he should stop, but could not bring himself to.

    Others called Haryang a prodigy, a talent born once in a century, once in a millennium. But he himself had never thought his gift lay in swiftly grasping martial forms or mastering movements.

    No, his greatest gift was patience.

    His life had been a litany of betrayal, vengeance, and loss, driving him to the very brink. Without patience, he would not have survived.

    Yet ever since reuniting with Yegyeol, his patience had wavered.

    I thought it was enough, merely that he lived.

    He had never intended to claim Yegyeol this way. Even the first time he took his body—it was only to prevent his death, to keep him from being handed to another.

    But once he held him, he could not let go. To claim even a single strand of hair as his own would not sate this hunger.

    “Yegyeol… Yegyeol…”

    Each time their lips parted, he whispered his name, as though needing proof it would never wear thin.

    His fingertips brushed flushed cheeks, traced the curve of his ear. Arms that refused to release bound Yegyeol tightly at the waist.

    Though no prison walls confined him, Yegyeol felt like a captive. He gasped for air within that embrace.

    The man who had bared such naked desire rubbed his cheek against Yegyeol’s hand. In his closed eyes was no guilt, no torment.

    Strangely, that seemed to absolve him. Yegyeol felt the tremor in his hands slowly fade. He gazed down at his Senior Brother, at Haryang, pinned beneath him. Desire that had retreated surged back again.

    “Give yourself to me.”

    His heart lurched.

    “If you do, whatever you want, anything at all—I will give it to you.”

    At that whisper, hesitation lasted but a heartbeat. There was only one thing in this world Yegyeol desired, and only Haryang could grant it.

    Take first, think later.

    Yegyeol lowered his head. His Senior Brother’s face came into view. No mask of the Black Ghost now—only Je Haryang himself.

    It felt like the point of no return.

    For the first time, sober, in daylight, he leaned forward of his own will and kissed him.

    “Ah…”

    But the touch felt strange. Opening his eyes, he found his lips pressed not to Haryang’s mouth, but to the space between his lip and chin.

    He had meant to kiss him properly, but nerves had made him miss.

    Haryang, eyes closed, let out the faintest, sultry smile. Yegyeol, flustered, tried to pull back, but Haryang’s hand seized his wrist.

    It was no ordinary grip. He had used martial arts.

    Caught off guard, Yegyeol stammered:

    “Let me go…”

    “But didn’t you just give me permission?”

    His whisper tickled Yegyeol’s ear.

    “And already you want release?”

    That would not be allowed.

    The murmur held a chilling obsession.

    Yegyeol felt dizzy, as though this was a dream of his own making. He had thought rejecting the Black Ghost meant a long detour, but the wet suction on his lips told him instead he had taken a shortcut.

    Hot breath mingled between them. Was his skin flushed from the crimson silks overhead, or from the pleasure spreading through his body?

    Haryang’s skilled caresses left Yegyeol’s mind boiling, tangled beyond sense.

    “So sweet, Yegyeol. You are too sweet…”

    The thick murmur melted his ears. Hands tore at his clothes, burning every patch of skin they touched.

    An esper’s body aroused easily beneath a Guide’s hands.

    Just straddling Haryang left him dizzy, as if devouring his Senior Brother whole.

    Though his robe hung loose, his trousers remained untouched—neither of them had yet reached for more. For now, they kissed, entwined fingers, as if long-separated lovers who wanted nothing more than closeness.

    Half-dazed, Yegyeol rubbed his cheek against Haryang’s chest, then rested his head on his shoulder. Haryang, holding his weight, clasped his waist tighter.

    Yegyeol shivered at the breath tickling his neck. Haryang kissed the corner of his jaw, teasing as if mocking Yegyeol’s earlier clumsy kiss. It was playful, affectionate, yet full of mischief.

    He doesn’t seem like Senior Brother at all.

    This was unlike any Haryang he had known. Yet undeniably, it was him.

    Staring at him as if bewitched, Yegyeol suddenly realized—

    Like a fool, I’ve been doing everything just as the seniors did before me.

     

    Note -화씨지벽 (和氏之璧 / Heshi’s Bi / “Mr. He’s Jade”) comes from the Han Feizi (a Legalist classic text).

     

    It refers to a priceless piece of jade discovered by a man named Bian He (卞和, Korean: 화씨 / Hwa-shi) in the state of Chu.

     

    He presented it to the king, but when officials inspected it, they wrongly said it was just an ordinary stone. The king thought Bian He was lying and punished him harshly.

     

    Later, another king re-examined the stone and discovered it was indeed a flawless jade of immense value. It became known as He’s Bi (화씨지벽 / 和氏之璧).

     

    Note