TSBIRBV Ch 166

Chapter 166. Heshi’s Bi (2)

Yegyeol had been building a house all this time.

Thanks to the senior Espers who had once disastrously lost themselves to first love, he possessed not only blueprints but a flawless manual on how to withstand storms and tempests. It was a manual that left no room for error — from insulation to the final finishing touches, everything had to be perfect.

He fired countless bricks, cut and polished wood, and raised pillars. Night after night he toiled, heart tight with anticipation. Though difficult now, he believed with certainty that he would one day complete a perfect home.

Yet what finally stood before him in completion looked nothing like the vague house he had once imagined.

He thought he had built this house alone, but in truth, Haryang too had been firing bricks on the other side, cutting timber and erecting pillars.

Thus the house had taken shape in a form Yegyeol never could have conceived.

But that is only natural.

Yegyeol reached out and traced Haryang’s lips. The softness under his fingertips was gentler than expected; a sensation unlike any he had known, unlike any warmth he had ever felt.

A peculiar laugh slipped out.

Trying to imagine something like this from the start — what a hopeless idea.

His brain must have melted after growing up among those cursed control-freak Espers.

Those senior Espers were not him, and their Guides were not Je Haryang.

“Senior Brother.”

As life slowly returned to Yegyeol’s dazed face, Haryang recognized it immediately.

Yegyeol rose and brushed aside the silk. Dawn had already passed; morning light now poured through the window.

Around them, the floor was littered with silks of all colors, sprawled in disarray. This felt nothing like Qinghai Manor.

It resembled instead the dye works along the Hangzhou coast where a ragged little beggar had once roamed, or the bustling wedding street of Shu’s Shu-gold district in Sichuan.

Yegyeol took Haryang’s half-raised hand and pressed it to his own chest.

“I am in love with you.”

Unlike his shy confession, his heart pounded loud and fierce beneath Haryang’s palm.

Yegyeol’s face was flushed red, yet his gaze remained straight and unwavering.

Haryang’s hand trembled.

He already knew of his junior’s affection — he had seen and heard it through the Black Ghost’s eyes and ears.

Unable to bear approaching his senior, the disciple had chosen to entangle himself with a martial rogue instead. And Haryang, not wanting their relationship to sour merely from physical longing, had allowed those lies and evasions.

After countless nights, Haryang believed he had satisfied his own desire.

What a fool.

Now he understood — it had been a pitiful delusion.

He pulled the disciple into his arms. A feeling of fullness, of overflowing joy as if it would well up forever from his chest, made him truly smile.

“I feel the same.”

His breath sat high at his throat, making speech difficult.

Yegyeol almost lost his senses at Haryang’s radiant smile. At the same time, he felt Haryang’s fingers trembling where they held him.

Yegyeol felt that tremor resonated with his own heartbeat.

“There is nothing in this world for me but you. So, Gyeol…”

Face buried in his disciple’s shoulder, Haryang whispered:

“Do not abandon me.”

It was not a declaration of love, but a plea. Yegyeol’s chest tightened painfully.

Haryang had always been far ahead, a towering mountain. Yegyeol had been content merely to walk within his shadow.

How deeply must such a brilliant man have decayed inside to speak of love in such pitiful words?

“I grew up starved and uneducated. I have many desires.”

Yegyeol spoke abruptly.

“Once something is in my hand, I never let it go.”

He clasped Haryang’s hands firmly.

“You gave yourself to me, didn’t you?”

Relief washed across Haryang’s face. If his joy had been fierce, his relief was quiet and deep.

“So then… then…”

He faltered, seemingly seeking certainty, hesitation flickering across his features.

“What must I do to make you happy?”

Yegyeol smirked mischievously.

“You should ask me to cherish you.”

A flicker of astonishment crossed Haryang’s face.

He had been large since childhood, and though handsome, his cold expression seldom invited tenderness. To be cherished — the word hardly suited him.

Haryang stared at his disciple, who dared to use such unfitting language with heartfelt sincerity.

“If I asked to be cherished, what would you do for me?”

“For you, I could even carry you on my back.”

Yegyeol answered firmly, confidence bursting. Haryang gave a helpless smile.

“…Another time.”

He nipped Yegyeol’s ear gently, whispering:

“Carry me another time.”

Arms tightening around his waist, Haryang’s lips returned to Yegyeol’s skin — soft kisses that trembled with affection, each one making Yegyeol shiver, as though holding the whole world in his embrace.

“Senior Brother…”

Haryang’s lips trailed downward. When they reached his neck, Yegyeol’s spine tingled. The predator-like gaze made him feel he might be devoured at any moment. Trapped between those strong arms, he could neither flee nor resist.

And yet, pleasure shivered through him.

It was Je Haryang — no other — who now desired him so fiercely.

He had provoked him, clawed at him, to drag the man behind the Black Ghost to the surface. That process had not always been sweet, yet this moment — this moment was pure bliss, blooming in Yegyeol’s chest.

The sash that once held his clothes together had long since fallen; nothing remained to halt Haryang now.

Haryang’s mouth trailed from his throat down to his chest, teeth marking tender flesh.

“Ahh…”

Haryang rose slowly, gazing down at his disciple trembling like a frightened fawn, yet refusing to let go.

Even when he had been the Black Ghost, he had known: this one was defenseless — recklessly, blindly devoted. Haryang felt he had given him so little in return.

To test this devotion felt almost inevitable.

He bent again, taking Yegyeol’s nipple into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue.

“Ah, ah!”

Yegyeol clutched Haryang’s shoulder, trying in vain to push him away. But Haryang was immovable as stone. The playful suction on his sensitive chest made Yegyeol’s back arch.

Wet sucking echoed in his ears. His thoughts emptied by the moment.

Relentless.

Haryang pulled back, admiring the reddened mark he had left.

The body he once stole furtively in the secrecy of night was now exposed in dawn’s unflinching light. Clothes disheveled beyond repair hung uselessly, hardly better than wearing nothing at all.

Yegyeol’s chest heaved, eyes reddened with helpless longing, gazing only at him.

Where Haryang’s hands and lips had been, pale skin flushed crimson like melting frost.

He wanted to brand him so deeply that the mark would never fade.

Lowering his head again, Haryang bit gently.

A hunger that could never be sated.

“It hurts, ah— it hurts…”

As Yegyeol whimpered, Haryang whispered against his skin:

“And yet you stand so proudly…”

Just as he said, Yegyeol’s nipples were taut and angry, flushed from overstimulation. Seeing his chest so plump and reddened, Yegyeol turned away in shame.

Feeling things below was natural — but whenever Haryang touched his chest, guiding stirred phantom sensations, creating an alien yet intoxicating pleasure.

It was pleasure, yes — but unfamiliar.

As if the body he knew so well had become something else.

“You like it.”

“But that place… that place shouldn’t…”

Unable to finish from embarrassment, Yegyeol shook his head hard.

Haryang grasped the other side lightly as if ready to pinch, making Yegyeol jolt and retreat.

“Have I ever harmed you?”

His voice softened. Yegyeol shook his head. The Black Ghost had tormented him, yes — but Je Haryang, on the surface, was innocent.

How could I ever nod to that face?

Better to steal candy from a child.

“Then trust me. I will make you feel good.”

Haryang bent his head again.

“Ah—!”

This time he latched deeper, swirling his tongue without hesitation. Yegyeol’s back jerked. One hand kneaded the opposite side with painstaking devotion.

“So strange… it tingles, and my stomach… ahh!”

Haryang kept his promise well. The discomfort dissolved into pleasure — his tongue and fingers brushing sensitive peaks, heat pooling below with every stroke.

“You are sweet… unbearably sweet…”

He lifted his head, eyes burning red with desire.

“I should have taken you sooner. Why did I…”

Though muttered to himself, Yegyeol’s ears perked — clearly regretting his time as the Black Ghost.

But I enjoyed that too.

The scarcity had made each encounter more precious. Though he worried about Haryang’s thoughts then, he always had.

“Ahh!”

A sharp wave of pleasure cut through his thoughts. Meeting Haryang’s gaze, he realized the man had pinched deliberately — caught him drifting away again.

Yegyeol kissed Haryang’s forehead gently, once, twice, soothing a beast.

Haryang’s expression softened. He nipped lightly in return.

“…I will take you.”

His lips were damp as he declared it — his gaze fixed, intense, as though anxious, waiting for any sign of refusal.

Yegyeol lifted his eyes quietly.

“I will part your legs and thrust between them like a ravenous beast. Do you understand?”

Such crude words spoken from such refined lips — brazen and shameless.

Yegyeol feared he might retreat again if flustered.

“I understand.”

He averted his gaze on purpose.

“You must think I’m too innocent to even touch myself, but actually…”

His voice dropped to a whisper, breathless:

“I have known a man before.”

Haryang knew well.

After all, it had been him.

“That does not matter.”

Even if Yegyeol’s first had not been him — even if it had been another — such things were meaningless.

“Just tell me one thing. Was it your choice?”

Haryang knew too well what it meant to be forced. Had the cult found no other value in him, he would have lived and died as a plaything.

Yegyeol had been found near death; who could believe nothing had happened in twenty years?

Even when Yegyeol claimed amnesia, Haryang never forced the truth.

He had simply been grateful the disciple returned alive.

“Yes.”

Yegyeol nodded firmly.

“Then that is enough.”

Haryang slid a hand gently along Yegyeol’s exposed shoulder.

“If it does not matter that I have known a man before, then what does matter?”

Yegyeol’s eyes trembled as he looked up.

“You broke your promise to me, Senior Brother.”