TSBIRBV Ch 168

Chapter 168 Heshi’s Bi (4)

“Senior Brother?”

Turning his head, Yegyeol greeted him warmly.

“I didn’t expect you’d already be here.”

“I promised I’d wait.”

A faint gleam of joy crossed Haryang’s face. He saw Yegyeol busily settled in, even dragging in a brazier and fussing with something.

The brazier might leave soot marks on the floor, but Haryang was the sort of man who—even if Yegyeol set the whole manor ablaze—would only smile and let it go. So instead of scolding, he simply reached out and stroked his disciple’s hair gently.

“What were you doing?”

“Nothing much, just roasting chestnuts.”

“I pressed Jinyoung to cut down my tasks, but if I’d known, I would’ve come back even earlier.”

“It’s not like I waited long. Want some chestnuts?”

After hauling all his belongings, Yegyeol had grown restless while waiting, searching for something to occupy himself. In the side storeroom he had found a basket brimming with plump chestnuts. So he set up a spot and tossed them onto the brazier.

Staring at the crackling fire, his mind had drifted. What if this is all a dream? If it is, what should I do? He had been lost in such thoughts when the chestnuts began to pop. By the time he stirred them with the fire poker, evening had already arrived, and Haryang had returned.

“Chestnuts?”

With a showy gesture, Yegyeol tapped the chestnuts in the brazier with the poker. He had even scored them with a knife.

“So it wasn’t the cold that made you bring this in.”

“Hehe.”

Though roasting chestnuts in someone else’s bedchamber, Yegyeol only laughed shamelessly as he lifted one with the poker. Just as he nearly pulled it free, the chestnut slipped and bounced back into the heat.

“Oh.”

The poker was longer and heavier than he expected, and the chestnut too round. Yegyeol aimed again, but the poker slid off the shell’s surface.

“This isn’t easy.”

He frowned at the chestnuts in embarrassment, and Haryang chuckled softly.

“You want this one?”

Without hesitation, Haryang reached into the brazier. Yegyeol grabbed his arm in alarm, but Haryang had already drawn out the chestnut.

His hand, unstained even by soot, was pale and unblemished.

Don’t tell me Senior Brother’s cultivation is of the Lesser Yin Devil Arts?

Yegyeol remembered one of the most infamous techniques in martial history and clasped Haryang’s hands with a fretful look.

“What if you burn yourself doing that?”

“A flame of that level cannot harm me. If you cloak your hand in protective qi—”

Again, he reached into the brazier and retrieved another chestnut from deep inside.

“—you won’t suffer burns.”

“Wow…”

Yegyeol turned Haryang’s hand this way and that, marveling. Apart from the warmth lingering from the chestnut, it wasn’t hot at all.

For the first time, he felt what it meant to stand before one who had ascended to true martial mastery.

At least my Senior Brother won’t go around getting beaten up.

Even espers could be burned by fire. Protective qi felt wondrous to him.

“Please get that one, too.”

At first he had protested, but soon Yegyeol grew brazen, shamelessly demanding more. Haryang indulged him, picking out the perfectly roasted chestnuts and setting them onto the wooden tray Yegyeol had prepared. Yegyeol blew on them, peeling each golden morsel.

The roasted flesh looked delicious. He promptly popped the first chestnut into Haryang’s mouth.

Haryang hesitated only briefly before accepting it. His lips brushed Yegyeol’s fingertips—or so it seemed—and when he smiled, Yegyeol realized it had not been his imagination.

Ever since Hangzhou, Yegyeol had noticed that Haryang possessed a surprisingly mischievous streak.

“Well roasted. Where did these come from?”

“There’s a chestnut tree behind the villa. Looks like they were gathered last autumn. I found them while rummaging around earlier.”

“Is that so.”

Haryang, in his way, never asked why he had been rummaging.

Yegyeol peeled three more and stuffed them into his mouth.

“Don’t just give them all to me—you should eat, too.”

“I am eating.”

Rubbing his itchy nose, Yegyeol grabbed another chestnut but froze. Haryang had taken them from the fire so casually that he hadn’t realized how hot they still were.

“Ow, hot—hot!”

He fumbled between his hands, juggling the chestnut clumsily.

“Set it down and wait a little. I’ll peel it for you.”

“No!”

Startled, Yegyeol lifted his head, deadly serious.

“Half the fun is peeling them while they’re too hot, blowing on them as you go.”

“…Hm.”

Haryang’s gaze lingered on his flushed face.

“Come to think of it, you’re right. It is fun.”

He reached out, brushing Yegyeol’s nose with his sleeve. Against the soft, bright silk was a smudge of soot.

“When did this get there?”

Embarrassed, Yegyeol scrubbed at his face, though nothing more came off.

“Who knows.”

Haryang smiled in an unusually careless way.

“Cute.”

“Easy for you to say. You don’t have soot on your face.”

Grumbling, Yegyeol suddenly froze, a mischievous idea dawning. His gaze flicked to Haryang’s clean cheek, then to his own sooty hand.

“You were going to smear it on me?”

“Caught me?”

He admitted it shamelessly, without the faintest blush. Bold beyond measure. Haryang was surprised to find laughter pushing at his lips.

“Go on, then.”

He closed his eyes, inclining his head patiently.

His features were sculpted like ice-carved jade—sharp nose, chiseled jaw, long lashes. Too beautiful to touch.

What difference would it make, smearing soot on such a face?

Yegyeol lowered his hand. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. Haryang cracked one eye open, teasing.

“Not done yet?”

“I’m not ready.”

“I’m the one it’s happening to. Why do you need to be ready?”

“There’s just… something about it.”

Pouting, Yegyeol sighed.

“I thought I could do it, but then you went and offered yourself up—it ruined it.”

“That so?”

Haryang caught Yegyeol’s hand and pressed it to his cheek. The soot left its mark in a perfect line.

“Like this?”

“Ahh—ahh…”

Yegyeol let out strange sounds. Even with black smudges, Haryang was impossibly handsome.

In Korea, he thought wryly, a man like this would’ve been scouted at a barbecue joint and walked red carpets at international film festivals.

Good thing there’s no internet in the martial world.

Haryang looked at him with a bemused expression.

“Am I that unsightly you can’t even speak?”

Yegyeol realized: Haryang hardly seemed aware of his own looks. A prodigy of the age, praised only for his martial genius, he probably hadn’t heard many comments about his face.

“…You’re not ugly.”

Yegyeol whispered.

“But you can only show that face to me.”

“Who else would smear soot on me?”

Haryang laughed heartily.

“So you just want to keep me to yourself. I don’t mind.”

“You’re too quick to catch on.”

Like Haryang had done earlier, Yegyeol rubbed at his cheek with a sleeve, scrubbing away the smudge. His skin, faintly flushed, looked as if blushing.

Satisfied with his work, Yegyeol pressed a quick kiss to Haryang’s lips, then leaned back.

“Handsome.”

Haryang blinked in surprise, then chuckled, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Pleased?”

“Yes!”

“Then claim me as yours.”

Generous to a fault.

“And what would that change?”

“Like today, you can use me as paper… or like this—”

He leaned down, sucking on Yegyeol’s lower lip with a loud, smacking kiss before whispering:

“You may kiss me whenever you like.”

Face aflame, Yegyeol buried himself in his chest. His hands clenched at Haryang’s robe as though to tear it apart, while Haryang patted his back, chuckling at the tremors of laughter between them.

Yegyeol turned, leaning against him, and attacked the roasted chestnuts with fierce determination. Haryang wrapped an arm around him, resting his chin on his shoulder.

“I didn’t know you liked chestnuts this much.”

“They’re tasty.”

Without looking, Yegyeol shoved another chestnut toward his mouth. Haryang accepted it easily, then licked the crumbs from Yegyeol’s fingers. The soft sensation made Yegyeol flinch, though he pretended nothing happened.

Chestnuts didn’t matter. What mattered was Haryang draped over him like an oversized teddy bear. He invented excuses to keep the closeness going.

“This is the first time I’ve used martial arts for something like this.”

He spoke like sharing a grave secret. Yegyeol glanced at him.

“You mean, pulling chestnuts from the fire?”

“Yes. That.”

“I could’ve done it myself.”

Planning to blame the flimsy poker Samrang had brought, Yegyeol muttered slyly.

“Of course. I just got impatient.”

“Impatient?”

As if he could feel such a thing? Typical Yegyeol, blinded by infatuation. Haryang only laughed, assuming his disciple was teasing.

“I worried the chestnuts you roasted so carefully might burn if I waited even a moment longer.”

So that was why he’d rushed in.

Sometimes Senior Brother is so very much a martial artist.

Where an esper had to rely on wit to avoid burns, a martial artist solved it with raw physical skill. Somehow, Yegyeol found that both amusing and endearing. His chest felt ticklish, warm.

“I thought roasting chestnuts in a brazier was a good idea. But now my hands and clothes are filthy. I’ll wash before bed.”

“Mm?”

Haryang reacted to his words, catching the implication.

The innocent guide had no idea how bold an esper could be. He asked his disciple:

“You do know what it means, to sleep here?”