The Strategy of Washing Clean a Slag Shou

3.3

The little guy clasped against his chest and was struggling weakly, completely lacking in any combative strength. His black, dewy eyes shone with a limpid sparkle. Just looking at him made Zhao Feng’s heart soften, and grow even more reluctant to release him.

Zhao Feng had initially meant to tease Su Yang, but he did not expect this stupid little crybaby rabbit to have already mastered the art of inviting one to bully him even more. He had simply meant to poke fun at him a little, but it seemed like the other had taken him very seriously. Zhao Feng felt his resolve crumbling, and surrendered to the feeling.

He could not help indulging in such a novel experience.

Clearly, they have seen each other fairly frequently for about a year. Looking at the youth’s face which was so similar to his, brought Zhao Feng a feeling of peace and tranquility. But it has never stirred any other thoughts or moods in him. But these past two days of contact has completely toppled his former impressions of the youth.

Ever since Xu Yanqing’s identity as a spy was uncovered, he seemed to have completely thrown away all aspects of his former self, and became more frank and adorable. Sometimes he behaved eccentrically like a little lunatic, but it was unexpectedly loveable.

Su Yang noticed the growing heat in his gaze, and cautiously made to wriggle out of Zhao Feng’s grasp, but the man tightened his arms around him. Su Yang immediately feigned weakness and pressed a hand to his forehead. "Feng gē, I-I think I lost too much blood, my head’s spinning."

Although Zhao Feng knew he had superb acting skills, he still felt a stab of alarm.

He asked, "Really?"

Su Yang did not answer, and instead bit his lip, looking discomfited. "I don’t feel well….." he said softly.

Seeing him so feeble, a sharp chill rose in Zhao Feng’s heart and his entire body went cold. He immediately picked Su Yang up and laid him on the bed, before covering his body with a blanket.

Su Yang’s lips twitched. It was just dizziness from blood loss, there’s no need to treat him like a terminally ill patient, was there?

As Su Yang was silently criticizing him, Zhao Feng nimbly picked up a bowl of freshly stewed fish soup and placed it by the bedside. The rich fragrance wafted up from the milky white broth, but it was not able to completely mask the faint scent of medicinal herbs in it. Su Yang was immediately seized with the urge to flee, but he was frozen in place by Zhao Feng’s stern look.

This man was no kindly,  law-abiding citizen. From the way he constantly emanated the oppressive air of a bandit, if Zhao Feng had been born in the ancient times, he would have either been a warlord or a bandit king.

Su Yang has always been quick to adapt to circumstance. In the face of absolute authority, he meekly admitted defeat, lifted the bowl with both hands and drained it with a gulp.

After finishing the soup with much difficulty, the lingering taste of medicine on his tongue had not even dissipated yet when Zhao Feng brought over another bowl of black chicken soup with yam and wolf-berries. He held it up to Su Yang’s face. "Drink another bowl."

The sight of the wolf-berries and pieces of ginger floating on top of the soup was too much for Su Yang. He hurriedly covered his mouth and flapped his arms. "Take it away, I won’t drink, I won’t drink!"

"I personally brought this soup over, but you won’t drink it?" Zhao Feng gave a nasty grin and placed the bowl on the table with a resounding deng. Su Yang’s heart jumped.

"If you don’t finish this bowl, just wait and see how I’ll deal with you today," Zhao Feng told him viciously.

Su Yang stared at him with round eyes, then attempted at bargaining, "If I drink it, does it mean that we won’t do….. do that?"