Chapter 30

Qi Liangqin fell onto the bed, half of his body sinking into the covers. He scrambled to sit up in a panic. Just then, Yan Bozong suddenly stepped forward. Startled, he instinctively retreated, but Yan Bozong stopped.

In the darkness, Yan Bozong watched him for a while. Just when Qi Liangqin thought he was about to leave, Yan Bozong suddenly climbed onto the bed, looming over him from above.

He saw Yan Bozong slowly lowering himself, his damp, warm body pressing against him, his breath almost brushing against his face.

Yan Bozong was about to kiss him.

Qi Liangqin stiffened all over, but then he heard Yan Bozong say, "Is this what you want, hmm?" His breath was heavy, carrying a faint scent of alcohol. "How can you be this wanton?"

With that, he suddenly got up. The bed creaked slightly as he moved. Qi Liangqin abruptly sat up, only to see Yan Bozong turn and walk out the door.

He felt as if all strength had suddenly left him, and he collapsed onto the bed.

Lying there, Qi Liangqin was already drenched in sweat. He remained still for a long time before finally sitting up, taking off his shoes, and sitting on the bed.

A knock sounded from outside. It was Aunt Chun. "Xiao Qi, are you asleep? I made some soup for you. Drink it before you go to bed."

"Oh, coming," he responded, slipping on his shoes and opening the door. Aunt Chun held a tray with a bowl of soup. "I thought you wouldn't wake up."

Qi Liangqin suddenly realized that he had pretended to be unconscious when he entered the house. Thinking Aunt Chun might have noticed something, he blushed slightly.

"Bozong told me to make sure you drink more," Aunt Chun said.

Hearing that, Qi Liangqin felt even more embarrassed, though his expression remained neutral. "He drank a lot too. You should give him a bowl as well."

"He already had one," Aunt Chun said with a smile. "A big bowl, in fact. He said he might be a little drunk, too."

Qi Liangqin froze for a moment. Aunt Chun took the empty bowl from his hands and said, "Alright, wash up and go to bed early."

After Aunt Chun left, Qi Liangqin went to take a shower. Stripping off his clothes, he stood under the showerhead, tilting his head back to let the hot water pour over his face. He felt a little breathless. In the steam-filled air, his hands brushed over his body, and to his surprise, he found himself unable to control his urges. He almost couldn't resist taking matters into his own hands.

It seemed he was really out of it—maybe he was actually a little drunk.

Did Yan Bozong hate him? If pushed too far, would Yan Bozong completely fall out with him?

After showering, exhaustion finally set in. He crawled into bed and quickly fell into a deep sleep. In his dream, Yan Bozong suddenly pulled him into an embrace, his voice urgent and restless as he asked, "Do you really want me to fuck you?"

Hearing this, Qi Liangqin couldn't hold back his reaction. Covering his face, he stammered, "I don't know, I don't know."

Like a helpless little sissy.

But soon, he realized something was wrong—because the sensation felt too real. He could barely breathe under the weight pressing down on him. Shocked awake, he found someone lying on top of him, hands roaming all over his body, lips brushing against his neck, almost kissing him.

A strong stench of alcohol hit his nose.

Terrified, Qi Liangqin let out a scream and shoved the person off. But before he could even sit up, the figure lunged at him again. Qi Liangqin shouted in panic, "Yan Songwei, are you out of your mind?!"

Clearly, Yan Songwei was completely drunk, lost in some fantasy about a little beauty, and started grinding against Qi Liangqin's leg.

As someone inexperienced in such matters, Qi Liangqin was both flustered and frightened. He kicked hard, but it didn't shake Yan Songwei off—if anything, Yan Songwei managed to grab his leg instead.

Seizing the moment, Qi Liangqin kicked with all his strength, sending Yan Songwei tumbling off the bed. His body crashed into the bedside table, knocking over a vase with a loud clatter. Fortunately, the floor was wooden, so the vase didn't break, but the water inside spilled everywhere.

Yan Songwei groggily scrambled up from the floor, his hand touching the spilled liquid. He stammered in horror, "B-Blood... I'm bleeding..."

Hearing this in the dark, Qi Liangqin thought Yan Songwei had hit his head and panicked. He hurried to turn on the light, but before he could, Yan Songwei, still drunk and disoriented, bolted for the door. His unsteady steps made him crash into the frame before he stumbled into the living room, shouting, "Mom! Mom! I'm bleeding!"

Qi Liangqin sat on the bed in a daze, suddenly realizing something. He quickly jumped out of bed. However, Yan Songwei's shouting had already startled everyone awake. The lights in the living room came on, and as he rushed outside, he saw Yan Bozong emerging from the opposite room—bare-chested, wearing only a pair of loose shorts, barefoot, without even putting on shoes.

Qi Liangqin had no time to admire his strong and well-proportioned muscles; all he felt was sheer embarrassment.

Aunt Chun also came running out in her pajamas. Seeing Yan Songwei, she asked in a panic, "What's wrong?"

"H-He hit me," Yan Songwei slurred drunkenly, pointing at Qi Liangqin. "I just hugged him a little, and he… he broke my head open! I'm bleeding!"

Yan Bozong stepped forward, grabbed Yan Songwei's head, and checked him over. "Where's the blood?"

Yan Songwei, still dazed, lifted his hand and showed it to Yan Bozong.

Of course, there was no blood on his hand—just some moisture.

Seeing Yan Songwei's clean hands, Qi Liangqin finally sighed in relief. He had really thought he'd smashed Yan Songwei's head open. Walking over, his face flushed, he said, "Songwei, you're drunk."

But Yan Songwei shrank away from him in fear, hiding behind Yan Bozong instead. Qi Liangqin looked at Yan Bozong, feeling incredibly awkward.

Reaching out a hand, he said in embarrassment, "Be good, go back to your room and sleep."

"You kicked me," Yan Songwei accused.

"Well… you suddenly jumped on me in the middle of the night, of course I was scared…" Talking about such things was always awkward. Qi Liangqin straightened his face. "Are you going to sleep or not?"

Yan Songwei remained silent. Qi Liangqin had to mask his embarrassment and nerves with a firm tone. "Fine, then don't go back to your room tonight! All you do is drink with those useless friends of yours!"

He sounded so righteous, as if he had forgotten that not long ago, he had also been drunk—worse than Yan Songwei, in fact. At least Yan Songwei had managed to walk back home by himself, whereas Qi Liangqin had been completely unconscious.

Since Yan Songwei refused to return to his room, and Yan Bozong didn't want to disturb Madam Yan any further, he said, "Alright, let him crash in my room for the night. Go get him a blanket."

Qi Liangqin went back to get a blanket for Yan Songwei. Yan Bozong never let anyone sleep in his bed, and Yan Songwei was no exception. Instead, he spread a blanket on the floor for him. Qi Liangqin quickly fetched another set to cover him. Yan Songwei finally stopped making a fuss and fell asleep almost instantly.

After tucking him in, Qi Liangqin sighed.

"Sorry to trouble you," he said, looking up at Yan Bozong. But the moment he did, he suddenly recalled what he had done that night. His eyes quickly darted away.

Yan Bozong said nothing, merely standing there with an air of indifference, as if he was ready to shut the door and go to sleep. Qi Liangqin hurriedly stepped out, and before he had even walked the short distance down the hallway, the door behind him clicked shut.

Aunt Chun opened her bedroom door slightly and whispered, "Is he asleep?"

Qi Liangqin nodded. "He drank too much. He passed out as soon as he lay down."

"Don't be mad at him. He's been like this since middle school—loves drinking, and no one at home ever stopped him. Just talk to him properly in the future, he'll listen to you."

Qi Liangqin nodded. "It's late, Aunt Chun. You should get some rest."

"You too, sleep early."

Qi Liangqin returned to his room and sat on the bed.

After all the commotion with Yan Songwei, he was completely wide awake. He glanced toward the opposite room—it was already dark.

Sighing, he picked up the fallen vase from the floor, wiped up the spilled water, and tidied everything up.

What was wrong with Yan Songwei just now? Thinking back to when Yan Songwei had stepped on his butt earlier, joking that he might "react" to it, Qi Liangqin felt extremely uneasy.

He prayed to the heavens—please don't let Yan Songwei turn gay. Just let him be the straightest straight man to ever exist, so he could peacefully remain his little brother-in-law in the future.

Thinking about the future made him anxious. The days ahead wouldn't be easy—now that things had already escalated, his subtle teasing would have to evolve into full-on, no-holds-barred seduction.

But at least there was some comfort—he had probably followed the original plot for the most part. From here on, it would just be a series of intense and passionate seduction scenes.

It would be tough, but at least everything was happening in a condensed sequence. If he gritted his teeth and pushed through, it would all be over soon.

Thinking of this, Qi Liangqin couldn't help but feel grateful for the excruciatingly detailed narrative style of Male Pan Jinlian. If not for that, following the plot chapter by chapter would have taken him who knows how many years.

Male Pan Jinlian was a novel known for its meticulous detail—eighty chapters in, and not much had actually happened. Sometimes, even a simple meal could stretch across two chapters. The author was also stingy, with some chapters barely reaching one or two thousand words. When calculated carefully, the events of these eighty chapters weren't too far from where he was now.

But now, every time he deviated from the plot, he felt unbearable discomfort, as if he himself would cease to exist. He had no choice but to follow the storyline. But what about after the eighty chapters? Could he finally live his life freely then?

And what about that line—"His ending would be no different from Pan Jinlian's"? Did that count as part of the established plot?

Back then, Huangling Xiaoxiaosheng had added that sentence because, after he abandoned the novel, a flood of readers had cursed and wailed, demanding closure. He had likely bowed to public pressure and summed up the future plot in just one sentence. But when Qi Liangqin had read the comments under the chapter, the readers were even angrier. Many had pleaded with the author to change that ending.

Would the author actually revise that line? Or had he already done so? If not, where would Qi Liangqin's fate lead? Did that sentence count as part of the predetermined plot?

He spread his arms and collapsed onto the bed, curling one hand over his eyes, peeking through his fingers at the ceiling light—too bright.

Kicking off his slippers, he climbed into bed and switched off the light.

Although he had never accomplished much in life, he had mastered the art of enduring whatever came his way. The future might be difficult, but he never thought too far ahead. No matter how bitter things got, he could always find a way to get through the present.

Everyone thought Yan Songwei's fall last night was nothing—just a drunken overreaction. But the next morning, when he woke up, there was a massive bruise on the back of his neck, stretching all the way to his scalp.

Yan Yuan brushed his hair aside, startled. "Your scalp is bruised all over! What happened?"

"He drank too much," Qi Liangqin said. "He should drink less in the future." His tone was softer toward the end.

But Aunt Chun, who was serving breakfast, chuckled. "Songwei was completely drunk last night and only got home in the middle of the night. He probably didn't turn on the light and climbed into bed in the dark. Little Qi must've been startled and kicked him off."

Yan Yuan burst into laughter and turned to Qi Liangqin. "What's this? Second Brother isn't even allowed near you anymore?"

Yan Songwei was also dissatisfied. "You were way too rough."

Qi Liangqin finally stopped resisting and lowered his head. "It was dark. I couldn't see. Just a reflex."

Madam Yan came downstairs. Aunt Chun smiled and said, "Madam woke up late today."

"I really am getting old. Can't stay up late at all. I lingered a bit too long at the Wang family's place yesterday, and then I couldn't sleep at night. Woke up with a headache," she said as she sat down at the dining table. "I'll just have some porridge."

Aunt Chun went to ladle some soup for her, but Qi Liangqin, ever observant, had already stood up and served her a bowl of porridge. "It's a bit hot, please drink slowly."

Madam Yan hummed in acknowledgment but then turned to Yan Bozong. "You should tell your wife to take a lesson from Little Qin. See how thoughtful he is? He even knows to serve me porridge."

Qi Liangqin glanced at Yan Bozong, who had a faint, unreadable smile but said nothing.

So Qi Liangqin said, "Sister-in-law is a capable woman, unlike me—I'm good for nothing."

There was clear intent behind his words. The more he said things like this, the more Madam Yan would look down on Shen He.

Sure enough, Madam Yan sneered. "Oh yes, she's meant for greater things. Serving an old woman like me is beneath her. She should be off building atomic bombs for the country—then the Yan family might actually get some recognition."

Yan Songwei lowered his head, laughing, but when he looked up and met Yan Bozong's gaze, he quickly looked away. Yan Yuan didn't laugh, but her impression of Shen He wasn't great either. The relationship between sisters-in-law wasn't particularly good, so her expression carried a hint of amusement, as if watching a joke unfold.

But Qi Liangqin simply smiled and looked at Yan Bozong. "Big Brother, is Sister-in-law really that busy? I haven't seen her even once. I'd really love to meet her someday."

Yan Bozong looked at him steadily, his gaze carrying a hint of coldness. "Busy."

Just that one word was enough to brush him off, the indifference so obvious that Qi Liangqin felt a bit awkward.

Yan Songwei stepped in to smooth things over. "If you really want to meet her, Sister-in-law may not have time, but we do. When I'm free, I'll take you to see her."

Madam Yan had only a few sips of her porridge before deciding she still felt unwell. She went back upstairs to rest. Yan Yuan accompanied her, and before long, a call came from upstairs:

"Second Brother, Mom wants you. Come up for a moment."

Yan Songwei wiped his mouth with a napkin, pushed back his chair, and stood up. "What for? She's probably going to scold me about drinking last night."

Once Yan Songwei went upstairs, only Yan Bozong and Qi Liangqin remained at the dining table.

Qi Liangqin's heart pounded like a drum. He set down his spoon, picked up a napkin, wiped his mouth, and then looked at Yan Bozong.

It was as if he had been waiting for this moment all along. Yan Bozong took it all in—and for a split second, felt a flicker of apprehension.

Qi Liangqin reached out to the fruit bowl in the center of the table and picked up a small, ruby-red cherry.

A cherry—this fruit, with its rich color and luscious taste, was often used in novels as a metaphor for certain indescribable parts of the body. A civilized, restrained, yet undeniably sensual image.

The cherry was small but full, its color rich and tempting.

Holding it between his fingers, he gently rolled it, rubbing it lightly with his fingertips, then scratching at it with his nails. The corners of his lips carried a faint, unreadable smile, and his gaze lingered on Yan Bozong—like a venomous snake flicking its tongue.

Everything about his actions screamed seduction—reckless, unrestrained. But his eyes betrayed his hesitation, his shame. Whenever his gaze met Yan Bozong's, he couldn't help but instinctively flinch and look away.

Yet, in Yan Bozong's eyes, this only created an illusion of resistance mingled with longing—a contradiction of desire and restraint.

Then, he saw Qi Liangqin's pale, slender fingers lifting the cherry to his lips.

His lips were light in color yet beautiful. As they parted slightly, his white teeth gleamed. He bit down gently, breaking the cherry's skin. Fresh juice spilled out, staining his lips a deeper shade of red.

A moment later, his tongue flicked out, sweeping the cherry juice from his lips. As if challenging him, Qi Liangqin arched his brows slightly and shot Yan Bozong a glance.

Utterly tantalizing.

Yan Bozong pressed his lips together and turned his head away, no longer looking.

Qi Liangqin lowered his gaze as well. He picked up a napkin and meticulously wiped his mouth and fingers—one stroke at a time—until they were perfectly clean.