Yanchuan felt both unfortunate and guilty towards others as he anxiously worried about when he might be discovered amidst the encroaching lights. Perhaps he had spent too much time in the previous script, where no one would bully him like this. In any case, a multitude of factors combined to make his tears flow uncontrollably.
“Ahhh, honey, you haven’t put on your pants, pay attention to your privacy!”
“Honey is crying, my heart is bleeding…”
“Oh my god, what wild dog behavior is this? How did he get into my wife’s bed?”
“He’s crying, I haven’t even lifted the blanket of my wife, how could this happen? Boohoo.”
“Ah, such a fierce man, I feel like I can’t fight back (sneaking away) (scrambling around) (crawling darkly) (twisting) (wiping tears and feeling weak) (crawling back to eavesdrop).”
“Why are you crying…” The sudden tears bewildered Hesse, a young and fierce man who was now unsure where to place his hands, afraid that if he touched her, she would cry even harder.
It was as if a ferocious beast had encountered a delicate house cat, not knowing how to use his claws because the cat was too fragile. He could only clumsily extend his tongue to lick a few times, only to have the cat swat his paw away.
Hesse felt the tears of the Eastern beauty drip onto his heart.
With his usual mindset, he didn’t think he had done anything wrong.
The Eastern beauty refused to attend to him, instead choosing to get closer to a man he considered a softie, which undoubtedly made Hesse furious.
Therefore, when his lackey suggested a “friendly exchange,” Hesse tacitly agreed.
But he didn’t expect his newly recruited lackey to be so inept, failing even at this small matter, and getting caught.
Hesse felt that the two roommates could be bundled up and thrown out along with the lackey.
When he heard the news from the lackey in the hall, he was infuriated. Not only did it fail to improve the stubborn Eastern beauty’s impression of him, it worsened it even further.
Hesse was certain that the Eastern beauty now viewed him as a “villainous character,” even though he essentially was one.
He figured the impression of himself was likely more straightforwardly labeled as “bully.”
“I’m sorry,” Hesse said, awkwardly softening, his young and handsome face rarely displaying such a helpless expression: “I was wrong; I shouldn’t have let them do such things.”
As he apologized, he reached out and drew her into his embrace, repeatedly saying, “I was wrong.”
Now holding her, Hesse went to wipe her tears.
His somewhat rough fingertips tentatively brushed over her red-rimmed eyes, trying to wipe away the tears on them.
Yet the Eastern beauty turned her face away, only allowing him to catch a glimpse of half of her profile.
Her nose was slightly reddened from crying.
“Don’t touch me.” Her weak voice still held a hint of a sob, soft and fragile.
Yanchuan casually found an excuse: “Your hands are too rough, it hurts me.”
In truth, he felt a bit embarrassed to have cried in front of the NPC; the tears had fallen suddenly, and it was too easy for him to cry.
Hesse, on receiving the critique of his rough hands: …
He had nowhere to put his hands now.
He could only say softly, accepting this sin: “Yeah, it’s my fault, my mistake.”
Finally, the Eastern beauty, who had managed to stop her tears, turned to look at him.
But this wasn’t Hesse’s fault.
He hardly had the mind to take care of his hands, and having some calluses on his fingertips was completely normal. He had used the lightest touch when wiping her tears, and being told it hurt was quite the unwelcome disaster.
However, seeing the Eastern beauty still wiping her tears and looking back at him with red-rimmed eyes, Hesse found himself at a loss for words.
He could only lower his head and honestly admit his mistake: “It won’t happen again.”
Yanchuan responded with an “Mm.”
But he still pressed his lips together, his eyes still red: “Then why won’t you get off?”
Is this bed really so comfortable? Why did he have to climb up here?
Yanchuan was not very happy.
The dark-haired, dark-eyed Eastern beauty had stopped crying but was reminded of being asked to get down, and Hesse lowered his voice.
“Let me see,” Hesse said, his gaze heavy, his green eyes like faint fireflies: “Does it still hurt?”
As he spoke, he reached out, caressing her slender calf and pushing up the hem of his shirt just a bit.
The contrast between his slightly tanned hand and her snow-white skin was striking.
“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” Yanchuan suddenly felt something was wrong as he sensed a weight on his knee, scooting back slightly: “Take your hand away…”
Hesse’s palm was large, his knuckles distinct, and prominent veins lined his wrist; his palm was hot.
Yanchuan’s calf had been exposed to the air for a while, and when it encountered the slightly higher temperature, it trembled slightly.
“Is it here?” Hesse’s fingertips glided up, accurately touching Yanchuan’s knee, which had turned pink: “Have you put on the medicine?”
Yanchuan wanted to retract his leg, vaguely nodding.
The hem of his shirt bunched up, and Yanchuan tugged at it, trying to cover the root of his legs.
Hesse’s hand remained on his knee, subtly trying to slide further up, his rough fingertips brushing against her slightly plump thigh.
But Hesse had not stopped yet.
Outside, the prison guards were intermittently patrolling, and the lights in the corridor were glaring, with bright beams of flashlight occasionally shining through gaps in the bars, illuminating Yanchuan and Hesse.
In the cell, two people, who didn’t know if they were asleep or awake, lay on beds.
Yanchuan knelt on the bed, while Hesse, who should have been lying peacefully on the lower bunk, crawled up, pressing his palm against Yanchuan’s calf.
The guards could discover what they were doing at any moment, but Hesse still maintained this position, looking at him with his deep green eyes, full of inscrutable meaning.
“Hand! Watch your hand!”
“Honey, remember to wear your pants when you sleep next time, wrap yourself tightly; I always feel that this bad man will do something sneaky.”
“He touched my honey! He really did!”
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