The flickering, solitary candlelight in the room slowly dragged Zhu Mingyang from the suffocating grasp of his past. He desperately wanted to seal away those painful memories, yet they were the only moments of true devotion he had ever shared with Gu Yingjie. He had spent years trying to erase them, but the effort was always futile. A single glance or touch of the scars covering his body—the jagged line on his abdomen, the old whip marks on his back—was all it took. Those deep, physical anchors brought him violently back to the very past he longed to forget.
Gu Yingjie clung to him in the low light, his arms initially wrapped tightly around Zhu Mingyang's waist. After a while, the urgent grip softened, and he merely rested his head on Zhu Mingyang's right thigh. He closed his eyes, the silence of the room amplifying the quiet insecurity in his voice.
"Mingyang," he asked, the word little more than a whisper. "If one day you grow tired of me, will you leave me?"
Zhu Mingyang gently stroked Gu Yingjie's hair. "Only death can make me leave you," he vowed softly, the simple statement holding the weight of their entire history.
Gu Yingjie offered a small, sad smile. "Do you remember when I tried to drive you away?" he asked, his voice thick with old guilt. "I thought the guard's life in the Gu House was too inhumane for you, so I tried to free you. I poisoned you with sleeping pills and sent you off."
He paused, the memory painful. "You took three whole days to return to the Gu Manor. When Father found out, he didn't care about my intentions. He ordered his guards to punish you for lack of responsibility as a guard. In the end, it was me who drove you away, but you were the one who received those three whips on your back as punishment."
Zhu Mingyang continued to gently stroke Gu Yingjie's hair. He looked down at his young master. "I remember," he said softly. "Because of your guilt, you couldn't even face me for two whole days."
Gu Yingjie held Zhu Mingyang's right hand, his grip suddenly tightening. "Mingyang," he confessed, his voice heavy with despair, "I don't want my eyesight anymore."
Gu Yingjie looked up at him, a genuine but wistful smile touching his lips. "If I were blind," he explained softly, "you would have to take care of me for the rest of my life. I would no longer be suitable to take over the House of Gu."
His voice grew dreamy. "I always dreamed that you and I would spend the rest of our days in a small bamboo shed, away from all this hatred and selfishness."
Zhu Mingyang's expression remained firm. He gently pulled his hand away from Gu Yingjie's hair. "You can't live such a life," he stated flatly. "You have been chosen as the next leader."
Gu Yingjie smiled sadly, accepting the harsh reality. "That's why I told you," he murmured, "this is only a dream that will never come true."
He then stood up abruptly and pushed the small table away, eliminating the physical barrier between them. With a decisive movement, he settled onto Zhu Mingyang's lap and wrapped his arms tightly around his neck. Gu Yingjie initiated the kiss, sending his tongue into Zhu Mingyang's mouth to meet and twist with his guard's, a passionate affirmation of their shared destiny, however difficult it was.
With the unspoken intensity of their desires made clear, Zhu Mingyang began to deepen their intimacy. He quickly worked to untie Gu Yingjie's belt, the simple act heavy with meaning. The physical barrier gone, Zhu Mingyang moved to complete the connection, his movements dedicated and careful. The initial careful touches soon escalated into a rhythmic, physical communion, and the pent-up tension between them broke.
A soft, raw moan escaped Gu Yingjie's lips, a sound of surrender and deep pleasure, confirming the profound connection being forged between master and guard in the dim candlelight.
Zhu Mingyang lifted Gu Yingjie and seated him on the table. He quickly removed his master's clothes, revealing skin that was beautifully smooth and soft—a texture Zhu Mingyang loved. He also loved the seemingly innocent face, yet he knew the truth better than anyone: this façade was a lie. Gu Yingjie was not the pure young master everyone believed; he was a demon prince in disguise. This profound and dangerous duality only intensified the bond between them.
The physical act that followed was a fierce culmination of their shared history, passion, and inescapable destiny. Zhu Mingyang moved to complete their connection, his movements dedicated and slow, soon giving way to a powerful, rhythmic joining. The intimacy was a temporary, absolute erasure of the political hatred and life-or-death duties that defined their world.
"Mingyang, kiss me," Gu Yingjie pleaded, his voice thick with raw need.
Zhu Mingyang complied, lowering his body to capture Gu Yingjie's lips. He knew exactly the intensity his young master craved in these moments of absolute abandon, and he began to move with a fierce, primal rhythm. Gu Yingjie's soft moans of pleasure grew louder, a sound of utter surrender that threatened to carry outside the room. Zhu Mingyang sealed the sounds with his mouth, even as he felt Gu Yingjie's rapid, shallow breaths against his lips and heard the urgent, muffled mutters of his release. Beneath them, the poor table protested loudly, creaking under the strain of their passionate intensity.
"Mingyang, not too hard. Ah... ah... ah..." Gu Yingjie pleaded, his voice a ragged whisper of pleasure and pain.
Zhu Mingyang slowed his rhythm slightly and asked, "Do you want me to stop?"
Gu Yingjie moaned loudly in reply, "No..."
He felt his body was on fire, his heart full of happiness and joy. He cried out his guard's name: "Mingyang... Ming... yang..." The moment culminated in a powerful, mutual release that sealed their connection, a fierce, passionate echo against the tense reality of the world outside the room.
Zhu Mingyang gently wiped Gu Yingjie, his movements careful and devoted, before helping him put his clothes back on. He then lifted his young master and carried him to the bed. Only after tending to Gu Mingyang did Zhu Mingyang clean himself, pull on his own pants, and settle in beside him. He stretched out his arm, and Gu Yingjie immediately nestled against him, resting his head securely on his guard's bicep.
In the quiet darkness, Gu Yingjie spoke, his voice soft with sleep and contentment. "Mingyang, since when did we start to be like this?"
Zhu Mingyang simply replied, "A long time ago."
Gu Yingjie paused, letting the weight of that shared history settle between them. "Do you still remember?"
"I do," Zhu Mingyang confirmed, his voice a low, steady rumble, acknowledging that he remembered every painful moment.
"Mingyang," Gu Yingjie asked, his voice suddenly small, "Do you still hate her?"
Zhu Mingyang remained silent. The question hung in the air, weighted by years of unsated vengeance.
Gu Yingjie sighed, understanding the lack of an answer was an answer itself. He rephrased the question, bringing the focus onto himself. "How about, do you hate me?"
Zhu Mingyang slowly stroked the back of his young master's head, his answer a final, definitive declaration of their bound destiny. "I dare not. I am your guard, and my life is yours."
"Forget it," Gu Yingjie murmured, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "I'm tired."
"Goodnight," Zhu Mingyang replied softly.
Gu Yingjie didn't move. "I want a goodnight kiss," he demanded, his voice small.
Zhu Mingyang kissed the back of Gu Yingjie's head, a quiet affirmation of his devotion.
More than an hour later, Zhu Mingyang still couldn't sleep. He gently brushed the hair from Gu Yingjie's face. His life belonged entirely to the man in his arms, and whatever this person wanted of him, he would do willingly. The thought of their impending return to the Gu Manor, where the man in his arms would no longer sleep next to him, was a cold ache.
Zhu Mingyang whispered the final truth he couldn't speak aloud when Gu Yingjie was fully awake: "Yingjie, I never hated her, nor will I hate you, because I belong to you, both my body and soul." He kissed Gu Yingjie on the forehead. "Always remember, I am willing to go through thick and thin with you."
Gu Yingjie shifted slightly, a soft sound escaping him. "Mingyang, thank you."
Zhu Mingyang then said, his voice dropping to a serious whisper, "Yingjie, don't tell anyone that you can see."
Gu Yingjie stirred, instantly awake. "How do you know?"
"I can tell when I looked in your eyes," Zhu Mingyang replied. "The aurora in your eyes tells me you can see now." He paused, letting the magnitude of the secret settle between them, and then quietly repeated, "Goodnight."
Zhu Mingyang stared at the ceiling for a long time, then lowered his gaze to the sleeping Gu Yingjie. He didn't regret signing the slave contract with the House of Gu; on the contrary, he felt a strange sense of happiness that his life was bound to this man. He also understood the blinding rage that fueled Mu Dishi's quest for revenge. He knew that if he were in Mu Dishi's shoes, he would pursue the same path without a moment's regret.
Seeking the root of that conviction, Zhu Mingyang began to recall the very beginning. His thoughts settled on a time before the scars and the whip, a time when he could still hear the sweet, loving sound of his mother's voice calling his name: "Mingyang..."