20. Shut Up

This was Yin Sangyu’s private residence in the city’s outskirts, surrounded by beautiful, quiet scenery, far from the hustle, highly secluded, with no neighbors. When acquired, no one but him knew.

Now, he was about to begin a “cohabitation life” with the great villain.

It was entirely a choice he had no choice in.

First, a hospital was out of the question, as it required identity records, easily leaving a trail.

Xiao Muyi, injured and ill, driven from home, unable to care for himself and needing money, was penniless, cleaner than his face.

While undressing Xiao Muyi’s soiled clothes, Yin Sangyu found only a “pen.” Feeling its odd weight, he opened it, discovering no ink but a sharp, ten-centimeter spike—a pure weapon, promptly confiscated.

Under these circumstances, alpha-beta distinctions were irrelevant. They were now patient and doctor. Yin Sangyu had no choice but to take full responsibility for Xiao Muyi.

Bringing him home, he immediately began treating injuries. Since Xiao Muyi couldn’t touch water, Yin Sangyu wiped him down roughly, then applied medicine and bandages.

Xiao Muyi was unconscious throughout, unable to cooperate, but it posed no challenge for Yin Sangyu. In school, he always aced emergency treatment, handling it with ease.

Still, he couldn’t help feeling bewildered. How had he fallen to this? Even retired, he was royalty, a noble, with no reason to serve others.

What merit did Xiao Muyi have to deserve his hands-on care? Feeling unbalanced, Yin Sangyu decided that once this was over and Xiao Muyi ceased his misdeeds, he’d owe him a lifetime of servitude to repay.

Cleaning Xiao Muyi required five or six basins of bloody water and a whole box of medicine. After exchanging system points for energy medicine and fever reducers to feed Xiao Muyi, Yin Sangyu was finally done.

It was late at night, time to rest.

To prevent Xiao Muyi from causing trouble if he woke, Yin Sangyu, yawning, chained his hands and feet securely before sleeping next door, adding a high-quality blindfold.

Ensuring he couldn’t move or see was the treatment a great villain deserved.

The next day.

A breeze carrying faint floral fragrance, mixed with birdsong outside, drifted into the bedroom through an unclosed window. Gentle morning sunlight slanted through the gap, illuminating the sleeping man’s face on the large bed.

The light stung Yin Sangyu’s eyes. Soon, his refined long brows furrowed, and he slowly opened sky-blue eyes, staring blankly at the unfamiliar ceiling, unsure where he was. After a moment, yesterday’s memories returned.

This is my private residence, with a barely self-sufficient great villain sleeping next door.

What a hassle.

Reluctant to face it, Yin Sangyu lingered in bed for ten minutes before rising unhurriedly, washing up, changing into fresh clothes, and entering Xiao Muyi’s room.

Pushing open the door, he saw Xiao Muyi, hands and feet spread-eagled, fixed to the wide bed, lying flat, unmoved from yesterday’s position.

Blindfolded, unable to see, he was covered with a blanket but wore no clothes underneath. Bandages crisscrossed his exposed shoulders, pale skin peeking through gaps, stark against the dark bedsheet.

Like a morbid, decadent oil painting, ambiguity laced with the danger of falling into an abyss.

Yin Sangyu froze at the sight. Last night, he hadn’t noticed, but now it felt unsettling, almost deliberate. If others saw, he’d never escape a pervert’s reputation.

Uneasily averting his eyes, he wondered why he felt embarrassed. He was upright, hadn’t had stray thoughts while cleaning Xiao Muyi last night, let alone now.

Daily, he’d recite his resolve to marry an omega, reinforcing his conviction.

Stepping inside, Yin Sangyu approached the bed, testing Xiao Muyi’s cheek with the back of his hand, confirming the fever had subsided, and asked, “How do you feel? Any discomfort?”

He knew Xiao Muyi was awake.

Facing near-imprisonment, Xiao Muyi showed no panic, perhaps already past it. His voice, still hoarse, said, “Fine. I want water.”

“Wait.”

Yin Sangyu fetched a glass of water, grabbed a spoon from the kitchen, pulled up a chair, and sat by the bed to feed Xiao Muyi spoonful by spoonful.

When the cool, wet spoon touched Xiao Muyi’s cracked lips, he flinched, saying, “…I can drink myself.”

Yin Sangyu: “Too much trouble. I’d have to rechain you after. Unless necessary, let’s not.”

Xiao Muyi’s inherent fragility was deceptive. He said softly, “You don’t need to chain me. You know I can’t resist you, especially not now.”

“Not necessarily.” In the novel, those who underestimated Xiao Muyi ended up dead. Yin Sangyu wouldn’t follow suit, ruthlessly exposing, “Shen Ruifeng’s an alpha, yet you nearly took his leg.”

“Li Ziyi’s an alpha too, frail since childhood, now possibly crippled.”

Secrets meant to stay hidden were laid bare in a few words. Xiao Muyi fell silent. When the next spoonful came, he drank obediently.

After half a glass, Yin Sangyu stopped.

Setting the glass on the bedside table, he said, “Don’t be nervous. I won’t do anything to you. Once your wounds heal, I’ll let you go.”

“Treat yourself as a guest. Make any requests, except for things like killing.”

Xiao Muyi thought, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“What’s your reason for doing this?”

Yin Sangyu frowned. The question echoed yesterday’s “Why did you save me?” Too lazy to lie, he replied earnestly but coldly, with half-true, vague words, “For the world’s love and peace, to purify its filth, leaving no hiding place for evil forces. I was appointed to guide you to virtue.”

Xiao Muyi tugged his lips without mirth, “Didn’t you say you’re the evil god’s envoy?”

Yin Sangyu glanced at him, saying flatly, “I lied. You believed that?”

Xiao Muyi: “…”

Poor Xiao Muyi, poor with words, was stumped.

…

Yin Sangyu wasn’t lively, and Xiao Muyi was even quieter. With mutual wariness, by normal logic, even locked in a house for half a year, they’d remain familiar strangers.

So, avoiding interference should lead to harmony.

Sadly, that ideal state was currently unattainable.

When Yin Sangyu, with a medical kit and a basin of warm water on the table, silently lifted Xiao Muyi’s blanket, Xiao Muyi nearly panicked. If a cat, his fur would’ve bristled.

Smelling medicine, knowing the intent, he instinctively protested, “Wait, I can do it myself.”

Yin Sangyu didn’t pause, not even lifting his eyes, “Moving will make you bleed. You can’t reach some spots, and I won’t let you remove the blindfold.”

If Xiao Muyi could see, he’d glean too much information. Yin Sangyu wouldn’t risk exposure, letting only “Zhu Ling” deal with him.

Last night, unconscious, Xiao Muyi could avoid overthinking.

But awake, having his unclothed body seen and touched by an unknown alpha was torturous. He resisted wholly, feeling sickened.

“I’ll be careful, won’t bleed. I know where my wounds are and can apply medicine blind,” he explained, hoping the man would reconsider.

But Yin Sangyu, unwrapping chest bandages, ignored every word, focused as if Xiao Muyi were a shy, wounded recruit, “Behave, and you’ll heal faster and leave sooner.”

He dipped a cotton swab in medicine, applying it to Xiao Muyi’s wound.

When it touched the red gash, Xiao Muyi’s pale, soft chest trembled from pain, followed by short gasps, chest heaving tensely, shoulders quivering slightly.

He seemed like a frightened victim pushed too far by an insensitive bully, suppressing fear to offer himself.

Yin Sangyu froze for the second time, his upright mind straying. The scene felt slightly inappropriate for children, though fine for adult alphas.

…No, no, still not fine.

Closing his eyes, he recited family rules twice to clear his desires. Fantasizing about an injured villain was absurd; a human shouldn’t.

Opening his eyes, his gaze regained clarity, expression stern as if in a command room. He scooped a large dollop of ointment.

As he moved to apply it, that soft, pleasing voice he liked, now tearful, pleaded pitifully, “Please.”

You…

Are you seducing me again?

Yin Sangyu’s composure cracked, heart trembling, nearly dropping the ointment box.

He didn’t know how other men would react. Perhaps they’d relent to Xiao Muyi’s weak pleas, fulfilling all demands.

But Yin Sangyu wouldn’t. He’d be worse, believing such speech was blatant seduction, the most obvious ploy.

“Sigh…”

Setting down the box, Yin Sangyu sighed.

He decided to teach the foolish villain a lesson: challenging a man’s restraint recklessly was unwise. Luckily, it was him, or Xiao Muyi’s wounds would never heal.

Rip —

A fresh bandage roll was torn open by strong, slender hands, then crumpled. Rising irritably, Yin Sangyu pried open Xiao Muyi’s mouth, stuffing in the bandage.

“You…”

Xiao Muyi whimpered, struggling instinctively, chains clanking, but his wrists were ruthlessly pinned by Yin Sangyu.

He sensed the tall man looming above, a low, magnetic voice sounding faintly, “Be quiet. It’s for your own good.”