Xie Lian was speechless.
Xie Lian remained speechless.
Even now that the story was done, Xie Lian was still in shock.
“What the heck is this?” he said, incredulous. “Isn’t this adaptation way over the line? No, no, no, this…”
What the heck was this nonsense? How was it appropriate for a storybook?!
Meanwhile, Hua Cheng had already fallen over on the bed, laughing.
“This isn’t right at all!” Xie Lian exclaimed, completely baffled. “What is this even supposed to be based on? The incident at Mount Yujun? This isn’t how it happened at all… It’s completely twisted. And…what if a child got their hands on this kind of story? That’d be inappropriate, wouldn’t it? Who wrote this?! And what’s with all these characters who sound familiar but just slightly off…?”
While the story in the book appeared sweet and innocent at first glance, like a child’s bedtime story, upon closer inspection, the plot was incredibly over the top—it was even more depraved than an ordinary spicy story.
Yet there was a peculiar sort of sentimentality at the conclusion, and Xie Lian wondered if there was something wrong with him for feeling moved by it.
Hua Cheng chimed in with his own thoughts. “Hmm? It’s not entirely twisted—some parts are correct, at least. For example, I certainly do call you ‘gege.’ And it certainly was me who went to receive your wedding sedan. And on the night we consummated our marriage, you certainly did—”
Xie Lian had thought he’d built up a thick skin after all these years, yet he still constantly flushed bright red in front of Hua Cheng.
“How did they know about something like that?!” Xie Lian exclaimed. “A-and aside from that, it was all wrong…”
Although he knew it was normal for there to be leagues of difference between folktales and their factual origins—after countless adaptations and rewrites, strange results were hardly unexpected—seeing it for himself still shocked him to the extreme. There had been several points when he’d been too mortified to keep reading, but Hua Cheng had forced him to continue. How aggravating. Oh, how desperately Xie Lian wanted to beat him up, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Hua Cheng didn’t find it surprising either. “Obviously, someone involved must have leaked details about the incident. Some rearrangements here, some wrongful conclusions there, and a sprinkle of conjecture on top—voilá, there you have it.”
“No more reading rubbish books like these,” Xie Lian said, tossing the storybook aside. “Time to rest properly.”
However, Hua Cheng only clapped. “But it was so well written; the writer’s very talented.” Then, he pleaded, “Listening to it made me feel so much better. Won’t you read me another, gege?”
“No,” Xie Lian refused resolutely.
“Gege, my head hurts.”
“But—”
“Gege.”
“…All right, fine.”
It was rare for Hua Cheng to fall ill, even slightly—and even in the best of times, Xie Lian usually went along with his every whim and granted every single one of his wishes. How could he resist him at a time like this?
Thus, as mortified as he was, he swallowed down his embarrassment and picked up that pervy little book anew. He lay down next to Hua Cheng—whose arm immediately circled around his waist as he did—and forced himself to keep reading.
“Once upon a time, there was a handsome young crown prince who cultivated deep in the mountains. One night, he was greeted by a mysterious guest…”