Chapter 206 Be Good, Close Your Little Mouth, and Keep Going

Leng Keyan’s movements were hurried and forceful.

There was no finesse—only the reckless abandon of a young man charging forward without care.

Yin Siyao felt sharp pain, but didn’t stop.

He simply hugged Leng Keyan tighter, his fingernails leaving shallow red marks across his back.

Amidst the intense kisses and touches, memories of their time together flashed through Yin Siyao’s mind like a revolving lantern.

Their first kiss had been in the hospital room.

Leng Keyan always liked sticking close to him, like a large dog following wherever he went.

When Leng Keyan smiled, his eyes curved into crescent moons, lighting up the entire world.

And yesterday, Leng Keyan had nervously said over the phone, “I lied to you.”

Noticing Yin Siyao’s unusual mood, Leng Keyan had paused.

“Teacher Yin?”

His voice was husky with desire. “Are you… not feeling well? If it’s uncomfortable, I…”

Yin Siyao didn’t reply.

Leng Keyan hurriedly tried to pull back, but a pair of strong hands held him in place.

“No,” Yin Siyao’s voice was hoarse. “Keep going. Don’t stop.”

“But you…”

Leng Keyan’s worry grew—Yin Siyao’s complexion looked bad.

He didn’t want him to be unhappy.

“Leng Keyan.”

Yin Siyao called his full name, looking deeply into the boy’s eyes. “I want you.”

Two words, like a spell.

Any remaining reason in Leng Keyan’s mind instantly collapsed.

He leaned down and kissed Yin Siyao again.

He kissed earnestly, devoutly, as if treating a fragile treasure.

Yin Siyao responded, fingers threading into Leng Keyan’s sweat-damp hair, pressing him closer.

Leng Keyan buried his head in motion, breathing heavily.

Sweat dripped from his forehead onto Yin Siyao’s collarbone.

Yin Siyao looked at the boy, drenched in sweat, his gaze deep and complex—like something surged within, only to be forcibly suppressed.

Leng Keyan felt a flutter of panic under that gaze, reaching out to touch Yin Siyao’s face. “Teacher Yin, are you really okay?”

Yin Siyao held his hand, intertwining fingers, coaxing softly: “Be good. Close your little mouth and keep going.”

Leng Keyan obediently stopped speaking.

He pressed Yin Siyao’s hand onto the pillow, fully exposing him beneath himself, with nowhere to escape.

Yin Siyao felt a mix of shyness and inexplicable excitement, wrapping his legs around Leng Keyan’s waist, inviting the depths of desire.

Leng Keyan’s breath hitched for a moment.

Then he lowered his head, forehead against Yin Siyao’s.

Movements slowed, one thrust, then another.

Leng Keyan looked into Yin Siyao’s eyes.

So close, he could see his reflection in Yin Siyao’s pupils.

He could see the fine lines at the corner of Yin Siyao’s eyes, the sweat on his lashes.

And he could see a single tear, sliding silently from Yin Siyao’s eye, tracing along the temple and disappearing into dark hair.

“Teacher Yin?”

Leng Keyan panicked, reaching to wipe his face. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? I’m sorry, I…”

“It’s nothing,” Yin Siyao interrupted, his voice hoarse. “Not you.”

He closed his eyes, pushing away the wetness, then kissed Leng Keyan again.

This time, neither spoke.

Only the rawest communication of bodies remained—sweat, breathing, intertwined fingers, and emotions that couldn’t be voiced.

Afterwards, Yin Siyao was exhausted to the point of collapse.

He lay on his side, back to Leng Keyan, breathing still uneven, but eyes closed.

Leng Keyan wrapped him from behind, cheek pressed against Yin Siyao’s sweat-damp back.

“Teacher Yin,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“I don’t want to hear it. I want to sleep.” Yin Siyao’s voice was soft. “I’m tired.”

Leng Keyan bit his lip, saying no more.

Minutes later, Yin Siyao’s breathing became even and long.

Leng Keyan quietly rose and tiptoed out of bed.

He picked up the scattered clothes, folded them neatly on the sofa, then ran hot water in the bathroom.

Returning to the bedroom, he gazed at Yin Siyao’s sleeping profile, unease growing stronger.

Today, Yin Siyao had been far too unusual.

Carefully, Leng Keyan lifted him and carried him to the bathroom.

Yin Siyao was utterly exhausted, completely unconscious.

He merely murmured, burying his face into Leng Keyan’s shoulder.

Steam filled the bathroom.

Leng Keyan placed him in the tub, using a wet towel to meticulously clean his body.

Pale skin was covered with red marks, like roses on snow—stark yet beautiful.

Leng Keyan’s face heated slightly, but his heart ached more.

After washing, he wrapped Yin Siyao in a towel and carried him back to bed.

He tossed the wet sheets into the washer and replaced them with clean ones.

Yin Siyao’s sheets were always solid colors—gray, blue, white—just like him: simple and neat.

He tucked Yin Siyao into the covers, adjusted the air conditioning, and sat on the carpet, quietly watching him sleep.

Yin Siyao slept deeply, though his brows were slightly furrowed, as if troubled even in dreams.

Long lashes cast faint shadows under his eyes; lips were slightly swollen from the earlier passionate kisses.

Leng Keyan reached out, lightly touching the space between Yin Siyao’s brows, trying to smooth the crease.

Yin Siyao stirred, but didn’t wake.

Leng Keyan withdrew his hand, hugging his knees, and continued watching him.

When Yin Siyao opened his eyes again, the room was pitch dark.

After adjusting to the dark, he reached for his phone on the bedside table.

The screen lit up: 23:07.

He had slept from 11 a.m. to 11 p.m.

Every bone ached with fatigue; waist sore, legs weak, and one place painfully swollen.

Yin Siyao slowly propped himself on the mattress, the blanket slipping off.

Just as he set the phone down, the bedroom door opened quietly.

“Teacher Yin, you’re awake?”

Leng Keyan placed food on the bedside table and clicked on the night light.

Warm yellow light filled the room, illuminating Yin Siyao’s pale face and tousled hair.

Seeing him so pale, Leng Keyan asked, “Are you feeling unwell? Do you want to go to the hospital?”

Yin Siyao paused a few seconds, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m fine… just a bit dazed from sleeping so long.”

Leng Keyan exhaled in relief. “You scared me. I couldn’t even wake you for dinner.”

He reached to touch Yin Siyao’s forehead.

Warm, dry palm, but Yin Siyao instinctively leaned back.

The subtle movement froze Leng Keyan’s hand mid-air.

Both fell silent.

“Are you hungry?”

Leng Keyan withdrew his hand, voice relaxed. “I made porridge, kept it warm in the kitchen. And your favorite side dishes—I bought them just for you.”

Yin Siyao looked at him calmly. “Why are you still here?”