Chapter 3016: Willful Taming 33

A grudge as deep as a sea of blood is nothing but against family; Chenshu is no exception.

His family once struggled to make a living across Southeast Asia; his grandmother was a well‑known philanthropist, highly respected there—even some underworld forces would give her some face.

She built schools, repaired temples, sponsored orphanages—but as the saying goes, "the taller the tree, the more wind it draws." Their kindness bred a few white‑eyed wolves.

They banded together, and killing people in those lawless places was absurdly easy.

"I was hidden by my grandmother in a secret compartment of the Buddha hall before she likely sensed something." Chenshu buried his face in Jin Chen's chest, his voice muffled and hard to hear.

"Later, an ascetic monk who had once benefited from my grandmother's kindness sneaked in, took me back to the temple, hoping I would grow up there… but… I couldn't forget the hatred."

He stayed in the temple, yet could never forget the hatred.

He recited the sutras over and over, but the hatred in his heart didn't fade—it grew like weeds, wilder and wilder.

In the end, Chenshu chose to leave.

"I didn't know where to go, so I wandered those chaotic places; later a passing small mercenary group picked me up, seeing I was agile, ruthless, and fearless of death, they kept me and taught me to kill."

He grew up scraping by, surviving in mud and blood, seeking out his enemies one by one and avenging them one by one.

As Chenshu spoke of later events, his voice gradually lowered, he squinted his eyes languidly, enjoying the feeling of Jin Chen stroking his back. Jin Chen's palm was broad and warm, moving slowly over his spine from the nape to the tailbone; that sensation made Chenshu feel safe, as if there were still something in this world he could rely on.

"Pete is also an orphan, grew up with me; I helped him avenge his foster father's murder, and he's been loyally following me ever since."

Jin Chen asked, "How many left?"

Chenshu counted on his fingers: "After killing Si Qian, only one of those people remains—hiding in a very remote village in Laos, where he's lain low for years, thinking he can escape."

To recount one's past to another is no different than tearing open a scar again.

Those scabbed wounds were pried open by fingers, revealing the tender, reddish flesh underneath—so painful it made one gasp for cold air.

That's why Chenshu had never before told anyone the full story in such detail—not even Pete had ever heard the complete account.

But with Jin Chen, the wounds he uncovered were soothed by kisses, embraces, and caresses instead of dull pain, healing inch by inch, neatly covering those old scars.

Jin Chen cupped his face, his thumb brushing the skin below his cheekbone.

Chenshu's lashes were wet, his eye sockets a little red, but he stubbornly held back tears; Jin Chen saw his obvious hurt and resentment, and a humored chuckle escaped his nose: "Why aren't you crying?"

Chenshu pursed his lips, turned his face slightly away: "There's nothing to cry about; crying won't avenge anything."

But the next second, he still couldn't stop a sour sting at the tip of his nose, his eye sockets reddening further.

He seemed dissatisfied with Jin Chen's teasing, lunged forward and bumped his forehead against Jin Chen's chin: "What the—"

"I'll comfort you." Jin Chen said, his voice much gentler than before—so gentle it was unlike him, like the lingering glow of autumn dusk, like all things beautiful and warm that can heal wounds.

Jin Chen kissed him again; Chenshu's somewhat slender shoulders were enclosed by Jin Chen's broad, warm palm, bringing a comforting sense of restraint—the shape of his bones pressed through thin skin against Jin Chen's fingers, slightly protruding, fragile as if they might shatter at any moment.

Their kisses always seemed like this—filled with Jin Chen's unique dominance and an irresistible force.

But Chenshu liked it, even somewhat morbidly cherishing the faint subcutaneous bruises Jin Chen sometimes gave him.

It was like a love mark unique to them—gentler than a wound, branded into the skin, leaving a lingering, trembling resonance.

Even when Jin Chen hooked his fingertip on the leather fastener at Chenshu's neck, lowered his head, and bit his Adam's apple, Chenshu shuddered, revealing total dependence and infatuation.

The dull pains that had lingered in his heart for years, the fear and anger that surged like tides at midnight—all receded in this moment, so far away he could barely recall their form; he forgot tonight's heartache, leaving only this instant. The world held nothing but Jin Chen's breath, Jin Chen's warmth, everything Jin Chen gave.

Perhaps something hard to admit is that, during those long years of solitary scraping by, struggling on the edge of life and death, deep inside Chenshu had also vaguely hoped for someone like this to appear.

That person needed to be strong enough to support him, also to discipline him—giving punishment when he erred, reward when he did well.

But that person's nature had to be warm, able to see through all his feigned toughness, yet still willing to embrace and accept him.

After a long, long time, having endured countless lonely, cold, murderous springs, summers, autumns, and winters, that faint youthful hope of Chenshu's, having wandered through time and blood and fire, finally took the shape of Jin Chen.

Jin Chen is always gentle afterward.

He patiently held the damp Chenshu and took him to the bathroom to clean up, then wrapped him in a large soft towel, tucked him into the blankets, held him in his arms, and kissed his forehead, eyelids, and the tips of his reddened ears off and on.

"Puppy, well done." Jin Chen whispered in Chenshu's ear, his fingertips combing through his hair.

Chenshu always greatly enjoys and cherishes this moment; his body and mind are utterly relaxed, so comfortable he feels like he might melt away.

He followed the bone of Jin Chen's wrist, kissing his palm in delicate detail, leaving a wet kiss on that non‑soft spot, then turned his head and buried his scorching cheek in Jin Chen's embrace.

Jin Chen rubbed his ears, kneaded the thin ear flaps, then planted another kiss.

Chenshu gradually came down from the afterglow, half‑lidded, drowsiness rising, but not wanting to just fall asleep, he mumbled a question about what Jin Chen wanted to do tomorrow.

Jin Chen lowered his gaze, pressed a kiss to Chenshu's forehead, and said, "Tomorrow I'll settle Xie Chang and Peng Wenqiang."

He gazed at Chenshu's brows and eyes, then added, "Xie Chang is the elder brother of Ninth Uncle."

Chenshu was already so tired his eyelids were fluttering, his mind a bit foggy; hearing that, he merely gave a dazed nod and a vague "oh."

Jin Chen pressed his fingertip to his lips, the pad pressing against the soft flesh of his lower lip. Even in sleep Chenshu recognized his scent, obediently took it in, his tongue unconsciously licked it, then he continued to sink into deep sleep, his face even retaining a faint smile.

Jin Chen looked at him for a few seconds.

"You're an idiot." He muttered softly, then ruffled Chenshu's hair, pulled him closer into his embrace, straightened the blanket, and turned off the light.