He had never been so close to anyone.
Even with Xiao Lou, they had merely called each other brothers and treated each other with courtesy.
Nor had anyone ever dared take such liberties with him. Yet this disciple...
He should have scolded him, but when his raised hand came down, it merely rested gently on his head.
"Stop fooling around. Keep your distance from me, or you might catch my cold."
"Master, how can you even say that?"
Xiao Qinghe suddenly looked up, his cheeks flushed and his gaze hazy. He was clearly drunk.
And so, nothing decent came out of his mouth.
"Master, do you know how close those words, 'ill, critical,' in the letter came to scaring me sick? If anything happened to you, I..."
"What would you do?"
"I'd take down the bastard who made Master sick, even if I died with him!"
"..."
Bai Yuqing's well-defined hand slid gently downward, his fingertips smooth and his skin cool as jade, settling over Xiao Qinghe's brows and eyes to trace them slowly.
His thin lips parted, and he said softly, "All right. Whatever you say. Now, can you let go of me?"
Unfortunately, the drunk played dirty.
He suddenly lunged, knocking Bai Yuqing down at the edge of the bed.
The drunk swayed wildly, about to tumble off.
Bai Yuqing swept out a long arm and caught him.
He was about to let go when the drunk seized his hand.
That hand was long-fingered, pale, and strong, its joints clearly defined.
The drunk spread its fingers one by one.
Apparently finding the gaps between them fascinating, he spread his own fingers and slipped them into those spaces.
Their fingers interlocked.
"Qinghe?"
The tips of Bai Yuqing's ears grew redder.
The disciple before him seemed particularly...
"Heh, heh..."
The