I Only Choked on Noodles, Why Am I Here?! [BL]

Chapter 38 – The Ancestor’s Agony

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I know we’re pretending not to like each other right now, an annoyed voice complained inside Lin Xin’s mind. But must you really touch my sore spot? Have you no sense of propriety at all?

The voice was unmistakable cool, faintly irritated, carrying that same arrogant tone that made Lin Xin’s temples throb.

He nearly rolled his eyes so hard he was certain they might ascend straight through the heavens. If not for the fact that the speaker was currently in the body of a cat, and if not for Han Yan standing right in front of him, he would have snapped back without restraint.

This long-lost friend had never learned subtlety, no matter the form.

He forced himself to remain still, fingers hovering briefly before withdrawing slowly, as though nothing unusual had occurred.

Outwardly, he looked calm obedient, even. Inwardly, he was grinding his teeth.

You’re the one who rubbed against my hand first, he retorted silently. Don’t act like a victim now.

The cat snorted in his mind, clearly unimpressed that Lin Xin was claiming victimhood.

Before Lin Xin could regain composure, Han Yan’s voice broke the silence.

"Xin’er?" he called softly. When there was no response, his brows furrowed. He stepped closer, concern evident. "What happened? You suddenly stopped talking. Do you feel uncomfortable somewhere?"

Lin Xin’s heart tightened. He quickly shook his head, lifting his face with a faint, forced smile. "No... it’s nothing," he said, perhaps a little too quickly. "I was just thinking."

Han Yan studied him a moment longer, clearly unconvinced. His eyes lingered on Lin Xin’s face, searching for any trace of pain.

Meanwhile, the cat flicked its tail lazily, golden eyes half-lidded, thoroughly pleased with the trouble it had caused.

Lin Xin sighed inwardly, silently cursing the shameless feline.

"No, I’m okay," he said, shaking his head weakly. Then he added "You said earlier that you were heading to the village town to trade after you got a good catch? You should rest more. I’m sorry for waking you up."

He poked his two fingers together nervously, gaze drifting to the floor, a guilty habit Han Yan had noticed growing over time.

Han Yan watched him in silence. This must be another one of Lin Xin’s new habits, he thought.

And now apologizing over something so trivial, complete with that awkward finger-poking gesture, made him look more like a scolded child.

Han Yan felt the corner of his lips lift before he could stop himself, his hand moved on its own. Lightly, almost absent-mindedly, it landed on Lin Xin’s head, fingers brushing through his hair.

The moment he realized it, Han Yan froze internally. ...Why did I do that?

He had no memory of deciding. One second he was standing there, the next he was touching Lin Xin’s head like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Lin Xin stiffened, head tilting slightly in confusion. His green eyes flickered up, then away, unsure whether to protest, accept it or pretend nothing was happening.

Neither spoke. The silence was thick, broken only by the undeniable fact that Han Yan’s hand remained on Lin Xin’s head, with no sign of leaving.

Lin Xin’s thoughts ran faster than his body. He didn’t know which version of himself Han Yan was responding to the Lin Xin who had always been here, or the one now carrying old memories.

Unsure how to act, he chose stillness, allowing the moment to linger. Until he understood himself again, he could only observe... and endure.

Han Yan’s expression remained calm, too calm the kind of calm that usually meant deep thought or quiet scheming. His hand moved again, brushing Lin Xin’s hair with alarming familiarity.

Lin Xin swallowed. "Yan’ge," he said carefully, testing the waters. "Your hand..."

"Yes?" Han Yan replied automatically.

"...It’s still there."

Han Yan glanced at his hand, then back at Lin Xin. A brief silence followed.

"Oh," he said. Yet still, his hand did not move at all.

Another silence. Han Yan frowned slightly, as if the situation had become a complicated philosophical problem: If I remove it now, it will be strange. If I don’t, it will be stranger.

He cleared his throat. "You seemed... apologetic."

Lin Xin blinked, confused. "I was."

"Mmn" Han Yan nodded calmly, giving his hand one last thoughtful pat. "Carry on."

"...Carry on with what?" Lin Xin asked.

"With being apologetic," Han Yan said seriously.

"...I already apologized," Lin Xin muttered.

Han Yan hummed. At last, he withdrew his hand, clasping it behind his back with the dignified air of someone who had not just rubbed another grown man’s head for no reason.

Lin Xin immediately raised a hand to his hair, flattening it instinctively. His ears were faintly warm. "That... was unnecessary," he said cautiously, a slight pout in his tone.

"You did not object," Han Yan said.

"I... I was confused," Lin Xin muttered under his breath. Han Yan accepted this with a solemn nod, as though confusion were a perfectly reasonable state.

"Tch. Can you two please get a room and leave this ancestor to enjoy his solitude?"

The cat’s smug voice cut through Lin Xin’s thoughts. "Your dog-like affection is too suffocating.

This ancestor cannot handle it."

Han Yan nearly choked on his saliva, caught off guard. He coughed abruptly, turning his head to the side as if the air had suddenly grown hostile.

Lin Xin, of course, heard nothing which somehow made it worse.

"Yes—yes, let’s go to bed," Han Yan said hastily. "It’s still early. You can... play with the cat later." He frowned slightly as he glanced down only then noticing Lin Xin’s bare feet.

"...You forgot your shoes," Han Yan added, half-scolding, half-worried. "When did you become like Dong Hai?" His voice carried a faint, playful chuckle.

Lin Xin’s neck warmed. He let out an awkward, low chuckle, trying to sound casual. "Is that so...?" he said, voice lighter than intended, betraying his fluster.

Moonlight spilled through the window, casting soft shadows.

Han Yan’s expression softened, the usual sharpness replaced by quiet calm. His features were relaxed, almost gentle, silver light tracing his brows and the set of his eyes.

Lin Xin quickly looked away, cheeks burning. When he looked again, Han Yan was crouched in front of him.

Before he could react, Han Yan was already helping him slip into his shoes, fingers moving with practiced ease. The brief contact made Lin Xin stiffen, heart skipping at the unexpected closeness.

"Oh" he hesitated, then quickly said, "Thank you."

Han Yan hummed in response, straightening without a word, though the faint curve of his lips betrayed his mood.

Lin Xin’s ears warmed again. He kept his head down as he followed Han Yan to their room, steps quiet, thoughts louder than his movements.

Behind them, the cat clicked its tongue loudly.

"Tch. Disgraceful. Absolutely disgraceful. This ancestor has roamed the realms alone for centuries, only to witness such shameless displays."

It flicked its tail dramatically. "So this is the fate of a dignified ancestor now reduced to a third wheel."

The door creaked as Han Yan pushed it open, spilling warmth into the cold morning. Lin Xin paused at the threshold for a moment, then stepped inside.

The cat lay down in its bamboo basket, still grumbling. "Single and alone," it sighed. "This ancestor’s dog life is truly too bitter to swallow."

Before the sun had fully risen, Han Yan quietly got out of bed. The room remained wrapped in the soft blue-gray of early morning, and the faint light slipping through the window outlined Lin Xin’s sleeping form.

He studied Lin Xin for a long moment, noting the steady rise and fall of his chest, the soft sweep of blonde hair across his forehead, and the rare, unguarded ease in his expression that made him seem almost fragile.

Careful not to wake him, Han Yan reached over and adjusted the covers, tucking them snugly around him.

Each movement was deliberate and measured, quiet enough to leave the room still and calm, though a subtle warmth lingered in the air that had nothing to do with the morning chill.

Satisfied that Lin Xin was comfortable, Han Yan stepped back and stretched lightly. He slipped out of their room, closing the door softly behind him, then moved to check on little Dong Hai.

The child lay curled on his bamboo bed, blankets drawn snug over his frame. His chest rose and fell in slow, even breaths, and a few dark strands of hair had fallen across his forehead. A faint smile lingered on his lips, as if he were lost in a pleasant dream.

Han Yan paused, careful not to disturb him, and gently straightened the blanket over his shoulders and smoothed back the stray hair.

Content that the boy was settled, Han Yan stepped back again, letting the soft morning light spill across the room as he moved to begin his day.

He entered the kitchen with practiced quiet, letting the stillness of the house remain undisturbed. Dawn’s first light filtered through the windows, casting a soft glow across the wooden floorboards and simple furnishings.

He began preparing breakfast, chopping vegetables with precise, practiced movements.

The faint aroma of sizzling food gradually filled the room, accompanied only by the gentle clatter of utensils and the distant calls of birds outside, marking the slow, peaceful arrival of the morning.

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