Feudal Dregs - Chapter 3

For a man, as long as he hasn't been laid in his coffin, nothing stings more than having his virility questioned.

The scoundrel Li Yuqing's jesting words had pierced Old Master Li's heart like needles. Though aged, he refused to accept his decline, yet fate cared not—rendering him not just old but paralyzed. And just at this stage of life, he'd encountered someone who could make withered wood bloom anew.

A fire smoldered in Old Master Li's heart.

Since Lan Yu's arrival, the courtyard had been cleared of concubines attending to the master's illness, leaving only servants—all nursing duties now performed personally by Lan Yu.

That evening, after bathing, Lan Yu entered the room and turned to find Old Master Li staring at him with an intense gaze.

Lan Yu recognized that look all too well.

Narrowing his eyes, he feigned ignorance, slowly drying his damp hair. Old Master Li called out, "Lan Yu, come here."

Lan Yu responded, and as he approached where Old Master Li sat at the bedside, the older man took the towel from his hands and patted the mattress, saying, "Sit."

Lan Yu smiled. "It'll dry soon enough."

Old Master Li spoke with apparent concern, "Wet hair will make you ill."

Lan Yu glanced at him before sitting with his back turned. Within moments, a pair of rough, bony hands were stroking his hair. The jet-black strands were soft, carrying a faint scent of soap-berries, with glistening droplets tracing down to the young man's pale neck. As Old Master Li slowly dried his hair, he suddenly remarked, "Lan Yu, you'd look beautiful with long hair."

Lan Yu chuckled. "Now that queues are cut, how would one grow long hair?"

His short locks clung tenderly to his delicate ears. Old Master Li fondled his earlobe and whispered, "In these private quarters, you could grow it just for me."

Lan Yu tilted his head to look at Old Master Li—his earlobe reddening easily under the touch—as those fingers unconsciously trailed down his slender neck. Lan Yu's lashes fluttered as he lifted his face, his movements docile but his gaze smoldering enough to kill. Old Master Li's breathing grew ragged. Discarding the towel, he pulled Lan Yu into a tight embrace, murmuring feverishly, "Lan Yu, Lan Yu…"

He eagerly kissed Lan Yu's neck and ears. Having just bathed, Lan Yu wore only thin undergarments, his belt loose enough for hands to slip in easily.

Lan Yu gasped, and Old Master Li, dizzy with desire, called out to him like a man possessed, "Bodhisattva... my Bodhisattva."

His touch was rough, and when he withdrew his fingers, a faint sheen of wetness glistened on them. Old Master Li's face flushed red as he commanded, "Take off your pants."

Lan Yu's chest rose and fell rapidly. He glanced at the old man, who coaxed him in a hushed tone, "Be good, take them off."

Only then did Lan Yu slowly push down his trousers. Kneeling, his bare legs were pale and smooth, their soft curves glowing under the lamplight. Old Master Li stared hungrily between them—the young man's sparse hair, his still-soft member, unmistakably male at first glance. But he knew better. This was his Bodhisattva, the one he had searched for so desperately. Swallowing hard, overcome with craving, he tried to pry Lan Yu's legs apart. When Lan Yu resisted, the old man grew impatient and slapped his thigh, leaving behind reddened fingerprints. Immediately regretful, he pressed his lips to the marked skin, murmuring, "My treasure, my precious Bodhisattva, let me see. I'm dying for it."

Lan Yu gave him a half-hearted glare. "If you want to look, why hit me?"

Old Master Li said, "How could I bear to hurt you?" His fingers slipped into the loosened gap between Lan Yu's thighs, sinking into softness until they found the hidden, delicate slit—tender and fine, unmistakably a woman's sex.

Lan Yu was a rare dual-gendered being.

Old Master Li, now like a lust-crazed fiend, breathed raggedly as he pushed a finger into that tight entrance, his touch both reverent and obscene.

Lan Yu arched his head back with a low cry, the lamplight reflecting in his clear, sharp eyes. There was no trace of a Bodhisattva's mercy in that gaze.

The bed curtains fell, veiling the scene within. The dim light outlined two entangled figures—one slender and kneeling, the other gripping his waist tightly before sliding hands down to grasp plump, rounded buttocks.

Occasionally, a sharp slap would land, making the figure tremble like driftwood in stormy waves, soft moans spilling forth, thick with desire.

Old Master Li was obsessed with Lan Yu's body. After teasing him to climax twice with his fingers, he licked the slick from his digits and impatiently pulled Lan Yu onto his lap.

Paralyzed from the waist down, he could do nothing but rely on Lan Yu. The young man, full of vigor and allure, clenched around him so tightly it stole his breath, his blood boiling as if youth had returned. He babbled endearments—my darling, my Bodhisattva—between fevered kisses.

But Old Master Li was, after all, an old man, and a crippled one at that. Despite his reluctance, he soon spent himself inside Lan Yu. Panting heavily, he kissed Lan Yu's chin. As the younger man placed a hand on his shoulder and tried to rise, Old Master Li held him fast, his stubble scratching Lan Yu's cheek. "Just a little longer," he murmured, voice thick with obsession and frustration. "Just a little more."

Lan Yu let out a lazy hum. "No more."

The two of them cuddled for a while, but despite Elder Li's lingering desire, his aging body failed him. Reluctantly, he withdrew his softened member. Lan Yu, having knelt for so long, barely had time to straighten up before being pushed backward onto the bed, legs splayed wide open, leaving nothing to the imagination.

Lan Yu was a shuang'er—delicate in appearance, with neat genitalia that stood pertly before swaying slightly. Below lay a narrow slit of pink flesh, now flushed red from play and leaking traces of white fluid.

Propping himself up on the bed, Lan Yu watched as the man old enough to be his father stared hungrily at his lower half. He knew he was a freak—this extra hole had driven him and his mother from their home, forcing her into prostitution.

From the moment he understood such things, Lan Yu knew he was different. If others discovered his deformed body, he would become nothing more than a curiosity for men in the pleasure quarters.

Yet somehow, someone had gone mad, lost all reason, and elevated him to the status of a bodhisattva.

Cold inside, Lan Yu still gazed at Elder Li with seductive eyes, murmuring, "Your filth is about to spill out."

Elder Li swallowed hard. In this moment, Lan Yu was no bodhisattva—just a lowly whore. Panting, he commanded, "Crawl here."

Lan Yu glanced at him before slowly obeying. Elder Li fondled his genitals with pity. "So pitiful."

Shivering, Lan Yu gasped, "Be gentle with me..."

Elder Li kissed him. "I will."

From a hidden compartment in the headboard, he retrieved an ornate box filled with obscene toys that would make anyone blush. Selecting a lifelike, sizable dildo, he watched as Lan Yu's fingers tensed. Meeting Elder Li's lewd gaze, Lan Yu heard him whisper, "Spread yourself open."

"Must we use this fake thing—"Lan Yu's protest turned into a stifled moan as his body clenched, nearly refusing entry.

Elder Li's expression darkened. "If not this, do you prefer taking the cocks of other men?"

Lan Yu's reddened eyes softened Elder Li's heart. His voice gentled. "I have countless ways to make you beg for more. Be good, hm?"

True to his word, the latter half of the night saw Lan Yu brought to climax by that very toy, his lower half dripping and debauched. Elder Li hardened again, pressing his "bodhisattva" to take him before spilling over that rosy entrance.

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