Raising the Villain in Wrong Way

"Do I look like a heartless animal to you?"

The Innkeeper paled. "No! No, Young Master! I misunderstood! I will prepare a second room immediately!"

"No need," Ji’an waved her hand dismissively, grabbing the key to the suite. "We’ll take the one room. It’s a suite, right? It’s big enough. We’re tired. Stop wasting my time."

She turned and marched toward the stairs.

"Wangchen! Coming?"

Wangchen stood there, frozen.

One room.

His heart kicked against his ribs. The stables would have been cold, but safe. The servant’s quarters would have been humiliating, but proper.

But one room? With Lin Ji’an? With a bathtub?

"Little Puddle!" Ji’an called from the landing. "If you don’t come, I’m eating all the complimentary snacks!"

Wangchen swallowed hard. He grabbed the luggage.

"Coming," he choked out.

The room was indeed luxurious. The floors were polished rosewood, the walls adorned with calming calligraphy. The "bed" was a massive platform covered in silk quilts, easily large enough for three people.

Ji’an threw herself onto the bed immediately, groaning in pleasure.

"Oh, sweet mercy. It’s soft. It’s not dirt anymore. I’m so happy that I could cry."

Wangchen closed the door and locked it. He stood by the entrance, clutching his sword like a lifeline. He felt like he had walked into a dragon’s den. The intimacy of the space was suffocating in the best, most terrifying way.

"Young Master," he began, his voice stiff. "I can sleep on the floor in the cultivation chamber. It is not appropriate for us to share the bed."

Ji’an rolled over, propping her chin on her hands. She looked at him, who was standing there all rigid and noble, trying so hard to maintain the distance she kept destroying.

She found it adorable. And, because she was a chaos-loving transmigrator, she found it hilarious.

"Appropriate?" She sat up, crossing her legs. "Wangchen, we slept in a pile of leaves yesterday. You used my shoulder as a pillow. Now that we have a giant bed, you’re suddenly shy?"

"That was survival," Wangchen argued, his ears turning pink. "This is... civilization. There are rules."

"Rules are for people who didn’t kill a Rank 3 Bear," Ji’an countered. She patted the empty space beside her. "Besides, I’m stingy. Two rooms cost double. We have to save money for the Sect bribes."

"You have a VIP token," Wangchen pointed out to his stingy young master with ruthless logic. "And the General gave you a small fortune. You are not poor."

Ji’an narrowed her eyes. "Oh? Talking back? The cub has grown claws."

She slid off the bed and walked toward him.

Wangchen instinctively stepped back until his back hit the door.

Ji’an stopped inches from him. She wasn’t tall; the gender artifact didn’t add height, so she had to look up slightly. She reached out and poked his chest, right over his frantically beating heart.

"Why are you so afraid, Little Puddle?" she purred, lowering her voice to a playful whisper. "Are you afraid I’ll snore? Or..."

She leaned in, her eyes dancing with mischief.

"...Are you afraid I’ll eat you?"

Wangchen’s breath hitched.

His mind went blank. The scent of her, which was a mix of sweat, forest, and that underlying sweetness, filled his senses. Her face was so close he could count her eyelashes.

’Eat me?’

The phrase echoed in his mind, taking on a completely different, very adult, very dangerous meaning that Ji’an absolutely did not intend.

Wangchen had an indescribable thought flash in his mind, but he couldn’t dare spit it out. He was the servant. She was his Young Master, and a man, as far as he knew.

He clenched his hands into fists at his sides, fighting a war against his own impulses. His face flushed a deep, violent crimson, spreading all the way down his neck.

"Don’t... don’t joke like that, Young master," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I am not delicious. I am tough and stringy."

Ji’an stared at him for a second, then burst out laughing.

"Pfft—! Tough and stringy!" She clutched her stomach, leaning back. "Oh, Wangchen, you’re too funny. You take everything so literally! I meant like a tiger eats a rabbit, not... whatever you were thinking!"

She wiped a tear from her eye and turned away, missing the look of sheer, desperate hunger that flashed across his face for a split second.

"Alright, joke’s over. I’m taking the first bath. You order food. Lots of meat. And if you try to sleep on the floor, I will kick you."

She grabbed a fresh set of robes and marched into the bathing chamber, humming a tune.

Wangchen stood by the door for a long time after she left.

He touched his chest. His heart was beating so fast it felt like a bird trying to escape a cage.

"Not delicious," he muttered to the empty room, closing his eyes. "Liar."

He pushed off the door and went to the table to pour himself a cup of cold tea. He downed it in one gulp.

That night was torture for Wangchen.

True to her word, Ji’an forced him to sleep on the bed.

"It’s a King-sized bed, Wangchen! Look, there’s a whole continent of space between us!"

She built a wall of pillows in the middle. "The Great Wall of Ji’an. Cross it, and death."

She fell asleep almost instantly, exhausted by the climb and the bath.

Wangchen lay on his side of the "Great Wall," staring at the ceiling.

He could hear her breathing. He could smell the soap on her skin.

Slowly, carefully, he turned his head.

In the moonlight filtering through the window, she looked peaceful. The sharp edges of her "Young Master" persona were gone. She looked soft.

He reached out a hand, hovering it over the pillow wall, his fingers inches from a lock of her damp hair. He wanted to touch it. He wanted to curl around her and protect her from the world.

"Brother," he whispered the word she insisted on using. It tasted sweet and bitter.