Chapter 221 Dinner
After all, beauty is not as important as filling the stomach. After this little episode, the dinner in the fishing house continued in an inexplicably warm and cheerful atmosphere.
Mrs. Melda's cooking wasn't particularly impressive, more in line with that of an ordinary country woman. The professor lowered his eyes, slowly stirring the milky clam soup in his bowl with a wooden spoon. Mrs. Melda seasoned it with coarse salt and dried seaweed, and a warm, earthy, salty aroma drifted up into his nostrils through the steam. The dark bread, soaked in the broth, no longer seemed so rough and unpalatable.
Each of the three of them even had a piece of precious grilled mackerel solemnly placed in front of them. The fish skin, which was slowly fried to a golden brown by charcoal fire and oil, was even luxuriously sprinkled with black pepper and ground herbs.
This was the highest courtesy given to guests in such a hurry. The children of Melda's family were like baby birds fighting for food. They stretched their necks and scrambled to stuff the bread pieces soaked in thick soup into their mouths, while their eyes greedily licked the fish meat over and over again.
As the son of a viscount, Nova had actually come into contact with some of the "delicacies" that were only worthy of the "upper class" of this world. Honestly, for a Chinese person, even if he didn't place much importance on food, in his opinion, most of them were just "you will starve to death" and "you will starve to death" if they were beautifully presented.
…but it’s different here.
The professor was silent for a moment, looking at Azuka expressionlessly. Then, under the cover of Azuka's understanding, he quietly pushed his share of fish to the youngest girl beside him. As a result, when he turned around, he saw that a piece of mackerel with the bones carefully picked out had appeared on his plate.
Ole, who witnessed the whole process, couldn't help but roll his eyes very obviously.
In front of outsiders, Ole has to maintain his cold and assassin persona, and the professor is even less likely to take the initiative to talk to others. The only one who is good at socializing is Mr. Savior.
Nova finally got a taste of his opponent's abilities. The blond youth flattered the Melda family with a few words, bringing them to a state of complete joy. Even York, always wary and awkward, couldn't contain himself. At his daughter's urging, Mr. Melda dug through his treasured golden rum collection, insisting on sharing a drink with them.
Sailors used to battling wind and waves often drank. Wine dispelled the cold, dispelled fear, and brought a cheap, easily accessible joy of sleeping through the night. Growing up in this atmosphere, Marchine naturally became a little drunkard. She happily snatched a glass of light caramel-colored wine from her father. With the help of the children, Mrs. Melda had already placed a glass of tender yellow dessert adorned with powdered sugar and cream in front of everyone.
"My mother's sweet eggnog is the best in the area. Everyone comes to her for the recipe," Marcylin said proudly. "Everyone who has tried it loves it."
Perhaps it was an illusion created by the lighting, but her green eyes seemed a little too bright, almost as if they were glistening with water.
Azuka was stunned for a moment, then suddenly turned his head to look at the professor - the black-haired young man had already finished his share and was quietly scraping the wall of the cup with a spoon, with a layer of milk foam still on his lips.
Eggnog, as the name suggests, is a drink made with eggs, milk, and rum.
The point is rum, though in such small quantities that even a child could have a taste—but someone once openly declared that he would never touch alcohol.
...I don't think so.
The Savior simply called out tentatively in a low voice, "Sir?"
Smoky grey eyes slowly lifted up, staring at him quietly. Although he seemed a little slower, softer, and even easier to bully than before...other than that, there seemed to be nothing unusual.
But before Azuka could breathe a sigh of relief, he saw the man frowning and opening his mouth at him: [Who are you?]
Azuka: “…”
A strange language I had never encountered before, with the rhythmic cadence of a song. The last time I had a rejection reaction with Samuel's soul, he seemed to have spoken it once before—a language from another world.
Okay, case closed. This guy was definitely drunk. The savior was in a state of utter amazement. A demon king who nearly destroyed the world was brought down by a small glass of eggnog.
"What's wrong?" Maxine also noticed something was wrong. His Majesty looked solemnly and seriously at everyone present, his brow furrowing ever deeper.
Who are you? Where am I? Where is Dr. Zhou?
Maxine: “…Ah?”
She turned her head to look in Azuka's direction, "What is he talking about?"
"He's drunk." The other party answered the question irrelevantly, with helplessness in his eyes.
"What? How is that possible?!" The red-haired girl widened her eyes in disbelief. "I specifically forbade my father to give him alcohol—uh."
She looked down at the empty cup of eggnog in front of the man, then looked up at the pale cheeks of His Majesty, which were beginning to turn slightly red. She opened her mouth, then closed it in frustration: "I, I really didn't expect..."
The heroine had never seen such a creature in her life, and couldn't even imagine it.
Olelian, who also reacted, almost couldn't maintain his cool image. He pinched his thigh hard to prevent himself from laughing out loud.
He must remember this incident, and next time this person is sarcastic to him, he will use it to mock the other person for the rest of his life.
"I'm calling the police. You're kidnapping me." The black-haired young man's eyes had already begun to grow alert, though a little out of focus: "I'm a terminally ill cancer patient. If I die here, you're committing murder, and everyone here is an accomplice."
"Excuse me. I'll take him to rest first." Azuka sighed and stood up from the dining table. "Is there a vacant room here?"
"At the end of the second floor." Marcylin pointed to the staircase that was about to collapse. "Big brother and the others haven't gone home yet. You can stay there all night."
"Children, are you all right?" Mrs. Melda looked worriedly at the black-haired young man who was obviously in a bad state. She seemed to feel quite guilty about the farce caused by the eggnog. "Do you need my help?"
Azuka smiled, thanked her, and comforted and rejected the kind lady. Then the professor saw the strange, foreign young man with blond hair, blue eyes, and stunningly beautiful features reaching out to him. The smile on his face was incredibly gentle, seeming particularly sincere and trustworthy. "Please follow me, okay?"
…He somehow thrust his hand into his hand.
The other person held his arm affectionately all the way. Logically, the professor should have shaken off the hand, but he inexplicably lacked the strength to do so. Lazily, he was forced to sit on a worn but clean bed, still a bit dazed, staring blankly at the other person frantically boiling water and wetting a towel to wipe his face.
"Look up, close your eyes, and purse your lips a little... Yes, that's it, good girl."
He was truly well-behaved. Unlike the usual drunken flailing and shouting, even in his drunken state, his nemesis remained quietly seated on the bed, head tilted back, docilely allowing him to wipe the remnants of his guilt from his lips. Azuka couldn't help but move closer, gently nipping at his lover's subconsciously slightly parted, wet lips, again and again.
...sweet.
But before he could go deeper, the black-haired young man reacted, frowned, and slowly pushed his face away with his hands.
[I'm not a good boy, so you can't kiss me. ]
"Good" is an adjective that nurses use to coax children, he thought seriously, it is not suitable for him as an adult.
Azuka was silent for a moment, then slowly straightened up. Before the person sitting beside the bed could subconsciously shrink back from the sudden sense of oppression, the savior had already squatted down in front of them, gently took the black-haired young man's hand, and held it in his palm.
"Honey, I don't understand."
Under the moonlight, the pair of blue eyes that should have been particularly gentle and clear now seemed quite dim. Under the thin floor, the laughter of Melda's family could be clearly heard, sounding like Ole had made a joke.
The professor frowned. The man before him made him feel dangerous, yet he inexplicably remained unprepared. His brain labored, and finally, with a click, the gears clicked together, successfully switching languages.
"I'm not good."
He emphasized, but for some reason, he almost instinctively swallowed the second half of his sentence.
The answer he received was a kiss, a strong, rough, irresistible kiss that almost swallowed him up, and it even tasted of rum.
The black-haired young man was pushed down onto the hard bed with the back of his head protected, so that the bed frame, which was about to fall apart, made a loud creaking sound. He even suspected that people downstairs could hear it - maybe it was his illusion. The laughter seemed to have disappeared, and the only thing he could hear was the other person's breathing, the wet and sticky sound of water when their lips and tongues intertwined, which made him blush, and the heartbeats that gradually synchronized with the rhythm and became clearer and more intense.
He whimpered rapidly, his fingers instinctively curling up, trying to grab something, but in the end he could only helplessly scratch at the hardwood beneath the thin sheets. As his back and skull were squeezed layer by layer, the pain became increasingly severe. The person who was tightly clamped to the bed finally felt a little aggrieved, and without hesitation, he bit the other person fiercely.
The man paused, then slowly let him go. The blood-mixed saliva formed an ambiguous arc under the force of gravity, dripping down the savior's tense jaw.
The black-haired young man panted blankly, staring at the obviously unhappy face for a while, then suddenly leaned forward, carefully licked the other's chin with the tip of his tongue, and then licked his tightly pursed lips all the way up until he carefully licked the blood stains clean.
"...Azuka," he whispered, as if finally recognizing his lover.
He felt great. Biting his lover until she bled seemed excessive, and saliva could be used for disinfection. But the other person's breath suddenly stopped.
The savior closed his eyes, suppressed a certain impulse, hugged the person tighter and tighter, and slowly inserted his fingers into the other's hair.
He let out a slow breath of forbearance.
"...I'm now thankful that you haven't been drinking before."
——Otherwise, he wasn't sure if he could hold it back.
He simply turned over and let the man lie completely on top of him. Noticing the softness beneath him, the picky drunk finally quieted down and meekly leaned his cheek against his shoulder, sniffing for a moment before relaxing completely and letting him caress his back, practically purring with pleasure from his throat.
"...Actually, I prepared a gift for you and planned to give it to you at twelve o'clock tonight." Azuka stared helplessly at the mold on the ceiling of the fishing hut: "Remember? Tomorrow is your birthday."
The only answer he got was the grumbling of his old enemy, almost falling asleep. No one had expected this romantic little surprise to end up like this. It was both infuriating and amusing.
The savior sighed, combing the slightly curly hair of the lover in his arms with his fingers. Seeing that the person seemed to be sleeping uneasy, he simply hummed a song of blessing in Natalin. The ancient syllables vibrating in his throat were like moonlight soaked through silk, gently flowing across the back of the person in his arms.
“…Sleep, my beloved, for I will come again like an avalanche.”
The author has something to say:
One step away from the window,
He brushed the hair off his cloak;
He swore by the ice peak:
"Sleep, my dear. I will come back like an avalanche."
Boris Leonidovich Pasternak, The Nightmare
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