Obsessed with a High-Ranking Esper (BL)-Chapter 193: Cooking for Little Xi

So they gave him the illusion of choice. And Jian Ci, for once, had looked relieved.

Jian Rui took another sip of coffee. "You were a real brat yesterday, you know that?"

Jian Ci turned, arms crossed, sarcasm already loaded. "Forgive me for being this way. I didn’t choose this life."

Jian Rui chuckled as he turned to leave, the door already half-open. But then he paused, glanced back over his shoulder, and said casually, "Just a heads up, Yu Xi went to see his new boyfriend last night. So don’t disturb him."

Jian Ci blinked. "Oh." It was a simple word, but it carried weight. He knew why Jian Rui was telling him. It wasn’t just a warning, it was a reminder. A gentle nudge to keep his emotions in check. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

Because every time Yu Xi came back from one of those nights, he looked like he had been through it. There would be hickeys blooming like bruises along his collarbone and back, faint red marks on his wrists or neck and lip hickeys. He tried to hide them with high collars and long sleeves but Jian Ci always noticed especially on his lips.

He wasn’t judgmental at all. He was just concerned. The marks weren’t tender. They were harsh, possessive. They made Jian Ci’s stomach twist in ways he didn’t understand.

The first time it happened, he thought when Yu Xi got a new boyfriend it would stop but several boyfriends later and it was still happening.

He realised that Yu Xi seemed to like it that way. He told himself it was fine. Yu Xi was an adult, he could do what he wanted, be with who he wanted.

But still, it made Jian Ci furious in a way he couldn’t explain. Like something primal inside him recoiled at the sight. Like he was watching someone desecrate something sacred.

If he didn’t know better, he would think Yu Xi was sleeping with an Esper. A beastly one at that.

"Don’t make a fuss," Jian Rui said, reading him too easily.

Jian Ci sighed. "I will try."

Jian Rui nodded and stepped out. The door whooshed shut behind him, leaving Jian Ci alone in the quiet.

He stood there for a moment, then reached down and pulled his t-shirt up over his head. The fabric caught briefly on his shoulder before sliding free. He turned to the mirror.

His wrists were healing, faint yellow bruises fading into the pale of his skin, but they were still there. They were ghosts of being restrained, of having another episode. It was yet another blackout.

His heart sank. He hated this. He hated not remembering. Hated waking up with no idea what he had done, what he had said, who he might have hurt. It was like someone else wore his skin during those hours, and he was left to pick up the pieces.

He just wanted it to stop. He just wanted to be normal. He scratched at an itch on his shoulder blade, fingers brushing something rough. It was a scab that was already healing. It was scratch he didn’t even remember getting. Of course he didn’t remember.

Jian Ci turned, catching a glimpse of his back in the mirror. He froze.

There wasn’t one but four faint scratches marking his skin, two on each shoulder blade. Not deep, not bleeding, but fresh enough to sting under the bathroom light. He leaned closer, brows knitting.

Where had those come from? He didn’t remember. But that wasn’t unusual.

Episodes left him with gaps, blackouts stitched together by bruises, burns, and the worried faces of his brothers the next day. Jian Ci had once joked that they should start keeping a log of injuries like a war journal. Jian Rui hadn’t laughed.

These days, the damage was less. The stabilizers, whatever they truly were, had dulled the worst of it. Jian Rui had stopped needing to wrestle him to the ground. The bruises on both their bodies had reduced.

Still, the scratches unsettled him. He stepped into the shower, letting the water run hot over his skin, steam curling around him like a veil.

When he emerged, he dressed quickly, tugging on a soft sweater and loose pants, then padded barefoot down to the adjoining door. Jian Ci tap the panel and stepped inside.

Yu Xi was fast asleep, sprawled across the bed, his breathing steady. He wore a black turtleneck, an unusual choice for sleepwear, but Jian Ci knew why. It was too cover up the evidence. It was a useless attempt to hide the marks from him but Jian Ci always noticed, even when Yu Xi tried to pretend they weren’t there.

Jian Ci sighed. He walked over and gently pulled back part of the blanket. Yu Xi’s skin glistened with sweat, his forehead damp, but his breathing was even. He didn’t have a fever. Just residual heat from whatever had happened the night before.

Jian Ci adjusted the room’s temperature, lowering it a few degrees. The air cooled, and Yu Xi’s body relaxed visibly.

A small smile tugged at Jian Ci’s lips. He reached out and brushed a few strands of hair from Yu Xi’s forehead, fingers light as breath. Yu Xi mumbled something incoherent, shifting slightly, and Jian Ci froze seeing the hickey on his lip.

Then, slowly, he withdrew his hand. He didn’t want to wake him. He turned and left the room, the door whispering shut behind him.

In the kitchen, Jian Ci moved with quiet efficiency. He pulled ingredients from the fridge, set water to boil, and began preparing a meal. He was preparing something warm, nourishing and easy to digest. He didn’t need a recipe. He knew what Yu Xi liked.

This was his ritual. Whenever Yu Xi came back like this, Jian Ci would cook. Not because anyone asked him to. Not because he had to but because he wanted to.

He moved through the kitchen with practiced grace, the strings of his pink apron tied in a perfect bow at his back. The morning light filtered through the windows, catching the faint shimmer of the Lunaris grain porridge as it simmered gently on the stove. Its soft glow bathed his face in silver warmth, highlighting the calm focus in his eyes.

The Solar-egg omelet sizzled golden in the pan, folded with precision around slivers of crimson pepper and fresh greens from the garden.

Beside it, a crystalfruit medley took shape on a porcelain plate each slice of moonberry and golden pear arranged like gemstones in a crown. He poured steaming psi-honey tea into a delicate cup, the scent floral and sweet, and set it beside the plate with a quiet nod of satisfaction.

Footsteps padded in behind him.