Nonsexual acts of Intimacy
Jia Chong narrowed his eyes, his jaw taut. “Stop squirming.”
He lowered Yuqing onto the cold stone steps, wary of her bleeding knee, and knelt before her. Although it was midday, the streets were oddly vacant–especially here, in the narrow alleys away from the main roads–and the wind was cool, the foliage casting speckled shades over her face. And despite being in the inner-city, the steps were worn and had begun to sprout weeds, being lined with lush vegetation that had begun to bloom.
He separated her legs by half an inch, sitting so that her feet were on either side of his knees. Jia Chong then took a deep breath and cupped his hand around her ankle, lifting it gently; the knee bent but continued to bleed, causing thin, crimson rivulets to cascade down her leg.
“It’s shallow,” he observed, pulling off the cloth he had wrapped around his waist. Black in color with a purple trim, it was a stark contrast to her pale skin as he wound it over her injured knee. She would need to see a doctor most likely, but for now his goal was to stop the bleeding. Thankfully, it wasn’t as deep as he expected, being mostly just torn flesh that would heal in a matter of days, unlikely to leave a scar. “But it will hurt.”
He studied wound and bound it quickly, his movements lacking any tenderness or ease to save her additional discomfort; she was in pain, he was sure, and he prepared himself for any stubborn protests that she had for her to do it herself.
However, despite his intentions, Jia Chong’s mind was far from bandaging her leg. He was so intimately close to her that he felt ill at ease, his eyes only focusing on her knee as he secured the band. Being the daughter of his lord, he had known Yuqing her entire life: she was the youngest daughter and the one who intrigued him the most, but rarely would they be together for extended periods of time. Now they were alone and in such close proximity, and it was something he was unfamiliar with when accompanying Yuqing.
He was a strategist. A loyal retainer. Jia Chong was also a man often described as predatory–perhaps even cruel–but this hardness cleverly concealed his over-bearing nature towards those he closely affiliated with. And in that moment, that hidden nature was revealed as he tended to her wound.
When he finished, his eyes locked on hers, and he ensured that the makeshift bandage would not slip as she made her way home. Then, when he stood to his full height, he assured some distance between them. “Next time I will not be so generous, got it?”