Transmigration:The Villain Wants A Happy End Without His BeastHusbands-Chapter 156: Don’t Stop

Relief was too small a word for what Lan Meishan felt.

He looked at Ningyan as though something precious had just been returned to him.. something he had already begun to lose.

There was no distance in his gaze, only quiet, overwhelming affection.

Ningyan was still covering his mouth, but Meishan smiled against his palm, the curve of his lips soft and fond.

Then his hand moved from Ningyan’s waist to his cheek, his fingers resting against his skin.

Ningyan stilled.

The contact sent a faint shiver through him, his breath catching before he could stop it. His fingers loosened against Meishan’s lips, lowering gradually, revealing the small, uncertain smile beneath.

"You’re... adorable," Meishan said.

Ningyan’s face flushed instantly. He hadn’t expected that.

Meishan didn’t look embarrassed. He only continued to stroke his cheek, his thumb brushing lightly beneath Ningyan’s eye.

"And you’re alive," His gaze softened further. "You have to stay alive.... please."

That... that made Ningyan’s chest tighten. His smile shifted, softer now.

"Now who’s the adorable one?" he asked.

Meishan’s ears flushed red. "...still you."

His hand slid from Ningyan’s cheek back to his waist, then dipped lower, his palm coming to rest against the heat of his stomach.

His fingers lingered, moving in slow, distracted circles while he smiled up at him.

The air in Ningyan’s lungs suddenly felt thin. He couldn’t hide it anymore. His breathing was ragged, and his body was pulled as taut as a wire. He was hard, and the innocent smile across from him was making it impossible to stay calm.

Did he know?

Did Meishan even realize what he was doing?

Ningyan glanced up at him.

Meishan was looking at him like he was his whole world. And somehow, that made it worse.

Idiot, Ningyan thought. He doesn’t even know what he’s doing to me.

Jun Haoxuan shifted slightly. He had tried to look away.

He really had.

But the quiet intimacy between them pressed into the space, heavy and impossible to ignore.

His gaze flickered back just for a second.

Then away again.

His fingers curled faintly at his side.

"...you’re aware of everything?" Meishan asked suddenly, his voice calm but his fingers continued their movements.

"About Shiyu," he continued, "and that attendant earlier."

Ningyan could only conclude one thing. He was a problem.

Getting worked up like this, hours after nearly dying, with one husband touching him so gently... and another sitting right there. It was absurd.

And yet, he didn’t want Meishan’s hand to stop. He wanted them lower. He wanted them everywhere.

"Yes," Ningyan said, voice softer now, though not entirely steady. "But was she questioned? She must have been coerced..."

His words were composed. His eyes were not.

They lingered on Meishan, heavy, flushed, unfocused in a way that didn’t match the conversation at all.

Meishan blinked. Once. Then again. Because something wasn’t aligning.

Ningyan was speaking about poison, danger yet looking at him like that.

Lips slightly parted. Breath uneven.... Those eyes....

"...Wuhen killed her before we had the chance," Meishan replied quietly as though he wouldn’t have done the same.

Ningyan’s hand shifted slightly over his hand, still resting against his stomach.

"Has Wuhen... left?" he asked. "He’s not coming with us?"

He was still looking at him like that.

"No." Meishan swallowed. "He left after our preparations were complete."

His voice remained calm. But his body was beginning to betray him.

Ningyan was dressed in Wuhen’s robes, far too large for him. The fabric hung loosely, barely secured, exposing the pale line and scars of his chest beneath the red and gold layers.

"Oh..." Ningyan murmured. His hand shifted fully now, covering Meishan’s. Holding it in place. "Did he say why?"

Meishan opened his mouth then stopped. Words refused to come.

"Yan’er..." he breathed instead, quieter now.

Something in his tone had changed. It was subtle but unmistakable.

Ningyan felt it and saw it. The sharp pull of desire warring with a flicker of hesitation. He knew exactly why.

It was because Jun Haoxuan was right there with them, forced to watch. Instead of shame, a dark spark of excitement flared in Ningyan’s chest, making his blood race.

"You aren’t answering my questions," Ningyan whispered.

His fingers closed over Meishan’s wrist, slow, deliberate as he guided his hand beneath his robes, pressing it firmly where the heat had already gathered.

Meishan’s pupils darkened instantly, his breath catching, ears flushing a deeper red. Behind those innocent glasses, the composed face finally fractured, unable to hold the weight of such unrestrained emotion of want.

"Focus on me," Ningyan added softly, a faint, dangerous smile curving his lips.

Meishan swallowed.

"He... didn’t say," he managed, voice low and unsteady.

His fingers wrapped around Ningyan’s cock. Then moved.

A slow stroke, tentative at first, drew a sharp reaction from Ningyan, his body tensing as his breath hitched.

"Oh..." Ningyan’s grip shifted, fingers curling into Meishan’s sleeve as he leaned into him, voice softer now, almost coaxing. "Don’t stop."

That was all it took.

Meishan’s restraint snapped, not violently, but completely.

His movements steadied, then deepened, finding rhythm. Not rushed, not clumsy, but measured and attentive. He watched Ningyan’s face like it was scripture, adjusting instinctively, learning every reaction as it came.

Ningyan’s head fell back against his shoulder, breaths growing uneven, chest rising and falling in quick, shallow pulls. Heat pooled low in his body, coiling tighter with every deliberate motion.

Too fast. Far too fast.

But he didn’t care.

The carriage jolted suddenly.

Both of them paused.

Ningyan’s gaze lifted and collided with a pair of golden, reptilian eyes already watching.

Jun Haoxuan.

The dragon beast prince was silent and composed... except for the faint flush along his cheek, the tension in his jaw, the heat barely contained beneath that disciplined exterior.

Instead of retreating, Ningyan leaned closer into Meishan, pressing against him, one hand braced against his chest.

And without looking away from Haoxuan, he said softly, "Don’t stop, Shan’er."

The words landed like a command.

Meishan obeyed. This time stroking faster. More certain.

Ningyan’s breath broke, a soft sound slipping past his lips as he buried his face into Meishan’s chest, fingers tightening, body drawing taut and then releasing all at once.

The tension snapped.

His grip loosened as the wave hit, breath shuddering out of him, body going soft in Meishan’s hold.

At that moment, there was only the quiet rhythm of the carriage, and the lingering heat between all three of them.