Chapter 7: Chapter Seven The Position of Crown Prince Was Originally Reserved for Him

Chapter 7: The Crown Prince's Position Was Originally Reserved for Him

Inside the prince's carriage, Wei San was on tenterhooks, repeatedly wanting to stand up and crouch in the corner of the compartment.

Sitting in the same carriage as his master, shoulder to shoulder and on equal footing, Wei San felt as though his lifespan was being shortened.

As the carriage gradually left the city gate and headed toward the outskirts of the capital, he was just thinking about getting up and nestling into the corner when Wei Zheng, who was sitting beside him reading a travel journal, pressed down on his arm without even looking up.

"Sit still."

"Master..."

Wei San was extremely uncomfortable, his tone carrying a hint of pleading that even he hadn’t noticed.

"What? Don’t want to sit with me?"

Wei Zheng finally set down the travel journal in his hand. A smile played on his lips, his posture relaxed and leisurely, but his tone was unyielding and firm.

Wei San shook his head repeatedly. "I wouldn’t dare!"

How could he dare to be unwilling? It was just that his status was lowly and humble—how could someone like him deserve to sit alongside his noble master?

Wei Zheng seemed quite satisfied with his answer and said, "Then sit properly. Don’t act as if I have thorns all over me, making you want to avoid me at all costs."

With things having reached this point, Wei San could only sit upright obediently, stiff as a statue, afraid of showing the slightest disrespect to his master.

Wei Zheng watched with amusement, thinking to himself that this little assassin was terribly stubborn, yet his loyal and devoted demeanor was actually quite endearing.

The carriage jolted along, and soon the gates of the prince’s residence came into view. Just before the carriage came to a stop, Wei Zheng reached out and grasped the assassin’s callused right hand. Startled, the latter instinctively tried to pull his hand away.

Wei Zheng laced their fingers together, gripping them firmly, and then pulled his hand onto his own lap.

"M-Master..."

Wei San was completely stunned, utterly unsure how to react.

Wei Zheng, however, acted as if nothing had happened, casually playing with his fingers while speaking in a calm tone. "Later, make the acting convincing. Aunt Mei’s not easily fooled. If she catches on, things will get complicated."

The mere thought of having to continue acting gave Wei San a headache—he was simply not good at it.

Wei Zheng seemed to sense his difficulty and suggested, part serious, part teasing, "Or you could keep pretending to be unconscious. I wouldn’t mind carrying you again."

At the mention of carrying, Wei Zheng couldn’t help but recall the sensation of holding the assassin in his arms.

The assassin, having trained in martial arts and weaponry for years, didn’t have a soft, supple waist like a woman’s but rather a firm and lean one. Yet, holding him felt unexpectedly comfortable.

He couldn’t help but look at Wei San with anticipation. "I think that would be quite good—easier."

In truth, he simply wanted to hold the little assassin again, but the latter widened his eyes in terror, nearly dropping to his knees on the spot.

"I’m too lowly. How could I trouble Master to carry me?"

Seeing that he was about to frighten the man, Wei Zheng regretfully dismissed the idea and said gently, "It was just a joke. Why are you taking it so seriously?"

Wei San, who had tensed every muscle in his body, slowly relaxed, thinking to himself that the joke was not the least bit amusing.

The carriage stopped in front of the prince’s residence, and a Court Lady called out from outside, "Your Highness, we have arrived."

"Let’s go. Be careful later."

Wei Zheng finally released his hand and stood up, straightening his robes.

Wei San responded quietly, retracting his hand into his sleeve and curling his fingers. He could still feel the warmth and control of their interlaced fingers.

The Court Lady outside urged them again. Just before lifting the curtain to exit, Wei Zheng suddenly pulled him into an embrace.

Wei San knew this was the start of the act, but he couldn’t help flinching.

The distance between them was too close, separated only by a few thin layers of clothing—so close that he could almost feel the rhythm of the other’s heartbeat.

Wei San was not short, but encircled by Wei Zheng, who was half a head taller, he seemed to shrink in size. The air around him was filled with a cool, assertive woody scent.

His ears turned red, and he felt that his master was making far too great a sacrifice for the sake of acting.

The person in his arms was unbelievably obedient—where was the ferocity from before, when even a slight touch or a teasing remark would have him reaching for his sword?

Wei Zheng half-lowered his eyelids, gazing at the little assassin’s partially hidden earlobe tucked within his hair, the amusement in his eyes growing.

Others would snap at the slightest touch, yet toward his master, he had not an ounce of guard up. So easily fooled—would he in the future, even if bullied to tears, only open his pitiful, teary eyes and beg for gentler treatment?

Wei Zheng’s heart felt an itch of desire, wishing he could seize the assassin in his palm and tease him to his heart’s content. Unfortunately, the current situation did not permit it. Regretful, he consoled himself—since he had already lured the man to his side, would there be no chance later?

Suppressing the desire in his heart, he pinched the tip of the assassin’s pinky finger. The latter slightly raised his head and glanced sideways, his captivating peach-blossom eyes filled with confusion and a trace of imperceptible reverence.

Wei Zheng cleared his throat and coaxed, "You’re being too obedient. You don’t seem like a scholar who’s been taken by force. You need to resist."

The assassin nodded in understanding. "This lowly one understands."

Thus, when the carriage curtain was drawn, the Court Lady at the front, along with the maids and guards waiting on both sides of the carriage, saw the scholar disheveled, his mouth bound by a black hair ribbon, held in their master’s embrace and being taken liberties with. Unable to escape and unable to curse, he could only glare with shame and indignation, struggling incessantly with his beautiful eyes, a truly pitiful sight.

Wei Zheng rubbed his cheek, chuckling fondly. "Look, my beauty is growing impatient."

The scholar, gagged, could only utter muffled protests, his eyes fierce enough to devour someone. Likely, whatever he wanted to say was far from pleasant.

The Court Lady gasped in shock, feeling lightheaded.

This was... truly absurd!

Wei San struggled all the way from the main gate of the prince’s residence to the inner courtyard. Fortunately, he had trained in martial arts since childhood and had good stamina; otherwise, the ordeal would have left him utterly exhausted.

Regarding the accommodation for the male favorite he’d taken by force, Wei Zheng overruled all objections—primarily the Court Lady’s dissent—and arranged for him to stay in the side chamber of his own personal quarters, calling it wanting to favor the beauty daily.

The Court Lady attempted to dissuade him several times, but without exception, the stubborn, unreasonable Virtuous Prince ignored her.

The Virtuous Prince tied up the scholar and tossed him into the side chamber, then turned to the maids and guards following behind and said, "All of you, withdraw. I wish to have a long talk with my beauty. Unless summoned, do not come over. Do not disturb my enjoyment. Understood?"

The maids and guards nodded in unison, indicating their understanding.

After giving orders to the servants, he shut the door cheerfully, completely cutting off their curious gazes.

With his back to the door, Wei Zheng exhaled heavily and wiped the foolish grin off his face.

"Master."

Wei San had already undid all the bindings and walked up to him. Just as he was about to kneel to pay respects, Wei Zheng held his shoulders.

"Stop kneeling at every turn. It hurts my eyes to see."

What he disliked most about the young assassin was his constant bowing and kneeling to him.

Wei San wanted to say it was the rule—how could rules be broken? But he dared not disobey his master's orders. Torn between choices for a moment, he ultimately decided to obey his master.

With no outsiders around, Wei Zheng no longer needed to maintain his foolish act. He relaxed into a chair and casually poured himself some tea.

Wei San stood rigidly before him, unsure what to do.

Wei Zheng sipped his tea while counting how many stealthy glances the assassin stole toward the corner.

Neither spoke, and the room fell into an eerie silence.

Wei San grew increasingly uncomfortable standing there, several times almost spoke up but hesitated, wanting to ask his master if he could crouch in the corner.

He truly wasn’t used to being openly visible in front of others.

Noticing the assassin was so uncomfortable he was nearly curling into himself, Wei Zheng gestured dismissively but kindly. "Fine, when there are no outsiders, do as you feel comfortable. No need to force yourself."

Wei San’s eyes instantly lit up, his gaze full of admiration and joy toward Wei Zheng. Still unable to break his deeply ingrained habits, he dropped to one knee with an audible thump and bowed his head. "Thank you for your consideration, Master!"

Wei Zheng, who had just reminded him not to kneel: "…………"

He reached out to help Wei San up, a smirk tugging at his lips. "If you don’t break this habit of kneeling all the time, I’ll have to personally take matters into my own hands."

As for how he’d help—that was entirely up to him.

Wei Zheng gave him an expectant glance, already devising several methods to correct his habit.

The assassin remained oblivious, simply thinking his master was kind and considerate toward his subordinates.

With his master’s permission, Wei San crouched by the corner without a second thought—the darkest, most shadowy spot.

Back in his comfort zone, the assassin relaxed completely, every pore at ease. Unaware of how conspicuous he looked—dressed in a pale blue scholar’s robe, with his scholarly demeanor—crouching in the corner. Even in the dim light, he stood out vividly, almost glowing, drawing attention.

Wei Zheng mischievously withheld this observation, waiting to see when he’d realize it.

Unfortunately, Wei Zheng didn’t get to see that moment, because before long, Chief Eunuch Zhao Fu arrived at his door.

On the way to the imperial study, Zhao Fu took him by the hand, his wrinkled old face full of concern.

"Your Highness Virtuous Prince, His Majesty has heard about today’s incident and is in a poor temper. Please don’t provoke him later. Just go along with whatever scolding he gives you."

Wei Zheng had expected the old emperor to summon him. No matter how irritated he felt inside, he couldn’t show it outwardly. He shrugged indifferently. "Father likes me best. Father won't be angry with me. Zhao Fu, do not speak words that would sow discord between us."

The Virtuous Prince adopted an unyielding stance, and Zhao Fu, unjustly accused of manipulation, felt choked up and unable to respond.

He sighed inwardly but wasn’t angry with the Virtuous Prince—just regretful.

In his youth, the Virtuous Prince had been the brightest and most benevolent of all the princes. The emperor had valued him most, even reserving the Crown Prince position for him. If not for the trauma of witnessing Noble Consort Chen’s tragic death and falling seriously ill afterward, how could he have become this foolish and stubborn?

Walking in sequence, they reached the door of the imperial study and encountered someone.

It was the current Crown Prince, Wei Heng.