Chapter 15: Chapter Fifteen Is His Little Death Warrior Avoiding Him?…

Chapter Fifteen: Is His Little Assassin Avoiding Him?

Would a normal master and servant be this intimate?

Wei San felt that something was amiss, but couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Even Commander Duan, who had watched his master grow up since childhood, wasn't this close to him. The relationship between Wei San and his master had indeed crossed a line.

His master certainly couldn't be at fault; if there was a problem, it could only be with himself. He had grown greedy, wanting to be closer to his master, which was improper.

He thought that from now on, he needed to maintain appropriate boundaries and not give his master the impression that he harbored any rebellious thoughts.

"Young Master Sui Yun, your medicine is almost boiled dry!"

Imperial Physician Liu, who had come out to check if the medicine was ready, saw him staring into the distance in a daze, oblivious to the nearly extinguished stove fire, and couldn't help but remind him.

Wei San snapped back to reality and saw that the charcoal in the stove was almost out. Embarrassed, he thanked Imperial Physician Liu, then quickly poured the medicinal broth into a bowl, stood up, and carried it into the room.

The Virtuous Prince was still suffering from a high fever and remained unconscious. The old emperor, as if on a strict schedule, had rushed straight to the Virtuous Prince's manor after morning court for three consecutive days. Rumors began to spread throughout the capital, all suggesting that the foolish Virtuous Prince was unlikely to recover; otherwise, why would the emperor be so concerned?

"Why is Seventh still not getting better?"

The old emperor's face was etched with worry. When he heard his son mumbling "mother" in his delirium, a complex emotion flickered in his eyes but was quickly suppressed.

The Director of the Imperial Medical Bureau comforted him from the side: "The Virtuous Prince's condition has already improved significantly compared to before. This old subject guarantees he will awaken in a few days."

The Senior Imperial Physician was confident in his medical skills. He wasn't exaggerating; based on his observations over the past few days, the Virtuous Prince's high fever was merely due to the shock of falling into the water. After a few more days of acupuncture, he would awaken, and all his ailments would be gone.

The old emperor sighed, toying with the jade thumb ring on his hand as if he wanted to speak, but ultimately said nothing.

It was at this moment that Wei San entered with the medicine. The old emperor watched him approach and, as if struck by a thought, suddenly extended his hand and said, "Give the medicine to me."

Wei San knew very well that there was something wrong with the medicine and dared not hand over the bowl. He pressed his lips together and said, "Your Majesty, such menial tasks should be left to this commoner."

The old emperor's face clouded with displeasure, on the verge of anger, when Imperial Physician Liu, sharp as ever, quickly interjected: "Young Master Sui Yun, His Majesty and the Virtuous Prince share a deep father-son bond. With the Virtuous Prince unwell, His Majesty is anxious and wishes to personally administer the medicine. It is only natural. You must understand His Majesty's profound fatherly love."

Wei San paused, understanding the implication of his words. If Imperial Physician Liu wasn't worried, then there must be nothing amiss with the medicinal broth. He respectfully offered the medicine bowl and said, "This commoner was at fault."

Perhaps disdaining to argue with him, the old emperor did not reprimand him, merely waving his hand to dismiss him.

Wei San glanced at Imperial Physician Liu, who gave a slight nod in return. He averted his gaze, bowed, and exited the room.

With the emperor's presence, the entire Virtuous Prince's manor was tightly guarded by imperial troops, layered three deep inside and out. Wei San couldn't even seize this opportunity to return to the assassin camp.

The atmosphere in the side hall was stifling, with every move being watched. Wei Zheng had been feigning illness for days, and Wei San had been on edge for just as long. The assassins and undercover guards originally hidden in the manor had all disguised themselves as servants and were scattered throughout the compound, with the exception of the side hall. If Wei San wanted to contact them, he had to seek them out himself.

He estimated that the old emperor would likely remain for another hour before returning to the palace, which was enough time for him to slip out.

Wei San walked through the side hall, and the patrolling imperial guards kept their eyes on him the entire time.

He acted as if he didn't notice. After exiting the side hall's main door, he looked around and, spotting a sweeping servant in the distance, waved him over: "Come here."

The sweeping servant stopped and pointed at himself: "Me?"

He looked left and right; it seemed he was the only one around.

He dropped his broom and dustpan and scurried over.

"Young master, do you have any instructions for this humble servant?"

Wei San motioned for him to come closer. The servant, though confused, obediently took two steps forward.

Wei San took out a couple of silver pieces but, after a moment's thought, placed the entire purse into the servant's palm. "My appetite has been poor lately. Go to First Taste Restaurant and buy me a bowl of small wontons. Keep the change as your service fee."

The servant weighed the substantial purse in his hand, his eyes crinkling into a smile, and quickly said, "Right away! This humble servant will take care of it immediately."

He didn't even bother to pick up his broom, rushing off with the money. As he reached the arched gate of the courtyard, the guards blocked his path.

"What are you doing?"

One of the guards, who looked particularly stern, barked at him. The servant put on an ingratiating smile and said, "My young master sent me to buy some food outside. Please allow me to pass, sirs."

As he spoke, he took out some broken silver and slipped it to the guard under the cover of his sleeve.

The guard glanced down, cleared his throat, and waved his hand. "Go on, then."

As he spoke, the silver disappeared into his hand and was tucked into his belt.

The servant quickly thanked him and hurried off, exiting the main gate of the residence, mounting a horse, and galloping toward the city.

The horse climbed a mountain and followed a narrow path. When the servant saw that no one was around, he finally pulled up. He retrieved a small note from a hidden compartment inside the purse, glanced at it briefly, committed the contents to memory, and then burned the note with a tinderbox.

He remounted and headed into the city. When stopped by soldiers for inspection, he showed the manor's pass, and they immediately let him through.

First Taste Restaurant was the largest restaurant in the capital. It was always bustling with customers, and since it was lunchtime, the main hall was nearly full.

The servant pushed his way to the counter with some effort. He took out the purse and, as if unconsciously, pressed his palm against the account book. Smiling at the manager, he said, "Manager, one bowl of small wontons in chicken broth, and make it quick. Keep it warm—my young master is picky. If it doesn't taste good, he might just ruin your reputation."

As he spoke, he curled his fingers and tapped rhythmically.

The manager, who had initially looked displeased at the challenging tone, quickly picked up on the hidden signal in his fingers and understood.

He called over a waiter to give instructions, then stepped out from behind the counter and invited the servant to a back room.

In Lingtai Temple, the sound of Buddhist chants filled the air. The crown prince knelt on a cushion, his back straight, calmly copying scriptures.

"Your Highness, the Virtuous Prince's condition shows no improvement. His Majesty will inevitably blame you. Merely copying scriptures to pray for blessings likely won't be of much use. Why don't you make plans earlier?"

A subordinate who had come to see him but was forced to watch him copy scriptures for an hour finally voiced the doubt in his heart.

Wei Heng set down his brush. He looked up and asked his subordinate, "In your opinion, what plans should I make?"

The subordinate was stumped for words.

The Virtuous Prince had fallen into the water and was critically ill. The crown prince copying scriptures to pray for him could earn him a reputation for brotherly devotion. But if he took too much action, it would only make people wonder if there was something else going on.

Understanding the key point, the subordinate fell silent. The crown prince shook his head and smiled. "Cheng Lan, oh Cheng Lan, if you want to achieve great things, you must learn to be more patient."

The subordinate, called Cheng Lan, humbly accepted the advice and bowed. "Cheng Lan was too hasty."

.

That night, as before, Wei Zheng woke up as soon as the effects of the medicine wore off. He sat up on the edge of the bed, his gaze immediately falling on Wei San, who had been waiting nearby.

"How did things go?" he asked.

Having been unconscious for a day without food or water, his throat was dry and hoarse, making his voice sound weak.

Wei San handed him a cup of warm tea to moisten his throat, then stepped back a few paces and replied, "Don't worry, Master. Everything is going according to plan."

As he listened, Wei Zheng keenly noticed the assassin's mood was off. There was a faint sense of intentional distance, as if he was avoiding something.

He took a sip of tea, squinted slightly, and felt displeased.

Was his little assassin avoiding him?