Chapter 16: Chapter Sixteen I Haven’t Done Anything Yet, and You’re Already Crying…

Chapter 16: I Haven't Even Done Anything, and You're Already Crying…

Wei Zheng had initially only been suspicious, but subsequent interactions only made him more certain.

The assassin would answer when asked but never offer anything extra, always maintaining a distance of more than three steps away. Forget trying to take advantage of the situation—Wei Zheng couldn't even lay a hand on him.

Wei Zheng suppressed his anger, but when Wei San fled the bedroom as if avoiding something, preferring to make do in the side room rather than share a bed, his temper finally snapped.

He was determined to get to the bottom of this.

.

Wei San couldn't fall asleep even late into the night, tossing and turning restlessly in bed.

He wasn't unaware of Wei Zheng's foul mood all night, but it never even occurred to him that it had anything to do with himself. Instead, he reflected on whether he had performed his duties imperfectly, angering his master.

The more he thought about it, the more he felt he had failed in every way. Frustrated and angry with himself, he was struggling to sleep when he noticed out of the corner of his eye that the lights in the master's bedchamber had gone out at some point. He immediately stopped moving, afraid any noise from his side might wake his master.

He lay stiffly on his back, staring blankly at the canopy above.

The deeper the night, the quieter it became. No sounds of insects or frogs could be heard within the prince's mansion, only the occasional night breeze rustling leaves and branches.

A shadowy figure slipped into the darkness, heading purposefully toward the side room. The night wind effectively masked the sound of his footsteps.

Wei San got up to extinguish the lamp. As his hand touched the lampshade, his martial instincts made him instantly alert.

He subtly observed his surroundings but found nothing amiss. Yet his intuition told him someone was lurking in the shadows—a feeling of being watched, prickling like needles on his back, impossible to ignore.

This sensation of being stalked by a predator felt eerily familiar. The image of a certain person surfaced in his mind.

That imperial guard who had disguised himself as Wei Liu and made passes at him multiple times.

"Oh? Seems I've been discovered."

Someone was sitting on the windowsill, though it was unclear when they had arrived. The candlelight in the room was dim, and the figure was silhouetted against the moonlight, making it impossible to discern the emotion in their eyes.

Wei San tensed every muscle, his entire body poised for action.

The person in the darkness tilted their head and chuckled, "Sweetheart, long time no see. Have you missed me?"

Wei San remained silent, withdrawing his hand from the lampshade. A dagger gleaming with a faint green light slid from his sleeve into his palm, its hilt gripped tightly.

"Get out!"

He lowered his voice, his tone cold and hard, devoid of any emotion.

Wei Zheng lowered his eyes, pursed his lips, and frowned with feigned sadness. "It seems sweetheart hasn't missed me at all. I've missed you so much it hurts all over."

As he spoke, his tone grew increasingly cold, the flirtatious rogue act fading away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of pressure.

He stepped into the room under the moonlight, his eyes deep and dark like an abyss from which there was no escape.

While part of him was secretly pleased that the assassin resisted this version of himself as usual, another part couldn't help but feel bitter—after all, even in his true identity as the master, he was now being kept at a distance. What had gone wrong?

The assassin, who had been softened and tamed over the past few days, was now suddenly avoiding him like the plague.

Had the old emperor spoken to the assassin behind his back and influenced him? Or was it something else?

Wei Zheng suspected not only the old emperor but also the crown prince and Duan Lin. But he couldn't be sure, so he decided to provoke the assassin first, to make him lose his composure and hopefully reveal the reason.

"Now that you've moved up in the world and become the prince's male favorite, you've pushed me aside and forgotten all about me. How heartless."

"The prince can touch you, fondle you, and share intimate moments with you, but I can't?"

He knew exactly what words would anger Wei San. Sure enough, as soon as he finished speaking, several fine, hair-like poison needles shot toward his face. Wei Zheng didn't dodge; the needles grazed his cheek and embedded themselves in the wooden window frame behind him.

The needles sank deep into the wood, a clear indication of what would have happened if they had hit his head.

"Shut up! Don't think everyone is as filthy-minded as you. The master is noble and virtuous—how could someone like you ever compare?"

"If you slander the master again, these poison needles won't just hit wood—they'll be buried in your skull!"

Wei San was furious but hissed through gritted teeth to keep his voice low.

His words were harsh, and anyone with a shred of self-awareness would have felt ashamed. But the imperial guard wasn't angered; instead, he chuckled. "You defend the prince so fiercely... could it be..."

He paused, thinking for a moment before continuing, "Could it be that you have feelings for the prince?"

As he asked this, Wei Zheng himself was surprised. It seemed he actually hoped the assassin had special feelings for him. Unconsciously, he wanted to hear Wei San either confirm it directly or evade the question with excuses. Unfortunately, neither happened.

Wei San's expression remained unchanged from start to finish, clearly indicating he didn't harbor the kind of feelings Wei Zheng had hoped for.

The assassin looked as if he had been greatly insulted and sternly rebuked him, "As the master's subordinate, it's only natural to defend him. How dare you, an imperial guard, slander my loyalty to the master?"

"Do you really think everyone is as twisted as you?"

The more he spoke, the angrier he became. He felt the imperial guard wasn't just insulting him but also the master. As assassins or imperial guards, their purpose was to live for their master—the master was everything. This was something their leader had repeatedly drilled into them since childhood.

Recalling how disrespectful this imperial guard had always been toward the master, Wei San began to suspect he might be plotting betrayal.

Under different circumstances, Wei San would have rather killed three thousand by mistake than let one go. But the current situation wasn't ideal.

He lowered his eyes in thought. Perhaps he could lure him outside and take him by surprise?

Wei San genuinely intended to kill him. He hid his murderous intent well, but Wei Zheng, having spent so much time with him, had long since familiarized himself with all his little habits. How could he not know what Wei San was plotting?

He was both angry and amused. On one hand, Wei San avoided him; on the other, he professed loyalty to him in front of others. What exactly was going on in that assassin's head?

The side room wasn't conducive to doing much, and Wei Zheng was also concerned that Wei San might discover the main bedchamber was empty. Coincidentally, both of them were thinking of luring the other out of the side hall.

Knowing Wei San wouldn't obey willingly, Wei Zheng resorted to a small trick.

A faint, almost imperceptible fragrance began to permeate the room. Those with less sensitive noses might not even notice it.

As soon as Wei San realized what it was, he held his breath. The master's temporary bedchamber was right next door—how dare this beast have the audacity to pull such underhanded tricks right under the master's nose?

Shocked and furious, but wary of disturbing the master sleeping next door, he didn't dare act recklessly. He could only glare indignantly at the approaching imperial guard.

Softening powder was effective against ordinary people, but it wasn't nearly enough to take down an assassin. Wei Zheng's intention wasn't to incapacitate Wei San completely—just reducing his agility by twenty percent was sufficient.

Wei San flexed his hand, and indeed, his movements were less agile than usual. Seizing the opportunity, Wei Zheng closed the distance and disarmed him of his dagger.

An assassin's body was littered with lethal weapons, and Wei Zheng didn't dare take any chances. To subdue Wei San, he had to first neutralize his hands.

Of course, he couldn't bring himself to dislocate the assassin's wrists, so he held back, while Wei San was not one to surrender easily.

Their martial arts styles originated from the same school, but Wei Zheng was naturally more skilled and had studied more deeply. Wei San specialized in lethal techniques meant to kill with one strike—in a real fight, he was no match. Coupled with his many reservations, he quickly found himself at a disadvantage.

"Given our history, you could at least show some mercy. Resorting to lethal force so readily—it truly breaks my heart."

Wei Zheng said he was heartbroken, yet his eyes were filled with delight.

The Soft Tendon Powder circulated through his body with the flow of his qi; what was initially a slight weakness had now intensified to a moderate degree. The assassin panted heavily, his resistance clearly weaker than before.

Seizing the opportunity, Wei Zheng pinned Wei San against the table, his hands twisted behind his back and his wrists tightly gripped. The assassin could only glare at him sideways, unwillingly saying, "Aren’t you afraid the master will find out and wring your dog's head off?"

To Wei Zheng, the assassin’s threat didn’t seem menacing at all—instead, it reminded him of a puffed-up cat whose claws have been trimmed, trying to intimidate with nothing but a soft, fierce gaze.

A mischievous thought crossed his mind. Under Wei San’s horrified stare, he freed one hand and reached for his underpants, hooking a finger into the drawstring. Leaning close to his ear, he whispered softly, "Of course I’m afraid. But I’m even more curious—given your unwavering loyalty to the prince, what would he think if he discovered you messing around right under his nose? Would he let it slide out of regard for your devotion?"

Wei Zheng was, of course, messing with him, but the thought of such a scenario stirred a flicker of anticipation within him.

The thrill of transgression would likely make the assassin cry from shame and rage.

The assassin seemed to genuinely consider the possibility. Wei San paled in an instant—he knew this man was fully capable of carrying out his threat.

His gaze involuntarily drifted toward the dark bedroom, and in his daze, he imagined the master standing at the door, looking at him with disdain and disgust, calling him disgusting and lowly, dirtying his vision.

Just the thought made Wei San’s vision darken, as if the sky were collapsing around him.

His entire body trembled uncontrollably, and he felt an intense, bone-deep chill.

He murmured tremulously.

"Get away... stay away from me..."

Wei Zheng finally noticed that something was seriously wrong with the assassin. His heart sank, and he turned the assassin over to face him. Staring into a pair of teary, Peach Blossom Eyes, he froze.

Had he been bullied to the point of tears?

The assassin’s eyes were red-rimmed, and the tip of his nose flushed an adorable pink. The more Wei Zheng looked, the more fond he felt. Unable to resist, he pulled him into an embrace, kissing his damp eyes and teasing, "Why are you so delicate? I haven’t even done anything yet—just teased you a little, and you’re already crying."