Chapter 24: Chapter Twenty-Four Seducing the Master Will Be Punished

Chapter 24: Seducing Your Master Comes with a Price

The banquet was in full swing, yet an eerie silence hung over Taihe Hall. Even the musicians sensed the tension, halting their performance, leaving the dancers stranded mid-stage, unsure whether to retreat or continue.

Wei Zheng, fueled by suppressed anger, tightened his grip.

Wei Yan’s features contorted in pain, but he bit back a cry, refusing to yield. He retorted, his words laced with venom, "Seventh, why the sudden anxiety? I merely asked him to toast me—it’s not as if I’m offering him poison. Are you already so protective?"

Wei Zheng stated, "Sui Yun doesn’t drink."

"Is he truly unable to hold his liquor, or is someone looking down on this Fifth Brother?" Wei Yan remained obstinate, intent on causing trouble.

Wei San realized that unless he drank the wine, they wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. If Wei Yan continued his antics, Wei San would likely be accused of disrespecting the imperial family—a grave offense that could land him in the imperial dungeon for weeks, leaving him bruised and battered.

Ultimately, Wei Yan was targeting Wei Zheng; Wei San was merely a pawn. A single cup of wine to defuse the immediate crisis seemed a small price to pay. He thought, one cup surely wouldn’t be enough to get him drunk.

As Wei Zheng and Wei Yan remained locked in a tense standoff, neither willing to back down, Wei San abruptly reached out, took the wine cup from Wei Yan’s hand, and drained it in one gulp.

"I have drunk the wine, Your Highness. Are you satisfied now? May I take my leave?"

The strong liquor burned his throat, searing a path down to his stomach. Wei San frowned in discomfort, his face and neck flushing crimson within moments—a clear sign of his low alcohol tolerance.

Since the wine had been consumed, any further refusal would be seen as deliberate provocation.

Wei Yan awkwardly conceded, "Satisfied."

He withdrew his hand, but Wei Zheng was not yet finished.

"Fifth Brother, it’s improper to accept a toast without offering one in return."

Wei Yan met his gaze, pressed his lips together, and remained silent.

Wei Zheng’s smile didn’t reach his eyes as he increased the pressure in his grip.

Wei Yan’s expression shifted. He forcefully shook off Wei Zheng’s hand, summoned a palace maid for a fresh cup, poured wine, and raised it high. "Fifth Brother toasts his future brother-in-law."

After downing the wine, he smashed the cup, snorted coldly, and swept out of the hall.

Wei Zheng watched his retreating figure, then nonchalantly wiped his right hand—the one that had gripped Wei Yan’s wrist—with a handkerchief, making no attempt to conceal his disgust.

The officials felt they had glimpsed a fragment of royal intrigue, and their minds began to buzz with speculation. It was now clear: the emperor truly indulged the Virtuous Prince. With the prince’s recovery, his doting had only intensified, even to the point of tacitly allowing him to bring a male favorite to the banquet. The rumors of discord between the Virtuous Prince and the Fifth Prince were also unequivocally confirmed.

"Hmm? Why is everyone staring at me? Drink, eat, carry on as usual."

As if suddenly remembering the other officials present, he tossed the handkerchief to the nearest palace maid and instructed softly, "Burn it."

The maid felt the handkerchief was a hot coal. Though the Virtuous Prince was her master and she dared not disobey, the Fifth Prince was not an easy person to deal with either. If he found out about this, he might not be able to take it out on the Virtuous Prince, but venting his anger on a lowly maid would be as easy as crushing an ant.

The maid was on the verge of tears. Seeing this, Wei Zheng said, "Don’t worry, no one will trouble you."

Though still anxious, she felt slightly reassured by his promise.

Wei Zheng turned his attention to the unusually quiet Wei San.

The young man in blue robes, flushed from the alcohol, appeared calm with downcast eyes, lost in thought. Outwardly he seemed perfectly normal, but subtle details hinted at something amiss.

Wei Zheng sensed something was off and called out tentatively, "Sui Yun?"

When there was no response, he called again.

"Hmm?"

The called one looked up dazedly, his peach-blossom eyes misty, making him appear even more alluring and captivating.

Wei Zheng felt a stir in his heart, rubbing his fingers together as he said hoarsely, "Let’s go back."

Wei San’s mind was numbed by the alcohol, like a jammed gear struggling to turn. After a moment, he finally remembered who stood before him and where he was. He reached out to hold Wei Zheng’s hand and mumbled, "Okay, let’s go back."

Wei Zheng looked down at their joined hands. If the little assassin were sober, he would never have overstepped like this. It seemed he truly couldn’t hold his liquor—just one cup had gotten him drunk.

Wei Zheng was pleased. Embracing the idea of striking while the iron’s hot, he took advantage of the situation, intertwining their fingers and raising an eyebrow triumphantly. He bowed slightly and said to the silently watching Crown Prince, "Elder Brother Crown Prince, my little pet is drunk and clingy. To avoid causing a scene, I must take my leave."

What could the Crown Prince say? He could only exchange a few courteous words between brothers before letting them go.

Wei Zheng hadn’t really been seeking permission. As soon as the Crown Prince finished speaking, he led Wei San out of Taihe Hall.

With most of the main figures gone, many officials lost interest in staying and began to take their leave. The Crown Prince dismissed them one by one.

In just fifteen minutes, the once lively Taihe Hall grew quiet, leaving only those aligned with the Crown Prince. Without outsiders, they relaxed more freely, toasting the Crown Prince.

The prime minister and the grand tutor remained composed, enjoying wine and exchanging poetry, detached from the surrounding commotion.

***

In the Virtuous Prince’s carriage, Wei San sat primly against the wall, his gaze vacant. He didn’t even react when Wei Zheng pinched his soft cheek.

"Sui Yun?"

When there was no response, Wei Zheng grew bolder.

He leaned in, closing the distance between them to barely a fist apart—a dangerous and subtle proximity.

Wei San’s dewy, rose-colored lips were right before his eyes, tantalizing, as if waiting to be tasted.

Wei Zheng showed some restraint and didn’t take advantage of the situation outright. He brushed aside the stray strands of hair at Wei San’s temple and said with a light laugh, "Wei San, do you still remember who I am?"

Wei San looked at him blankly, his fingers—resting obediently on his knees—curling slightly before he slowly nodded. "I remember. You’re my master."

Wei Zheng was dissatisfied with the answer and corrected him sternly, "Wrong. I’m not your master."

Wei San looked confused. "But you are my master."

Wei Zheng chuckled. "But now you’re my male favorite. You should call me husband."

If Wei San were sober, he would likely have blushed at such teasing. But the drunken Wei San actually pondered for a moment before nodding seriously and saying, "You’re right. I should call you husband."

Who knew getting drunk could bring such a perk?

"Call me 'lord husband' and let me hear it."

Wei Zheng immediately sat up straight, a flicker of anticipation in his eyes.

He maintained his composure and waited, even pretending to adjust his sleeves nonchalantly, but still, the word "lord husband" never came. Just as he thought Wei San had sobered up and was trying to figure out how to backtrack, he suddenly felt a weight on his shoulder, as if something was pressing against him.

He glanced sideways and saw that the drunken assassin had dozed off at some point, leaning against his shoulder, fast asleep.

Wei Zheng: "…………"

He glared resentfully at the assassin who had stirred his desires but now lay heartlessly unconscious, grinding his teeth in frustration, yet unable to bring himself to wake him.

"You're only acting so boldly because I spoil you. Just wait—I’ll deal with you later."

Though his words were harsh, his actions were gentle as he wrapped an arm around the assassin’s shoulder and laid him sideways across his lap.

The carriage rocked along the way, but the assassin slept soundly, not even stirring when the carriage came to a stop.

Wei Zheng poked his cheek and called his name a few times, but received no response. Finally, he simply scooped him up by the waist, refusing the attendants’ offers to take him, and carried him back to the side chamber in full view of the maids and guards.

Once inside, Wei Zheng dismissed everyone. No sooner had he laid the assassin on the bed than the latter drowsily opened his eyes.

"Master?"

Wei San’s mind was muddled, but he still recognized the man.

Wei Zheng, both amused and exasperated, said, "You wouldn’t wake up no matter how much I called you earlier, and now you’re awake the moment we’re here. Tell me, did you pretend to be asleep just so I’d carry you back and you could take advantage of me?"

He knew Wei San wasn’t faking it but couldn’t resist teasing him. The little assassin’s reaction was utterly endearing—he shook his head earnestly and defended himself, "I didn’t."

The assassin’s usually clear voice carried a nasal quality, and Wei Zheng couldn’t help but detect a soft, coquettish tone in it.

The drunken beauty was simply irresistible. Wei Zheng, never one to be overly principled, felt his desires stir and decided to cast aside what little conscience he had. With such a perfect opportunity before him, it would be foolish not to seize it.

He leaned over, pinning Wei San down. The assassin’s ingrained survival instincts made him instinctively try to evade, but Wei Zheng cupped the back of his head, trapping him. With the bed beneath him, there was nowhere left to retreat.

"Master, you’re crushing me."

Tears welled even more prominently in the assassin’s eyes, like prey caught in a trap yet unaware of the danger. He tugged at the front of Wei Zheng’s robe, lips parting slightly in confusion.

Wei Zheng gave him no further chance to speak, swiftly capturing the moist, thin lips he had coveted for so long.

His agile tongue plundered the depths of Wei San’s mouth, dominating without mercy. Wei San let out a muffled groan, feeling as though even his ability to breathe had been stolen.

Wei San’s kissing skills were like a blank slate, utterly inexperienced. Wei Zheng’s assault was fierce, and Wei San didn’t even know how to catch his breath, his face flushing red as he nearly suffocated. Only then did Wei Zheng reluctantly pull away.

The assassin gasped for air, his eyes dazed. His loosely tied hair had come undone at some point, cascading like a waterfall across the bed.

Desire burned unabashedly in Wei Zheng’s eyes. He cupped Wei San’s flushed cheek, his thumb pressing firmly against the swollen, pouty lower lip.

His predatory gaze swept over the man beneath him, who had been kissed into a pliant, boneless state. Wei Zheng licked his dry lips and suddenly chuckled.

He said, "Little assassin, seducing your master deserves punishment."

"Let me think carefully—how should I punish you?"

Wei San, already addled by alcohol, grew even more confused by Wei Zheng’s twisted accusations. His already scarce rationality dissolved into mush. Instinctively, he replied, "I didn’t."

He hadn’t seduced his master—it was the master who had kissed him first.

Falsely accused, the assassin pouted, looking as though he might burst into tears at any moment, a sight that tugged at the heartstrings.

Wei Zheng felt his heart melt. How could he allow such excuses?

"I’ve decided. Your punishment will be to attend to me in bed tonight."

He made the decision unilaterally, without any regard for Wei San’s consent. Rising, he drew the bed curtains, concealing the enticing scene within.

Outside the curtains, the lantern light flickered. The room was silent, save for the occasional suppressed gasp.

A pale, flushed arm hung limply over the edge of the bed. As if subjected to some unknown torment, it suddenly gripped the bed curtains tightly, knuckles whitening and veins bulging. Not long after, a larger, darker hand covered it, pulling it firmly back behind the curtains.