Chapter 73: Chapter Seventy-Three If You Dare to Escape Again, This Prince Will Break Your Legs

Chapter 73: If You Dare Run Away Again, I’ll Break Your Legs

Wei Zheng glared at Imperial Physician Liu through clenched teeth: "Are you blind? This is Wei San!"

Imperial Physician Liu: "..."

He stared intently at the frowning young woman on the bed for a long time but couldn’t recognize any trace of Wei San in her.

"What are you staring at? Wei San was injured by smoke. Hurry up and check if there’s any serious damage."

Impatient after several more moments of hesitation, Wei Zheng snapped at the physician to do his duty.

Imperial Physician Liu didn’t dare protest. To avoid provoking the prince’s wrath, he carefully laid a silk handkerchief over Wei San’s wrist before taking his pulse.

"He has suffered a shock that disturbed the fetus, but it’s not serious. With proper care afterward, he will recover."

After delivering his diagnosis, Imperial Physician Liu paused—something felt off.

He had assumed Wei San was faking pregnancy to escape capture, but now it seemed he was actually pregnant? But wasn’t Wei San a man?

His eyes widened in disbelief. Wei Zheng shot him a dark, warning look and said coldly, "Imperial Physician Liu, you’ve served in this palace long enough. You know what should be spoken of—and what shouldn’t. Must I remind you?"

To protect Wei San, only a handful of people knew the truth: himself, Ruan Xingji, Zhong Tong, and a few trusted assassin bodyguards. Imperial Physician Liu couldn’t be left in ignorance, as they would need his help for Wei San’s recovery. Though Wei Zheng had brought Wei San directly to him out of trust, trust alone wasn’t enough—warnings were necessary.

Imperial Physician Liu nodded nervously. "I understand, Your Highness. You may rest assured."

Once confirmed that Wei San wasn’t seriously harmed, Wei Zheng’s tense heart finally eased. There was no way he would leave Wei San here. He gently lifted him once more and carried him back to the main hall.

His return caused quite a stir. Attentive maidservants were already waiting outside the hall for orders.

"Prepare hot water."

Without even glancing at them, Wei Zheng issued the command as he strode inside.

According to Imperial Physician Liu, aside from the unsettled fetus, Wei San was also malnourished and would require careful recuperation.

As Wei Zheng tucked him into bed, he reached out anxiously to touch Wei San’s cheek. Only when his fingertips met the faint warmth of living skin did he truly believe Wei San was real—not just a phantom conjured by a lonely dream.

The sleeping figure stirred restlessly. Sensing Wei Zheng’s touch, even unconscious, he instinctively tried to pull away.

Wei Zheng’s expression darkened, frustration and anger surging within him. Yet seeing the assassin curled up like a defenseless creature, his fury instantly waned.

He sighed deeply. "You really have a talent—using my feelings for you to manipulate me so completely."

And yet, he found himself indulging in it.

Hot water arrived swiftly. The maid was perceptive—understanding Wei Zheng intended to care for Wei San personally, she silently placed the copper basin within reach and quietly slipped out.

Alone with Wei San, Wei Zheng gently removed his outer robe. Even so, the movement roused him.

When Wei San opened his eyes, Wei Zheng’s face was right before him. Still dazed from sleep, he didn’t react at first, thinking he must be dreaming. Instinctively, he reached out to touch Wei Zheng’s cheek. But the cool, smooth skin beneath his palm jolted him awake. Memories of their reunion flooded back, and fear seized him—he recoiled sharply. Yet his collar remained gripped in Wei Zheng’s hand. When he tried to move and found himself trapped, he froze.

Wei Zheng’s mood, which had begun to improve, turned stormy in an instant. Jaw clenched, he snapped, "What are you running from? Am I that terrifying?"

Hiding even in sleep, flinching the moment he woke—did Wei San see him as some kind of monster?

"N-No..."

Wei San couldn’t meet his gaze. Head bowed, he looked broken and resigned.

Wei Zheng was nearly driven mad with rage, yet he couldn’t bring himself to lash out. All he could do was let his anger show in his icy demeanor as he ordered sternly, "Take off your clothes."

"Master..."

Wei San hesitated, still afraid of revealing his belly. Wei Zheng snorted. "I already know everything. What’s the point of hiding now?"

Wei San stiffened. He didn’t dare ask what Wei Zheng thought of the child.

Whether he meant to keep it or end it—Wei San couldn’t bear either possibility.

If the child lived, given his low status, the Virtuous Prince’s firstborn would never be registered under his name. The idea of his own flesh and blood calling another woman “mother” while addressing him—the true parent—as a servant was unbearable. This was a child he had carried for ten months with pain and sacrifice. Why should someone else claim motherhood?

But if the child were lost… he couldn’t accept that either. For this child, he had betrayed the principles he had held for ten years and fled. Neither outcome was bearable.

"Master, I—"

He wanted to plead—for himself, for the child—but Wei Zheng, face still cold, turned away to wring out a cloth and cut him off harshly, "Take off your clothes. Don’t make me say it again. I’m tending to you, and you still act shy?"

Clearly still furious, Wei Zheng left no room for argument. Wei San swallowed his words, lowered his head, and silently began removing his outer robe and inner garments.

After that, neither spoke. Wei Zheng washed him meticulously—outwardly stern and sullen, yet his gaze kept drifting involuntarily toward Wei San’s swollen belly. Several times, he pressed his lips together, as if wanting to speak, but ultimately stayed silent.

Wei San, lost in thought and head bowed, remained unaware.

"All right. Put your clothes back on."

Wei Zheng tossed the cloth into the basin and adjusted his sleeves.

Wei San hesitated briefly, then softly murmured, "Yes," and reached for the inner garments beside him.

Wei Zheng was already planning how to punish him later, but his eyes kept flickering toward Wei San.

Beyond the protruding belly, Wei San had grown alarmingly thin. The softness he’d once nurtured was gone—clearly, he hadn’t taken care of himself.

Wei Zheng felt both resentment and heartache. Despite all his affection, Wei San had still chosen to run. Did he really think Wei Zheng wouldn’t explain himself if confronted with that mask? What kind of man did Wei San take him for?

The more he dwelled on it, the angrier and more wounded he felt. Just as he was about to rise and storm out, a small kick suddenly bulged against Wei San’s belly—brief, then gone—just before the fabric covered it.

It was the child—his and Wei San’s blood—moving.

Wei Zheng froze, a flicker of awe in his eyes. He almost reached out, aching to touch it, but pride held him back. It felt like touching it would mean surrendering—forgiving Wei San completely.

So instead, he pressed his lips into a thin line and said, colder than before, "Think carefully about how you’ll answer for your actions. If you dare run away again, I’ll break your legs."