Chapter 23

Chapter 23

The medicine bottle rolled off the edge of the desk and fell to the floor with a clatter, as if shattering the long-standing balance.

Zhu Qinghou stared at the shattered pieces, a sudden sense of foreboding rising in his heart. He played dumb, "What did I ask Feng Shan to bring? I don't even know him, so how could I have asked him to bring something for me?"

Li Zhen waited quietly for him to finish speaking. His face, carved from snow and jade, grew even more frosty, radiating a bone-deep chill.

Even though the other's eyes were veiled by the white silk ribbon, for some reason, Zhu Qinghou felt that Li Zhen was furious now, deeply displeased with his answer.

He pulled his cloak around him, ignoring the faint fear in his heart, and stubbornly insisted, "What 'save me'? I never said those words to him. You—"

Before he could finish, his voice abruptly died in his throat. He stared, wide-eyed, as the other man leaned in closer. His flawless, ice-jade-like features loomed large before him, becoming unnervingly clear.

Through the white silk, the faint outline of the eye shape beneath was vaguely visible, with eyes that slanted slightly upward at the corners, long, dark, elegant lashes, slender eyes and a finely bridged nose. His beauty was ethereal and peerless, pure as refined gold and clear water.

Zhu Qinghou stood frozen, watching motionlessly as Li Zhen drew near, watching as the other lowered his gaze, his aura as sharp and cold as a blade.

Like a sword about to be unsheathed, ready to pierce him through at any moment.

"...Xian Pu?"

Zhu Qinghou called softly.

He always felt that something about Li Zhen at this moment was indescribably off.

Li Zhen didn't continue to approach. Instead, he reached out to touch the desk, as if instinctively searching for something. His movement paused, as if he had suddenly realized something.

Realizing what he was looking for, Zhu Qinghou bent down, picked up the shards of the medicine bottle, and sniffed them. He smelled nothing. "It's already broken," he asked, his voice tinged with confusion. "What medicine was this?"

*Ignorant and unaware. Detestable.*

Staring at that hand with its distinct knuckles, Zhu Qinghou was momentarily taken aback.

He heard only one or two short, crisp sounds.

Li Zhen remained motionless, using the sound to guess what Zhu Qinghou was doing—no doubt picking up more pieces—

The next instant, a sudden weight settled in his palm, warm skin pressing against it.

Zhu Qinghou had actually placed his hand on top of his.

Li Zhen: "..."

The next moment.

As if touching something utterly repulsive, Li Zhen snatched his hand back into his sleeve, preventing Zhu Qinghou from touching it. He snapped coldly, "Get out."

Get out?

Zhu Qinghou glanced at the royal soldiers in the study. "He's telling you to leave."

The royal soldiers dared not disobey the order. They obediently walked out, closing the lattice door behind them.

Li Zhen fell silent for a moment. This Zhu Qinghou truly had no sense of self-awareness whatsoever, and others even indulged him in his antics. He repeated, his voice flat, "I told you to get out."

Zhu Qinghou was suddenly taken aback. He tilted his head and asked instinctively, "Is the Gu Worm acting up again..." He had never seen the Mother Gu flare up before. He thought to himself that Li Zhen was truly strange. Who uses a Gu to control someone else, yet ends up suffering themselves?

Thinking this, not only did he not leave, he instead remained seated where he was, looking at Li Zhen with curiosity.

Li Zhen sat, his expression calm, no different from usual. Amidst the layers of his snow-white robes, faint blue veins were visible on his wrist. Beneath the skin, within the sinews and bones, a web of blue and purple veins pulsed.

Before Zhu Qinghou could get a closer look, a flash of snowy white—the hem of the robe fell, concealing the faintly visible veins.

Li Zhen seemed to have lost his patience. He said tonelessly, "Someone."

Planning to have someone drag him away again, like before?

Zhu Qinghou stood up. "I'll see myself out." He turned and had just taken two steps, nearly reaching the hall door, when a pang of concern struck him. He looked back at Li Zhen.

The young Feudal Prince, who had been sitting upright and motionless, slowly bent over. His fingertips rested on the desk, his palm clenched into a fist, as if he had grasped something tightly.

Looking again at the corner where the fragments had been, it was now empty.

Was Li Zhen perhaps...

Zhu Qinghou couldn't stand seeing him in such a pitiful state. He walked back, said, pretending concern, "How about I call someone for you—"

The response was a low, suppressed roar:

"Get lost."

First 'get out,' now 'get lost.' All day long, he only thought about driving him away.

He didn't need to rack his brains for threats; his refusal to leave was threat enough.

Zhu Qinghou sneered, ignored him. With his hair loose, he leaned against the pillar, lazily watching Li Zhen suffer, feeling immensely pleased with himself.

He hadn't enjoyed the spectacle for long when he suddenly sensed something amiss. An all-too-familiar wave of scorching heat surged through his body, fiery and burning, as if his blood was gradually turning into boiling water, slowly heating up.

Zhu Qinghou, wracked with discomfort, couldn't help but lower his head. Strands of hair on either side fell along his slender shoulders, faintly obscuring his face.

Logically, at this point, he should have had the sense to listen to Li Zhen's words, turn, and leave. It would be best to lock the door, leaving Li Zhen alone here to suffer.

But Zhu Qinghou was rebellious by nature. He lowered his head for a moment to steady himself. Not only did he not consciously move away, he even actively drew closer.

"Xian Pu," the young man with his jet-black hair loose tilted his head, propping his hands on the desk, looking down at the motionless young Feudal Prince. "Don't you like me?"

Persistent. Stubborn.

Wanting him, yet resisting him.

Li Zhen was truly peculiar.

After a long silence, Li Zhen still didn't utter a word. Beneath the hem of his snow-white robe, his fingertips tightened inch by inch. Vivid red seeped from between his snow-white fingers, gushing forth, forming a shallow pool on the desk.

He truly wasn't afraid of pain.

Perhaps influenced by the Gu Worm, Zhu Qinghou also felt somewhat feverish. He lowered his head, stared at that small pool of blood for a moment, then reached out to pry open Li Zhen's clenched fist.

"Let go," Zhu Qinghou commanded fiercely as he pried.

If this continued, did he really want to sever the muscles and tendons in his palm?

Li Zhen's fingertips didn't budge in the slightest. His fist remained tightly clenched. No matter how hard Zhu Qinghou tried, he couldn't pry open even the tiniest gap.

Even at this point, his voice remained calm and indifferent, utterly restrained. "Take him out."

No sooner had the words been spoken than the study’s sliding lattice door swung open.

Jian Su and Bao Pu, His Highness’s trusted aides, were about to obey. They had just stepped halfway into the study when they were met with the sight of the purple-robed young man with his hair down, standing with his back to them, while their lord sat before the desk. One standing, one sitting—neither’s face was visible.

This posture…

They froze in unison, not daring to take another step.

Hearing the footsteps behind him, Zhu Qinghou straightened his back. Just as everyone thought he would leave of his own accord, he instead walked around Li Zhen as if no one else were there, resumed his seat, leaned forward, and continued prying Li Zhen’s hand open.

“If you don’t let go, I won’t leave.”

Fingertips touched, skin pressed against skin—as if an electric current surged through his entire body. Li Zhen suddenly stiffened, like a cold jade statue, expressionless, his voice low and threatening, “If you don’t leave now, I…”

“What are you going to do to me?” Zhu Qinghou, emboldened and fearless, used both hands to pry open Li Zhen’s single hand, trying to dig out the porcelain shards embedded in the flesh.

He leaned forward, arms outstretched, perilously close to pressing against Li Zhen—an extremely intimate posture.

Jian Su: “…”

Bao Pu: “…”

Should they… leave first?

Zhu Qinghou didn’t even turn his head or glance at them, ordering, “Well? Fetch the medicine.” He added, “And summon a few tight-lipped physicians.”

Bao Pu let out an “Oh” and hurried off to pass on the order. Jian Su didn’t move, standing in place, waiting for their lord’s instructions.

Mainly because the situation was truly awkward. With Zhu Qinghou brazenly draped over their lord, how could they possibly tear him away from their lord’s embrace?

If only their lord would push him away first, then they could—

Li Zhen gave no sign of pushing Zhu Qinghou away.

He sat there, unmoving, as if silently struggling with someone, his voice muffled, “Didn’t you want Feng Shan to save you, to help you lift the gu curse, to take you away?”

Zhu Qinghou paused, lifting his eyes curiously. Li Zhen must be furious—he actually said so much at once.

Still angry with Li Zhen, Zhu Qinghou was deliberately set on making him suffer and offered no explanation, instead adding fuel to the fire, “You told me to get lost. I have nowhere to go, so I can only roll off to someone else.”

Dead silence filled the study. The window lattice had been closed at some point, doors shut tight, the surroundings dim and hazy.

Li Zhen’s chest heaved violently, as if he let out a muffled laugh, the sound tinged with coldness.

Zhu Qinghou paid no mind to whether he laughed or not, seizing the chance to increase his effort in prying open Li Zhen’s fist. He finally managed to loosen a few fingers and hastily began pulling out the shards inside.

“Are you an idiot? Who stabs themselves with shards?” he scolded while pulling.

He really wanted to give Li Zhen a thorough tongue-lashing.

Perhaps scolded into a guilty conscience, Li Zhen slowly opened his palm, no longer resisting. His voice grew softer, carrying an indescribable strangeness, “You really won’t leave?”

Zhu Qinghou was busy pulling out the shards and couldn’t be bothered to argue. “I’ll leave in a bit, alright?”

“…Mm.” Li Zhen let out a slow, dignified breath, seemingly quite satisfied, eager to see him leave sooner.

At this thought, Zhu Qinghou grew even more displeased, jabbing harder, not caring whether Li Zhen felt pain or not.

The other seemed impervious to pain, not making a sound, showing no reaction.

After pulling out all the shards, Zhu Qinghou looked up and finally saw the cold sweat on Li Zhen’s pale face—a chill emanating from his very bones, soaking his brows and eyes like jade or glaze.

Clear, cold, icy.

So it wasn’t that he didn’t feel pain—he just endured it well.

Since he couldn’t see anyway, Zhu Qinghou rolled his eyes at him, unconsciously lightening his movements.

Perhaps because they had been too close earlier, the heat spreading through his limbs had subsided somewhat, becoming barely noticeable.

As soon as Zhu Qinghou withdrew his hand, that scorching heat surged forth again.

He pressed a hand to his brow as he stood up, glanced at Jian Su standing dumbly by the door, and said, “Keep an eye on your lord.” Turning to Li Zhen, he added, “Find some gauze to cover the wound yourself, don’t let the blood keep flowing—”

Mid-sentence, Zhu Qinghou stared at Li Zhen’s palm, which continued to bleed, and slowly frowned.

“…Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

Zhu Qinghou gritted his teeth, sat back down, and let out a cold laugh, faintly understanding how Li Zhen must have felt earlier when he watched him flee and vomit blood.

He couldn’t quite describe the feeling, only finding it exceptionally irritating. Reaching out, he pressed a fingertip heavily onto Li Zhen’s palm. “Aren’t you impervious to pain?”

As he pressed, Zhu Qinghou tried to detect any ripple of emotion on Li Zhen’s face. After watching for a long while, the other’s expression remained cold and indifferent—not even a slight frown.

Blood trickled from between their pressed fingers, bright red.

The flustered Jian Su: “…”

Seeing their lord like this, should she intervene or not?

The more pain, the calmer he became.

Suppressing the violent thoughts in his heart, Li Zhen felt Zhu Qinghou’s warm, soft fingertips resting on his palm, and an odd sense of peace settled within him.

…Past dalliances have nothing to do with the present.

He would keep a close watch on Zhu Qinghou, binding him with the power, wealth, and everything else he desired.

Zhu Qinghou couldn’t fathom what Li Zhen was thinking, only vaguely sensing that the other seemed to have come to some realization. He released his hand, casually took gauze from Jian Su, and while bandaging, muttered, “Xian Pu, why torment yourself like this? At worst, you could just lift the gu curse and spare yourself the suffering…”

After circling around, he finally revealed his true intention.

Zhu Qinghou slowly tightened the gauze, deliberately aiming to wrap Li Zhen’s palm in an unsightly mess to embarrass him in public. He wrapped and wrapped, layer upon layer, the gauze messy yet not ugly—instead, it accentuated the other’s long, slender fingers and distinct knuckles.

As he wrestled with the gauze, he casually replied to Li Zhen’s words, “What? Lift the gu curse?”

These four words seemed casual but were actually carefully considered. In the end, it all came back to making him lift the gu curse.

Li Zhen held back, wanting to see what other sweet talk Xiao Yu would offer to get the gu curse lifted.

Zhu Qinghou spoke up, his tone still casual and nonchalant, “Up to you,” he said indifferently. “Lift it if you want, don’t if you don’t.”

Li Zhen: “You really…”

Xiao Yu was feigning indifference as a tactical retreat, pretending not to care, but in reality…

“Done!” Zhu Qinghou declared triumphantly, satisfied with the ugly bandage, feeling his skills had improved somewhat. Back in the imperial prison, when he was injured and no one cared, he could only tear cloth strips to bandage himself.

Compared to back then, this bandaging job wasn’t half bad.

His happiness was short-lived. Zhu Qinghou remembered that Li Zhen seemed to have said something earlier and asked in confusion, “Xian Pu, what did you just say?”

Li Zhen: “…”

He paused briefly, then replied calmly, “Nothing.”

“Oh.” Since Li Zhen didn’t repeat it, it must not be important. Zhu Qinghou didn’t press further and stood up to walk out. After just two steps, the scorching heat surged through his body again.

Zhu Qinghou: “…”

So it seemed that whenever he moved farther away from Li Zhen, the Gu Worm would act up.

But he wasn’t the type to be easily deterred.

Zhu Qinghou continued forward. By the time he reached the edge of the hall, his legs were already a bit weak.

Beneath the wide hem of his robe, his slender calves trembled faintly.

Zhu Qinghou: “…”

He turned around and walked back.

Jian Su, who was standing nearby, thought: “…”

Why are you back again?

Zhu Qinghou naturally sat back down in the armchair, next to Li Zhen. He thought that mere contact would completely ease the heat rising in his body, but as soon as he leaned in, a strange shiver ran across his skin.

It was as if something was constantly drawing him to press even closer.

Earlier.

Li Zhen had already endured a full half-hour. As the pain slightly subsided, the urge to devour surged back.

Like hunger, yet also like…

Just as Zhu Qinghou reached out to lean closer, Li Zhen abruptly stood up, supported himself with his cane, and walked out.

If Zhu Qinghou wouldn’t leave, then he would.

Zhu Qinghou, suppressing the restless heat in his body, watched the other suddenly walk away. Driven by instinct, he was about to get up and chase after him, but Li Zhen had already stepped out.

“Bang—”

The lattice door of the study slammed shut.

Zhu Qinghou stared at the tightly closed door, a rare hint of bewilderment flashing in his eyes. What was Li Zhen doing…

Was this like releasing a mouse into a rice jar?

With no one else here, all these confidential documents were practically laid out for him to read.

Zhu Qinghou momentarily forgot the stifling heat in his body. Casually using a wolf-hair brush to twist up his lacquer-black hair, he tied it loosely at the back and eagerly paced around the study, selecting scrolls he wanted to read.

Fortunately, he had already learned to recognize the official seals; otherwise, even given ten chances, he probably wouldn’t understand the contents on the scrolls.

Zhu Qinghou picked up a scroll and sat down in Li Zhen’s original seat, burying himself in reading. As he read, he began to feel somewhat drowsy, and that peculiar sensation washed over him like a tide.

Being in Prince Su’s residence, yet unable to touch Li Zhen, he sighed. He could only endure it.

The next moment, the discomfort in his body slowly faded, and the Child Gu gradually quieted down.

…What had Li Zhen done?

Zhu Qinghou couldn’t be bothered to think about it. Instead, he took another wolf-hair brush and tied it with the hair from his forehead.

The long brush stood crookedly in front of his head, looking indescribably ridiculous.

He paid it no mind. With the brush perched on his head, he earnestly traced his fingers over the scroll in his hands.

Outside the hall.

Jian Su, tasked with keeping an eye on Zhu Qinghou, peered through the window gauze while recalling His Highness’s earlier instructions: if Zhu Qinghou cried or made a scene, she was to knock him out directly—

She had already prepared herself. But when she looked inside, she saw Zhu Qinghou sitting perfectly fine, with a… wolf-hair brush on his head?

He was slightly tilting his head, completely absorbed in reading the scroll.

No crying, no tantrums.

So, should she still knock him out?

Come to think of it, the scrolls in the study seemed quite important too.

Jian Su fell into deep thought.

*

Deep within the inner hall.

Li Zhen was submerged in darkness.

All around was dead silence—no sound of wind, not the slightest scent—as if the surroundings were an empty void, with nothing to grasp onto.

He couldn’t even be sure if he was still alive in this world.

He reached out, groped for a new medicine bottle in his sleeve, took half a pill, and swallowed it.

Uncle Cui’s words echoed in his ears once more: “This medicine must not be used frequently. Overuse will have the opposite effect.”

…The opposite effect?

Li Zhen chuckled softly, his fingertips trembling faintly as he slowly tightened the white silk blindfold, covering his vacant eyes.

He felt some regret.

This Gu was originally meant to discipline Zhu Qinghou, but now it had become a shackle around his own neck, constraining him at every moment.

“What exactly did he and Feng Shan discuss?” Prince Su asked in a low voice.

From the darkness came the reply of a hidden guard, repeating their conversation word for word, even mimicking their tones perfectly—

Zhu Qinghou said, “Xiang Shan, help me find medicine beyond the pass to treat his eyes.”

Feng Shan’s tone shifted slightly. “He wants to kill you, yet you’re finding medicine for him?”

“If you want to save me, do as I say.”

“Deyu, why bother with all these twists and turns? I could simply take you away directly.”

…

To think they were so intimate, actually calling each other by their childhood names.

Prince Su’s fingers twitched slightly, tightening around the cold, snow-white medicine bottle. His eyelashes lowered, brushing against the white silk blindfold.

The shadow guard sought to discern his lord's intention. “Does Your Highness wish for me to arrange for someone to deal with…”

Sizhou was a directly administered commandery, not part of a fiefdom. There was no feudal prince stationed there; it was governed by a Governor appointed by the imperial court.

Feng Shan was the Governor’s son and also held a military position. Disposing of him wouldn’t be easy.

For a moment, the pitch-black hall fell into a silence so deep it was frightening.

After a long while, Prince Su finally spoke:

“No need.”

He had already arranged other agents to investigate the trading posts beyond the frontier; there was no need to involve Feng Shan.

The reason he didn’t stop Feng Shan—

Beyond the frontier was perilous; it was easy to vanish without a trace, leaving not even bones behind.

Thinking of this, Prince Su curled his lips slightly in a cold smile.

He remained silent for a moment, then asked, “…What is he doing?”

It was obvious who “he” referred to.

Zhu Qinghou had always been spoiled and willful. Having been confined in the inner hall the previous night and now locked in the study, forbidden to leave, he was probably raising hell by now.

That’s what Li Zhen thought.

“He is…” The shadow guard hesitated, a rare occurrence. After a moment’s thought, he changed his phrasing and respectfully reported, “He is burning the midnight oil, busy reading the scrolls in the study.”

This unexpected answer made Li Zhen pause, then laugh.

*

“Hahaha.”

Zhu Qinghou burst into loud laughter, his mirth always unrestrained and bold, brimming with undisguised delight.

The scroll spread open before him clearly stated that the Crown Prince, Li Jue, had been reprimanded by the Emperor in front of the court for the Eastern Palace’s extravagance and lack of restraint in expenditures.

As far as he knew, although Li Jue was fiercely competitive in everything, he wouldn’t make such a minor mistake. Moreover, the Eastern Palace had countless advisors and retainers to strategize and manage affairs for him.

How could he have been caught on such a trivial fault by Emperor Jinshun and publicly reprimanded?

Could it be that the national treasury was already so depleted?

To the point of making an example of the Eastern Palace, killing the chicken to scare the monkey, warning all officials?

Zhu Qinghou tapped the scroll, recalling last year when the Zhu clan fell, the Censorate impeached them, and Lin Hanyi switched sides at the critical moment. In that dire situation, Li Jue had unhesitatingly severed ties with the Zhu clan.

At the time, people in Yejing said the Eastern Palace had misjudged people, but now it was upholding justice by cutting off its own kin and cleansing its ranks.

Thinking of those words, Zhu Qinghou couldn’t help but sneer. Li Jue and Lin Hanyi—they were both ungrateful wretches.

Seeing them in trouble filled him with immense satisfaction.

Zhu Qinghou reveled in his own happiness for a while, then continued to carefully ponder the content of this document. Had the imperial court really become so impoverished? When his father was in charge of the national treasury, it didn’t seem this severe.

The mastermind behind the scenes had fabricated charges of embezzlement against the Zhu clan. Under the pretext of purging the Zhu Faction, they had ruthlessly confiscated the properties of over a dozen households in Yejing. Yet, the wealth obtained still wasn’t enough for their extravagance. They still needed to increase taxes and reprimand Li Zhen for his lavish spending.

Where exactly did the money go?

Unable to figure it out, Zhu Qinghou withdrew his gaze from Yejing and refocused on Yongzhou.

The mutual trade between the three courts was, in reason and in sentiment, a good thing.

However, how to persuade Emperor Jinshun to agree was another matter entirely.

Zhu Qinghou stared at the scroll, his dark eyes focused intently.

It wasn’t yet time for him to worry.

He lazily yawned, read about ten more scrolls, and only when it was completely dark outside did he slowly rise and return to the hall.

Outside the hall, a figure in goose-yellow and green was lurking furtively. Zhu Liujun was hiding stealthily in the shadow of a pillar, peeking inside.

Jian Su said calmly, “It’s cold outside, Miss: you might as well come in and wait.”

Zhu Liujun peeked her head out from behind the pillar and asked curiously, “And you are, my lord?”

Jian Su replied evenly, “Jian Su.”

Zhu Liujun stepped out. “Jian Su, Bao Pu—quite good names.” She extended her hand, her eyes curving into smiles. “I am Zhu Liujun. You can call me by my childhood name, Qing Xi. My mother gave it to me, hoping everyone would be happy and joyful.”

Zhu Liujun seemed as if she hadn’t spoken to anyone in eight hundred years. She chattered incessantly to Jian Su, who had never met someone so boisterous and found it quite novel. She didn’t speak much, just listened patiently.

“Xiao Yu is back! I have to go, see you next time!” Hearing the distant sound of bells from the palanquin, Zhu Liujun’s face lit up with delight. She waved her hand, reluctantly bidding farewell to the first friend she had made in Prince Su’s residence.

“Xiao Yu! Xiao Yu!”

From far away, Zhu Qinghou heard Zhu Liujun’s noisy voice. He lazily opened his eyes, casually beckoned her over, and reached out to pat her head. “Why did it take you so long to come find me?”

Zhu Liujun, unusually obedient, let him pat her head. Then her mouth started running again—she had wanted to come earlier, but those people kept refusing. Only today did they allow her to come.

Hearing this, Zhu Qinghou raised an eyebrow slightly. What was special about today? Had Li Zhen given the order?

Speaking of which, he hadn’t seen Li Zhen for several hours now.

He wondered how Li Zhen was doing right now.

With the Mother Gu acting up, he probably found some secluded place to endure it alone.

At this thought, for some reason, the image of blood seeping over snow-white, distinct knuckles suddenly surfaced—the stark contrast of snow-white and blood-red, glaring and piercing to the eye.

It stung Zhu Qinghou’s eyes a little, making him inexplicably uncomfortable.

He dismissed it as phantom pain, not dwelling on it. He casually jumped off the palanquin, took Zhu Liujun’s hand, and led her into the hall.

The great hall was deep, magnificent, and opulent, adorned everywhere with the luster of pearls and jade. Yet, the light was dim, everything hazy and indistinct, exuding an aura of beautiful, glorious decadence pushed to the extreme.

Zhu Liujun felt as if she had entered a bizarre, grand temple. Holding onto Xiao Yu’s sleeve, she didn’t dare move, following step by step. She sighed, “Xiao Yu, this place feels like a big cage.”

Just getting in required winding through many turns, passing through layers of hall doors. The environment was deep, secluded, and dim, as if afraid people outside would discover there was still a palace here.

Zhu Qinghou usually didn’t pay much attention; after all, it was too dark here, perfect for falling asleep. As for the other furnishings and decorations, he didn’t really care.

“…A cage?”

He narrowed his eyes, lifting the lantern to look at the main hall, realizing that Zhu Liujun’s description was quite fitting.

"Not bad," Zhu Qinghou remarked lazily, "at least it’s much better than the imperial prison."

Zhu Liujun couldn’t shake off a sense of unease. As a prisoner, Xiao Yu living in such a vast, lavish yet sinister hall… wasn’t that a little weird?

Putting aside these troubling thoughts, she gently tugged at Zhu Qinghou’s sleeve and whispered mysteriously:

"Xiao Yu, when are we going to escape? I’m all set."

-----------------------

Author’s Note: After some thought, I decided on this title. Xian Pu’s mindset is slowly shifting—from loving and hating Xiao Yu while tormenting himself, to gradually yielding, realizing he can’t break free from his love for Xiao Yu, and starting to want to tame him.

This chapter comes with a hundred red envelopes as a thank-you to everyone [heart].