Chapter 3: Prince of Nanxun

Chapter 3: Prince of Nanxun

Suddenly, the iron chains rattled violently as the youth lunged forward in a frenzy, tugging against his restraints with pained groans escaping his lips. He paid no mind to his wrists being rubbed raw and bloody, seemingly wanting to tear him apart.

He slowly raised his head.

Caught off guard by the eye contact, Li Zhiming nearly lost it.

This kid was seriously good-looking!

Beauty's in the skin and the bones.

He took back everything he'd thought earlier.

Even with blood and grime all over his face, you could still see how handsome he was—sharp features, great bone structure.

At this moment, the youth's pale complexion and scar-covered skin added a kind of broken, tragic beauty.

Pretty and tragic at the same time.

His eyes seemed clouded, but when he looked up, they were like a haunted forest in the deep mountains, ready to drag him into an abyss.

Li Zhiming broke into a cold sweat.

He felt like he was standing on a cliff's edge, one foot already hanging over, staring into a pitch-black abyss below. Suddenly, a massive venomous snake with a flicking tongue lunged at him, its huge mouth dripping with venom and slime.

Li Zhiming's heart was pounding. He swallowed and stepped back without thinking.

He was gorgeous, but those eyes were scary as hell.

This guy was no ordinary dude.

The two remained locked in a standoff, and the dungeon fell into a creepy silence. Nobody dared to make a sound.

Li Zhiming couldn't take the staring anymore. Super awkward and scared, he raised a hand and waved.

"Hey~"

Sang Yu didn't move, his cold, menacing stare making Li Zhiming's skin crawl.

"So, uh, how did you end up like this? This wasn't my order. Really, I didn't tell them to hurt you." Li Zhiming said nervously. "I'll let you loose and you can go. We're square, right?"

Sang Yu still didn't say a word.

Okay, then.

This was getting awkward.

From years of watching TV shows and reading novels, he knew that princes who were neglected and abused like this usually had some psychological issues and secretly trained hidden guards.

Maybe those assassins were his lackeys.

Today one assassin could show up.

Based on what Feng Yin said, tomorrow another one could come, the day after maybe two, and the day after that a whole crew.

One wrong move and he'd be dead.

He needed to get this ticking bomb out of here ASAP.

But right now, the guy wasn't even looking at him. Maybe he'd been tortured so badly he couldn't talk.

Li Zhiming thought for a second, then smacked his fist into his palm.

"How about this: I'll unlock you first, then call a doctor to patch you up. I'll pay double the medical costs, and I swear I'll never cross you again. If you don't wanna stay, you can just walk."

He held up three fingers, looking as sincere as humanly possible.

Still nothing.

He hadn't expected an answer anyway, so he turned and called out, "Feng Yin, unlock the chains."

"Yes."

As Feng Yin went to unlock them, Li Zhiming stood nearby, ready to catch the youth.

There was hardly a place to hold onto—his whole body was covered in wounds, some so deep you could see bone.

Damn, that's brutal.

Li Zhiming sighed to himself, totally unaware that the youth, head still bowed, had shifted a little, his dark eyes gleaming with murderous intent.

After freeing his hands, Feng Yin knelt down to unlock the chains on his feet.

Just then, the half-dead youth suddenly looked up, and his thin, frail hand grabbed Li Zhiming's neck with the strength of an iron ox, lifting him clean off the ground.

Crack.

His neck got twisted and snapped.

Dead.

What the f*ck.

*

"Ugh..."

The feeling of his neck being snapped still lingered. Li Zhiming gagged painfully, his eyes watering, his stomach doing backflips.

It took him a minute to pull himself together.

A new cycle started. With his past experience, Li Zhiming just copied the same move to handle the first problem.

Now he had to carefully figure out what to do about the guy in the dungeon.

The assassins were after Sang Yu.

As long as that guy stayed here, Li Zhiming would never have a moment of peace, with the constant risk of getting killed.

For a powerless hostage prince from a defeated nation to dare kill the prime minister's own son—that meant he didn't give a damn about starting a conflict or causing a war between the two countries.

Or maybe he already had a plan, and whoever was backing him would keep him safe.

This was a tough one.

That guy was a psycho—he'd snap your neck over nothing.

Li Zhiming paced back and forth, desperately racking his brain for games he'd played, books he'd read, and shows he'd watched.

In this situation, it was either kill him or get him to forgive him.

"If I kill him, then his subordinates definitely wouldn't let me off the hook. I'd probably get my throat cut by death warriors every day. I don't know how strong he is; I can't take the risk.

Get him to forgive me...

A person tortured to this state—would he even forgive me?

Fuck, either way is incredibly difficult.

Weighing his options, Li Zhiming decided to try once more. He packed some food and drinks, brought along a damn good doctor, and descended to the dungeon a second time.

Even though he'd braced himself, the stench of blood still made him extremely uncomfortable, and that gaze freaked him out.

Li Zhiming forced what he thought was a friendly smile and spoke with forced humility.

"Zhiming greets Prince Nanxun. Some days ago, I lost my senses and did some disgraceful things. I deeply apologize for that and hope you, with your magnanimity, will overlook past grievances and forgive Zhiming."

Speaking so politely and elegantly should increase his chances, right?

Sang Yu's eyes still had that icy, murderous look.

He said nothing.

After a tense standoff, Li Zhiming dared not release him rashly this time. He quickly opened the food box, and a fragrant aroma wafted out.

The imprisoned youth's throat bobbed.

Battered and bruised all over, he surely hadn't eaten much.

Li Zhiming, you beast!"

He cursed the body's original owner under his breath, lifted his robes, grabbed a small bowl himself, scooped up a spoonful of the fragrant nourishing soup, and carefully held it out to the young man's lips.

"Your body needs to heal, so heavy food's off the table for now. Drink some soup first. Soon as you've got some strength back, I'll let you go."

Sang Yu finally lifted his eyelids, glancing at the spoon by his mouth, his murky eyes narrowing slightly.

Damn, he was hungry.

Li Zhiming held the spoon up, acting all prim and proper like a dutiful little wife.

His voice was almost sickeningly gentle: "Come on, open up, just one sip. Promise it's good."

Sang Yu didn't budge.

Was he scared it was poisoned?

Li Zhiming took the spoon back and brought it to his own lips, taking a sip: "See, it's not poisoned. I'm really just here to make it up to you."

After drinking, he scooped another spoonful and brought it to Sang Yu's mouth again, gazing at his pale, gaunt face with a sigh: "You haven't eaten in ages, have you? Your body can't take much more of this.

There are many people outside who care about you, waiting for you. If you starve to death here, wouldn't that be a great loss?"

That set Sang Yu off.

His eyes went bloodshot in an instant, and like a mad beast, he wrenched at the chains and lunged, sinking his teeth into Li Zhiming's pale, slender wrist.

Hiss.

Li Zhiming let out a pained cry, his fingers losing strength, and the soup bowl crashed to the ground, hot broth splattering everywhere.

"Master!"

Feng Yin rushed over first, raising a palm to strike at the young man.