Chapter 13: The Assassin

Chapter 13 The Assassin

Li Zhiming's heart lurched. He hastily flashed him a smile and raised the sugar figurine in his hand: "I bought this for you. Here, try it."

Sang Yu pulled open the door, his lips pressed into a thin line.

The dark robes suited him perfectly, giving his skin a fair, jade-like complexion, elegant beyond compare—though the scars remained unhealed, like cracks in a beautiful piece of jade.

Li Zhiming held one in each hand and offered them over: "Here, pick one."

Sang Yu didn't take them, his expression unreadable: "What's this for, young master?"

"They're for you to eat. You're stuck in the house all day—I figured you might be bored. Eat something sweet to cheer yourself up. Stop looking so stiff. I'm not messing with you, so relax."

"..."

"Here, this little doll's for you. It kinda looks like you."

Li Zhiming stuffed the grumpy-looking doll into his hand, beaming, his eyes sparkling with excitement and anticipation.

"Try it. Is it good? Come on, hurry up."

It felt like feeding his own pet—so satisfying.

Sang Yu hesitated, then brought the figurine to his lips and gave it a small lick.

Mm, it's sweet.

Even sweeter than the pastry his mom had snuck him as a kid.

He'd never forgotten it.

"It's good, right? Told you. Hahaha."

Seeing the way his eyes lit up and his cold demeanor softened, Li Zhiming felt like he'd struck gold. He boldly pulled Sang Yu down to sit next to him on the steps.

He realized this guy got happy whenever he ate something good.

Just like with the soup earlier.

He had this guy figured out.

Sang Yu nodded. "Mm, it's good."

"Good, glad you like it." Li Zhiming licked his own figurine and said casually, "Oh yeah, I saved some scholar on the street today. Looks like someone was after him. I brought him home."

Sang Yu's expression darkened a little. "Mm."

Why was he telling him this?

As if he could read Sang Yu's mind, Li Zhiming continued: "We're all bros. Maybe he can be one of us too. I figured I'd tell you—we can all hang out sometime."

"Mm."

After he finished his figurine, Li Zhiming headed back to his own courtyard. Sang Yu held the half-eaten figurine, his eyes dark and unreadable, and returned to his room.

"Master."

A man was kneeling in the room. "All targets are dead. No survivors. Awaiting your orders."

Sang Yu leaned against the doorframe lazily, licked the sugar figurine, and closed his eyes in contentment: "So sweet. Wonder if his is just as sweet."

The kneeling man stayed quiet, bowing his head even lower.

"Heh."

He let out a soft, creepy chuckle, a faint smile curling at the corner of his mouth: "Tell me—he's afraid I'll get hurt, so he gives me candy and buys me figurines. Isn't he good to me?"

The man in black was confused, couldn't figure out what he meant, so he didn't dare say anything.

Sang Yu ignored him, staring at the figurine and talking to himself: "Yeah, he is. He's good to me. He likes me, took me by force, and now he's trying to make me happy so I won't be disappointed. Look how thoughtful he is—he even knows how to calm me down."

"..."

Seriously, the master's talking crazy. What do I even do here?

After a long while—the man's knees had gone numb—Sang Yu finally changed the subject: "I'm in a good mood today. No killing. We'll talk later."

"Yes."

The man in black disappeared in a flash.

That left just him in the room.

Silent. Lonely.

Not long after, someone knocked on the door.

Sang Yu felt a rush of joy without realizing it. He quickly got up, fixed his expression, and opened the door.

It wasn't him.

"Young master, the eldest young master is worried about your injuries and sent us to change your bandages and bring your dinner."

It was those two maids again.

Sang Yu felt restless and annoyed for no reason: "Where is he?"

"The young master is having dinner at Young Master Su's."

Young Master Su...

He narrowed his eyes, his whole vibe turning dangerous.

Not happy.

"Get out."

Sang Yu slammed the door.

The two maids looked at each other, their faces changing instantly.

"He really thinks he's the boss. Having to serve someone like him is such bad luck. Xiaofang, let's go. We'll tell the young master he doesn't need us."

"Exactly. Young Master Su is way better. I saw him earlier—he's so gentle. Unlike this one, who's got a cold face all day."

"If only we could serve Young Master Su. I'd love someone like him. What about you?"

"I... I like, I like, the kind our eldest young master is."

"..."

Sang Yu didn't catch the rest.

Li Zhiming's face flashed through his mind.

The Prime Minister's eldest son, Li Zhiming, had a stunning face. Unlike his own cold, dark vibe, Li Zhiming was handsome in a sunny, gentle, humble way—warm like a spring day.

He had a faint scent.

He couldn't quite place it, but it smelled good—it put him at ease.

When he smiled, those two little dimples were so cute that Sang Yu wanted to pull him in, keep him close, and stare at him all day.

Sang Yu's eyes slowly turned bloodshot. It felt like a fire was raging inside him, burning up to his skull, making him twitchy. The man in black showed up in front of him again.

Night quietly settled in.

The bell for the third watch rang out.

The moon was up over the treetops, and the wind was howling outside. Then, out of nowhere, an attack came.

Feng Yin appeared out of nowhere and started fighting the assassin. Li Zhiming jolted awake but didn't dare go out.

A figure darted past from another direction. His heart clenched. Just as he moved to hide, a dart smashed through the window and nailed him right in the shoulder.

What the hell.

A sharp, throbbing pain shot from his shoulder up to his head. Li Zhiming winced in pain and cursed out loud: "Which bastard's trying to kill your grandpa... Ow, damn, that hurts."

"Young master."

Feng Yin shoved the door open and rushed in. The assassin outside was gone.

When Feng Yin saw the blood and the dart in his shoulder, his face went pale: "Young master, you're injured. Hang in there. I'll go get a doctor."

Li Zhiming was hurting so bad tears were streaming down his face: "It hurts, it hurts. Go quickly."

God, I hate pain.

Feng Yin sprinted out of the courtyard, heading toward the doctor's quarters in the side room.

The moment he left, someone stepped in through the broken moonlight. A man in white pushed the door open, making Li Zhiming jump.

"It's me."

Sang Yu was just in his sleepwear, no robe. In the moonlight, he looked even paler and more fragile, like a strong breeze could knock him over.

"Was there an assassin just now?"

Seeing Li Zhiming clutching his shoulder and wincing, Sang Yu felt weirdly satisfied.

Li Zhiming had grown up in peace—he'd never been through anything like this. Now with a dart still stuck in his shoulder, he was in so much pain he could only quiver his lips, unable to say a word.

He just stared at Sang Yu.

Under his stare, Sang Yu pressed his lips together, walked over, and scooped him up in his arms—steady, not even a wobble.