Chapter 15: Have You Come to Save Me?

Chapter 15 Are You Here to Save Me?

"Um, you don't have to go out and check, it should be fine now. By the way, that assassin really wasn't after you?"

He was still a little suspicious.

Sang Yu quietly looked away: "No."

"That's strange, who would keep trying to assassinate me for no reason? I haven't offended anyone. Earlier there was even a group claiming to avenge you!"

He grumbled, annoyed.

Sang Yu listened in silence, then suddenly spoke coldly: "Ever thought about using someone else to do the killing, young master?"

"What? What do you mean?"

"Nothing. From what you said, Sang Yu was just a pawn for that person."

"..."

He wasn't good at this kind of scheming talk, and besides, he barely knew the few people around him now. He wasn't clear on many things the original owner had done.

Why was it that when others transmigrated or entered books, they directly inherited memories, but he had none of the original owner's memories?

What a pain.

Time ticked by, and the lamp oil was just about gone.

Li Zhiming started yawning while Sang Yu sat there quietly.

"How about we get some sleep? Sorry for bothering you this late. I don't know if there'll be more assassins tonight, so why don't we just crash here for the night?"

If there was still danger, he'd have more chances to test him.

"How are we gonna make do?"

Li Zhiming scooted inward and patted the empty space beside him: "See, the bed's wide enough. Two grown men can easily share it without it being cramped."

The two lay side by side, staring up at the bed canopy.

It was that familiar scent.

Sang Yu quietly breathed in and slowly closed his eyes.

Li Zhiming's shoulder was hurting, so he shifted around, uncomfortable. He turned his head and happened to catch Sang Yu lying there with his eyes closed.

He was good-looking, with a perfect side profile.

Even though he was young, he always had this cold look on his face. Was this what royal pride and bearing looked like? Guess the princes in the palace were also more mature than kids their age.

Back in modern times, he'd still be in college, but here he was running a whole country.

And this kid in front of him—he'd looked it up—wasn't even eighteen yet.

A literal kid.

Sang Yu, who'd just been labeled a kid, felt the eyes on him, but he didn't open his own. His breathing was steady, like he was already asleep.

Before long, he actually fell asleep.

Maybe it had been way too long since he'd slept this peacefully. The second he relaxed, exhaustion hit him like a wave and swallowed him up.

He fell into a deep sleep.

In his dream, he saw that scene again—the one that had haunted his nights and jolted him awake more times than he could count.

He saw that eerie, beautiful sight again.

His mother, naked and dead in front of him, bright red blood pooling at his feet, planting the seed of his nightly nightmares.

That year, he was five.

Twelve years had come and gone, and he'd never once slept soundly.

Every night, he'd be jolted awake by some nightmare or another.

In the middle of the night, Li Zhiming was woken up by the shaking.

Sang Yu was curled up in a ball, shaking, tears leaking from his squeezed-shut eyes, his brows scrunched up hard, looking like he was in serious pain.

"Sang Yu? Sang Yu?"

Li Zhiming quickly shook him, but gently.

No response.

Li Zhiming got worried and grabbed his hand, which was shaking like crazy. The second he did, he got shoved down.

Sang Yu instinctively grabbed his wrist, flipped over, and pinned him down hard, one hand around his throat, eyes scary red with tear tracks at the corners: "Kill..."

"Don't, don't kill me, I, I'm Li Zhiming. Sang Yu, wake up!!"

Li Zhiming shouted desperately at him.

Sang Yu's dazed look slowly shifted, and bit by bit, it was like his soul came back into his body.

He stared at Li Zhiming for a long moment, then muttered as he loosened his grip a little: "Don't kill..."

"Right, right, don't kill. Let go now, you're hurting my wound."

Sang Yu stared at him blankly, let go without a word, then flopped back down, totally drained, staring off into space like he'd been possessed.

Li Zhiming coughed a few times and touched his neck, still shaken. That was close—he'd almost died in his sleep.

"What's wrong with you? Did you have a nightmare?"

Sang Yu didn't seem to hear him, just mumbled in a daze, repeating over and over: "You came to save me, didn't you? Are you here to save me?"

Li Zhiming had no idea what he meant, but he nodded along anyway: "Yes, I'm here to save you. Don't be afraid, I've come to save you. Everything's fine now."

Really?

Sang Yu lowered his eyes, his long lashes brushing down to hide the sadness in them, before his eyes went red and wild: "I'm a bastard child, a nobody's bastard. Nobody saves me, nobody..."

"???"

Him calling himself a bastard?

Bro, what kinda new move is this?

Watching him get more and more agitated, his eyes turning an alarming shade of red, like he was about to blow at any second, Li Zhiming reached out with trembling hands to stroke his head, the way you'd soothe a child.

"Don't say that. You're the only Sang Yu in this whole world. Nobody's a bastard. You're not one, and you're amazing."

"No, I am a bastard."

"..."

Okay, fine, you are.

Li Zhiming only dared to complain in his head, not out loud.

"Would you hate me?"

Sang Yu quieted down, looked up, all that aggression melting away, looking pitiful and helpless, his eyes all watery, as he timidly grabbed hold of Li Zhiming's clothes.

What he was really thinking: If you nod, I'll kill you.

Anyone who'd ever bullied him or looked down on him, he'd kill them all, one by one, not a single one left.

Li Zhiming felt his heart soften, but he was also a little scared, so he shook his head firmly: "How could I? If I hated you, I wouldn't have grabbed you back and kept you locked up. What does that tell you? It tells you I really like you."

Well, liking his handsome face kind of counts as liking, right?

That was the only way he could fool the kid.

Sang Yu's eyes went still: "You like me?"

"That's right."

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and he realized it sounded off, quickly explaining, "Not that kind of like, don't get the wrong idea. I told you I wouldn't cross any lines, so don't worry. I just admire you, that's all, admire."

"Oh," Sang Yu asked, "That kind of like? What kind would that be?"

"..."

"I want to know. No one's ever taught me any of this."

He spoke sincerely, as if he weren't the same person who had suddenly gone mad and cursed himself moments ago.

Li Zhiming was speechless.

A prince, no matter how neglected, how could he not have had a governess to teach him?

Liar.

Probably guessing what he was thinking, Sang Yu added, "I grew up in a prison cell."

"What?"

Li Zhiming was shocked: "Aren't you a prince? Why were you in a prison cell?"

"My father found me an eyesore, wanted me to live poorly and die slowly."

Isn't that a fate worse than death?

How pitiful.

"Now, can you tell me?" he pressed on relentlessly.