Chapter 17: This Mouth of Yours Deserves to Be Torn

Chapter 17: This Mouth of Hers Really Needs Ripping

Though Su Yi was a refined scholar, he was sharp and blunt with his words, well-traveled and knowledgeable, and could read people like a book. He could always accurately sense Li Zhiming's preferences and speak of things he wished to know.

The two of them shot the breeze and laughed, having a grand old time.

Word around the manor was that the eldest young master had brought back another man, and this one knew exactly how to work him, spinning the young master right around his finger—he'd been holed up in the guy's courtyard for days, head over heels.

Word of this naturally got back to Sang Yu.

He sat around bored out of his mind in the little courtyard, watching the tree shadows dance, watching the clouds roll by and fade, watching the sun crawl its way west.

Last time, the emperor told him to stay put in the Chancellor's estate and not go anywhere.

That was basically the emperor giving Li Zhiming the green light to keep him locked up—and even slapped another set of chains on him, keeping him trapped here.

But this courtyard hadn't seen a single visitor in ages.

The bastard who'd grabbed him in the first place had already forgotten he existed, spending all his time holed up in some other courtyard.

He wondered if his own wounds had even healed.

Sang Yu pressed on the wounds that still throbbed dully. Scars crisscrossed his skin in twisted patterns, some still oozing blood, and the pain kept him up at night. He was almost out of his medicine.

He grabbed the last bit he had left and tucked it into his sleeve, then, for the first time, stepped out of his courtyard and headed next door.

"The eldest young master isn't here."

The servant rolled his eyes at him like he was scum, looking at him like some beggar.

"Where'd he go?" He squeezed the ointment in his fist.

"He's over at Young Master Su's place. The eldest young master said you're to stay in your courtyard and not leave. This ain't your Nanxun, so you'd better do what the eldest young master says."

"Mm."

Sang Yu came back from next door, staring down at the ointment, his lips white.

The two maids in the yard saw him come back empty-handed and started whispering to each other.

"Look at this one, always trying to climb up the ladder. He thinks the eldest young master actually likes him? He's just a new toy—show him a little kindness and he comes crawling back."

"Exactly. He always gives the eldest young master the cold shoulder, but now that the young master's stopped coming, he's going running after him like a shameless fool."

"Pfft, probably trying to pull some seduction stunt. We've seen his type a hundred times."

"Young Master Su's way better. The eldest young master's been spending all his time with Young Master Su lately. We ought to suck up to Young Master Su too—might get something out of it later."

"Right, right. I seriously don't get why the eldest young master keeps this bastard around. He could have any pretty face he wants; it's not like he's the only one out there."

"Who knows. A bastard's a bastard—maybe he pulled some tricks."

"Speaking of tricks, I heard his birth mother, that former Nanxun Eldest Princess, used her slutty wiles to seduce the emperor and—ah—"

She didn't get to finish before her eyes went wide with terror.

Sang Yu was standing in the doorway—no one knew when he'd shown up.

He crossed the distance in a flash, grabbed her by the throat, and, under her terrified stare, lifted her clean off the ground with one hand.

Her face went purple, her eyes bulging like they were about to pop out of her skull, her legs flailing in the air, kicking for dear life.

"Heh, this mouth of hers really needs ripping apart."

Sang Yu suddenly let out a low laugh. That eerie laugh in the dead-silent courtyard was scarier than a vengeful ghost, freezing them all in place, too scared to move or even breathe.

Crack.

Dark red blood seeped from the maid's lips. Her head flopped to the side, and she went still.

Sang Yu let go without a flicker of emotion, staring at the limp body and the blood like it was just a dead fish—nothing special.

But his eyes were full of black frost. He just tilted his head a little, and a cold wind seemed to blow.

The other maid finally snapped out of it, scared out of her mind, her face white as a sheet as she bolted.

She barely made it a few steps before she was yanked back hard and hurled, her head slamming into the stone steps and splitting open.

Ignoring the searing pain, she kowtowed like her life depended on it: "I was wrong! This servant was wrong! I shouldn't have spoken nonsense! Please—"

Her plea for mercy was cut short mid-sentence.

Sang Yu casually plucked a dead leaf and flicked it.

That lifeless leaf turned into a razor in his hand, slicing across the maid's mouth and leaving a long, bloody cut.

Blood poured out endlessly, and she could only whimper, unable to make a sound.

Slowly, waiting for death.

The thin, gaunt youth stood quietly to the side, watching. His eyes, like a dry well, fixed on his prey until she was completely still, dead through and through.

Through the scent of blood drifted a faint, ghostly sigh: "You shouldn't have spoken of my mother. You all deserve to die. I'll kill them all—I'll kill all the foolish people in this world."

She was the victim.

Why did everyone in this world place the blame on his mother?

Was being powerless a sin?

Was being born a woman a crime?

Did the weak not deserve justice?

These foolish, filthy people all deserved death. They should all die. Not one could be spared.

He lowered his gaze to look at his blood-stained hands, and in his eyes, flames of extreme excitement gradually flickered—a taste of exhilaration.

He revealed a bizarre smile, twisted and contorted.

Perhaps he carried the blood of that madman, and so he had inherited some of the madman's perversion.

The dark youth pulled a handkerchief from his bosom and carefully wiped his hands, inch by inch. Two black-clad figures appeared silently and stuffed the corpses into burlap sacks.

"Dispose of them cleanly."

"Yes."

The man in black knelt on the ground, wiping up the bloodstains. Sang Yu tossed the handkerchief aside, cracked his stiff neck, and went back inside to sleep.

These two maids were assigned to wait on Sang Yu, and they usually lived in the small side rooms of the courtyard, so when they vanished, nobody noticed at first.

He flicked his fingers.

"What are your orders, my lord?"

"Tonight at midnight, in that room in the West Courtyard, send the person inside... to their death."

"At once!"

Li Zhiming, oh Li Zhiming, don't you just love hanging out with that Young Master Su?

Tonight, he'll be a corpse.

Are you happy?

You should be, shouldn't you?

Or maybe you'll be scared stiff, your eyes going red like a rabbit's.

He chuckled softly, a hint of eerie delight in the sound.

Night fell.

All was quiet.

Li Zhiming was still in Su Yi's room, chatting about history, past and present.

Outside, the second watch sounded.

Su Yi gave a small yawn, a hint of tiredness creeping in.

Only then did Li Zhiming snap back—he'd been so into the chat that he'd lost track of time again. He quickly excused himself, ready to head back to his own courtyard.

As he pulled the door open, his cheerful smile froze on his face.

The smile was gone.

"Lord Li!"

An arrow hit him square in the chest. He looked down—the wound was already turning black, blood seeping out.

The pain was enough to make him curl up.

Damn it, the arrow's poisoned.

He was done for.