Chapter 21: But a Madman Is a Madman After All

Chapter 21: But a Madman Is Still a Madman

Sang Yu's voice was muffled: "I'm a cursed bastard. My father was a madman, and my mother was driven mad. Will I become a madman like him?"

"..."

Li Zhiming hadn't expected him to suddenly share this.

He definitely didn't expect him to be sober the moment he hit the bed—he'd had to fight like hell just to get him into it.

For a second, he was at a loss for words.

He wanted to ask, but rationally and morally, he couldn't, and he even felt a bit wary of what was coming next.

"Li Zhiming, will you stay with me?"

This was the first time Sang Yu had called his name. His tearful eyes were tinged with red at the corners, his dark pupils veiled in a hazy mist, gazing at him with broken, desperate eyes.

At this moment, Sang Yu was just a poor kid who'd gotten drunk and started dwelling on his pain.

He curled up into a ball, barely tugging at the hem of Li Zhiming's shirt, like a lost kid who'd been snatched, his face full of sorrow.

Li Zhiming's heart went soft again. He sat on the edge of the bed, letting his legs serve as Sang Yu's pillow.

His ink-black hair spilled over Li Zhiming's lap, tickling him.

He reached out without thinking and ran his fingers through it.

It was so soft and silky.

The room went dead quiet again. All that was left was the sound of their breathing, in and out, and the rich smell of wine hanging in the air, messing with his head.

Li Zhiming could hold his liquor and had been careful about how much he drank, but even he was starting to feel woozy.

Especially with everything so quiet—he sat there, and his head started to get fuzzy, nodding off like a chicken pecking at grain.

Finally, his stray hand landed smack on Sang Yu's face.

"..."

"..."

Li Zhiming jolted awake, his temples throbbing, his whole body going rigid.

A drunk lunatic was even scarier when he lost it.

But after a long wait, Sang Yu didn't show any signs of flipping out. He just snuggled closer, burying his face in Li Zhiming's clothes.

This... was kind of weird.

Li Zhiming shifted carefully and saw the kid look up, staring at him with big, deer-like eyes, like he was about to cry any second.

"Uh, I... my leg fell asleep."

"You can lie down." Sang Yu quietly got off his lap and shifted aside, making room.

"..."

He didn't dare say no. He dutifully kicked off his shoes, got onto the bed, and lay down next to him. His tingling legs and back felt way better right away.

Yeah, lying down was definitely the move.

"My mother was the Grand Princess of Nanxun. She was stunning, so gentle, and she loved me so much..."

Sang Yu suddenly began speaking in a soft, slow voice.

Li Zhiming was a little caught off guard. Should he say something?

"They all call me a cursed bastard. And yeah, they're right. I feel like one too—like I shouldn't even be alive."

"..."

Yeah, better to stay quiet.

There was no way to keep this conversation going.

He just stayed quiet, staring up at the bed canopy, listening to Sang Yu's low, even voice—half talking to himself, half confessing—as he slowly spilled the secrets of the Nanxun royal family.

Sang Yu's mother was the Grand Princess of Nanxun.

She was the late emperor's prized jewel, the most honored woman in Nanxun, a princess everyone envied.

When she turned eighteen, the late emperor carefully picked out a virtuous, talented husband for her. The two were head over heels for each other, and a huge wedding was planned for the whole country to celebrate.

Everyone in Nanxun was jealous of this match, and men everywhere started copying the consort's clothes and mannerisms.

But not long after, that perfect, happy marriage suddenly hit a disaster.

The consort, still young and strong, suddenly came down with a weird illness. He was bedridden overnight, and in less than half a month, he was dead.

The late emperor, feeling sorry for her, wanted to break tradition and pick her a new husband.

But word was that the princess was shattered, couldn't accept what happened. In her grief, she refused to marry again and stayed alone for the rest of her days.

So the late emperor had the most lavish palace built for her.

He also sent the seven-year-old crown prince, who'd lost his own mother, to live with her, making her his adoptive mother to secure her future.

But no one could've guessed that this favor, which everyone envied, would lead to a tragedy that couldn't be undone.

As the crown prince got older, he grew more and more attached to her.

Everyone figured it was just a kid's love for his mom.

Until the late emperor died, and the sixteen-year-old new king took the throne. All the neighboring kingdoms came to pay their respects to the new ruler.

That year, the Grand Princess was twenty-five years old.

At the coronation, the new king bowed solemnly and swore before the ancestral tablets to follow the late emperor's wishes and protect his mother with honor and care for life.

All the ministers praised the new king for his gratitude and filial piety.

The ceremony came to an end.

The new king hurried eagerly to the Grand Princess's chambers, finally showing his true colors: "Mother, your son... your son can finally have you. Finally."

"Mother, tell me—who is that man? The one who meets with you in secret—who is he?"

"I will kill him. Tell me, Mother, is that okay? I'll kill him, kill him!"

That very night.

Outside, a cold, relentless drizzle was falling.

Inside the bedchamber, the Grand Princess's wails stretched on endlessly, while maids and eunuchs knelt in rows.

No one dared lift their heads, and no one dared intervene.

Confronted with her shock and rejection, he turned into a raving madman, ravaging her desperately, as if to unleash every pent-up desire in his heart, fueled by unfounded jealousy.

When he was seven and first brought to the Grand Princess's side, he had seen a man entwined with her in her bedchamber.

The night before he took the throne, he caught a fleeting glimpse of a figure slipping out of her palace.

Yet he could never figure out who it was, and she stubbornly refused to say a word.

His hatred peaked, and his obsessive possessiveness exploded—he was a madman.

In the aftermath of that night.

Whispers began to spread through the palace, saying that after the late emperor's death, the Grand Princess couldn't bear being alone in her chambers and, using her seductive charms, had seduced her own nephew.

Once a revered imperial mother, she secretly became the new emperor's favored concubine, warming his bed night after night.

The Grand Princess tried to kill herself several times, but within a month, she found herself pregnant—an unwelcome pregnancy that left her too defeated to try again.

Months later, Sang Yu was born.

The mulberry trees grew lush and green—hence his name.

According to the palace attendants, his arrival was a good thing at first, and life seemed to settle into a routine.

But a madman never changes.

He kept the child on a leash like a dog, whipping him daily, using the boy to threaten his mother, forcing her to stay alive and give herself to him willingly.

If she died, the child would surely perish.

His mother was also losing her mind; every time she saw him, she would tremble, touching his bruised body, asking, "A-Yu, does it hurt?"

At first, he would cry and scream about how much it hurt whenever he saw her.

Later, he realized that his pain would only bring his mother even worse suffering.

So, even at that tender age, he would force a smile and shake his head firmly: "It doesn't hurt, not one bit."

How could it not hurt? But compared to the physical pain, he'd rather not see his mother sad.

By age five, he slowly came to realize that he was his mother's chains.

His very existence made her life a living hell.

He began to resist, foolishly dreaming of running away with his mother.

But the palace was full of spies; the two of them were watched at all times, and freedom was utterly impossible. Punishment was all that awaited him.