Chapter 53: Easy to Invite a Buddha, Hard to Send One Away

Chapter 53: Easy to Invite, Hard to Get Rid Of

Li Zhiming looked around in a daze.

So going back in time only landed him *after* the incident—what was the point of that?! Not a damn bit of good.

Sang Yu looked at him with dead eyes, and took pity, offering a word of comfort: "Isn't the eldest young master a fan of pretty faces? My face is no uglier than Miss Wang's."

"..."

Stop comforting me.

Dude.

Li Zhiming wanted to cry, but his pride wouldn't allow it. He didn't even have the energy to be angry, just sat there in a daze.

Forget Miss Wang or Miss Whoever.

His own innocence mattered more.

There was no saving it. What a disgrace.

Seeing Li Zhiming completely ignore him, looking utterly heartbroken, Sang Yu's patience quickly ran out, and his voice turned cold.

"If the eldest young master is so hung up on that Miss Wang, then I'll just kill her."

Li Zhiming couldn't think anymore. His ears heard the words, but his brain didn't process them. He stayed frozen, completely unresponsive.

Sang Yu huffed, flicked his sleeves, and stormed off.

Later that night.

Li Zhiming bathed as usual, with servants attending him. He took off his outer robe and loosened his underclothes. The servant's expression shifted instantly, and he quickly dropped his gaze, not daring to look.

"Hm?"

He glanced down in confusion and saw a mess of marks—bruises in shades of blue and purple, spelling out exactly what had happened.

That damn bastard.

Li Zhiming's expression stiffened as he explained: "I'm not feeling well, caught some kind of illness. Send for a doctor tomorrow to check on me."

It came off as a bit of a cover-up.

The servant nodded respectfully. "Yes, young master."

"Mm."

By now, sending the servant away would only make things worse and make him look guiltier.

He just brainwashed himself into acting like this was normal and stepped into the bath with help.

The moment he hit the hot water, he felt something indescribable—painful and soothing at once, like the water was seeping into his body, scorching hot.

"Young master, is the water too hot?"

Li Zhiming smoothed his brow and shook his head. "It's fine."

He gripped the edge of the tub and slowly lowered himself down. The second he touched the bottom, he shot up like he'd sat on a bomb, scaring the servants half to death.

"Young master? Are you alright?"

"It's nothing, nothing. Just a bit hot, but it's fine, it's fine."

Bearing the searing pain, Li Zhiming pulled out all the acting skills he had, forcing his face to look like he was enjoying the bath while he scrubbed himself clean.

After his bath, he was helped back to bed.

What a messed-up, ridiculous day.

Li Zhiming lay in bed alone, clutching the blanket, getting more miserable and pissed off the more he thought about it—especially since every wave of pain reminded him of what happened.

"Sang Yu! I swear I'll make you pay for this!"

Li Zhiming gritted his teeth and swore, already planning to find a way to kick him out. He didn't give a damn about the emperor's hints anymore—Sang Yu could go live wherever the hell he wanted.

Just not in his house.

With that settled, Li Zhiming finally fell asleep, still angry and miserable.

The next morning, during breakfast, Feng Yin came back with news: "Young master, something terrible—Miss Wang died suddenly in her room last night. They say it was a sudden illness."

"What?"

Li Zhiming nearly dropped his spoon, shocked. "She's dead?"

Feng Yin nodded. "Yeah, Lord Wang's household is in complete chaos. The prime minister went over early this morning. Ah, it was so sudden, nobody saw it coming..."

Whatever else Feng Yin said after that, Li Zhiming didn't hear a word of it.

Last night, Sang Yu's dark words suddenly echoed back to him: "If the eldest young master is so hung up on that Miss Wang, then I'll just kill her."

Kill her...

There was no way that was a coincidence. Sang Yu said those words last night, and Miss Wang died that same night.

Other people didn't know what kind of psycho Sang Yu was, but he did.

After all these loops, how many times had the guy snapped? He'd killed Li Zhiming countless times, and even offed a prince without batting an eye.

Killing a Miss Wang was nothing to him.

"Why didn't the eldest young master call me to eat with him?"

Sang Yu walked over in white robes, smiling, looking every bit the refined gentleman.

Li Zhiming's face instantly turned pale.

Only he knew what kind of black heart lay beneath those white robes.

Sang Yu sat down across from him without ceremony. After all this time together, they'd long abandoned formalities and often dined together.

Feng Yin, used to it, naturally set out an extra set of bowls and chopsticks for Sang Yu.

He took a sip of porridge, looked up, and saw Li Zhiming not moving at all.

"Why isn't the eldest young master eating? Didn't sleep well last night?"

Li Zhiming stared at Sang Yu's serene, untroubled face, found it unsettling no matter how he looked at it. How could someone so gorgeous and pretty be so insane?

He'd lost his appetite and waved off Feng Yin and the maidservant beside him: "You may all leave now."

"Yes."

Everyone filed out, leaving just the two of them seated across from each other.

Sang Yu continued eating his breakfast elegantly, as if nothing were any different, as if all of this were just a dream spun from Li Zhiming's own imagination.

But the marks and sensations he felt made it clear this was no hollow dream.

"Did you do that to Miss Wang?"

Li Zhiming got straight to the point.

Sang Yu didn't answer directly. Instead, he arched an eyebrow and shot back: "When you heard the news, young master, were you sad? Or just disappointed?"

No reply, but it might as well have been one.

Li Zhiming slammed his hand on the table in fury: "Sang Yu! Miss Wang was innocent. She never wronged you. Why would you murder an innocent person?"

Sang Yu blinked with an innocent look: "You should have evidence before you talk, young master. I never said it was me."

"You—"

"Also, is the young master this angry because of her?"

"Yes!"

"Say that one more time?"

Sang Yu stood up, bracing both hands on the table, leaning forward slowly. His dark eyes radiated a bone-chilling coldness. The flimsy facade of peace between them had finally been ripped away.

Li Zhiming wanted to retort, but those eyes reminded him of the struggle and pain in the deep sea last night, and his courage faltered for a moment.

He averted his gaze, setting his jaw stubbornly.

"I don't understand. Why do you take it out on others? I've already treated you like a brother. Why are you still jealous of me, can't stand to see me do well, and want to humiliate me?"

"Jealous?"

Sang Yu seemed to hear the joke of the century, his eyes crinkling into a smile.

He looked Li Zhiming up and down, then sneered disdainfully: "The young master has no talent and no virtue. There seems to be nothing about you that could make me jealous."

"Then why do you—"

He couldn't finish the sentence.

"Want to know?"

Sang Yu stared at him darkly.

"Stop playing games with me. I'm telling you, by tomorrow at the latest, you move out. My place can't hold a god like you. I won't expose you, but you'd better get the hell out of here!"

Unable to bear that look in Sang Yu's eyes, Li Zhiming gave up all pretense and laid his cards on the table.

Sure enough, the air within three meters of Sang Yu dropped several degrees, freezing enough to make one shiver, bringing with it a silent gale.

"Li Zhiming, inviting a Buddha is easy, but sending one away is hard. If you want me to leave, it'll only happen over my dead body. And when I die, I'll drag you down with me. Understand?"