Chapter 12: Fire

Chapter 12: Fire!

So Shen Yichen had been locked in the small ancestral hall for several days now.

He was used to it by now, having grown up this way.

Fortunately, in recent years, Chuliu had secretly slipped him some steamed buns and dried pancakes, so he didn't starve.

Chuliu was his personal attendant, once the lowest-ranking servant in the mansion, who had nearly been beaten to death for stealing a piece of cake that Shen Qinglan had thrown away, driven by hunger.

Shen Yichen had saved him.

Later, Chuliu stayed by his side, but unfortunately, he was often dragged down by his master, going hungry more often than not, and occasionally having to share his own rations to help him out.

Being stuck with a master like him was truly bad luck.

Even so, Shen Yichen was now famished and lightheaded.

The small ancestral hall was remote; he couldn't hear the commotion outside, but he sensed that the Shangshu Mansion seemed unusually busy today, as though someone important had arrived.

But whoever it was, it was none of his business.

Until he vaguely heard muffled voices at the door, followed by the sound of the lock being opened.

He thought they were letting him out, but soon he felt something was wrong.

Over the years, he had been locked in the ancestral hall frequently, and every time he was released, it was Wang Shuci's old servant—who threw his weight around thanks to his master's authority—who came to deliver the message and also to mock and humiliate him.

So he was extremely familiar with this person's footsteps.

Moreover, being in such a quiet environment had unexpectedly honed his hearing to an exceptional degree.

The newcomer's steps were light and slow, deliberately quiet and slow, giving an inexplicable impression of sneaky and shifty behavior.

Shen Yichen was instantly on alert.

He quickly scrambled up from the ground, steadying his weak, unsteady body to hide behind the inner door, and grabbed the only weighty object on the table—a censer.

Soon, a foot came into view.

The shoes were plain, and the robes were coarse and faded.

This attire was even shabbier than that of the lowest servant in the Shangshu Mansion.

Shen Yichen was certain this person wasn't from the mansion.

But how had he gotten in, and where were the guards at the gate?

Shen Yichen's mind raced, though he had no time to think it through; his gut told him this person was trouble.

So, the moment the intruder stepped into the small ancestral hall, Shen Yichen, without hesitation, slammed the censer into his head.

A muffled grunt, and ashes went flying everywhere.

The man slowly turned his head toward him, and the already nervous Shen Yichen was so startled by his appearance that he stumbled back several steps.

The ashes had covered the man's face and head, making his face look like a sloppy, painted ghost mask.

In the shadows, it was eerie and terrifying.

Not only that, but the man was tall and burly, with a brutish face and a stubbly beard. He now glared at Shen Yichen with wide, vicious eyes.

"You dare hit me?"

Shen Yichen's body stiffened, his mind racing, but he couldn't think of any way to subdue this man.

"I'm hitting you, you scoundrel! Do you know where this is? Do you know who this young master is? Who gave you the nerve?!"

He put on a brave front, but inside, he was panicking.

As he spoke, he unconsciously backed away, while the brute-faced man closed in step by step with a sinister grin.

"Everyone in the capital knows who the eldest young master is. Do you know why I'm here?"

Shen Yichen grew more flustered, but then he noticed that after just two steps, the brute-faced man's body suddenly began to sway uncontrollably, as if overcome by dizziness.

Shen Yichen caught sight of two streams of blood slowly trickling down from the top of his head.

Feeling the blood-soaked ashes on his face, the brute-faced man wiped his face in a rage.

Seizing that moment, Shen Yichen, with all his might, swung the censer and slammed it hard against the man's forehead again.

A dull thud echoed.

The man finally collapsed, his eyes still wide open.

Shen Yichen didn't dare let his guard down for a second. He staggered out of the inner room and rushed toward the door.

Reality hit him like a blow.

The door was locked again, and no matter how hard he pulled, he couldn't budge it.

Everything that had puzzled him earlier suddenly became clear.

How had he gotten in? The guards at the gate must have deliberately let him in.

What's more, after the thug entered, the guards locked the door again.

Their intent was clear.

At this point, there was no point in even calling for help.

Shen Yichen gritted his teeth in fury.

Such a despicable scheme—who else could it be but that Wang guy?

But Shen Yichen was never one to back down easily.

He didn't know what Wang Shuci's scheme was aimed at, but it couldn't be anything good, and his gut told him he had to leave immediately, or the consequences would be disastrous.

However, the small ancestral hall was empty, the only window had been sealed shut long ago, and the door was locked.

The corner where Chuliu slipped him things was nothing more than a rat hole the size of a fist.

He had almost no way to escape, and Shen Yichen was cornered with no way out.

His body grew weaker, and he grew increasingly drowsy.

Gritting his teeth, Shen Yichen used his hairpin to slash a deep gash on his arm.

As the searing pain jolted him, his foggy mind finally sharpened a bit.

Watching the blood drip from his wounds, Shen Yichen's already dark eyes turned even more vicious.

He gritted his teeth and charged back into the inner shrine.

He first stuffed the two memorial tablets into his shirt, hugging them tight, then grabbed the only oil lamp on the offering table and went straight to the boarded-up window, torching it without a second thought.

It was either burn through the window and crawl out, or burn to death right there in the shrine.

Whatever that Wang bastard was plotting, he'd rather die than let him win.

The window was old and rickety, and with oil splashed on it, it went up in flames almost instantly.

Luckily, the guard at the door seemed to be gone, and no one noticed for a while—until the fire started spreading.

His body was already spent, and with all the smoke he was sucking in, Shen Yichen quickly realized things were way worse than he'd thought.

He tried again and again to pry the window open but couldn't, and nearly set his own clothes on fire more than once.

The fire kept growing, spiraling out of control, and he had no time to care about the searing pain all over him.

Finally, he managed to pry the window open.

But just as he hauled himself onto the windowsill, risking getting burned alive, he suddenly felt a crushing grip on his ankle, locking him in place.

Shen Yichen spun around and saw that the Brute-faced Man—the one he'd knocked out cold earlier—had somehow woken up and was now yanking on his foot with a murderous look.

"Let go, let me out first!"

"In your dreams!"

Shen Yichen kicked with everything he had, but he was too weak, and the Brute-faced Man's grip was like iron around his foot.

The fire was already out of control, and thick smoke and flames were closing in on them.

Shen Yichen felt hopeless.

At least his father and older brother were waiting for him—if he died and got to see them again, maybe that wasn't so bad.

His mind was slipping away, but Shen Yichen still clung to the window for dear life.

Even if he died, he'd stay right here and take that bastard down with him.

"Father... Elder brother..."

That's when Cheng Yi showed up.

He sprinted all the way over, dragging some young servant along.

The moment he heard Shen Yichen was still locked inside, his murderous aura nearly exploded out of him.

His terrifying presence alone was enough to chill anyone to the bone, and being dragged along at that speed, the servant's face went white as a sheet as he stammered out directions.

Cheng Yi dumped the servant on the road the moment he spotted the smoke, and by the time he burst into the shrine, the fire was fully out of control.

Without a second thought, he kicked the door in and rushed inside.

He quickly spotted Shen Yichen slumped motionless against the window.

As he got closer, he saw some half-dead guy on the floor, one hand still clamped onto Shen Yichen's foot.

Cheng Yi didn't hesitate—he snapped the guy's wrist, hurled him aside, then rushed to check on Shen Yichen.

"Young Master Shen?"

"Shen Yichen?"

Shen Yichen let out a couple of whimpers but didn't respond, just unconsciously clutching something to his chest with both hands.

Cheng Yi scooped him up and leaped out the window.

Shen Yichen lay limp in his arms, his gaunt face deathly pale, his lips pressed tight and completely bloodless.

Cheng Yi's chest suddenly clenched.

Thinking back on it later, Cheng Yi realized just how ridiculously light this guy was—tall for one of the young gentlemen, sure, but he felt like he weighed nothing at all.

Wang Shuci and the others ran into Cheng Yi halfway, and he looked like a demon straight out of hell, carrying the unconscious Shen Yichen in his arms.

"Get the house physician."

His freezing glare cut straight to Wang Shuci.

In that instant, Wang Shuci felt a chill shoot up from his feet and spread through his whole body.

One look was all it took to make him feel like he was staring death in the face.

He was rattled to the bone. After a stunned pause, he scrambled to order someone to get the house physician and also sent for Shen Yunhe.

That look just now—that wasn't some wet-behind-the-ears kid. That was a straight-up monster.

It all happened so fast, and the whole Minister's residence was in an uproar.

Luckily, the little shrine was off in a corner, so the fire didn't spread. By the time the servants put it out, the house physician had already finished his exam.

He had burns on his arms and calves, had inhaled a ton of smoke, and there was a gash on his arm that needed bandaging.

On top of that, the eldest young master's body was already in terrible shape.

So yeah, he was out cold.

Cheng Yi stayed stone-faced the whole time. His murderous aura had faded, but he still looked terrifying as hell.

Wen Wanning's heart ached at the sight of the frail young man on the bed, and when she saw him clutching those memorial tablets even while unconscious, she felt a mess of emotions.

Shen Yichen had one hand pressed tight to the memorial tablets on his chest, and the other was gripping Cheng Yi's lapel for dear life.

The house physician couldn't pry his hand loose, and even when Chuliu came running in crying, he still couldn't get him to let go.

Chuliu was shaking all over, scared out of his mind and crying, and could only drop to his knees in front of Cheng Yi, helpless.

Cheng Yi just sat down on the edge of the bed and let him hang on.

The house physician wrote a prescription, applied the medicine, and kept himself busy for a while.

Everyone in the room wore a different look on their face.

Wang Shuci watched coldly from the sidelines, his dark eyes churning with barely contained fury.

Although he had long known this bastard could be a handful, he never imagined that after starving him for days and preparing so thoroughly, something like this would still go wrong.

Damn little bastard.

As everyone was lost in their own thoughts, Cheng Yi turned sideways and lowered his gaze, noticing that the person on the bed, drifting in and out of consciousness, was parting his pale lips as if murmuring something.

He couldn't help but lean in slightly, only then did he make out that the words repeated over and over were "Papa."

He suppressed the complex emotions within him, trying not to let any unwanted emotion show, yet in a spot no one else could see, he slowly placed his hand over Shen Yichen's thin one.

The fingers were ice-cold, the bones so prominent they pressed against his palm.

His big hand tightened involuntarily.

He wondered how much suffering Shen Yichen had endured over the years, and how many near-death experiences he had faced.

Perhaps sensing the warmth from his hand, Shen Yichen's tightly furrowed brow finally relaxed, and he gradually calmed down.

After the physician left, Cheng Yi finally shot a cold look at Wang Shuci.

"Madam Shen, today is the day my mother and I came to ask for your son's hand, yet my betrothed was locked in the ancestral hall and almost burned alive."

"Shouldn't the Shangshu Mansion provide an explanation?"

Wen Wanning remained silent, clearly leaving Cheng Yi to take the lead.

Wang Shuci's expression darkened, and he then gave a signal to his attendant.

Before long, two guards dragged in a disheveled man like a dead dog.

This man was none other than the brute-faced man whom Cheng Yi had thrown out of the fire.