Chapter 45: Fortune

Chapter 45: Luck

Yuan Rang didn't care.

Birthdays weren't important—what mattered was that this day had been given meaning because of Chen Shuoan.

He stopped, took off the cloak from his own shoulders, and draped it back over Chen Shuoan, smiling as he agreed: "Alright."

By the time they returned to the bedchamber, Chen Shuoan's cheeks were flushed from the cold.

He bustled about ordering servants to heat water, then warned Yuan Rang not to let the water touch his wounds, and to call for a servant to apply medicine after his bath.

Yuan Rang obediently agreed, but just as Chen Shuoan was about to dash out, he grabbed him back, his expression dark.

"Where are you going?"

Chen Shuoan patted his hand to reassure him. "Making dumplings and noodles—I'll fix you something warm and hearty. It's gonna be delicious."

This is basically spicy hot pot, bro—you've gotta try it.

Yuan Rang had no intention of letting this guy out of his sight. His dark eyes locked onto the snowball-like figure in front of him, he insisted stubbornly: "I'm coming with you."

Chen Shuoan looked at the bruises on his face, both pained and exasperated. "Be good, okay? Go take a hot bath. You wore so little today—you're gonna catch a cold."

Yuan Rang said nothing, still holding his hand tight.

Chen Shuoan: "..."

Stubborn as a donkey.

"I'm counting to three, I swear."

As it turned out, even counting to thirty thousand wouldn't have helped.

Yuan Rang hoisted him onto his shoulder in one swift motion, nearly knocking the food right out of his stomach.

Chen Shuoan was furious and frantic, squirming wildly on his shoulder while trying not to brush against his wounds.

"You're not listening to me at all!"

I'm doing this for your own good, you know!

A sharp *smack* echoed through the room.

Chen Shuoan turned his head in disbelief. A hand was on his butt, the skin still tingling.

Yuan Rang's face was dark as he shot him a cold sidelong glance. "Then you be the good one."

Chen Shuoan: "..."

I can't show my face anymore. I just got spanked by a kid.

Chen Shuoan finally made it to the kitchen, but with Yuan Rang staring at him without blinking, he was nervous as hell.

He looked up at the ceiling in despair.

Am I some kind of criminal?! Why is he watching me like I'm about to steal something?!

His hands trembling, he dropped the hand-pulled noodles into the pot, feeling more nervous than when he'd competed in competitions.

He tossed in the freshly wrapped dumplings too, along with some veggies and cured meat—a balanced mix of meat and greens, nutritionally complete.

This was a bowl of spicy hot pot made with love.

Chen Shuoan thought, feeling satisfied.

Yuan Rang stood silently nearby, just watching him bustle around, his eyes dark and intense, something wild lurking beneath the surface.

While the pot simmered, Chen Shuoan quietly walked over to Yuan Rang and studied his face, asking in a deliberately casual tone: "Last time it was because of schoolwork. What about this time? Do you want to tell me?"

Yuan Rang's handsome, hard face was streaked with dried blood and covered in gruesome wounds. He pulled Chen Shuoan into his arms, rested his chin on his shoulder, and let out a satisfied sigh.

"She's got a sickness in her head. I'm used to it."

Those casual words hit Chen Shuoan like a heavy blow.

He reached out and gently stroked Yuan Rang's temple, his voice soft. "Has it been like this for as long as you can remember?"

Yuan Rang looked indifferent, as if it had nothing to do with him. "I don't remember."

How could he not remember?

He remembered being locked in a dark room for days without food.

Being thrown into an ice-cold lake in the dead of winter.

Being called over for countless beatings, scoldings, and outbursts of resentment.

Sometimes it was lashes, sometimes scratches—fists and feet used to vent her rage.

She could even coo softly at a kitten, teaching it to bare its fangs and tear at his flesh, to extend its claws and scratch his skin.

So why even give birth to him?

So as a child, he cried a lot, grieved a lot, and never understood where his mother's intense hatred for him came from.

Why could even a kitten be happier than him, getting her encouragement and affection?

But it didn't matter anymore. He had something he wanted far more.

Yuan Rang thought, his mind cold and detached.

Liu Shuxian's dad was the Minister of Revenue.

He was using her to cling to that powerful tree—so what if he had to put up with a little torment?

It wasn't going to kill him.

Everything comes at a price.

That was a lesson he'd learned as a kid.

If he was born in darkness, he'd crawl his way out.

But luck had quietly found him at fourteen, and it would stick with him for years to come.

Yuan Rang smiled, his eyes softening.

He wouldn't tell his luck about all this messed-up stuff. What would be the point of that?

He's gonna cry, isn't he?

"I don't remember."

Yuan Rang repeated, keeping Chen Shuoan locked tight in his arms.

"You're seriously great. If she doesn't like you, that's her loss, got it?" Chen Shuoan whispered softly by his ear.

"When you do stuff, stop asking yourself 'why me' so much—ask others 'who the hell do you think you are' instead. Stop exhausting yourself with overthinking; go crazy and exhaust other people instead."

Chen Shuoan's small face was full of seriousness as he grabbed Yuan Rang's shoulders and shook him vigorously, as if trying to etch those words deep into his mind: "Throw morality out the window and just be yourself."

Yuan Rang chuckled and replied, "Yes, Master Chen, I've got it."

Chen Shuoan was satisfied, but then noticed Yuan Rang's temperature felt a bit too hot. He carefully dodged the wounds on Yuan Rang's face and pressed the back of his hand to his forehead—yep, definitely burning up.

Chen Shuoan: "..."

You stubborn jackass, you got a fever or what?

Stubborn-as-a-mule Yuan Rang didn't flinch, doubling down and refusing to budge: "I don't have a fever."

Chen Shuoan was even more worried than him, knowing exactly how pigheaded he was. He yanked his hand away, dashed to the stove, scooped all the noodles into a bowl, and shoved it at him.

Eat up, you damn ancestor.

"Hurry up and eat, then go shower! Then sleep!" Chen Shuoan snapped, his doe eyes wide. He bent his index and middle fingers, pointed at his own eyes, then at Yuan Rang. "I've got my eyes on you."

Staying up late can kill you—you trying to prove you're not scared of dying?

Yuan Rang took the bowl, which was bigger than his face, and chuckled: "Alright, then, Shuo'an, keep me company."

Chen Shuoan's brain went straight to the gutter, and he asked, confused: "Keep you company for what? A shower?"

Yuan Rang paused mid-bite, raised an eyebrow in surprise, then a sly grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"You'd be down for that?"

Chen Shuoan realized what he'd just said, his face flushing crimson, but then he remembered this was his ride-or-die bro, so he played it cool: "Why not? I'd even scrub your back for you."

————

"Come here."

Chen Shuoan stood off to the side, looking as wronged as a scorned wife.

Running his mouth had felt great in the moment—now this was his punishment.

Chen Shuoan shuffled over reluctantly, and Yuan Rang caught him by the waist, easing him down into the water.

Chen Shuoan: "..."

Dude, what are you trying to pull here?

Is this really the kind of relationship where we bathe together?

Don't you think this is getting a little too intimate?!

Chen Shuoan grumbled to himself, his face so red it looked like it might bleed. He felt Yuan Rang's warm breath on his neck, stared blankly at the water, and bit his lip, nervous.

Yuan Rang's dark eyes were clouded with desire from the steam. He stared at Chen Shuoan's lips, bitten a bright red, swallowed hard, and asked in a husky, teasing voice: "Shy?"

He reached out, brushed Chen Shuoan's wet black hair back from the hot water, and tucked it behind him: "What's there to be shy about when you're still dressed?"

Chen Shuoan felt a shiver as the wet hair slid across his skin, his earlobes turning a deep, rich red.

There were just some things he really didn't know how to put into words.

But Your Highness... you're not wearing anything.