Shen Yu’s eyes shone like two little lanterns. While she cracked sunflower seeds, she urged the system on frantically in her mind.
The system’s cheerful, cheeky broadcast voice didn’t hesitate for a second, delivering the most lethal answer:
[He actually buried the secret letters and the remaining stolen loot under the kennel of that big yellow dog in the backyard!] [Hahahaha! Oh my god, does this old man have some kind of weird fetish?]
Shen Yu laughed so hard in her heart she nearly tumbled off the little stool.
[The system says that big yellow dog is incredibly possessive of its food; even the mansion’s cooks don’t dare get near its kennel. In order to bury the stuff, Steward Li was chased and bitten halfway across the street in the middle of the night—his crotch was ripped wide open!] [And that kennel hasn’t been washed in years; it reeks of dog urine. This old fox really had the stomach for it.] [It’s incredible. Even the dog hates the stench of his rotten soul!]
Shen Yu’s internal monologue was like a barrage of machine-gun fire, scrolling frantically across Chu Xiao’s mind.
At that moment, Chu Xiao, sitting in his wheelchair, was facing the greatest crisis of his life regarding his “poker face.” His handsome face, which was usually as cold as frost and chilled everyone to the bone, was struggling to hold its composure.
A kennel? His crotch was ripped open by a dog?
A high-level mole planted by the esteemed Crown Prince himself had been reduced to fighting for territory with a stray mutt just to hide evidence of his crimes. This information, ridiculous to the extreme, was a hundred times more absurd than the memorials written by those old farts in the imperial court.
Chu Xiao ground his back teeth, forcefully suppressing the urge to laugh that was bubbling up in his throat. Subconsciously, he raised his hand and covered his mouth with his wide sleeve. To everyone else, this was a dangerous omen—a sign that the Prince was truly incensed and about to issue a death warrant. But only he knew that the corners of his mouth had involuntarily twitched. If he had actually laughed out loud, his cold “Living Yama King” persona would have shattered into pieces right then and there.
Chu Xiao took a deep breath, re-freezing the amusement in his eyes and restoring his icy, stern demeanor.
Meanwhile, Steward Li, kneeling on the ground, was still blindly courting his own destruction. He had no idea that his pride and joy—his best-hidden, most secret evidence—had already been picked clean in the minds of those watching him. He only saw the air pressure around Chu Xiao dropping lower and lower, his gaze becoming more and more terrifying.
Steward Li was ecstatic, believing the Prince’s fury had reached its peak. He seized the opportunity and slammed his head against the bluestone tiles again, the sound of his skull hitting the stone echoing through the courtyard.
“Your Highness! You must not show mercy to such an arrogant wretch!” “She dared to splash hot soup on your servant today; tomorrow, she’ll dare to poison your food!” “The Marquis of Dingguo sent such a manic, cast-off fool here with malicious intent, clearly trying to insult you, Your Highness!” “I beg you to issue an order to cane this wicked woman to death as a warning to all, to uphold the majesty of your mansion!”
Steward Li shouted until he was hoarse, spit flying everywhere. His wrinkled face was twisted into an ugly, hideous shape by excitement and malice. The servants in the courtyard trembled, not daring to lift their heads, silently reciting prayers for the new Princess’s soul.
Just as the tension hit its peak—as if blood were about to soak the ground—Shen Yu pulled another handful of caramel seeds from her sleeve and cracked one open.
[Tsk-tsk, he’s shouting so happily. Let’s see if you can still scream like that in a moment.]
Listening to this one-man show, Chu Xiao felt it was time to end the farce. He didn’t acknowledge the Steward who was still kowtowing and rambling. Instead, he slowly lowered his hand from his mouth. His slender, well-defined fingers tapped casually on the cold rosewood armrest of his wheelchair.
Tap, tap, tap.
The rhythmic tapping on the wood produced a dull, crisp echo. It wasn’t loud, but in the deathly silent courtyard, each strike sounded like a death knell.
Steward Li’s voice cut off abruptly. He looked up, filled with anticipation, believing the Prince was finally about to issue the order for his execution.
Chu Xiao’s eyes drooped slightly, looking down at the bottom of the steps. His thin lips parted, his voice as cold and emotionless as a wind blade in midwinter.
“Jifeng.”
Jifeng, the cold-blooded shadow guard who had been standing behind the wheelchair like an invisible specter, stepped forward instantly and knelt on one knee.
“This subordinate is here!”
Jifeng’s hand was already on the hilt of his sword, ready to execute Shen Yu on the spot. Everyone’s heart jumped into their throats.
However, Chu Xiao’s next words plunged the entire backyard into a bizarre, suffocating confusion. He didn’t look at Shen Yu, nor did he look at Steward Li. He merely tilted his head slightly, as if pondering a matter of national importance.
He spoke coldly, his tone grave and even tinged with a hint of authority.
“Go to the backyard. I feel the feng shui of that big yellow dog’s kennel is not quite right today.” “Take two men and tear it down for me.”
Total silence.
The wind stopped. The leaves stopped rustling. Even Shen Yu’s seed-cracking came to a polite halt.
Dozens of people in the courtyard, with hundreds of ears between them, all wondered if they hadn’t woken up yet and were experiencing collective auditory hallucinations. Feng shui? The feng shui of a dog kennel?!
The Great Chu’s Ninth Prince, the world-renowned “Living Yama King,” was ignoring the arrogant new Princess who should be punished. He was ignoring the Steward who had been splashed with swill. Instead, he was suddenly concerned about the feng shui of a mutt’s kennel?
This was absurdity upon absurdity!
Jifeng, still kneeling, maintained his posture, completely stunned. His face, usually devoid of expression, was now a mask of bewilderment. Tear down the kennel? He was the Prince’s number-one shadow guard; his daily work involved licking blood off blades and carrying out high-stakes assassinations. And now, his master wanted him to fight a dog for territory and demolish a shack?
Jifeng swallowed hard, trying to confirm he hadn’t misheard.
“Ma… Master? Did you say, tear down… that big yellow dog’s kennel?”
Chu Xiao swept a cold look at him, his eyes sharp as knives, carrying unquestionable pressure.
“What? Is my word no longer worth listening to?”
Jifeng shuddered; he dared not utter another word of nonsense.
“Your subordinate obeys! I will go demolish it at once!”
Gritting his teeth, Jifeng grabbed two guards nearby and bolted toward the backyard. Watching the shadow guard depart, the servants looked at one another. Nobody dared to speak, fearing that the next thing the Prince decided had “bad feng shui” would be their own heads.
And at this very moment, Steward Li, kneeling at the front of the steps, could no longer smile.
The moment he heard the words “backyard,” “big yellow dog,” and “kennel,” his face—which had been flushed red with excitement—drained of all color, turning as white as a sheet, even taking on a sickly, ashen gray hue. His breathing shattered; his chest heaved violently, like a venomous snake being strangled by the neck.
How could this be?! Why would the Prince suddenly mention that kennel!
It must be a coincidence? Yes, it must be! The Prince has always been superstitious about feng shui; perhaps he just found the place displeasing today. Steward Li frantically comforted himself in his heart, trying to grasp at a final straw. But his hands, which had begun to shake uncontrollably, betrayed his extreme terror.
A bead of sweat the size of a soybean seeped from his temple, slid down his wrinkled cheek, and plop—hit the bluestone floor. Then came the second, the third. Within a few short heartbeats, Steward Li’s back was soaked through with cold sweat, as if he had been pulled out of a pond.
He bit his lips hard, eyes wide, staring in horror toward the backyard. He prayed over and over that they wouldn’t dig too deep, that they wouldn’t find that oil-paper package.
Shen Yu, sitting on the steps, took in Steward Li’s soul-shattered appearance. She was in a great mood and slowly spat out a sunflower seed shell.
[Scared now? If you knew it would come to this, you shouldn’t have done it in the first place.] [Embezzling the mansion’s money to gamble and acting as a lapdog for the Crown Prince—you really thought you were seamless, didn’t you?]
Time seemed to stretch into infinity. Each second of waiting was a brutal, inhumane torture for Steward Li. The entire courtyard remained silent, save for the rhythmic tapping of Chu Xiao’s fingers on the armrest.
Tap, tap, tap.
It sounded like the tolling of the bell of the afterlife, counting down his remaining seconds. The autumn breeze in the courtyard seemed to grow colder. The servants, holding washbasins and brooms, didn’t dare to breathe. They didn’t know what kind of evil object had been unearthed in that kennel, only that it had terrified their usually formidable Steward into this pathetic state.
Shen Yu shifted into a more comfortable position, brushed the crumbs off her hands, and sat back to watch the show.
Chu Xiao stopped tapping the armrest, his gaze sweeping over Steward Li’s collapsed body like a sharp blade. The sky over this mansion was finally about to change.
A moment later, hurried footsteps echoed from the moon gate leading to the backyard. Jifeng returned with a cold, stern expression, walking with the heavy, murderous stride of a man on a mission. His complexion was grim, his brows furrowed—clearly, he had found something of grave importance.
In his hands, which were used to wielding blades to take lives, he was carefully clutching a cloth package stained with black mud. Faintly, the package emitted a nauseating stench—the unmistakable, pungent smell of the big yellow dog’s urine.
Steward Li stared fixedly at that familiar cloth package in Jifeng’s hands. His knees suddenly gave way; as if his spine had been ripped out, he collapsed onto the ground.