When Wei San woke up, his head was splitting with pain. He felt as if every part of his body was screaming in agony, even more so than when he had first begun learning martial arts and stretching his tendons as a child.
He wondered suspiciously, besides a headache, could a hangover actually make a person’s whole body ache?
Alcohol was truly something best avoided; just one cup had turned him into this.
He endured the soreness and sat up. Just as he was about to lift the quilt to get out of bed, he saw Wei Zheng walk into the chamber from outside, followed by an attendant.
The attendant held a tray with both hands, and the clear, savory scent of meat porridge drifted into his nose, tempting Wei San, who hadn’t eaten in a night, to swallow his saliva.
“How are you feeling? Is there still any discomfort in your body?”
Wei Zheng walked to the bedside, looked him over carefully from top to bottom, and only relaxed after confirming there was nothing seriously wrong.
“Master, last night…”
As Wei San spoke, he lifted the quilt, preparing to get out of bed to pay his respects and plead guilty, but Wei Zheng raised a hand, cutting off his words.
Wei Zheng knew how far he had gone last night. He forcibly pressed the man back against the headboard, not forgetting to thoughtfully place a soft pillow behind him.
“If your body is unwell, lie down a while longer. No one dares to point fingers at you.”
He signaled to the attendant, who quickly placed the tray on the table, arranged the bowl and chopsticks, and then consciously retreated, closing the door behind him.
With only the two of them left in the room, Wei San felt more at ease without outsiders present.
He said anxiously: “Master, I got drunk last night… I didn’t do anything inappropriate, did I?”
The better Wei Zheng treated him, the more guilty he felt. He truly felt he was useless; helping wasn’t even an issue—he hadn’t even been able to hold his liquor, letting a single cup knock him out and leaving him unconscious. It was a complete dereliction of duty.
The death-sworn guard’s look of regret didn’t seem fake. Wei Zheng sensed something was wrong; this attitude didn’t look at all like how someone should be acting after the fact.
“You don’t remember any of it?”
He asked tentatively, his tone carrying a hint of danger that even he hadn’t noticed.
Wei San’s heart jumped, and he felt increasingly guilty. He lowered his head, not daring to look at Wei Zheng, and asked weakly: “Master… what should I remember?”
Did he really do something? He didn’t know what exactly he had done, so why did the Master seem so angry? He wouldn’t have been like Wei Jiu, who drank too much and went crazy, stripping naked and running naked around the training grounds, would he?
It was because he had seen Wei Jiu go crazy after drinking that Wei San had completely cut off any thought of touching alcohol. No matter what methods Wei Er and the others used, they couldn’t sway him. He never expected to be forced to break his vow by the Fifth Prince last night.
Just thinking about the image of himself being drunk and going crazy like Wei Jiu made him want to dig a hole in the ground and crawl into it.
Wei Zheng was so angry he laughed. All morning, he had imagined what the death-sworn guard’s reaction would be when he woke up. He had even thought about the possibility of the man falling out with him or throwing a tantrum, and had even planned how to coax him, but he never expected the man to remember absolutely nothing.
This was really… leaving him not knowing how to respond.
Wei Zheng held back his anger, thinking that if he was unhappy, he would make the death-sworn guard even more uncomfortable.
He deliberately twisted the truth and said: “It wasn’t any big deal; you just wouldn’t let me go on the way back, calling me ‘husband’. Then you drank yourself to death again. Even when getting out of the carriage, I had to carry you inside; the servants of the manor watched the whole way.”
Wei San’s whole body stiffened. His first reaction was to not believe it, but fragmented, scattered snippets of conversation suddenly flashed through his mind.
It really should be called ‘husband’…
Seducing your Master requires punishment…
He suddenly felt even guiltier, becoming even less capable of looking into Wei Zheng’s eyes, and naturally, he missed the flash of playfulness in Wei Zheng’s gaze.
He pressed his lips together, his fingers gripping the quilt curling and tightening. He was in such a panic, not knowing what to do.
Wei Zheng, having forcibly pinned the charge on the death-sworn guard, was satisfied. He did not continue to strike at the death-sworn guard, whose worldview was on the verge of shattering, but instead turned toward the table where the food was placed.
By the time he walked over, the meat porridge had already cooled down significantly. Wei Zheng picked it up, stirred it with a spoon, and returned to the bedside.
Only this time, he didn’t stand by the bed; he sat down directly.
Wei San had just finished preparing himself mentally. Closing his eyes and steeling his heart, he said righteously: “Master, please punish this subordinate. This subordinate has offended you; according to the regulations of the camp, I should be punished with twenty lashes to serve as a warning to others.”
He was mentally prepared to be punished, but he never expected that the response to him would be a touch of warmth against his lips.
He opened his eyes in a daze, only to see that what was touching his lips wasn’t anything else, but the spoon held in Wei Zheng’s hand. He looked down blankly for a long time before he realized: the Master was actually going to serve him his meal personally.
He gasped in fear and shock, struggling to get up to beg for mercy, but was stopped by a single look from Wei Zheng.
Wei Zheng said with a cold face: “You want to try getting up?”
The hand he had been using to push himself up from the bed immediately retracted. He called out “Master” in agitation, feeling completely unsettled.
“Open your mouth, be good.”
Following Wei Zheng’s two consecutive commands, Wei San didn’t dare to disobey and honestly accepted the feeding.
The meat porridge was soft, glutinous, and fragrant—truly delicious—but Wei San had no appetite. He was thinking about things in a chaotic mess in his heart, instinctively taking a bite every time Wei Zheng fed him.
The bowl of porridge was soon bottomed out. His stomach, which had been empty and aching, felt much more comfortable. Only when Wei San saw him get up to put the bowl down did he realize he had actually let the Master serve him his breakfast.
He had no idea what expression to use to express the inner turmoil; he just felt that last night, it probably wasn’t as simple as just calling the Master “husband” and letting the Master carry him back to the manor.
Otherwise, why would the Master not only not punish him, but instead lower himself to serve him, a mere, tiny death-sworn guard?
Wei San couldn’t figure it out all day. It wasn’t until he was bathing and changing clothes at night that he discovered blue and purple bruises on his body, as if someone had deliberately used force to bite and suck them out.
He was not unfamiliar with these marks he could recognize them even if they were burned to ashes.
His face turned deathly pale in an instant, and his fingertips trembled uncontrollably.
The memories he had forgotten after his hangover finally arrived tardily. From the moment he was fooled by his Master into calling him “husband” in the carriage, to being placed on the bed, pressed down, kissed, and caressed on his lips, and then the even more excessive intimacy.
Those images unfolded in his mind bit by bit, making him lose his composure and become filled with terror.
He had actually… climbed into his Master’s bed while drunk and been so dissolute.
How would the Master view him? If the Master knew that he wasn’t a virgin, that he had already lost his purity, would he feel disgusted by him? Or if he discovered the filthy affair between him and the fake Wei Liu later, what would happen?
Wei San felt like his brain was about to explode. He instinctively wanted to escape. Panicked, he put on his clothes—without even fastening his sash properly—climbed out of the window, flipped out of the side hall, and disappeared into the night in two or three bounds.
In the master bedroom of the side hall, Wei Zheng was reading the travelogue in his hand, wondering how to make Wei San slowly recall the intimacy of last night through side inquiries, when he suddenly heard a faint sound of breaking air, followed by the rustling of fabric fluttering in the wind.
He opened the window to look, but could only vaguely see a blurry back figure that looked exactly like his little male favorite, who should have been bathing.