Wen Chu’s wrists were securely bound to the head of the bed by the intruder.
This action by the intruder made Wen Chu realize what was happening.
Having yet to step out of the shadows of the trauma from four years ago, Wen Chu panicked completely. He struggled with a frantic, desperate expenditure of all his strength, crying out and pleading for someone to come and save him.
He prayed the nightmare of four years ago would not repeat itself.
The hand covering Wen Chu’s mouth was removed, but a handkerchief was immediately stuffed between his teeth.
The spacious bedchamber was filled with the sound of tearing fabric.
Moonlight streamed in through the oriel window, spilling over Wen Chu’s body.
The intruder could clearly see the glistening tears shimmering in the Emperor’s eyes, the reddened corners of his eyes, and that fragile, shattered vulnerability that tugged at one’s pity, yet it could not resist the dark, twisted malice lurking deep within the soul: the more fragile he appeared, the more fiercely one wanted to torment him.
With deep, dangerous eyes, the intruder gazed step by step from Wen Chu’s exquisite brows, straight nose, and pink lips down to the snow-white skin exposed beneath his neck and his alluring collarbones…
Wen Chu tried his utmost to see clearly who was tormenting him.
Yet the intruder remained shrouded in the shadows like a flesh-eating demon emerging from the abyss.
Dark clouds obscured the bright moon, and the night seemed torn open by a devil’s sharp claws, turning into sharp fragments that stabbed into Wen Chu’s body, torturing and plaguing him both inside and out.
The man was like a starving wolf that had gone hungry for ages, frantically plundering and devouring him.
Wen Chu’s slender, pale wrists were chafed raw by the ropes, leaving deep, bloody gasms.
Trembling all over from the torment, the handkerchief fell from his mouth, but he could only weep and gasp without uttering a single syllable; even breathing became an arduous struggle.
Tonight’s night felt exceptionally long, as if dawn would never arrive, and Wen Chu completely broke down.
The man was as cold-blooded and ruthless as a butcher, continuously slaughtering Wen Chu with a sharp butcher’s knife.
The cool morning breeze poured through the window lattice, lifting a corner of the bed curtains to reveal Wen Chu’s lower legs stained with bright red blood.
When Official Eunuch Chang entered and caught sight of this miserable scene, he was utterly struck dumb with shock. It wasn’t until the cold sweat beading on his body gave him a shudder that he finally snapped back from his astonishment, his high-pitched voice trembling uncontrollably: “Your Majesty, what has happened to you?”
Panicking, he hurried to Wen Chu’s side, hastily pulling a quilt over Wen Chu’s body, which was covered in the cruel traces of abuse, before crying out toward the doorway: “Quickly summon the imperial physician! Hurry!”
Having just recovered from a severe illness and then being subjected to such frantic abuse throughout the entire night, Wen Chu’s consciousness sank into a hazy, dreamlike blur.
The only thing he could feel was pain, a pain that extended far beyond the physical realm into his very soul, as if someone were slowly slicing apart every inch of flesh on his body with a rusted, dull blade.
The excruciating agony made him wish to end this ignoble, lingering existence right away.
“What should we do? Not a single drop of medicine can be coaxed down!”
“If His Majesty’s high fever still doesn’t break, I’m afraid he won’t last much longer.”
The imperial physicians were completely at their wits’ end, panicking in utter confusion, clueless as to how to save the dying Emperor.
Official Eunuch Chang wiped away tears beside them.
After finishing morning court, Xie Huaiqiang arrived at the quarters, his brows knit high as he gazed at Wen Chu, whose face was devoid of color and whose breath was as faint as gossamer upon the bed.
An imperial physician hurried forward. “We have tried every possible method to feed His Majesty medicine, but not a single drop can be swallowed.”
Another imperial physician chimed in, “As soon as the medicine is administered, His Majesty regurgitates it.”
The head of the Imperial Hospital sighed. “His Majesty is deeply consumed by despair in his heart and has the will to die!”
Pausing for a moment, he lamented, “A patient with no will to live cannot be saved even by immortals.”
Official Eunuch Chang’s aged eyes were bloodshot as he wept. “An ordeal like this is utterly devastating to His Majesty! Especially since His Majesty has been plagued by illness year-round, this is truly taking his life.”
Staring at the lifeless Wen Chu lying on the bed, Xie Huaiqiang’s brows furrowed tighter still. “Hand the medicine to this Prince, and all of you get out.”
The imperial physicians froze for a moment before hastily and respectfully presenting the medicine vial.
Once Xie Huaiqiang accepted the vial, the group of physicians retreated from the room.
Gazing blankly at the medicine vial in his hand for a brief moment, Xie Huaiqiang called toward the door, “Molang, bring the Crown Prince here.”
Molang was his personal guard, and Molang’s voice sounded from outside: “This subordinate obeys.”
Outside, the sky was clear and bright, the lake shimmered under the light, weeping willows swayed gracefully, and lotus buds were on the verge of blooming, everything was so beautiful and full of vitality.
“His Majesty’s fever has actually broken!” The imperial physicians exclaimed in sheer disbelief after completing their medical examination of Wen Chu.
They gazed at Xie Huaiqiang with expressions akin to worshippers looking upon a deity.
They never imagined that a problem which had left them baffled and helpless could be resolved so effortlessly by the Prince Regent.
An imperial physician could not resist asking, “How did the Prince Regent manage to get the medicine into His Majesty?”
Xie Huaiqiang offered no reply; he cast a cold, emotionless glance at the physician with his deep, pitch-black eyes. The physician instantly felt a chill crawl down his spine, causing him to tightly shut his mouth, lower his head in cowardly terror, and stand in humble, trembling silence, not daring to utter another sound.
Gazing at Wen Chu, who remained unconscious upon the bed, the head of the hospital said worriedly, “Although His Majesty’s high fever has broken, he still seems to lack the will to live. This remains extremely dangerous.”
At that moment, Yu’er was escorted into the bedchamber by Molang and trotted happily over to Wen Chu’s bedside.
Unaware of what had transpired, Yu’er placed his tender, white little hands on the edge of the bed and rested his small chin against the mattress, blinking his eyes wide as he looked at Wen Chu. “Why hasn’t Imperial Father woken up yet?” With that, his clear, dewdrops-like large eyes turned toward the imperial physicians nearby. Seeming to realize something, he furrowed his small brow in growing distress. “Imperial Father is sick again.”
Though Yu’er did not recognize who the imperial physicians were, he remembered their official robes; every time Wen Chu fell ill, people wearing these exact garments were the ones who treated him.
Yu’er’s eye rims reddened, and before long, large teardrops began pattering down.
Xie Huaiqiang scooped Yu’er’s soft little body into his arms, soothing him in a gentle tone: “If you want your Imperial Father to wake up quickly, you mustn’t cry.”
Seeing this, the others sensibly and quietly slipped out of the bedchamber.
Whenever Wen Chu was not by his side, Yu’er was most obedient to Xie Huaiqiang.
Quickly wiping the tears from his delicate little face with his two small, soft hands, Yu’er declared, “Yu’er won’t cry!”
Dotingly pinching Yu’er’s adorable little cheek, Xie Huaiqiang instructed, “Not only must Yu’er be good, but you must also wake your Imperial Father up.”
Hearing his words, Yu’er leaned forward from Xie Huaiqiang’s embrace, preparing to call out to Wen Chu, but Xie Huaiqiang stopped him, saying, “Uncle will teach you how to wake Imperial Father up.”
Wen Chu was not truly unconscious; he was merely trapped in a hazy blur of consciousness, able to hear sounds that seemed to drift from a distant, alternate realm.
“Imperial Father, Yu’er is so scared. Please come and protect Yu’er!”
“Yu’er is so, so lonely; he needs Imperial Father to keep him company…”
That soft, childlike, crisp voice tugged violently at the strings of Wen Chu’s heart.
It was his Yu’er—his irreplaceable Yu’er. He could not give up on himself now and leave Yu’er an orphan.
Struggling fiercely to break free from the chaotic fog of his consciousness, Wen Chu fluttered open his phoenix-like eyes, and the first sight to greet him was little Yu’er snuggled right beside him.
With trembling fingertips, Wen Chu forced his exhausted hand to rise, gently stroking Yu’er’s chubby little face.
“Imperial Father is awake!” Yu’er cried out in delighted surprise, his eyes curving into crescents as he leaned forward to press his cheek against Wen Chu’s, rubbing affectionately against him like an obedient, cute kitten. “Yu’er missed Imperial Father so much.”
Suppressing his tears with great effort, the corners of Wen Chu’s eyes curved slightly as he pulled Yu’er into his embrace, whispering softly, “Imperial Father will definitely stay by Yu’er’s side as you grow up.”
Xie Huaiqiang’s brow remained tightly furrowed. Withdrawing his gaze from the father and son upon the bed, he turned on his heel and walked out without a word.
Wen Chu watched the man depart from the room. After spacing out for a brief moment, he returned his affectionate attention to Yu’er.
Expecting Xie Huaiqiang to tear Yu’er away from his side once more, Wen Chu waited anxiously, yet a whole day passed without a soul coming to take Yu’er away. This allowed Wen Chu’s hanging heart to settle just a fraction.
However, his physical condition remained extremely poor, leaving him without the energy required to properly accompany Yu’er. He remained confined to bed, plagued by recurring fevers.
In particular, his agonizingly delicate, unspeakable region was raw and torn open.
That fateful night had severely mutilated Wen Chu’s body.
While Yu’er was taking his afternoon nap, only Wen Chu and Gu Qingfang remained inside the bedchamber.
By this point, the fact that Wen Chu had been forcibly violated was an open secret known to everyone from the inner palace to the imperial court, yet not a single person dared to raise the topic of conducting a thorough investigation. Everyone remained silent; after all, as long as the Regent did not speak, no one dared to take the lead.
As Wen Chu’s trusted confidant, Gu Qingfang naturally felt compelled to investigate. However, in a matter of this nature, one had to consider Wen Chu’s feelings, it could not be made public to avoid humiliating Wen Chu further, meaning the investigation had to be carried out strictly in secret.
Wen Chu naturally wished to unearth that vile culprit and hack him into a thousand pieces.
Gu Qingfang peeled an orange and offered a segment to Wen Chu.
Taking the orange, Wen Chu asked him, “Is there any lead yet?”
Although Gu Qingfang had not explicitly told Wen Chu that he was looking into the matter, Wen Chu knew him well enough to guess that Gu Qingfang was secretly investigating those who had been under suspicion that night.
Studying Wen Chu for a brief moment and seeing that his expression remained calm, Gu Qingfang felt a little more at ease and replied, “This subject is incompetent. Upon investigating, I found that the men on night duty in the imperial palace that evening included palace guards, imperial physicians, secret guards, shadow guards, brocade-clad guards, and the imperial guards, a total of three thousand seven hundred men.”
Wen Chu lowered his long, dark eyelashes, concealing the emotions swirling within his eyes. “That was already very fast.” Pausing briefly, he added, “That person had his right wrist scratched by me. The scratch marks won’t heal completely that quickly. If we investigate them one by one, we will surely find him.”