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.”
With that, Wen Chu raised his eyes as a clear tear streamed down his cheek: “Bring that person before me; I want to kill him with my own hands.”
He was trying his utmost to mask his agony, yet it inadvertently spilled over. Gu Qingfang sighed silently; in a situation like this, there was nothing he could say except to let the Emperor slowly heal his own wounds over time.
Wen Chu’s injuries were not light and required quiet recuperation, so Gu Qingfang did not stay long before taking his leave.
Just as Wen Chu closed his eyes, a thought suddenly crossed his mind, causing him to snap his eyes open and instruct Official Eunuch Chang, who was waiting outside the door, “Official Eunuch Chang, quickly summon an imperial physician.”
Believing Wen Chu was feeling uncomfortable somewhere, Official Eunuch Chang hurried on a trot to fetch an imperial physician.
When the physician arrived, he was also breathing heavily, panting as if he had run the entire way without stopping. Catching his breath, he approached Wen Chu and respectfully asked, “Where is Your Majesty feeling unwell?”
Wen Chu glanced at the physician, it was a fresh face, and quite young. The handsome features still retained the spirited air of youth with a touch of greenness, making him look around eighteen or nineteen years old. One could tell at a glance that he was completely inexperienced in worldly matters, and Wen Chu felt that certain sensitive issues could not be properly discussed with him.
Withdrawing his gaze, Wen Chu said indifferently, “Call an older imperial physician.”
Yan Shangzhou was slightly taken aback before replying respectfully, “Your Majesty, it would still be best for this subject to examine you.”
It was evident that he did not wish to go summon another imperial physician.
Seeing that even a newly entered junior imperial physician dared to defy him, Wen Chu’s brows flared with vexation. With a flick of his sleeve, he swept the teacup off the bedside table onto the floor, shattering it. “Get out.”
“May Your Majesty calm your wrath.” Stooping down, Yan Shangzhou hurriedly gathered the shards of the broken cup by his feet and quickly retreated.
Stepping out of the bedchamber, Yan Shangzhou drew a long sigh of relief and muttered under his breath, “My cousin actually had me come protect such a volatile, short-tempered emperor. Hiss.”
Lowering his gaze, he saw that his wrist had been scratched by a sharp fragment of porcelain: “What is wrong with me today? I’m having quite some bad luck!”
Wen Chu gazed at the door panel that had not been pulled shut properly: “What has come over me? How is it that I grow agitated so easily, snapping at a mere youth!”
Raising a hand, he massaged his weary brow—yet the simple motion tugged at his agonizingly delicate and raw lower region, sending a tearing pain through him.
Wen Chu bit his lower lip in shame, enduring the agony in silence.
His hatred and revulsion toward the person who had violated him reached an absolute extreme in his heart.
The palace doors were pushed open, and the head of the Imperial Hospital walked in, bowing respectfully to Wen Chu. “What instructions does Your Majesty have for this subject?”
Wen Chu had not specified whom he wanted; he simply had no desire to discuss his intentions with Yan Shangzhou. Unexpectedly, Yan Shangzhou had assumed Wen Chu doubted his medical skills and had gone straight to fetch the most senior and qualified physician in the entire Imperial Hospital.
Putting the matter of Yan Shangzhou aside, Wen Chu instructed the head of the hospital, “Prepare a contraceptive decoction for me.” He added, “As quickly as possible.”
The parasite had given him, a man, the reproductive capacity, but this time he would never allow himself to bear a child again.
Hearing Wen Chu’s request, the head of the hospital replied, “Your Majesty, you have already been administered a contraceptive decoction.”
Wen Chu paused slightly, asking in confusion, “When did I ever take a contraceptive decoction? Why don’t I remember asking you for such medicine?”
The head of the hospital answered truthfully, “The contraceptive decoction was blended into Your Majesty’s restorative tonic.” Pausing briefly, he added, “It was the Prince Regent who gave strict orders long ago that we must administer contraceptives to Your Majesty.”
Wen Chu’s dark eyelashes trembled lightly as he recalled four years ago, when the imperial physicians diagnosed him with pregnancy and he had immediately wanted to take medicine to induce a miscarriage, only to be stopped by Xie Huaiqiang, who forced him to carry and give birth to Yu’er seven months later.
A bitter smile touched Wen Chu’s lips: “The one who forced me to give birth was him, and the one refusing to let me give birth is likewise him.”
Making him give birth to Yu’er was for the sake of blood ties, allowing better control and leverage over him.
Now, forbidding him from bearing children was out of fear that he might die in difficult childbirth, depriving him of the chance to continue torturing and humiliating him.
He truly knew how to calculate.
How could a demon possibly exist in the human world!
Powerless, Wen Chu told the imperial physician, “You may withdraw.”
With that, Wen Chu lay back down and closed his eyes.
Shortly after the physician departed, weighed down by utter exhaustion, Wen Chu drifted off to sleep.
How much time passed, he did not know, but in the midst of his slumber, Wen Chu suddenly cried out “No!” and bolted awake in sheer terror.
Cold sweat poured down his face; he had clearly experienced a nightmare.
Wen Chu remained paralyzed by the terror left behind by the nightmare.
As night fell, the vast bedchamber remained pitch black without a single candle lit.
In haste, Wen Chu struck a light and ignited the glazed lamp on the bedside table.
His fingers holding the flint still trembled ever so slightly.
A chilling night breeze swept in through the oriel window, causing Wen Chu to shudder violently. Unstoppably, his mind conjured the horrifying image of that man leaping through the window and forcing himself upon him.
Clutching his head abruptly, Wen Chu shook it with agitated distress. “I am not afraid; it is all in the past, it will never happen again.”
Even as he told himself this, his mind replayed every single scene of his violation.
As if gripped by hallucinations, the terrifying memories refused to disperse.
“Ah.” Wen Chu let out a painful cry, then, barefooted, bolted straight out of the bedchamber.
After running a few steps, Wen Chu collapsed to the ground, utterly drained of strength.
Weeping like a helpless child, tears streaming down his face, he reached out a hand toward the figure walking toward him, crying out in desperate distress: “Save me, I’m so scared.”
Tears blurred Wen Chu’s vision, obscuring his sight and plunging his mind back into chaos.
Wen Chu could only cling desperately to the person walking toward him, pleading for rescue.
Xie Huaiqiang stood expressionless, staring down at Wen Chu’s tear-reddened eyes, deep in thought.
Inherently frail and having suffered such a catastrophic ordeal, Wen Chu’s body had long since been hollowed out, leaving him devoid of strength. He could only crawl toward Xie Huaiqiang inch by inch.
His pale, delicate hand struggled desperately to grasp the lifeline he saw in his eyes: “I’m so scared, save me.”
A slight frown touched Xie Huaiqiang’s brow. Shifting his gaze away from the emperor’s fragile and helpless face, his eyes fell upon Wen Chu’s bare feet, where a sharp fragment of porcelain was deeply embedded in the tender white sole, bleeding continuously.
Yet, seemingly oblivious to the pain, Wen Chu continued struggling to crawl toward him.
Crouching down, Xie Huaiqiang gathered Wen Chu into his arms. Pulling up his sleeve, he gently wiped the tears from Wen Chu’s face. “If you and I were not enemies, perhaps…” Xie Huaiqiang paused, falling silent for a moment before declaring firmly, “There is no perhaps.”
With those words, he scooped Wen Chu up and carried him into the bedchamber.
Walking over to the bed, he prepared to lay Wen Chu down upon it, only to have a hand grip his lapel in a death-grip.
Lowering his gaze to that white-knuckled, violently trembling hand, Xie Huaiqiang asked, “Do you know who I am? Why do you place such reliance upon me?”
Lost in a haze of clouded consciousness, Wen Chu could no longer hear what the man was saying; he merely clutched tightly at Xie Huaiqiang’s lapel, refusing to let go, muttering disjointedly from time to time: “Don’t leave me, I’m so terrified. I can feel it, the demon is right beside me, watching me in the shadows.”