Chapter Twenty-Seven: Straightening You Out

Lingchi, the slow slicing, was a form of torture so cruel that even the executioners loathed to carry it out. It involved cutting flesh from the living victim piece by piece, stripping them to a bare skeleton.

Ye Fang was so terrified that he dropped the knife he had just drawn. Hastily, he knelt and pleaded, “Your Highness, for the sake of his many years at your side, grant him a swift death!”

The Seventh Prince smiled with lips but not with his heart. “Oh? I’ve already given him a chance—he need only name his instigator.”

Guilt churned in Ye Fang’s chest as he gazed at the man strapped to the punishment chair. Shamefaced, he confessed, “Your Highness, it was all my fault! I said what should never have been said, and it led the shadow guards to harm Master Yu.”

The Prince narrowed his eyes. “What did you say?”

“I said... if you didn’t get rid of Yu Hualiang, he’d always be your weakness, Your Highness—a stumbling block that would trip you up sooner or later! I thought, then better to—”

“Enough!” the Seventh Prince roared.

Ye Fang had spoken the truth: Yu Hualiang was indeed his vulnerability. Yet, even knowing this, the prince could not bear for any harm to befall him.

“Weakness or not, I decide! Go receive your punishment. Don’t make me do it myself.”

With that, the Seventh Prince hurried away. Ye Fang collapsed, glancing at the man on the punishment chair, who had rolled his eyes back in agony. Swallowing hard, Ye Fang could only look on helplessly.

Mo Cai and Ah Liu had not slept all night. Mo Cai could hardly believe that in just half a day apart, disaster had struck. Remembering how Yu Hualiang had looked cradled in the prince’s arms, his guilt gnawed at him. If only he’d been there—he would rather have died than let Yu Hualiang suffer a scratch.

A slap rang out, echoing through the empty courtyard—a sharp, heart-stopping sound. Ah Liu, wiping her tears, pulled him close. “It wasn’t your fault...”

“But... if something happens to the young master, I—I...”

Yu Hualiang had been taken to the prince’s chambers, where no one else was allowed near. The two could only wait outside, sick with worry and weeping.

“Achoo!—Ow!” Yu Hualiang sneezed and yelped in pain. This was agony beyond words.

Judging by the wound, the blade had pierced his kidney.

“My poor kidney...” Yu Hualiang sighed. The prince had been gone for quite some time—why hadn’t he returned?

He’d wanted water for ages, but the pain in his abdomen left him too weak to move.

He dozed for a while, then sensed someone taking his pulse. Looking up, he saw the familiar face of Doctor Wang.

He greeted him, “Doctor Wang... we really do meet often.”

Doctor Wang smiled benevolently and turned to write a prescription.

The Seventh Prince waited anxiously at his side. “Well, Doctor?”

“He’s out of danger. Fortunately, my son’s timely intervention saved his life,” said Doctor Wang, stroking his beard.

“Reward him!” the prince ordered. Doctor Wang bowed in thanks, beaming as he left.

Yu Hualiang always found it odd how the old man smiled so cheerfully whenever he treated him, as if his illness were a cause for celebration.

Once Doctor Wang had gone, only the two of them remained. The Seventh Prince sat at the bedside, gazing down. “Ziliang, are you feeling better?”

“Much better now...” Yu Hualiang replied.

The prince’s gaze was gentle. He wiped Yu Hualiang’s forehead and asked, “Ziliang, what would you like to eat? I’ll have the kitchen make anything you wish.”

Only then did Yu Hualiang realize he hadn’t seen Ah Liu in two days, and must have worried her sick.

“I’d like some of Ah Liu’s chicken soup.”

The prince paused, then smiled. “Very well...”

Yu Hualiang managed a weak smile of thanks, and the Seventh Prince, still looking down, suddenly asked, “Ziliang, what exactly happened that day?”

“That day... I was dragged away by those two. They were muttering something about me being some important lord, and said their master wanted to eliminate you...” Yu Hualiang paused. “Your Highness, could it be that someone in your residence truly seeks your life?”

The Seventh Prince gestured for silence. “Shh...”

Yu Hualiang fell silent at once. The prince continued, “As long as you understand, Ziliang.”

“Then aren’t you in great danger, Your Highness?” Yu Hualiang whispered.

The prince leaned close, speaking softly in his ear, “Of everyone in this house, you’re the only one who makes me feel at ease.”

Yu Hualiang was flustered by this unexpected favor, his ears burning from the prince’s nearness.

The prince added, “No one else at my side lets me sleep in peace—except those two nights with you...”

Stop, stop, stop! Yu Hualiang’s face was half aflame. He stammered, “Y-Your Highness, if you’re having trouble sleeping, perhaps you should see the doctor. Insomnia can be treated!”

The prince leaned in even closer, his voice low and intimate. “Sleeplessness has its reasons. When longing is fruitless, what am I to do?”

“Ah?” Whatever you wish, Yu Hualiang thought, feeling like a damsel about to be carried off by a warlord.

Pressed to his limits, he protested, “I’m really not that way inclined!”

The prince let him off with a chuckle. Sitting up straight, he smiled, “Just teasing you, Ziliang.”

Yu Hualiang exhaled in relief. “Scared me half to death...”

He’d barely finished, when the prince suddenly grew serious. “Ziliang, if one day I truly did have that inclination, could you accept me?”

Yu Hualiang, seeing his earnest face, replied solemnly, “I’d help you straighten out.”

“Hmm? What do you mean, ‘straighten out’?” The question made Yu Hualiang’s face flush.

He feigned ignorance, laughing it off. “I’d help you find the right path and break the habit!”

“Are you really so capable, Ziliang?” The prince’s smile bloomed.

Yu Hualiang laughed along, sensing the prince’s good mood—so much like the past.

But any slight movement sent pain stabbing through his abdomen. The prince, seeing his discomfort, said kindly, “Don’t move, you’ll tear your wound. Tell me what you need—I’ll do it for you.”

“I...” Yu Hualiang found it hard to say—he needed to relieve himself!

When Ah Liu and Mo Cai heard that Yu Hualiang had awakened, they finally stopped crying. Ah Liu, still misty-eyed, finished simmering the chicken soup.

They arrived at the prince’s courtyard just as the prince emerged from the latrine, carrying Yu Hualiang in his arms. Yu Hualiang hid his face shyly behind his robes.

“Hualiang...” Ah Liu looked at him with tearful joy.

“Ah Liu, you’re here?” Yu Hualiang smiled. The prince tightened his hold and carried him inside, not allowing Ah Liu to follow, but taking the soup from her.

Seeing the small, forlorn silhouette at the threshold, Yu Hualiang’s heart ached. He turned to the prince. “Your Highness, please let me see Ah Liu for a moment.”

He pleaded, and the prince reluctantly agreed. Ah Liu entered, bowed to the prince, and was about to fling herself onto Yu Hualiang sobbing, but the prince stopped her.

Yu Hualiang felt a chill—if she’d thrown herself at him, his wound would have split, and his kidney might not have survived.

“Don’t cry, Ah Liu.” Yu Hualiang’s gaze was gentle as he stroked her head. “I’m not going to die.”

The more he comforted her, the harder she wept. With a sigh, he said, “Ah Liu’s cooking is too delicious, especially the chicken soup. Don’t let it go cold and waste it.”

Ah Liu stopped crying and went to fetch the soup, only to find the prince had already cooled it and was about to feed it to Yu Hualiang.

“Leave us,” the prince said.

Ah Liu looked at Yu Hualiang with wounded eyes, but what could he do? After all, the prince’s word was law. Still, knowing Yu Hualiang was safe, she was content.

The prince brought the cooled chicken soup to his lips, and Yu Hualiang reluctantly drank. “Perhaps I can feed myself?”

“Nonsense. You’re injured.”

With tender care, the prince fed him every spoonful. Just as Yu Hualiang thought the ordeal was over, a servant brought in a bowl of medicine.

With tears in his eyes, Yu Hualiang forced it down, feeling half his life ebb away.

As night fell, Yu Hualiang wanted to return to his own quarters, but a cluster of maids came in and added another quilt to the bed.

The prince, freshly bathed, climbed into bed beside him.

“Your Highness... perhaps I should go back...” Yu Hualiang said awkwardly.

“Absolutely not. You’re wounded—your room’s no place for healing. You’re so thin, Ziliang, you needn’t fear crowding me.”

Oh, how artful your excuses are, Yu Hualiang thought, nearly in tears. Under the medicine’s spell, he soon drifted into sleep.

Once he was sound asleep, the prince pressed a deep kiss to his brow. This sense of regaining what was once lost was intoxicating.

In the punishment room, Ye Fang was a battered rag doll. Hearing the door, he knew the prince had come to see him, but he could not open his eyes, nor move a finger.

The prince bent to inspect his wounds. “Ye Fang, look at yourself. Have you made an enemy? Fifty lashes, and they struck so hard.”

Ye Fang grimaced, unable to speak. The prince set a bottle of medicine by his side and called, “Take him to his room and tend his injuries.”

To the prince, Ye Fang was not like other servants. He had followed him for ten years and, no matter his mistakes, had never been beaten so cruelly. But now he had crossed the prince’s bottom line.

“Ye Fang... remember, never lay a finger on him again—or don’t blame me for forgetting our years together.”

Those words echoed in Ye Fang’s ears, freezing his heart.

Later that night, Yu Hualiang, deep in sleep, heard a faint rustling and murmured in his dreams, “Zicheng... good night.”

The prince stilled, a warmth blossoming in his heart. Leaning in, he brushed a kiss against Yu Hualiang’s cheek and whispered, “Good night, Ziliang.”

Yu Hualiang slept dreamlessly until afternoon.

When he awoke, only two maids were there to serve him.

“Hmm... where am I?” he mumbled, dazed.

They replied, “Master Yu, you are in the Seventh Prince’s bedchamber.”

“Oh... and where is the prince?”

“He left for court at dawn and should return soon.”

Lying in bed, Yu Hualiang felt bored. The maids told him the prince had risen early and waited for hours by his side, not budging as he slept. Yu Hualiang could almost picture it—the prince sitting by the bed, staring at him without blinking...

“The prince also said, once you wake, you must take your medicine.”

Yu Hualiang grimaced at the thought, tongue already bitter. The maids, far gentler than the prince, knew to prop him up with soft pillows before feeding him, unlike the prince, who only ever pulled him into his own hard-muscled embrace.

Suddenly, chaos erupted outside.

“Your Highness, you cannot enter!” called the guards.

A shrill woman’s voice pierced the noise, “Let me in! I must see what little enchantress has been monopolizing the prince day and night!”

Yu Hualiang spat his medicine all over the floor.