Chapter 7

On one side, Pang Qi immediately held his breath.

Cheng Yun narrowed his eyes. Before he could piece it together, someone outside suddenly announced, "Your Highness, someone has arrived claiming to be the Third Young Master Chang, Chang Xingzhu."

"Third Chang?" Cheng Yun’s attention shifted. "Has he returned to Shengjing?"

The guard looked confused but continued, "However, he seems somewhat delirious and is dressed terribly. He kept calling your name and insisted that you lead the troops at once to avenge him."

Cheng Yun stood from the table, confirming, "Avenge?"

"Exactly."

He took a step forward, about to follow the guard out, when the guard added, "He said last night, someone stole his horse, claiming it was named Yanxia, a little red horse born alongside Your Highness’s little white horse, and now it’s been taken by bandits..."

Cheng Yun slowly stopped in his tracks.

The guard continued, "Just mentioning these things is enough for you to want to see him personally. If you’re not available, seeing him through Chief Steward Pang would suffice."

Cheng Yun remained motionless.

Beside him, Pang Qi suddenly snapped out of his earlier fright, slapped his thigh, and hurriedly said, "Your Highness, only you and Third Young Master Chang know the story about the little red horse and the little white horse. It must be him!"

He added, "This is outrageous! Who dares rob Third Young Master Chang? Is there no law anymore? The Empress would be heartbroken if she knew—she cares for Third Young Master Chang the most..."

Cheng Yun fixed a sharp gaze on him. Pang Qi inexplicably sensed a deadly intent beneath it.

His heart trembled, thinking, Something’s wrong... Could this Third Young Master Chang really be an impostor? He hadn’t noticed any oddity in the guard’s words.

"Pang Qi."

"At your service."

Cheng Yun said calmly, "Go to the door and see what’s going on. If it truly is Third Young Master Chang, bring him to the West Courtyard and settle him properly."

"You and Third Young Master Chang haven't seen each other in years. Won't you go see him?"

Cheng Yun raised a hand to pinch his brow and took a step back. Pang Qi quickly reached out to steady him as he said, "I suddenly have a headache."

"Third Young Master Chang’s horse..." Wen Biesang didn’t finish his sentence before Cheng Yun’s headache abruptly subsided. He shot a fierce glance at him. "How dare you mention Third Young Master Chang’s name?!"

Then he quickly looked at Pang Qi. "Hurry up!"

Pang Qi hurried to the door.

Only two remained in the small room.

Wen Biesang sat at the joined tables, his clear eyes shining like the light of judgment upon Cheng Yun’s face.

Cheng Yun sat down at the table, speaking slowly and clearly: "If you dare speak of this outside, you’re as good as dead."

"I won’t speak." Remembering Pang Qi’s words, Wen Biesang softened his tone. "Please release me. I think you’re not a bad person."

"…" Cheng Yun’s expression twisted. "Who told you I’m not a bad person?"

Wen Biesang naturally wouldn’t reveal Pang Qi’s involvement. "I just feel that way."

Cheng Yun raised an eyebrow, surprised that he had such a good impression in his mind. He stroked his chin and said, "I broke your legs, yet I’m still not a bad person?"

Wen Biesang clenched his fingers and said calmly, "You must have hit me because you were angry."

Cheng Yun hesitated. "Did you flatter me because you wanted to eat something?"

So this Uncertain Prince actually has some self-awareness.

Wen Biesang restrained the urge to nod and shook his head with difficulty. "I don’t want to eat."

"Then what do you want?"

"I want to open you up." Wen Biesang pursed his lips and said, "I want nothing else. I said you’re a good person... because... I really think, you are."

This lie was spoken with great difficulty, yet Cheng Yun felt every pause was an earnest emphasis.

He smiled, propping his cheek with his hand, watching him for a moment. "Actually, you’re not that annoying."

"…" You’re annoying, annoyingly so.

Sigh. Why are my eyes watering again?

Cheng Yun dragged a stool closer and reached out to take his hand, then paused. "Why are you dodging?"

"…" Wen Biesang said, "What do you want to do?"

"Untie you." Cheng Yun said matter-of-factly, "Since you’re being so good, I won’t be too harsh."

Wen Biesang: "…"

Does softening really work?

He raised both hands, letting the small crossbow slip into his sleeve, then offered them back to Cheng Yun. "Using a knife is easier."

If untied one strip at a time, the marks left by blade cuts would be discovered.

Cheng Yun hummed and bent down to retrieve a dagger from his boot. As he cut from above, he sensed something was off.

He remembered tying the bindings tightly with great force; how could they be so loose now?

He smoothly cut through the cloth on Wen Biesang’s hands, glancing sideways at his face.

Wen Biesang’s expression was mostly calm, unlike Cheng Yun’s mercurial moods. He rarely smiled or showed anger. When upset, his eyes would widen slightly and his body trembled; when crying, he would silently twist his face.

Cheng Yun discarded the cloth and looked at his wrists.

Sandalwood beads had left small circular bruises, but they were already turning bluish, clearly not fresh.

Wen Biesang lowered his hands.

A bewildering thought flashed through Cheng Yun’s mind—

This demon must have been able to untie the bindings himself last night.

That explained why, although alone in the room, he went to the trouble of lowering the bed curtain—a difficult challenge for someone with bound hands.

Intriguing indeed.

Cheng Yun even suspected that if not for his leg injuries, he might have already slipped away in the dark.

Suddenly softening must have an ulterior motive.

Cheng Yun’s thoughts spun rapidly, and his face softened. "Do your legs still hurt?"

Wen Biesang, rubbing his wrists, nodded at the sound of his voice.

Cheng Yun’s tone grew gentler. "Want me to get some medicine to rub on them?"

Wen Biesang looked at him. "May I?"

"Of course." Cheng Yun said, "You think I’m a good person, and I don’t find you that annoying—doesn’t that mean we’re at peace?"

Wen Biesang hadn’t expected his little act of submission to bring such benefits and doubted, "Really?"

"Really."

"Then, will you still kill me?"

Cheng Yun’s smile was inscrutable. "Making peace means letting go of grudges. That means we’re friends now. Have you ever heard of someone killing their own friend?"

Wen Biesang: "Will you let me go?"

"No."

"…"

Never mind. It’s already good that the Uncertain Prince allowed him to apply medicine.

Cheng Yun called for someone to fetch ointment and invited Wen Biesang, "Come, eat something first."

Wen Biesang picked up his chopsticks and began eating.

First, he grabbed a piece of tenderloin and swallowed it whole, then a piece of beef, also eaten in one bite. Then he scooped the fish head from the soup into a small bowl, pried it open, and ate the brain...

Cheng Yun felt, perhaps mistakenly, that he was eating in defiance of him.

But watching him eat was quite entertaining; his eyes and expressions were serious, only his rosy lips kept moving. This demon looked a bit dazed, yet his eyes were particularly clear, betraying no foolishness.

He wasn’t exactly alluring, but his features had a transcendent, ethereal quality, untouched by worldly dust. When not crying, he appeared cold and distant, indeed captivating.

The ointment arrived quickly. Cheng Yun took it and asked, "Shall we apply it now?"

Wen Biesang put down his chopsticks, swallowed, and nodded.

Cheng Yun walked over and lifted him again. Wen Biesang draped his freed hands over Cheng Yun’s shoulders, whose brows furrowed as he was enveloped by his scent. "You really stink."

Wen Biesang: "…"

He took his hands down from Cheng Yun’s shoulders, offering no protest about the insult.

When silent, he was quite amusing. Cheng Yun placed him on the bed. "You smell like mud and fish. Want to take a bath later?"

Wen Biesang nodded.

Cheng Yun handed him the ointment, which Wen Biesang took himself, rolling up the pant legs.

The bruises were spreading, both legs uniformly dark, far more frightening than the patchy black from the previous night.

Cheng Yun glanced casually. "Blame your pale skin. It only looks worse than it is."

Wen Biesang hummed softly and applied the ointment, gently rubbing.

He was harsher on himself than Pang Qi had been; the pain within tolerance reminded him of last night’s ordeal. His expression remained calm, but inside, he was fuming at the Uncertain Prince.

Footsteps came from outside. Pang Qi returned quickly, breathless: "Your Highness, I confirmed—it really is Third Young Master Chang. Last night, some bold thief knocked him off his horse on the city’s outskirts and stole the little red horse you both raised together..."

"Your Highness, lawlessness reigns!" Pang Qi raged, "Under the Son of Heaven’s feet, how can such evil happen? Third Young Master Chang’s status—yet they dared rob him! If it were an ordinary person, where could they turn? You don’t know how pitiful Third Young Master Chang is. It was a dark, windy night with no passerby. He walked back on foot—sixty miles, Your Highness, his feet worn raw. He’s never endured such hardship!"

Pang Qi spoke tearfully, "Your Highness, you haven’t seen him for over ten years, yet on reunion, this happens. If the Empress knew..."

"Enough." Cheng Yun interrupted. Pang Qi wiped his tears, noticing the prince’s foul mood wasn’t about Third Young Master Chang.

He hesitated, "Your Highness, you should still go see him."

What’s there to see? He just slapped him and threw him off his horse. After all these years without progress, he’s blaming others.

Cheng Yun said, "I’m busy."

Pang Qi: "…But Third Young Master Chang is waiting for your decision."

Wen Biesang rubbed his leg, watching his own nose and breath. Cheng Yun suddenly sat at the bedside, snatched the ointment from his hands, poured some into his palm, and pressed both hands down. "Can’t you see? I’m busy. Tell him to rest for a while; I’ll go after I’m done."