Jinghong Zhui stood at the foot of the mountain slope, gazing up. At first, he could see both Lord Su and Yu Wang’s heads. Then, suddenly, Lord Su stumbled forward, and only Yu Wang’s head remained in sight.
His gut told him this was bad. That d*mn Wangye was about to make a move on Lord Su in broad daylight—utterly shameless! Without hesitation, he let out a sharp cry, then leaped up, tapping his toes against the rocky cliffside like climbing an invisible staircase, reaching the mountaintop’s Baoxia Pavilion in mere moments.
Meanwhile, Su Yan was growing weaker under Yu Wang’s touch. His mind was resisting with all sincerity, but his body was surrendering like ripples in the wind. He cursed himself for having such a frail, pleasure-prone physique, vulnerable to temptation like a cat curling up by a fireplace in winter, trembling in guilty comfort.
—No! I can’t just give in to this wretched hedonism so easily! Where’s my dignity as a man? Where’s my moral integrity?!
Determined, Su Yan forcefully shoved Yu Wang away, elbowing, kneeing, and stomping, but the other man was as immovable as a mountain.
Despairing over his combat ability being worse than a domesticated goose, Su Yan, in a panic, went full “Tyson”—he chomped down on Yu Wang’s neck.
No matter how tough Yu Wang was, he hadn’t trained his neck into an iron wall. By sheer misfortune, Su Yan latched onto his carotid artery, clamping down with a death grip. A sudden wave of dizziness hit Yu Wang, his vision momentarily darkening.
Seizing the chance, Su Yan forcefully broke free, but inertia sent him stumbling backward. He tripped over the leaning railing of the pavilion and let out a startled cry as he tumbled outside.
Yu Wang snapped out of his brief dizziness and lunged forward, grabbing onto Su Yan’s wildly flailing hand.
At that very moment, Jinghong Zhui had just vaulted up from below. Seeing the situation, he shouted, “My lord, be careful!” and caught Su Yan’s head in his embrace.
Su Yan ended up in a textbook “Iron Bridge” stance—his body bent backward in an arch so extreme that his calves cramped instantly. Tears burst from his eyes, and as the cold wind hit, they shimmered alongside his billowing robes, creating a scene straight out of a low-budget wuxia film where the special effects made up for the lack of plot.
If someone scattered some dry ice nearby, the immortal-like atmosphere would be complete.
Yu Wang, unable to pull Su Yan back, glared at Jinghong Zhui. “How dare you! Let go of him right now!”
Jinghong Zhui held Su Yan firmly by the shoulders and pulled him closer to himself without a hint of politeness. “My lord has me, his personal guard, to take care of him. There’s no need to trouble Wangye!”
Su Yan howled miserably, “Both of you let go! My leg’s cramping! Awoo—!”
The “awoo” was so tragic that it startled both men into freezing. Neither dared to exert any more force.
The result of their simultaneous retreat was that Su Yan’s lower back dropped suddenly, knocking against the pavilion’s low railing. The pain made him curl up into a ball on the seat.
Yu Wang looked shocked as he measured the tiny gap between Su Yan’s waist and the railing—barely a foot. Just a slight bump, yet his reaction was so exaggerated?
Jinghong Zhui, however, knew that his lord was as fragile as tofu skin. Forget bumping against a railing—just brushing his knee against a wooden stool could leave a bruise blooming like a purple lotus. Heart aching, he reached out to rub the sore spot on Su Yan’s waist, hoping to prevent a bruise from forming.
Yu Wang, seeing Jinghong Zhui’s overly familiar touch, would never allow such brazenness before him. With anger, he sent a palm strike hurtling towards the other man’s face.
Jinghong Zhui, unwilling to take the blow head-on, dodged to the side while simultaneously drawing his sword. The chilling gleam of the blade flashed as it hummed with vibration.
Yu Wang switched his palm strike to a precise jab, aiming at Jinghong Zhui’s wrist meridian to block his flow of inner energy.
Jinghong Zhui flicked his wrist with near-impossible flexibility, twisting it at an unnatural angle just in time to avoid the strike.
One man stood at the pavilion’s edge, the other balanced on the sharp rocks outside. Though they restrained their true strength, the residual energy of their blows still made Su Yan’s exposed face sting faintly.
Su Yan, suffering from leg cramps, waist pain, and facial discomfort, was completely done with this nonsense. Finally, he mustered all the air in his lungs and roared, “Go ahead and keep fighting! I’ll just roll down the hill myself!”
And he actually did it. With all his might, he flipped off the leaning seat and rolled onto the pavilion’s stone floor.
Bracing himself for impact—prepared to take a lump on the back of his head if it meant escaping this absurd, infuriating mess—he closed his eyes and let fate take over.
…B*stards! Su Yan cursed in his heart. Big ones, small ones, old ones, young ones, dark ones, pale ones—every single one of them was a d*mn b*stard!
Uh—except the old one. And he wasn’t really that old.
As his mind drifted in those last half-seconds, his body, miraculously, did not crash to the ground. Instead, two pairs of hands caught him at the same time.
Lying on his back, Su Yan stared up at the two faces hovering above him. He really wanted to spit at them, but realizing the saliva would just fall back onto his own face, he refrained. Instead, he shut his eyes, muttering in either a curse or self-mockery:
“Unlucky b*stards…”
Calf cramps were easy to handle. Jinghong Zhui straightened the tendons in his leg and massaged them a few times, quickly relieving the pain. However, the bruise on his lower back from the fall wasn’t going to heal so easily—he’d still need to apply some medicinal liquor when he got home.
Su Yan lay sprawled on a goose-neck chair in the pavilion, groaning in frustration. “You two martial arts masters, please, have some mercy. Next time you want to fight, could you at least do it somewhere I can’t see? I don’t care if you beat each other half to death, as long as nobody actually dies. Just don’t drag me, a helpless and delicate scholar, into your mess, alright?”
Jinghong Zhui, ashamed, remained silent, lowering his head as he gently massaged the bruise.
Yu Wang sat beside them with a dark expression, lounging in a grandiose manner while rubbing the deep bite mark on his neck, clearly irritated. “If you hadn’t bitten me, you wouldn’t have fallen in the first place. This is what they call self-inflicted suffering.”
Su Yan snapped, “Who told you to grope me with those filthy hands? I’ve put up with you for long enough, Zhu Xujing! One of these days, I swear I’ll chop off your d*mn thing so we can both be rid of this problem for good!”
Yu Wang scoffed. “You belong to me. If you don’t want me touching you, then who do you want to be touched by? That plain-looking bodyguard? Or your whiny, attention-seeking brother? Oh, my mistake—I almost forgot. Your greatest benefactor is still in the palace. I suppose if he wanted to touch you, you’d practically throw yourself at him.”
Jinghong Zhui’s face darkened as he listened. Unable to bear it any longer, he cursed, “You filthy degenerate!” Then, with a swift motion, he slammed his palm onto the stone table in the pavilion’s center. The solid bluestone shattered instantly under the force of his internal energy, crashing onto the floor in pieces.
Su Yan, who had been lying down like a dying man, abruptly sat up in shock. He stared blankly at the destruction and muttered, “Are you two about to start round two? Give me a head start, will you?”
Yu Wang had gone through great trouble to orchestrate this long-awaited reunion, hoping to rekindle old passions. He had imagined Su Yan melting into his arms like water, but his plans had been thoroughly ruined by this d*mned watchdog of a bodyguard.
What was even more infuriating was that Su Yan hadn’t scolded the other party at all—he had only lashed out at him. Clearly, his heart was siding with someone else.
Jealousy surged in his chest, and bitter words tumbled out before he could stop them.
He knew that man in the palace had long since become a thorn in his heart.
The private affair between Emperor Jinglong and Su Yan was the sword that struck his most vulnerable spot, driving him nearly to madness. But what could Su Yan do? He was a subject of the emperor—how could he refuse the ruler’s favor? No matter how much resentment festered in his heart, Yu Wang knew he couldn’t blame Su Yan for it.
All his mocking and scolding were nothing more than misplaced anger, only serving to highlight his own helplessness in the face of imperial power.
Yu Wang let out a long sigh, reached out, and stroked Su Yan’s face before offering him his thumb. Without hesitation, Su Yan bit down, hard enough to leave deep, bloody marks. Only then did Yu Wang feel somewhat appeased. He chuckled softly. “Consider this my apology. From now on, I won’t bully you with words anymore.”
…Meaning he’d still bully him in other ways?
D*mn it. This b*stard couldn’t change his nature. Forget about making Yu Wang truly reflect on his mistakes and beg for forgiveness—just getting him to promise to leave Su Yan alone was already impossible!
Fury ignited in Su Yan’s chest. Without thinking, he turned and slapped the d*mn Wangye across the face.
The slap echoed loudly.
Jinghong Zhui smirked in satisfaction.
Yu Wang was momentarily stunned. Su Yan’s strength was pitiful to him—no more than the weight of a falling autumn leaf—but a slap to the face was still a slap. And in broad daylight, in front of his subordinates, no less. A Wangye of the imperial family, struck like this—
Su Yan arched a lazy brow at him, as if to say, Well, I’ve already hit you. Now what? Are you going to have your guards arrest me? Or run crying to your mother and brother? Do whatever you want.
Yu Wang slowly smiled. He leaned in, murmuring by Su Yan’s ear, “From now on, apart from when we’re in bed and I’m bullying you, in every other situation—you get to bully me. How about that?”
A chill ran down Su Yan’s spine. It felt as if a massive storm cloud had gathered over his head, flashing with lightning, each bolt striking directly at him.
In his daze, he felt as if he had become the scholar Lü Xiucai, whispering in despair, “Zi ah, take me away from this world…”
