After I Faked My Death, the Dog Emperor Completely Lost His Mind - Chapter 22.1

Within the cramped, airtight space, the wardrobe doors were shut tight, blocking out nearly all the air. The more he struggled, the more suffocating the heat became. Shen Yuheng fought hard, but he gave up quickly.

He had heard the dull thud of a man and woman rolling onto the bed outside. Their hushed, sticky laughter accompanied the sound, their voices gradually shifting into a different, more rhythmic tone. Shen Yuheng froze, a wave of intense unease washing over him. If either of them noticed anything and opened the wardrobe…

His heart hammered like a drum, his pulse seemingly forced into the same frantic rhythm as the lovers outside. Yet, the situation with Xiao Jin behind him seemed even worse. The youth was breathing heavily, his gasps thick and hoarse with a sense of unvented madness.

Shen Yuheng felt a bizarre sensation creeping over him. When he finally caught the words being whispered by the pair outside, that sensation was instantly confirmed.

“Yaoniang, between this Prince and Imperial Father, whom do you love more?”

A blissful voice replied, “The Prince, naturally…”

The Second Prince… Xiao Qi!

It took a second for the realization to hit, and when it did, Shen Yuheng felt the blood drain from his face. Is Xiao Qi insane?! How did he dare? As an Imperial Prince, he had targeted his father’s woman not once, but a second time! In the past, it was because of Xiao Qi’s schemes that Xiao Jin’s mother was forced to commit suicide. Every time Shen Yuheng remembered that, his heart ached for the boy.

Having lived in a peaceful world, he couldn’t imagine how a child, after witnessing such a scene, could ever learn to smile again. Xiao Jin’s madness had a cause, yet it seemed beyond cure.

Behind him, the youth pressed his forehead against the back of Shen Yuheng’s neck. His body was tense, and his hot, low breaths tickled the sensitive skin there. Shen Yuheng lowered his gaze and gently patted Xiao Jin’s arm, just as he had done when the boy was sick, murmuring “Mother is here.” The touch was light, cautious, and comforting.

But gradually, Shen Yuheng noticed something was wrong. Xiao Jin seemed lost in a hallucination, muttering blurred, incoherent words. His body was feverishly hot, the temperature nearly scalding Shen Yuheng’s palm. Most importantly… Shen Yuheng’s brow knit together. Behind him, there was… a very strange sensation.

Oh, hell.

No. Way.

You… you young man—

Shen Yuheng’s face turned “ripe” in an instant, his ears burning a deep red. He desperately hoped he was mistaken, but as a man himself, he knew exactly what Xiao Jin’s heavy breathing meant. The pity and sympathy he had felt for the boy vanished in a heartbeat.

Outside, the trysting pair finished their business. To avoid detection, they extinguished the lamp and hurried away without even a moment for a parting embrace. Once the sound of their fleeing footsteps faded, the wardrobe doors burst open, and Shen Yuheng was hauled out in Xiao Jin’s arms.

The floor was bone-chillingly cold, but the youth behind him brought a wave of sweltering, primal heat, as if he wanted to knead Shen Yuheng into his own skin.

“Xiao Jin, wait—calm down…” Shen Yuheng pushed against him to keep the youth’s face away, but he lacked the strength. He could only turn his head away, trying to use words to pull the boy back to his senses. “Look at me! Look at who I am! You hate me, remember? This isn’t something you do with someone you hate…”

Xiao Jin stared at him, silent. His skin was slick with fine beads of sweat, looking as if he were dazed by the sheer heat of his own emotions. Upon hearing Shen Yuheng’s words, the darkness in his eyes turned into a murky mire.

Of course he knew who this was. Consort Shen his current, nominal Mother Consort. A man who willingly became a male consort to his father, a man who had enticed him time and again, yet now feigned such purity. Does he really not know what he has done?

In an instant, Shen Yuheng’s world went dark. The youth’s calloused fingers pressed firmly over his eyes. What followed was a sharp, biting pain at his throat, accompanied by a wet, hot breath.

“It hurts…!”

Ignoring the cry of pain, Xiao Jin leaned down and bit into his throat without warning. His canine teeth pressed against the veins of the neck, mercilessly squeezing the fragile skin and the warm blood flowing beneath. Shen Yuheng will eventually be killed by me, he thought. These eyes I loathe so much only deserve to rot in the mud, dying in the most wretched way possible.

“Don’t… stop! This is…” The deprivation of his sight magnified Shen Yuheng’s terror. He pounded on Xiao Jin’s chest, but he was completely pinned down. The more he struggled, the tighter the boy’s bite became, as if they were being fused together.

Crimson blood finally broke through, tracing a line down the white curve of his throat and staining his trembling neck. The new clothes he had just changed into were once again ruined. The strong metallic taste of iron spread in Xiao Jin’s mouth; he was like a bloodthirsty, starving beast, swallowing the scarlet liquid whole.

He gnawed at Shen Yuheng, letting his malice run wild, while a heat he had never experienced surged in his abdomen, a shuddering sensation that felt like ants crawling through his marrow.

Xiao Jin’s vision went white. The strange sensation of release was so unfamiliar that he finally let go, throwing his head back as large beads of sweat broke out on his palms. He gasped for air, and seeing the man beneath him motionless, he suddenly snapped back to his senses to check for breath.

Feeling the faint, shallow puffs of air against his skin, Xiao Jin’s furrowed brow relaxed slightly. Shen Yuheng had simply fainted. He hadn’t been able to withstand the prolonged pressure and suffocation; his half-open eyes still held traces of tears, though they were now out of focus.

Beneath him, the man’s black hair was a mess, and his blood-stained robes were open, revealing the old bite mark that had almost faded. A new mark had been seared over the old. And this time… it wasn’t in a place that could be easily hidden.

Xiao Jin gently took the man’s neck in his hand, using his thumb to feel the swell and dip of the fresh wound. Thump. Silence. Thump. Like the rhythmic heartbeat one might hear in a mother’s womb. Once he was certain Shen Yuheng wouldn’t wake, he slowly lowered his head…

He pressed his ear against the man’s neck, listening to the territory he had just marked. The insatiable void in his soul finally found a sliver of solace.

His head felt heavy as he drifted through a murky sea of consciousness. By the time Shen Yuheng woke, it was late at night.

He was in agonizing pain. He opened his eyes to see the familiar moonlight, looking exactly as it did from his bed in Qingzhuo Hall. After a long minute, he realized he was back in Qingzhuo Hall.

He sat up on the soft, familiar mattress and recoiled, not daring to make a sound lest that psycho Xiao Jin was still nearby. After several minutes of silence, he realized the room was empty.

Is he gone? Shen Yuheng breathed a sigh of relief. Good. He wouldn’t even know how to look at the kid right now. He adjusted his disheveled robes and suddenly froze, lifting his hand. His fingertips were stained. He shivered, seeing that something had been smeared across his abdomen someone had clearly touched him there, staining his skin.

He frantically found a cloth and wiped away the evidence of the “scandalous” night. Once he looked presentable, he called for Zhou Yuan to bring a bath. He asked as if in passing, “Zhou Yuan, do you know how I got back?”

The next second, the usually calm Zhou Yuan dropped to his knees with a “thud.”

“Master, forgive me! Your servant saw nothing…”

The System chimed in: [Translation: Host, he saw everything.]

Shen Yuheng: “…” Xiao Jin, you really… I could cry.

After some “coaxing and pressure” from Shen Yuheng, Zhou Yuan finally confessed that he had accidentally stumbled upon the scene. He had been waiting for Shen Yuheng to return. In the silence of the night, he heard strange noises in the inner hall; upon entering, he saw the window wide open and Xiao Jin standing in the shadows, holding Shen Yuheng.

Xiao Jin had carried the man who was nearly his own height as if it required zero effort. Seeing Zhou Yuan, the prince didn’t say a word; he simply laid Shen Yuheng down and vanished. Zhou Yuan, fearing the situation would be misunderstood by other servants, locked the doors and waited for Shen Yuheng to wake.

Shen Yuheng nodded. Zhou Yuan was trustworthy and loyal. Compared to certain ungrateful, bitey princes, he was a saint.

Zhou Yuan noted the gloom on his master’s face and stepped forward cautiously. “Your servant knows his place. Please, rest easy, Master. In the future, if the Ninth Prince and Master wish to meet in private, I am willing to keep watch and ensure no one finds out.”

He then presented a fresh shawl. Before putting it on, Shen Yuheng looked in the bronze mirror. The reflection showed a mess his white neck was covered in red marks of varying depths, carrying the unshakeable, aggressive scent of a predator. He touched the marks; the youth’s malice resonated through the dull ache of his nerves.

“Master,” Zhou Yuan said, bowing low. “There is one thing… I’m not sure if I should mention it now…”

“Speak.”

Zhou Yuan paused, not daring to look up. “His Majesty has requested your presence at the Hall of Mental Cultivation tomorrow morning. He said… it has been too long, and he wishes to see you.”

Shen Yuheng spent the few remaining hours of the night in a fitful sleep. Nightmares of Xiao Jin’s cold, twisted eyes and Xiao Huai’s withered, mountain-like form in the incense-filled hall merged into one.

In the morning, he woke drenched in sweat. Zhou Yuan replaced Yundou and Jiaobai to help him wash and eat. Although Shen Yuheng explained that he and Xiao Jin weren’t in “that” kind of relationship, Zhou Yuan just repeatedly promised, “I understand.”

Shen Yuheng: “…” What exactly do you understand?! He realized there was no explaining this away. The evidence was literally written on his skin. He reminded himself: I must be more careful than I was with Su Cheng.

The System: [Host, I’ve got a plan. Just tell him you have severe neck rheumatism and can’t be exposed to light or wind. Once Xiao Huai feels sorry for you, maybe he’ll let you go!]

“Let’s make a bet,” Shen Yuheng told the System. “If it works, you’re the best. If it fails, I’m docking your entire salary and benefits. Every cent.”

The System wailed: [Host, I can’t do it!]

The snow had stopped, but the north wind was still biting. The sedan chair carried him to the Hall of Mental Cultivation. As he was helped out, Eunuch Fang met him as usual. The palace gates were covered in a thick layer of snow, and despite his expensive furs, the wind still felt invasive.

He steeled himself with several backup plans to deal with Xiao Huai. He found he wasn’t as afraid of the Emperor as before; though everyone treated the man like a demon, he had always treated Shen Yuheng with the kindness of a father.

However, to his surprise, Eunuch Fang didn’t lead him inside. He had a chair brought and asked Shen Yuheng to wait outside.

“His Majesty is with Attendant Zhang this morning,” Fang Qing said. “No one is permitted to enter without permission.”

Xiao Huai is with someone else?