After I Faked My Death, the Dog Emperor Completely Lost His Mind - Chapter 27

Through the narrow slit in the window paper, Yue Feng saw a pitch-black silhouette drift like a ghost toward Shen Yuheng’s bed. A long, slender sword was strapped to the intruder’s waist, and the pungent, heavy scent of blood was so strong that even Yue Feng, standing outside, could smell it.

So, Xiao Qi’s assassins have already managed to strike here.

Yue Feng’s eyes grew cold. His blade slid slowly from its scabbard, and he steeled himself to burst through the window. However, in the next second, the “assassin” standing in the shadows muttered a blurred word as if possessed.

Yue Feng couldn’t quite hear it. He pressed himself closer to the wall, trying to catch what was being said. In an instant, the man leaned down, his features suddenly illuminated by the cold, pale moonlight.

Yue Feng froze. He recognized that face.

Months ago, while they and Shen Yun were still guarding the border, enduring the harsh, coarse winds of the desert, they had stumbled upon a mountain of corpses. It was a common sight some small tribe losing a struggle for food or water to a more vicious predator.

They had found Xiao Jin there. He was the sole survivor of that hell, his long, matted hair stained with crimson blood, his entire being radiating the inescapable aura of a charnel house. Even the camp followers avoided him like the plague, terrified of the youth. Yue Feng hadn’t been interested in the prince who crawled out of a sea of blood, but he vividly remembered his eyes cold, empty, like a bottomless abyss.

Now, those eyes were filled with a burning, hateful red.

The window outside framed a scene that made Yue Feng’s breath hitch. As Shen Yuheng’s white inner robes were ruthlessly pulled aside, Yue Feng finally realized what was happening. His stern, disciplined face flushed deep red.

Though the Consort was a man, the Emperor had named him Xiao Jin’s Mother Consort. One was the Emperor’s son, the other the Emperor’s consort how could they… Even a rebel at heart like Yue Feng had never imagined something so scandalous.

Moreover, Shen Yuheng seemed… off. His eyes were tightly shut, his black lashes trembling slightly. No matter how he was treated, he didn’t wake up, seemingly unaware of what he was experiencing. His skin, exposed to the cold air, broke out in fine beads of sweat.

The youth’s touch was rough and chaotic. In his movements, his sword clattered to the floor with a sharp pang. With the weapon on the ground, Yue Feng knew there was likely no immediate threat to life. But… if he kept watching, he feared for his own life. To witness such a secret was a death sentence.

Yue Feng withdrew silently. By the time he returned to his room, Yue Lin was awake. When asked where he’d been, Yue Feng joked, “Eavesdropping on a little nun.”

“Nonsense. This isn’t a nunnery; where would you find a nun?” Yue Lin smiled helplessly and walked toward the door.

“Brother, where are you going so late?”

“I’m going to see Yuheng. It’s been a long time; I should pay my respects.”

Yue Feng’s smile vanished. He broke into a sweat, stopping his death-seeking brother. “Wait! Wait a second, Brother. Don’t go over there yet.”

“Why not?”

“He’s the Emperor’s male consort now. You going over in the middle of the night… it’s, well, it’s not appropriate.”

Yue Lin nodded, his expression complex. He still couldn’t accept that the little brother he once looked after had become the Emperor’s bed-partner. A man submitting to a man… utterly incomprehensible.

Hearing his brother’s sigh, Yue Feng let out a frustrated laugh. “What’s so strange? This has happened throughout history. It’s not that rare.”

Once the observer outside had vanished, a brief, sickly smile touched Xiao Jin’s lips. He lightly patted Shen Yuheng’s cheek. The fair skin instantly flushed red, but the sleeping man only hummed a protest, his lips half-parted.

Seeing the man’s body beginning to adapt to the sensations, Xiao Jin grew bolder. Shen Yuheng didn’t wake, but his trembling intensified as he instinctively tried to retreat from the source of the pain.

If he knew how he looked to others right now, Xiao Jin thought, with his personality, he’d probably want to die of shame.

Xiao Jin withdrew his hand, his fingertips glistening. Under the cold moonlight, he slowly separated his fingers, watching a thin, watery thread stretch between them. He’s gasping like this, and yet he thinks it hurts? Not a single drop of blood was shed.

He remembered the first night; Shen Yuheng’s struggle had been so violent he nearly stained the sheets with blood. Since then, Xiao Jin had restrained himself slightly. He wanted Shen Yuheng to suffer, but the time for exposure hadn’t yet come. He was spinning an invisible web of pain around the man; the deeper the secret, the more precarious the truth became.

I want him to shatter in my hands.

Xiao Jin used his damp fingers to squeeze Shen Yuheng’s jaw. “What ‘Mother Consort’…” Someone who can be held by anyone how can he be my Mother Consort?

Xiao Jin sneered. He had been so close earlier just a wall away yet Shen Yuheng had been oblivious, focused entirely on the child in his arms. He had acted the part of a “Mother Consort,” holding that girl with such tenderness and accepting her kiss.

Xiao Jin’s thumb pressed hard against Shen Yuheng’s lips, his blood boiling. The more he hated, the more he was obsessed with this spot. He had seen their heads together that quick, light touch. Then the girl had laughed innocently, and Shen Yuheng had shyly touched his cheek, whispering for her not to do it again.

The pressure on Shen Yuheng’s lips increased, rubbing back and forth as if to erase the memory. The delicate tissue turned a vivid, bruised red under the assault, and eventually, Xiao Jin’s finger slid into his mouth.

As his finger mingled with the man’s saliva, Xiao Jin’s brow furrowed in disgust, yet as he withdrew, he intentionally scraped against the sensitive roof of the man’s mouth. Physiological tears pooled in the corners of Shen Yuheng’s eyes; he instinctively swallowed, letting out a pained whimper.

Xiao Jin thought this was the expression he most wanted to see, but seeing it only fueled a prairie fire of rage in his chest. Why should he be the one in pain?

Xiao Jin squeezed his face and blocked the whimpers with a kiss that was more like a bite. He ruthlessly tangled with the innocent, recoiling lips until they were torn and bleeding.

From the moment Shen Yuheng entered the palace, he ceased to belong to himself; he was destined to be a hollow shell trapped in a gilded cage. How dare he dream of freedom? Xiao Jin knew that only within this suffocating palace did their twisted relationship appear remotely “normal.” His hatred was like a thicket of thorns, growing wild in the dark.

If Shen Yuheng left the palace, if this relationship were dragged into the light, every fragile pretense would be torn apart. He cannot leave.

Xiao Jin’s grip on his jaw tightened. The kiss had become a form of endless torture. Shen Yuheng struggled for air, his hands flailing uselessly. Throughout the room, there was no speaking—only the sound of the struggle and the wet sounds of their mouths.

Only when Shen Yuheng’s face flushed from suffocation did Xiao Jin finally pull away. The flicker of desire in his eyes cooled instantly, returning to a bone-chilling frost.

He will not let him escape.

Never. Not even in death.

The Next Day

Shen Yuheng woke up with the same strange dizziness. He felt like his sleep had been a waste of time. Despite going to bed early, he felt as exhausted as a delivery driver who had to walk up twenty flights of stairs because the elevator broke.

[Host, why are you up so late? Headache again?]

“Feels like it.”

Not only was he exhausted, but his lips were swollen as if he’d been stung by a bee. Before leaving the room, he glanced in the bronze mirror and immediately slammed the door shut, running back inside.

His lip wasn’t just swollen; it was torn in a way that looked exactly like a bite. The swelling is one thing, but how do I explain a wound?!

He had suspected those around him before. First, he’d ruled out Xiao Jin. In his mind, Xiao Jin didn’t like him that much. The boy had bitten his shoulder twice, but that was likely for the Emperor’s benefit to get Shen Yuheng kicked out. There was no benefit for Xiao Jin to bite someone in the middle of the night where no one could see. As for love? Impossible.

Next, he’d suspected Zhou Yuan or the eunuchs. He’d read novels where eunuchs were psychos, but after testing Zhou Yuan, he seemed entirely innocent. Not even an Oscar winner could act that naturally.

Shen Yuheng grew more anxious each night. He locked his doors and windows, yet the strange sensations returned every morning. He didn’t dare tell anyone. He had assumed it was someone in the palace, but he wasn’t in the palace anymore. Wangyun Temple was isolated on a mountain; there were no civilians, only monks. Xiao Huai was coughing up blood and too sick to move.

Who could it be? The thought made his skin crawl. Am I being haunted by a ‘lustful ghost’ or something?!!

Outside the Temple

Several bodies covered in white cloth were dragged forward. Yue Lin, Yue Feng, and a crowd of soldiers stood around them. Shen Yun, just returning from the mountains, dismounted to inspect the scene. They had found the general location of Xiao Qi’s camp, but the terrain was too treacherous for a reckless charge. They had to wait for an opening.

“General,” Yue Lin reported, cupping his hands. “Last night, several of Xiao Qi’s scouts were lurking near the temple. I was tracking them to find the main camp, but at some point during the night… someone killed them. All of them. No survivors.”

Yun璟 frowned and inspected the bodies. Usually, those killed in a skirmish had distorted, terrified faces. These bodies looked eerily peaceful. The blades that slit their throats were handled by a master among masters the killer hadn’t hesitated for a second. This person had killed thousands.

The killer was targeting Xiao Qi’s men, yet they weren’t on the army’s side. Yun’s heart grew heavy.

As they discussed the escort for the Emperor, a lieutenant ran up. “General Shen, the Third Master… I mean, Consort Shen is here.”

Yun breathed a sigh of relief, his tension easing. Beside him, Yue Feng’s expression turned stiff. Yun noticed but didn’t ask; he assumed Yue Feng just couldn’t accept Yuheng’s status as a male consort.

However, when Shen Yuheng walked into the room, Yue Feng’s behavior grew even stranger. Usually cool and arrogant in battle, he became silent and awkward. He flushed, looked away, and yet his gaze kept snapping back to his brother.

Yun’s face turned ice-cold. I was only gone for one day.

Xiao Jin isn’t here, so now you’ve decided to lose your mind over him, Yue Feng?