The Little Crybaby Continues to Court Death as a Cannon Fodder - Chapter 45

Chapter 45

The eccentric physician once said that while men taking this medicine would experience “special” reactions, there was no cause for alarm; after about a month, the effects would vanish along with the symptoms.

Xie Xuanying had suspected the reaction wouldn’t be pleasant, but he never imagined it would be this.

Yu Qing was naturally delicate, and now, fear and panic painted a touch of distress across his brow, making him look fragile—like a piteous cub seeking help from a predator.

Piteous. Small cub.

Yet Yu Qing was the Crown Prince of the Qing Dynasty, above ten thousand and second only to one, pampered by a nation since birth. Neither description should have fit him.

Xie Xuanying’s mind raced with uncontrollable, shifting thoughts. The more he tried to suppress them, the more they surged. He looked at the little Prince’s upturned face, those beautiful eyes brimming with a plea for help—a stark contrast to his usual cold, arrogant malice. This jarring reversal made Xie’s throat tighten. Acting as a guardian deity, he reached out and gathered the Prince into his arms.

“Your Highness, you must call the imperial physician. I will go—”

“You are not allowed!”

Yu Qing glared at him. “The US forbids you from calling a physician!”

He was the Crown Prince. If his body suffered such an… issue, how could he let anyone else know?

Xie Xuanying looked disapproving and made a move toward the door. The little Prince clung tightly to his waist, lifting a fierce little face from his chest. “Did you hear me? Us says no!”

“But…” Xie Xuanying seemed to find it difficult to speak. He glanced down, rested his hand on the Prince’s waist, and moved his palm to check the situation.

In the gap of the Prince’s confusion, Xie Xuanying tried to stem the flow with his fingers. Unfortunately, things went against his wishes as he felt the excessive moisture in his palm. His handsome face turned solemn. “Your Highness, it cannot be stopped at all. It is better to call the physician.”

“No!”

The startled Prince’s muscles spasmed, making it impossible for Xie to pull away. The Prince stammered for a long while, his lips pursing and relaxing, the “lip pearl” becoming even more vivid. His eyes were rimmed with red, looking as though he might burst into tears at any moment.

Just as Xie Xuanying’s heart began to soften, wondering if he was being too cruel, the conflicted Prince finally gathered his courage. He raised his wet eyes and gave a trembling command: “You… help us.”

“Me?”

“You… help Us…”

Yu Qing spoke as if facing execution. Halfway through, he couldn’t go on and buried his burning face back into the man’s chest, muttering muffledly, “Us doesn’t care. You are Mine. You must do whatever the US tells you. You are not allowed to refuse us.”

Domineering to the core.

The little Prince, raised to have every whim satisfied, felt that ordering a favorite to help him was hardly a grand matter. Yet Xie Xuanying remembered how much the Prince used to loathe him; now, even as his legs shook with shame, he forced a “ferocious” expression to threaten him.

Truly adorable.

Xie Xuanying wore an expression of “enduring humiliation,” as if he were a poor soul forced to bow to power. He eventually knelt on one knee. Yu Qing’s movements were slow, his slender fingers trembling so much he couldn’t even grasp the edge of his garments. Finally, Xie Xuanying, unable to wait, lent a hand to help the Prince achieve his goal.

Those legs were exactly as he remembered: pale, slender, and delicate, with the smooth skin coated in a transparent film of moisture that emitted an alluring fragrance. His legs were straight and the lines beautiful when standing, but now, out of embarrassment, his knees knocked together, forming a hidden little gap, while his toes curled in an exceptionally cute manner.

Xie Xuanying was, after all, a man of the martial world with hot blood. Being ordered to do such a “hardship” task, he had to show his reluctance through action. He stared blankly for a long time, his gaze like a torch. Yu Qing felt as if that small patch of skin was catching fire; complex emotions bloomed into a faint pink tide, slowly dyeing his snowy body a beautiful rose-white.

The little Prince couldn’t take the mental torture. He pressed his knees even tighter, his small hands shivering as he tried to hide himself. But a pair of hands forced their way in, making him open up.

“Your Highness, did you not ask me to help you?”

“To solve this quickly, you must cooperate with this humble subject.”

Xie Xuanying had changed his face. Before, he resented the Prince for bringing him into the palace. Back then, because the Prince liked him, he had obtained permission from the Emperor to use the informal “I.” Now, he deliberately called himself “this humble subject” and addressed Yu Qing as “Your Highness” at every turn, drawing a sharp line between their statuses as if fearing the Prince would forget he was a lowly commoner.

Xie reached out to pull the Prince’s legs apart; that small patch of skin turned red instantly from shame. His throat bobbed. The slickness in his palm reminded him clearly: this was the Crown Prince, the future Emperor of the Qing Dynasty. One of the most honorable people in the land was now appearing before him in such a seductive state, like a lamb led to slaughter.

It felt as though he could do anything.

The sound of “rain” hitting the floor continued. Yu Qing grew anxious and was about to speak when his lips parted in shock. Xie Xuanying, who had been idle until now, actually opened his lips to catch the flow.

Later, as if finding the efficiency too slow, Xie Xuanying licked his lips with dissatisfaction. His throat moved, his mouth filled with a lingering, sweet fragrance.

“Your Highness, just sit down.”

With that, Xie Xuanying grabbed Yu Qing’s wrist, forcing him to sit. But Yu Qing didn’t dare truly sit down; he just hovered there with trembling legs, hands clutching the doorframe, his small face wet and red. His eyes were full of the absurdity of the situation, yet he couldn’t help the misty, dazed look in his gaze.

…

By the time Xie Xuanying had his fill, the Prince had lost all his strength. He lay on the couch, his calves twitching occasionally, clearly exhausted to the limit. He looked incredibly tempting yet oddly obedient. With his temper tucked away, the little Prince looked youthful, even green. This made Xie Xuanying realize that the Prince had only just reached adulthood.

No wonder he has the heart of a child.

The Prince lay prone in the bedding, his dark hair veiling part of his snowy back. The soft skin peeking through the strands was a vibrant pink-white. Xie Xuanying sat by the bed, pressing down on the “wound” and slowly parting it to look. He stared for a long time, and seeing that the flow had stopped, he reluctantly let go, poking the narrow slit one last time as if to confirm.

His fingertip was indeed stained with a little, but not much. Compared to the “flood” at the beginning, this was negligible. Facing such a disrespectful touch, the Prince only twitched his waist and stayed slumped there; he truly had no energy left to scold anyone. He felt suddenly sleepy, even though he had already napped. It was still early; he shouldn’t be this tired.

As he thought, his heavy eyelids closed, his lashes fluttering like butterfly wings before he lost consciousness entirely.

Xie Xuanying was still admiring his masterpiece—he had personally turned the pale pink into a ripened, vivid red. The satisfaction of this achievement made his head throb and his breathing quicken. Just as he leaned down for a secret kiss, a heavy force struck the back of his neck. His vision went black, and with a thud, he collapsed beside the bed.

Qiu Zhiruo looked down at the fallen man with cold indifference, his gaze like a blade that wanted to shred him then and there. Pretending to be ill… he only has these few tricks. Qiu Zhiruo gave a disdainful sneer. Vulgar trash.

Looking at the sleeping Prince, the icy gaze thawed instantly. He stepped directly onto Xie Xuanying’s chest to climb onto the platform and sit by the bed. The little Prince seemed worn out, his brow full of fatigue. His face, pressed against his arm, was flushed—full of an unconscious allure.

As Qiu Zhiruo stroked his face, those full lips suddenly parted, emitting a pained groan.

A nightmare?

Qiu Zhiruo stroked the Prince’s back, soothing him. He leaned down, his raven-black hair falling over the Prince’s shoulder, his voice low and tender: “Don’t be afraid. It’s only a dream. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

This comfort eased the nightmare to an extent, but the Prince still frowned, looking as though he couldn’t catch his breath. He rolled over onto his back, his inner robes loosening to reveal a large portion of his chest and shoulders. His small face and soft, exquisite pinkness were now fully exposed to Qiu Zhiruo.

As a Prince, Yu Qing was far too simple, his sleeping face peaceful and defenseless. Qiu Zhiruo couldn’t help but chuckle; if he were an assassin or a thief, he would have succeeded long ago.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, a faint, suppressed whimper reached his ears, as if the Prince were in extreme pain: “Mnh…”

Qiu Zhiruo looked toward the source. The Prince did indeed look pained, his exquisite face wrinkled. Yet, the flush across his features gave him a vivid color. His legs rubbed against the sheets due to the nightmare, his breathing erratic as he turned his head slightly.

Qiu Zhiruo hadn’t even touched him, yet he began to feel a rising heat. The Prince seemed truly possessed by a nightmare; his shoulders rose and fell, his waist twisted, and his whole body struggled. One wondered what terrible monster he was dreaming of to trigger such a reaction.

Qiu Zhiruo should have woken him, but he was entranced. He stared almost obsessively at the patch of pink becoming more prominent and the section of the quilt beneath that was turning a damp grey. His gaze darkened, his throat bobbing. His look was so piercing it felt as if he might pounce and devour the Prince at any moment.

Yu Qing seemed uncomfortable somewhere. He reached out with his hand, searching for the source of his distress, but he couldn’t find it. The pampered Prince, never having suffered before, let out a small sob in his sleep. In the silence of the night, it rippled out like water, enveloping the senses from all directions.

The veins on the back of Qiu Zhiruo’s hand bulged. He prepared to call the physician, but as he was about to rise, he saw that soft hand cover the Prince’s chest. The fingers were caught right there, the pink and white so distinct they couldn’t be mistaken.

Qiu Zhiruo’s steps halted abruptly. An invisible force seized his actions and thoughts. He looked as if possessed, his eyes nailed to that spot, unable to move for a long time. The Prince seemed incredibly uncomfortable. His slender fingers, which had never done a day’s work, were clumsy as he tried to relieve his own distress.

This wasn’t the first time Qiu Zhiruo had seen this place, but the Prince seemed… more plump than before. The white turned to pink, and the pink to red. The shifting colors made his heart race; the scene was so breathtaking he couldn’t look away.

Qiu Zhiruo thought this was all, and he sat back down, leaning over to see more clearly. Suddenly, the Prince let out a soft “Ah!” At the same time, Qiu Zhiruo was struck by a sudden “attack.” His eyelids felt a sudden warmth, and he instinctively closed them.

Something was sliding down his face like warm blood. He reached up to rub it, then opened his eyes. Looking at the moisture on his fingertip, he froze.

It was pale yellow.