The Little Crybaby Continues to Court Death as a Cannon Fodder - Chapter 46

Chapter 46

Even the seasoned Qiu Zhiruo, who had weathered countless storms, could not immediately regain his composure. His habitually cold gaze, now fixed on the moisture on his fingertips, held a hint of absurd bewilderment.

After a moment of intense scrutiny, he lowered his head to sniff it carefully; a faint, milky fragrance wafted over him. Though a conclusion had already formed in his mind, he still extended his tongue to taste it, sweeping every drop of the thin, pale yellow liquid into his mouth.

On the couch, Yu Qing was still whimpering. Qiu Zhiruo knew this habit of his—whenever he was deep in sleep or about to wake, he would emit soft, tender moans.

Qiu Zhiruo sat quietly by his side, waiting for him to wake. Before long, Yu Qing opened his eyes in a daze. He tilted his head slightly upon seeing the man by his bed, only to accidentally catch sight of his own disheveled state.

His body was coated in a thin layer of sweat, his cheeks were a dusty rose, and the fingers that scrambled to pull the silk quilt over himself were limp and weak. No one would have guessed that he had used this very hand to squeeze out those substances just moments ago.

Yu Qing managed to pull his inner robes closed, hiding his snowy-white collarbones completely. Unfortunately, Qiu Zhiruo could see that he was still leaking; a small patch of the fabric over his chest was damp, outlining a tiny, budding shape.

Having just woken up, Yu Qing was still struggling to grasp the situation. Qiu Zhiruo firmly gripped his wrist to take his pulse. After a long silence, the Prime Minister’s expression shifted slightly, and he looked up at the Prince in disbelief.

The little Prince remained in a state of post-sleep muddle, while Qiu Zhiruo’s thin lips tightened into a dangerous line.

“What is with that look? Is it possible that the US has some terminal illness?”

“Your Highness.” Qiu Zhiruo was in no mood for banter. His gaze dropped to the belly hidden beneath the quilt. “You are with child.”

The last remnants of sleep vanished. Yu Qing’s mouth parted slightly and then closed soundlessly. His expression was a mix of shock and absurdity, even tinged with a faint, brewing rage. Could such a thing be joked about?

“How is that possible? Us is a man!”

How could he be pregnant?

But Qiu Zhiruo looked grave, his solemnity too real to be a fabrication. Yu Qing had rarely seen him wear such a stern expression. As they locked eyes, Qiu Zhiruo leaned in and pulled open his inner robe. A faint milky scent filled the air, the aroma excessively sweet.

Only then did Yu Qing notice the abnormality of his body. Earlier, Xie Xuanying had barely managed to help him stop one “leak,” and now a second one had appeared. He didn’t understand what was happening to him.

While he was panicking, he was suddenly pulled into a hug. Qiu Zhiruo held him from behind, one arm barred across his lower abdomen and the other across his collarbones. It was a domineering embrace, one that was nearly impossible to escape from.

Qiu Zhiruo asked calmly, “Whose is it?”

“…”

“I don’t have one!” Yu Qing cried out, aggrieved. Even he didn’t understand what was going on. He lifted his wrist slightly. “I really don’t. Uncle, look again for me.”

His panic did not seem feigned; his small face was terrified, and he had forgotten his royal pronouns. Qiu Zhiruo watched him for a moment and took his pulse once more.

“Your Highness, you are indeed pregnant.”

“…How can that be!”

How could he be pregnant? Even if a man could conceive, he clearly hadn’t done that. Could saliva make someone pregnant?

While Yu Qing was in a state of mental chaos, Qiu Zhiruo asked again, quietly: “Whose is it?”

Qiu Zhiruo did not stop to ponder the strangeness of the situation—such as the fact that men cannot conceive. He didn’t care about the logistics; he only cared about who the father was.

His cold, aloof face seemed frozen in frost, radiating a sharp chill. His tight jawline proved that his heart was far from peaceful; rather, he was exerting every ounce of strength to suppress an explosive emotion. He waited quietly for an answer. In that short span of time, he had already made many plans.

Once he knew who the child belonged to, he would kill that man. No, a simple death was too merciful. He would have that man drawn and quartered, making him taste every torture known to the world.

But he received no answer. Instead, he was met with more devastating news.

The little Prince in his arms seemed to give up his struggle. With a wilted face, he lifted his shirt to stare at his belly, unable to imagine that a small life was growing inside.

He said despondently, “I don’t know whose it is.”

Qiu Zhiruo froze. “You don’t know?”

How could he not know?

Qiu Zhiruo was suddenly lost. His usually sharp mind turned into a tangled mess. Of course. The Prince wouldn’t know. The Prince had done all sorts of reckless things—a Prince who dared to kidnap foreign hostages into his bed, what were a few more romantic escapades? They were just pastimes of a night’s passion, playthings not even worthy of being called pets. How could they be worthy of being remembered by the golden-blooded Crown Prince?

It was logical. Yet, Qiu Zhiruo could not suppress the boiling rage within. His entire being felt as if it were soaking in molten lava, a scorching heat rolling through his internal organs, making him want to crush everything around him.

How could this be? How could he not know who the father was? What was he supposed to do? On whom should he vent his anger? On whom should he lash out?

His handsome, elegant face was stuck in a dazed stupor. Qiu Zhiruo lowered his head and placed his hand over Yu Qing’s lower abdomen. The area was as warm and soft as before, yet it was nurturing a child belonging to some unknown man.

The father was unknown, and likely the timing was unknown as well. While he wasn’t looking, just how many men had the Prince slept with?!

While Qiu Zhiruo’s heart was in turmoil, his hand on the Prince’s belly didn’t dare use force, fearing he might hurt the fetus.

Yu Qing, leaning against Qiu Zhiruo, was feeling utterly miserable. Suddenly, he felt a strange itch, as if thousands of insects were swarming to one spot, gnawing the soft flesh until it was tingly and unbearable.

“Un… Uncle!” The succession of strange reactions finally made the little Prince feel afraid. He frantically grabbed Qiu Zhiruo’s wrist. “I’m so itchy…”

“Itchy?”

Yu Qing’s knees pressed together, his toes curling from the intensity, making each toe look round and adorable. He didn’t know this was a special side effect of the medicine, nor did he know that a man’s reaction would be more violent and fierce.

His snowy face gradually flushed. Because of the drug reaction, the itch was unbearable. His calves tensed, his heels rubbing against the bedding as he pleaded in a low, trembling voice, “Uncle, Uncle.”

At a time like this, he finally knew to call for his uncle.

Qiu Zhiruo looked down at the little Prince. The Prince was trying to turn around, his freshly tied inner robe falling open at an angle. The collar was wrinkled, spreading to the sides. His long fingers were flawless, yet his fingertips carried a natural pink tint, adding a touch of allure.

Right now, that mutton-fat jade-like small hand was anxiously squeezing himself. The milky fragrance in the air grew denser, making it impossible to restrain oneself.

“Who else knows of your condition?” Qiu Zhiruo’s voice was very light, his eyes flickering toward the unconscious Xie Xuanying by the bed, clearly implying something.

The little Prince shook his head with a red face. “Only Uncle knows.”

Only he knew. This secret and intimate matter was known only to him. It was as if, through this secret, he had established a special bond with Yu Qing, becoming the most unique person in his life.

But soon, the Prince sat up slightly and turned around uneasily, pointing to the other abnormality: “Xie Xuanying only knows about that one. He helped me… but now it’s happening again.” As he spoke, he sounded aggrieved once more.

No matter how suffocated with resentment and rage he felt, Qiu Zhiruo forced down his emotions and gathered Yu Qing into his arms, providing a sense of security.

“Qingqing, do not use them anymore.” Qiu Zhiruo’s voice was low, carrying a strength that brooked no refusal. “If you like, Uncle can help you too. I can accompany you. Those people are unclean; they are not worthy.”

With that, he actually began to move, showing the Prince through action that he could indeed lend a hand.

Yu Qing’s face went through several shades of red and white. With his knees apart, he knelt over the man, his head resting on a broad shoulder while his back was patted soothingly. His mouth was full of incoherent words.

He soon realized he had been tricked. Qiu Zhiruo’s “help” did not make the situation better; instead, it intensified. He could hear a distinct sound. His face grew ruddier with anger, and his eyes became wet and red.

“You lied to us! You don’t know how to do this at all!”

“I am learning.”

In an instant, their identities shifted from the closest of kin back to the cold relationship of ruler and subject. Qiu Zhiruo’s attitude was proper, his expression as cold and solemn as if he were at a morning court session.

—Provided one ignored the faint, pale yellow smudge accidentally smeared near his brow, and the prominent sound of his throat bobbing.

Qiu Zhiruo had confirmed many times just now: Yu Qing’s pulse was steady, and the “fetal” state was stable. It didn’t matter if he was a bit excessive. He had a sense of proportion.

As he moved, the knuckles on the back of his hand became prominent, veins bulging, displaying a forceful sense of power everywhere.

Yu Qing’s eyes widened, and he instinctively moved to protect his small belly. This was a completely primal act. As he lowered his head, his mouth fell open, and saliva dripped onto his neck. Qiu Zhiruo showed no mercy, tilting his head up to capture his lips.

Qiu Zhiruo seemed to use this kiss to vent his rage. A forceful kiss was pushed into his mouth; a thick tongue powerfully licked through the moist oral cavity, exchanging a deep kiss that tasted of the little Prince’s own flavor.

Yu Qing’s face was covered in tears, his cries intermittent. When the kiss went deep, he would make muffled groans, which only drove Qiu Zhiruo more wild. His tender tongue was vigorously stirred and sucked into the man’s mouth. Not a single patch of tender flesh inside the mouth was spared. Excess saliva spilled from the corners of his lips. Yu Qing felt as if he were suffocating, his entire face becoming wet.

While one hand clutched his small belly as if protecting something, the little Prince, unable to endure this overly frantic kiss, used his other hand to beat the man’s back, his nails scratching wildly.

Qiu Zhiruo seemed dissatisfied with his struggle and simply scooped him up to sit in his lap while kissing him. He was pinned firmly in the man’s embrace, which allowed their kiss to reach an indescribable depth.

The tip of the man’s tongue almost reached the back of his throat. Yu Qing began to gag, his shoulders hunching as he tried to flee, to escape the kiss, only to be pressed heavily back into the embrace, his tender lips bitten and sucked.

Yu Qing wept continuously, his whole body trembling. The sound of his crying was broken, possessing a pitiful quality that sparked compassion. He cried until he spasmed, yet he was afraid to cry out too loudly for fear of waking Xie Xuanying lying by the couch. In his over-endurance, some of his black hair got stuck in the corners of his mouth, and he couldn’t even spit it out.

And at this moment, Xie Xuanying, who had been unconscious by the bed for a long time, woke up groggily.

At the same instant, Yu Qing actively hugged Qiu Zhiruo tight, like a drowning man clutching his last hope. He delivered himself firmly into the other’s arms, tilting his head back to accept the kiss.

That kiss had just drained most of Qiu Zhiruo’s strength. His handsome face was flushed with a morbid red. He breathed heavily, stroking the little Prince’s smooth back to soothe him. Even though the Prince had saliva running down his chin, he showed no sign of disgust.

Like an observer of a beautiful scene, he witnessed three thin pillars of pale yellow splash out. The little Prince remained in the aftershocks of fear, his shoulders shivering. He bit his finger and sobbed while shielding his soft little belly.

Qiu Zhiruo was still unsatisfied. He embedded the little Prince firmly in his embrace. Now, they were the closest beings in the world; no one was nearer than they were.

“Your Highness,” he said. “Regardless of whose this child was before, now—”

“This child will only be mine.”