The Loyal Dead Soldier Did Not Plan to Run with a Bun (Pregnant) - Chapter 15

Would normal master-servant relations be this intimate?

Wei San felt something was very wrong, but he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was.

Even Commander Duan, who had watched the Master grow up from childhood, had never been this intimate; the relationship between him and the Master had indeed crossed the line.

The Master certainly couldn’t be the problem; if there was a problem, it could only be with himself. It was his own greed that made him want to get closer to the Master—that was not how it should be.

He thought that, from now on, he must pay attention to maintaining appropriate boundaries; he could not let the Master think that he had any improper notions of overstepping his position.

“Master Sui Yun, your medicine is about to boil dry.”

Physician Liu, who had come out to check if the medicine was ready, saw him staring blankly into the distance, unaware that the furnace fire was about to go out, and couldn’t help but offer a reminder.

Wei San came back to his senses and looked closely, realizing the charcoal fire in the furnace was nearly extinguished. He apologized to Physician Liu with embarrassment, then quickly poured the decoction into a bowl, stood up, and carried it into the room.

The Virtuous Prince remained unconscious, his high fever refusing to break. The old Emperor visited as if he were checking in on a routine, rushing straight to the Prince’s estate immediately after the morning court session for three consecutive days. Idle gossip began to spread throughout the capital, saying that the foolish Virtuous Prince was nine times out of ten not going to make it, otherwise, why would the Emperor be so concerned?

“Why is Old Seven still not showing signs of improvement?”

The old Emperor’s face was full of sorrow. When he heard his son deliriously calling out for his mother in his dreams, a flash of complexity appeared in his eyes, but he quickly wiped it away.

The Head Physician of the Imperial Hospital consoled him from the side: “The Virtuous Prince’s condition has eased much compared to before. This old subject can guarantee that he will be able to wake up within a few days.”

The old Head Physician was very confident in his medical skills. He wasn’t making empty boasts; based on his observations over the past few days, the Virtuous Prince had only suffered a high fever due to the shock of falling into the water. Once he performed acupuncture for a few more days, naturally, all illnesses would be gone upon waking.

The old Emperor sighed, thumbing his jade ring, wanting to say something but ultimately remaining silent.

Wei San entered just at that moment, carrying the medicine. The old Emperor watched him approach, and, not knowing what he was thinking, suddenly reached out his hand: “Give the medicine to me.”

Wei San knew very well that there was something wrong with this medicine; he dared not hand over the bowl at all. He pressed his lips together and said, “Your Majesty, it would be better for this commoner to handle such menial tasks.”

A look of displeasure appeared on the old Emperor’s face, and just as he was about to flare up in anger, Physician Liu, who was as sharp as a fox, followed in behind and hurriedly interjected: “Master Sui Yun, His Majesty and the Virtuous Prince share a deep father-son bond. The Virtuous Prince not improving has left His Majesty anxious; it is only human nature for him to want to feed the medicine himself. You must show understanding for His Majesty’s paternal love.”

Wei San was startled for a moment, understanding the meaning behind his words. Since even Physician Liu wasn’t afraid, it must mean that no issues could be detected in this decoction. He offered the bowl in his hand with both hands, saying: “It is this commoner’s fault.”

Perhaps because he disdained to argue with him, the old Emperor did not reprimand him, merely waving his hand to signal him to withdraw.

Wei San glanced at Physician Liu, who nodded slightly at him; he retracted his gaze, performed a salute, and backed out of the room.

Because of the Emperor’s personal presence, the entire Prince’s estate was protected layer by layer by the Imperial Guards. Wei San couldn’t even take this opportunity to return to the dead soldier camp.

The atmosphere in the side hall was stifling, with every move watched by someone. Wei Zheng had been feigning illness for days, and Wei San’s spirit had been tightly strung for just as long. All the dead soldiers and secret guards originally hidden in the Prince’s estate had disguised themselves as servants and scattered throughout the estate. The only place without any was the side hall; if Wei San wanted to contact them, he had to go and find them himself.

He estimated that it would probably take another hour before the old Emperor returned to the palace, which was enough time for him to make a trip.

Wei San walked through the side hall; the patrolling guards watched him for as long as he walked.

He acted as if he didn’t notice. After exiting the gate of the side hall, he looked around. Seeing a cleaning servant sweeping the floor in the distance, he beckoned to the other person: “You, come over here for a moment.”

The servant stopped his movements and pointed at himself: “Me?”

He looked left and right, appearing as if he were the only one present.

He tossed the broom and dustpan in his hands and trotted over happily.

“Young Master, do you have any orders for me?”

Wei San beckoned for him to come closer. The servant didn’t understand why, but he still obediently stepped forward two paces.

Wei San took out two taels of silver; then, thinking better of it, simply placed the entire money pouch into the servant’s palm, instructing: “My appetite has been poor lately. Go to Yipinju for me and buy a bowl of small wontons; you can keep the remaining silver as your errand fee.”

The servant weighed the substantial money pouch in his hand, his eyes crinkling into a smile, and quickly said: “Alright! This humble one will go and handle it right away.”

He couldn’t even be bothered to tidy up his broom, running out in a frenzy with the silver. Just as he was about to pass through the courtyard archway, the patrolling guards blocked his path.

“What are you doing?”

One of the guards, who looked relatively fierce, scolded him in a deep voice. The servant laughed ingratiatingly: “Our Young Master sent me to buy some food outside the estate; I ask the officer to please grant us some flexibility.”

As he spoke, he took out some broken silver, and under the cover of his clothes, passed it to the guard.

The man glanced down, cleared his throat, and waved his hand: “Go, go, go.”

As he spoke, the silver had already fallen into his hand and was tucked into his waistband.

The servant quickly thanked him, then ran away quickly, exiting the main gate of the Prince’s estate, mounting a horse, and galloping toward the city.

The horse crested a hill and onto a mountain path; the servant stopped the horse only when he saw no one around. He took a small slip of paper from the inner lining of the money pouch, glanced at it quickly, and once the content was memorized, burned the slip with a flint lighter.

He remounted the horse and entered the city. When he encountered official soldiers checking, he showed the token of the Prince’s estate, and the soldiers immediately let him pass.

Yipinju was the largest restaurant in the capital, usually filled with a constant stream of guests. Since it was lunchtime, the main hall was almost full.

The servant used some effort to squeeze to the front of the counter. He took out the money pouch, his palm seemingly subconsciously pressing onto the account book, and said to the manager with a smile: “Manager, one bowl of chicken soup wontons, make it fast. Remember to keep it well-insulated; my Young Master is picky. If the taste isn’t right, I might have to smash your signboard.”

As he spoke, his fingertips curved and tapped rhythmically.

The manager’s expression, originally unpleasant due to the man’s confrontational tone, shifted instantly upon seeing the rhythm of his fingers, a flash of understanding crossing his eyes.

He summoned a waiter to give instructions, then stepped out from behind the counter and invited the servant to the rear (back chamber).

In Lingtai Temple, Buddhist chants echoed. The Crown Prince knelt on a prayer mat with a straight back, focusing his mind as he copied sutras.

“Your Highness, the Virtuous Prince’s condition shows no sign of improvement. His Majesty will surely vent his anger upon you. Merely copying Buddhist sutras to pray for blessings will likely be of little use; why don’t you plan ahead?”

The subordinate who had come to seek him, but was forced to watch him copy sutras for an hour, finally could not refrain from voicing his inner doubt.

Wei Heng stopped his brush. He looked up and asked his subordinate in return: “In your opinion, what plan should I make?”

The subordinate was stumped by the question.

The Virtuous Prince had fallen into the water and was gravely ill; the Crown Prince copying sutras to pray for him could still earn a reputation for deep brotherhood in the eyes of others. If he made too many moves, it would only make people wonder if there were something suspicious behind it.

Realizing the key to the matter, the subordinate fell silent. The Crown Prince shook his head and smiled: “Chenglan, oh Chenglan, if you wish to accomplish great things, you must learn to be more calm and composed.”

The subordinate named Chenglan bowed humbly to be taught, “It is Chenglan who was too hasty.”

That night, Wei Zheng woke up as soon as the medicinal effect wore off, just like the previous few days. He sat up on the edge of the bed, his gaze landing immediately on Wei San, who had been waiting beside him all along.

He asked: “How went the matter?”

Having gone without a drop of water for a full day due to the coma, his throat was dry and hoarse, making his voice sound weak and powerless.

Wei San presented a cup of hot tea to moisten his throat, then stepped back a few paces and replied: “Master, rest assured, everything is proceeding according to plan.”

As Wei Zheng listened to him speak, he keenly sensed that the dead soldier’s mood was not quite right; there was a vague, deliberate sense of detachment, as if he were avoiding something.

He sipped the tea and narrowed his eyes slightly, feeling quite unhappy in his heart.

His little dead soldier… is he avoiding him?