The Loyal Dead Soldier Did Not Plan to Run with a Bun (Pregnant) - Chapter 8

“Why does Seventh Brother have the time to enter the palace today?”

The Crown Prince appeared somewhat surprised to see him, then, as if recalling something, he smiled and said, “Look at my memory; I completely forgot it was Father who summoned you.”

The Crown Prince feigned ignorance, while Wei Zheng secretly sneered in his heart, though on the surface, he called out with extra enthusiasm: “Second Brother.”

The Crown Prince was quite satisfied with being called “Second Brother,” but before he could play out a scene of brotherly harmony with Wei Zheng, he heard Wei Zheng continue: “Has Second Brother been overworking yourself lately? Why do you seem so much older than before?”

There was a ten-year age gap between the Crown Prince and Wei Zheng; though he was already past the age of thirty, nothing irked him more than being told he looked old.

The smile on the Crown Prince’s face stiffened for a moment, but he quickly covered it up.

“Old Seven, you look exactly the same as before.”

Just as stupid and infuriating as ever. He gritted his teeth, his expression remaining that of a gentle, jade-like, good older brother.

Wei Zheng seemed unable to hear the sarcasm in his words, and with a proud tilt of his head, he said: “I am younger than Second Brother, so of course, I haven’t changed.”

As he spoke, he leaned in to examine the Crown Prince’s face closely, adding with great concern: “Look, you even have wrinkles on your face now; how can this be? Second Brother, perhaps you should ask the Eldest Sister for some pearl powder to take care of yourself, lest the Sister-in-law grows tired of you later.”

The Crown Prince clenched his fists in anger, taking several deep breaths, mentally chanting to himself not to get worked up over a fool.

Just as he finally managed to calm down, Wei Zheng continued to babble on in a way that was infuriating enough to kill, talking about how haggard he looked, then asking why he had white hairs on his head, until the Crown Prince’s head was buzzing with pain.

He directly interrupted the incessantly jabbering Wei Zheng, diplomatically trying to salvage his pride: “Second Brother calls this being mature; how could it be aging? Seventh Brother, you should worry less about your older brother. Father is waiting inside; let’s not keep Father waiting too long.”

“Oh, right, I still need to see Father.”

Wei Zheng acted as if he had only just remembered the purpose of his trip to the palace. He looked back at Zhao Fu, who was playing invisible, and chided: “Eunuch Zhao, why didn’t you remind me? If Father is unhappy from waiting, I’ll hold you responsible.”

“This slave’s fault.” Zhao Fu hadn’t expected the fire to suddenly burn him. He bowed subserviently, apologizing repeatedly.

Wei Zheng huffed, letting him off the hook.

He turned to the Crown Prince and said: “Second Brother, I’m going to see Father first. Whenever you are free, remember to come to my estate to play with me.”

The Crown Prince responded with a smile: “Alright, hurry along.”

If I don’t send this plague god away now, I’ll be fuming with internal injuries!

Wei Zheng, heartlessly, followed Zhao Fu into the imperial study, failing to notice the Crown Prince’s gaze turning cold in an instant.

Inside the imperial study, the old Emperor was leaning against a soft chair, eyes closed in a light nap, with two palace maids fanning him.

“Father, I have arrived.” Wei Zheng stood before the old Emperor and performed a proper salute.

The old Emperor lifted his eyelids. “Kneel.”

“Father?”

Wei Zheng pouted unhappily, seemingly unable to understand why his Father, who doted on him, would ask him to kneel for no reason.

“You wretch! Do you still not know what you have done?”

The old Emperor couldn’t help but flare up the moment he saw the look on his face, which clearly indicated he had no idea what he had done wrong. By the time he recovered his senses, the tea cup on the table had already been flung from his hand, landing squarely on Wei Zheng’s forehead.

The tea cup struck his forehead and then fell to the ground, shattering into several pieces.

“Your Majesty, calm your anger!”

Zhao Fu knelt and prostrated himself on the floor, trembling. The other maids and eunuchs also knelt in a flurry, not even daring to breathe, terrified of being used as an outlet for the old Emperor’s current rage.

A lump had formed on Wei Zheng’s forehead, and the skin had been broken by the base of the tea cup, oozing tiny beads of crimson blood. He looked as if he had been terrified, clutching the bleeding lump on his head, pursing his lips aggrievedly, his eyes rimmed with red.

The old Emperor regretted it the moment he threw the cup, but he could not bring himself to apologize to his son, so he remained silent with a cold face.

Wei Zheng pinched the fleshy part of his hand to force out a tear, sniffling affectedly: “Father doesn’t like me anymore, so I’m going to hate Father too!”

It was clearly an angry remark, but when the old Emperor looked at that face, which resembled Consort Chen, his heart suddenly softened.

He looked at Zhao Fu, and Zhao Fu, who had followed the old Emperor for decades, instantly understood. He signaled for all the maids and eunuchs to exit the study, and thoughtfully closed the door, leaving the space to the father and son.

“Old Seven, come here.”

The old Emperor beckoned to him. Wei Zheng played with his temper and ignored him. The old Emperor called again, and only then did he walk over reluctantly, sitting on the soft chair next to the old Emperor.

“Old Seven, Father heard that you snatched a scholar off the street today—is this true or not?”

He had already gotten over his anger, and the tone of his questioning was surprisingly gentle.

Wei Zheng was stunned; he hadn’t expected the old Emperor to have this attitude after he had caused such a ridiculous scene.

His thoughts were in turmoil, unable to grasp the old Emperor’s true intentions.

He admitted it without change in expression: “Yes, I snatched him.”

“And you have the nerve to admit it!” The old Emperor slapped the table with a thwack. “Go back immediately and release the person; this matter will be considered finished. Do you hear me?”

This was clearly the old Emperor shielding him; as long as he obediently released the person, no one would dare discuss the Virtuous Prince snatching someone off the street tomorrow.

Wei Zheng, however, was unwilling; he shook his head stubbornly: “I don’t want to. I just like him, and I want him to be my noble concubine.”

“You want that scholar to be your noble concubine?!”

The old Emperor suppressed the urge, but couldn’t help himself; he raised his hand and almost slapped the rebellious son, but in the end, looking at that face, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

He stood up abruptly, hands behind his back, pacing back and forth in anger, scanning him occasionally with a look of “disappointed in your failure to improve.”

Wei Zheng stiffened his neck, completely unyielding, refusing to lower his head.

The old Emperor closed his eyes to soothe his anger. When he opened them again, his eyes, clouded by age, brightened for an instant.

He looked at Wei Zheng with an inscrutable expression. “You just rely on my doting on you.”

“You can keep that scholar in the Prince’s estate, but he absolutely cannot be your noble concubine.”

Wei Zheng’s heart sank; he knew the old Emperor would use this to his advantage, but since he hadn’t grasped what the old Emperor was truly planning, he could only bide his time and continue acting.

He smiled joyfully: “Many thanks, Father!”

In the side hall of the Virtuous Prince’s bedchamber, Wei San counted the time his Master had been gone with anxiety. Seeing the sky outside the window growing darker and darker, he still couldn’t wait for his Master’s return.

He moved his stiff legs and began to ponder the feasibility of sneaking into the palace to find the Master.

The more he thought, the more conflicted he became—not to mention the heavy guards and imperial troops within the palace, the hidden dead soldiers and secret guards were difficult to deal with. Wei San wasn’t arrogant enough to think he could come and go through the palace under the eyes of so many people.

He sighed with worry, growing increasingly concerned for the Master who had entered the palace alone.

It wasn’t until full night had fallen and the time for the evening meal had passed that Wei San finally awaited his Master.

Wei Zheng had likely dismissed all the maids around him, stepping into the side hall door alone.

Wei San saw him, his eyes first brightening, then, noticing the large, blue-black, shockingly distressing bruise on his forehead, he walked forward with intense heartache.

“Master, who hurt you?”

He would go and hack that bastard who dared to hurt his Master into pieces!

Wei San thought with indignation, then heard his own Master say: “For you, I was struck by my Father.”

Wei San felt guilty enough to retract the words he had just cursed in his heart, feeling extremely fortunate that he hadn’t cursed them aloud.

He dared not move against the old Emperor; he couldn’t even curse him. He closed his mouth obediently, not daring to ask further.

Wei San went to fetch medicinal oil, wanting to help Wei Zheng massage away the blood stasis from the bruise, but Wei Zheng raised a hand to refuse.

“I’m all covered in dust from the rush back; I should bathe first.”

Wei San stepped back knowingly, thinking that once the Master bathed, he would have nothing to do. But to his surprise, half a quarter of an hour later, the Master threw a new robe into his arms: “I was hit for your sake, and my face is almost ruined; you have to compensate me. You will serve me while I bathe tonight.”

Wei San: “…”

Wei San flushed a deep red on the spot.

S-serve the Master while he bathes? How could he, a rough martial man, handle such delicate work?

Wei San dared not refuse the Master’s order; he was brought to the hot spring pool by Wei Zheng with a dejected face.

The pool had long been filled with hot water by the servants, prepared with soap beans and scattered with flower petals, and wisps of steam steamed the small bathroom in a mist.

Wei Zheng spread his arms without a shred of mental burden: “Come help me undress.”

Wei San’s mind went blank for a moment, and his hands felt like they had nowhere to put them.

Wei Zheng waited for a long time without seeing him move, tilting his head with confusion and a questioning “Hmm?”

Wei San hurriedly shook his head and explained: “It is not that! It is that this subordinate has never done this before, and I fear I will not serve you well.”

Wei Zheng raised an eyebrow and smiled: “It’s fine, I won’t mind you.”

Since it had reached this point, Wei San could only brace himself and proceed.

He didn’t dare get too close to Wei Zheng, staying half an arm’s length away. His hands trembled as he untied the belt, not even daring to breathe deeply, for fear of making a mistake.

Wei Zheng found his cautious appearance amusing. He couldn’t help but want to tease him, but he didn’t act immediately, instead waiting patiently until Wei San had finished taking off his clothes.

He stepped into the pool and lay against the side of the pool, resting his chin on his hands: “Are you not coming down?”

Wei San, who was shaking out the clothes the Master had changed out of to hang them on the rack, stiffened, his eyes opening slightly in disbelief, as if asking why he had to go down too.

Wei Zheng said calmly: “If you don’t come down, how will you scrub my back?”

Wei San was stunned for a moment, his first thought actually being—so, the maids in the past were always required to scrub the Prince’s back in the pool?

“But this subordinate has a heavy hand; I fear I won’t be able to control my strength.”

He tried to avoid it, but Wei Zheng didn’t give him the chance. He reached out and grabbed the hem of his garment, urging him with a lazy tone: “I already said I wouldn’t mind you; come down quickly.”

Wei San… Wei San went numb from head to toe.

Is it truly necessary to bare one’s soul to the Master? With his body being so ugly, would he scare the Master?

He thought of the scars all over his body, and he could not help but feel self-deprecating in his heart.