The Mad Villain Driven to Death - Chapter 12

Princess Chen E’s death happened so long ago that Shen Zhaoxue’s memory had failed him. Over time, he had struggled to recall the faces of the most important people in his life. Hearing her voice now gave him a sharp, grounding realization that he had truly been reborn.

People always say the past cannot be reclaimed, yet Heaven sometimes bestows mercy, allowing the dead to live again.

For a moment, Shen Zhaoxue was lost in thought, his body moving faster than his mind as he rose and walked toward the door. Outside, he heard Wan Shenghan ask, “What do you wish to compete with me in?”

“How about military strategy? I shall present a tactical situation, and you tell me how to break the stalemate.”

Wan Shenghan hesitated for a moment, but before he could speak, Shen Zhaoxue’s voice drifted from the room cold and clear, like a drift of snow: “I shall face you.”

The Princess and the Scholar

Shen Zhaoxue stepped out of the room. His hair was loose, his frame thin, and his face pale and bloodless, save for the fine, red scratches. He looked incredibly frail.

Wan Shenghan frowned slightly. “What business is this of yours? Go back and lie down.”

“Why does the Eldest Young Master put on such a fierce front?” Chen E said with a beaming smile, turning toward Shen Zhaoxue. “This young master is willing to compete; that’s far more pleasing than your constant excuses.”

Seeing the scratches on Shen Zhaoxue’s face and the red, swollen scar on his forehead, Chen E clicked her tongue. Without another word, she fished a small porcelain bottle from her sleeve and pressed it into Shen Zhaoxue’s hand. “This medicine I brought from the palace. There is some left; it should be enough.”

“Thank you.”

Shen Zhaoxue stepped aside to let Chen E enter first, but his wrist was suddenly caught by Wan Shenghan. He turned back, his eyes meeting the man’s dark, stormy expression. Wan Shenghan said nothing, but his face was incredibly grim as he held tight.

Shen Zhaoxue’s eyes were beautiful, looking full of hidden affection when they shimmered, though it was never quite real. His lips parted slightly, mouthing a silent phrase. Before Wan Shenghan could decipher it, Shen Zhaoxue pulled his wrist free and entered the room.

A Strategy of Sacrifice

The fever was still burning in his blood, and the medicine hadn’t fully kicked in. After only a few steps, Shen Zhaoxue felt his head spin. He sat down and lowered his eyes for a long moment to steady himself. Chen E had locked the others outside, refusing to let Wan Shenghan follow.

Ignoring the social hierarchy, she treated Shen Zhaoxue simply as a patient, letting him rest on the couch while she sat on a wooden stool.

“Currently, the border conflicts between the neighboring countries and our dynasty are frequent, with neither side gaining the upper hand,” Chen E began. “Our military strength is thin, far weaker than their fierce forces. I ask you: is there a solution?”

“There is,” Shen Zhaoxue said plainly. “The first of the Thirty-Six Stratagems. If used well, there is a way.”

“You mean… ‘Deceive the Heavens to Cross the Ocean.'”

“The Yangdan of the neighboring country was once a nomadic tribe; they are born warriors with ample horses and men. They could attack the border cities of Great Yan at any moment.” Shen Zhaoxue’s throat felt dry; he paused to cough before continuing. “Constant victory will make them drop their guard—it only depends on whether the Princess is willing to take such a grand gamble and make the necessary sacrifices.”

Chen E was silent for a long time.

Shen Zhaoxue knew his words were cruel. He was used to the business of “harming the enemy by a thousand at the cost of eight hundred of one’s own.” He did not fear sacrifice; he only cared for results. But many could not accept such high risks, preferring “soft” diplomatic responses to war.

Yet, Shen Zhaoxue didn’t think Chen E would disagree. In their past lives, their ideologies were identical: solve external threats as quickly as possible to stabilize the land, then deal with the internal power struggles of Great Yan.

Unfortunately, Chen E had died early. Shen Zhaoxue had to walk the rest of the path alone. He had done his best, but he had failed to reach the goal. His heart ached, a pain that reached into his fingertips, forcing him to clench his fists.

The Hidden Hand

“The Eldest Young Master has hidden you well,” Chen E suddenly laughed. “Many in the city know the Young Master of the Shen family lives under another’s roof, but you are rarely seen. They say the Shen family has fallen and their son is an unlearned orphan. Who would have known you possessed such boldness and strategy?”

Chen E stood up, looking down at him. “That message you sent to Liu Wuyou—what did it mean?”

“The Princess and Young Master Liu surely know the meaning in your hearts,” Shen Zhaoxue said softly, his eyes curving. “Chen Luo has harassed Young Master Liu repeatedly. If the Liu family truly falls, what are the odds that the Princess, with her current power, could protect him?”

Chen E said nothing. She stared into his eyes for a moment before saying cryptically, “The Eldest Young Master likely has his own plans for hiding you. You would do well to avoid showing your face too often.” She straightened her robes. “I shall discuss your concerns with Liu Wuyou. Thank you for the reminder.”

“No need to thank me,” Shen Zhaoxue said truthfully. “If I didn’t need the power of the Liu family and the Princess, I wouldn’t meddle in others’ business.”

“And how did you know of my relationship with Liu Wuyou?”

“Everyone has secrets,” Shen Zhaoxue declined with a faint smile. “It is better the Princess does not ask.”

A knock sounded at the door. Chen E remarked, “Your Eldest Young Master truly keeps a tight watch. I wouldn’t eat a piece of your flesh, yet he cannot wait.” She opened the door to meet Wan Shenghan’s expressionless face. “Eldest Young Master Wan, until we meet again.”

The Trap of the Chancellor

Wan Shenghan ignored her, his eyes fixed on Shen Zhaoxue for a long time. Shen Zhaoxue found it strange; he remembered that Wan Shenghan and Chen E were not close in his past life, let alone enemies. Why was their relationship so poor now?

Wan Shenghan entered and locked the door behind him. The sound of a chair being moved snapped Shen Zhaoxue out of his daze; the man was already standing before him. The small room was dim, and Wan Shenghan’s tall frame cast a large shadow that completely enveloped him.

“What did you say to the Princess that took so long?”

Shen Zhaoxue frowned. “Merely military strategy. Are you afraid I gave a wrong answer and tarnished the Wan family’s name?”

“If you wanted to ruin our name, you wouldn’t need such a circuitous method,” Wan Shenghan sneered. “Do you think I don’t know? The scandal of Wan Rong and Wan Jingyao bullying a ‘weak guest’ in my residence has already spread. Besides you, I can’t think of anyone else who would do this.”

Shen Zhaoxue leaned back against the bedframe. A small candle flickered, casting a warm yellow glow on his face, highlighting his graceful features.

“The Eldest Young Master forgets,” he said softly. “I was unconscious the whole way here; how could I spread such a scandal? Furthermore…” He lifted his slender, white wrist, his fingertips catching Wan Shenghan’s belt and slowly sliding upward.

His voice dropped to a whisper, like a feather brushing the ear. “The Eldest Young Master has likely wanted to dispose of those ‘parasite’ relatives for a long time. You simply felt that I was a blade that could kill without getting your own hands dirty.”

He flicked his gaze up. Seeing Wan Shenghan’s grim face, he acted surprised. “Why that look? I don’t mind. For people like you born of a great family, destined to be the Top Scholar and eventually a Chancellor you cannot allow yourselves to be stained by such ‘rats.'”

He gripped the man’s collar, a smile on his lips that never reached his eyes. “Isn’t that right, Chancellor Wan?”

The Predatory Mark

Wan Shenghan caught his wrist. “These are merely your delusions. My father returns in two days to handle household matters. This is the Wan family pharmacy; stay here and recover.”

He pried Shen Zhaoxue’s hand away, intending to leave, then added a threat: “Don’t think of sneaking away. In your current state, you would starve to death outside, or—”

He broke off, his grip on Shen Zhaoxue’s wrist tightening until the bone ached. Shen Zhaoxue cried out in pain, and in the next heartbeat, he was yanked forward, crashing into Wan Shenghan’s embrace.

A scalding, predatory kiss fell upon him, as if a beast were devouring its prey. It blocked all his sounds, threatening to steal his very breath.

Shen Zhaoxue had never seen the man like this—not in this life or the last. Panicked, he began to struggle, only to find that his resistance made the situation worse. His belt was torn open, and he was pinned to the couch as the kisses slid from his lips to his neck and collarbone.

When Wan Shenghan finally straightened up, both were gasping for air. Shen Zhaoxue’s pale lips were now a vibrant red, as if stained with rouge. Wan Shenghan rubbed those lips with his thumb, drawing a soft whimper from the boy.

“Now,” Wan Shenghan whispered darkly, “you won’t be able to run.”