The Mad Villain Driven to Death - Chapter 15

Shen Zhaoxue remained speechless, but the panic that had previously receded surged back instantly. He struggled with his arms, trying to spit out the cloth blocking his mouth; he knew that with Chen E’s keen intuition, her suspicion would grow if he failed to respond for much longer.

Since his rebirth, his feelings toward Wan Shenghan had been a tangled mess—alternating between a sense of debt and a hidden resentment for the man leaving him behind in the capital. His thoughts were often so chaotic that he wanted to strip Wan Shenghan entirely from his future plans, never once considering how they would coexist.

It was only at this moment that he truly flared up at Wan Shenghan. He hadn’t realized the man possessed such a vile nature—to humiliate him so openly. This had nothing to do with the “neglect” Chunya had mentioned. Shen Zhaoxue loathed those who treated him like a plaything to be insulted at will; even if it was Wan Shenghan, he would detest him all the same.

He closed his eyes as resentment boiled in his chest. A moment later, he heard Wan Shenghan tell Chen E: “Shen Zhaoxue’s condition has been fluctuating lately. He likely fainted while bathing. Since there must be propriety between men and women, I shall go in first to check on him.”

The Forced Response

Wan Shenghan unlocked the door and slipped inside before Chen E could respond, sliding the bolt shut behind him. Shen Zhaoxue turned his face to look at him; his pale face was drenched in sweat, a feverish flush stained his cheeks, and his eyes were misty, yet his gaze remained icy.

Chen E waited outside, about to knock again, when Wan Shenghan spoke: “Young Master Shen, quickly tell the Princess that you were indeed bathing.”

After a long pause, the youth’s slightly raspy voice sounded, offering a short “Mm.”

Shen Zhaoxue’s voice was steady and clear, enunciating every word. He sounded as if he had just woken up listless and tired. He told Chen E: “My apologies, Your Highness. I am unwell today and unfit for visitors. I am sorry for your wasted trip.”

Chen E had heard long ago that the son of the Shen family was sickly, often near death in his youth. It was no wonder both the Shens and the Wans found him troublesome to raise. She sympathized with his frailty and took no offense. “Then Liu Wuyou and I shall return another day. Recover well, Young Master Shen. Farewell.”

The footsteps receded, and with the creak of the courtyard gate, the silence became absolute.

The Peony Pavilion

Shen Zhaoxue exhaled in relief, his body sliding down against the edge of the bath barrel until half his face was submerged. His time in the palace had taught him to hide his emotions perfectly. Even though his resentment toward Wan Shenghan had reached its peak, he showed no outward sign of rage. He was accustomed to biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

He closed his eyes to settle his thoughts. When he rose from the barrel, his legs were still weak. He dried himself behind the screen and dressed, piece by piece. Wan Shenghan sat at the desk reading. Shen Zhaoxue walked over with a blank expression, his steps slightly unsteady, and snatched the book from the man’s hand.

It was not a historical text or a poem for the civil exams. Shen Zhaoxue glanced at it for a moment, his lips parting as he said plainly: “The Peony Pavilion.”

He spun the thin book between his slender fingers, the slight breeze causing the candle flame to dance. He spoke softly, his voice still carrying a trace of raspiness: “Has the Eldest Young Master forgotten what I told you the other day?”

“Some people are like rats in the sewer—they are not to be provoked easily. You never know when or how a creature so small and easily crushed will take its revenge on you.”

Wan Shenghan cut straight to the point: “And how exactly do you intend to take your revenge?”

Shen Zhaoxue felt a flicker of hesitation. Wan Shenghan’s tone sounded almost… expectant, as if he were eager for the retaliation. Shen Zhaoxue dismissed it as a trick. His old memories must be confusing him, causing him to overlook the man’s vile side in favor of past kindness.

The Gift of Fire

Shen Zhaoxue’s gaze turned cold again, though a shallow smile touched his lips. “How could this be called ‘revenge,’ Eldest Young Master?”

He leaned in close to Wan Shenghan, his voice a whisper. “You hide me away and use those ‘little toys’ on me… surely it is only because you are deeply in love with me but refuse to admit it.”

Wan Shenghan did not deny it. He merely watched the youth with a scrutinizing gaze. Shen Zhaoxue held the book over the candle flame; the fire instantly caught the pages. The flickering light illuminated his beautiful face, blurring his features until he looked like a demon born of the wax.

Wan Shenghan’s pupils contracted. He lunged for the youth’s wrist, but Shen Zhaoxue stepped back. The desk was struck with a harsh, grating sound.

“Commit suicide for love with me, Wan Shenghan,” Shen Zhaoxue said softly.

This was the conviction that had kept him alive during those wretched years in the palace. He had wanted to see Wan Shenghan one more time, just to die with him. It didn’t matter that Wan Shenghan hadn’t given him that chance before; Shen Zhaoxue always planned ahead.

He curved his eyes and tossed the burning book toward the wooden door. The fire caught the wood and spread instantly.

“Shen Zhaoxue!” Wan Shenghan grabbed his hand. He didn’t waste time on scolding; he dragged him through the window.

Return to the Wan Estate

In the stifling midsummer of the capital, a fire was nearly impossible to control. The back courtyard was filled with dried medicinal herbs, which acted as perfect tinder. Within moments, the small pharmacy had turned half the sky red with its blaze.

Shen Zhaoxue, feeling no remorse for the trouble he’d caused, sat in the carriage plucking grapes. It was a deliberate act. No matter what Wan Shenghan said, Shen Zhaoxue merely wore his ear-protectors, blocking out any criticism at the source. He saw the man’s lips move, but he didn’t care what was being said. He simply stared out the carriage window.

A moment later, Wan Shenghan leaned in, snatched the ear-protectors away, and spoke directly into his ear: “I said you are foolish and dim-witted; do not pretend you cannot hear me.” Then, he put them back on him.

Shen Zhaoxue flared up, picked up the plate of grapes, and threw them at him. The fruit rolled all over the carriage floor.

Since their temporary residence was destroyed, Wan Shenghan had no choice but to take Shen Zhaoxue back to the Wan estate. Currently, Wan Rong and Wan Jingyao were still there, arguing with his father. Wan Shenghan knew Shen Zhaoxue was the puppet master behind this chaos, even if he hadn’t personally lifted a finger.

He knew Shen Zhaoxue’s goal in burning the pharmacy was to return to the Wan residence to further his revenge against Wan Jingyao. Wan Shenghan had little affection for his cousin, but he still offered a warning:

“If you act personally,” Wan Shenghan told him, “you will easily expose yourself to the world.”

“The Wan family is a prominent clan; countless eyes are watching for us to slip up.” Wan Shenghan shook the grape skins from his clothes with an air of nonchalance. “Do you think the Fifth Prince truly believed your story? Anything the Princess can find, he can find as well.”

“I want him to know,” Shen Zhaoxue laughed. “You saw the look in his eyes; his intentions are far from pure. I know exactly what he’s planning.”

He added pointedly: “Everyone in your household—including you—has spent three years ignoring and bullying me. Now that someone is willing to treat me well, I must ensure he notices my plight, shouldn’t I?”

Wan Shenghan’s grip on the youth’s wrist tightened, then loosened. He stared at Shen Zhaoxue for a long time. “You had better mean that, Shen Zhaoxue.”

The Shadow on the Sill

Shen Zhaoxue returned to his courtyard. Chunya had been there the whole time, keeping the room clean and free of dust. After sitting for a while, Chunya brought dinner from the kitchen. She gestured in sign language that the Family Head had summoned Wan Shenghan to the study.

Shen Zhaoxue wondered why she felt the need to tell him that. He lowered his head and picked up a silver needle. Before he could dip it into the food to test for poison, he stopped.

“Chunya, go find me a bird.”

He put the needle back without eating. He rose and walked to the window, stroking the orchids on the sill. On the ledge, there was a small, faint trace of mud.