The Mad Villain Driven to Death - Chapter 2

Boom—

Thunder rolled through the early summer night, disturbing the flora in the courtyard. Rain pattered against the eaves and lashed the plantain leaves beneath the windows.

A flash of lightning streaked across the sky, momentarily illuminating the sealed room before a deafening roar followed.

Shen Zhaoxue snapped his eyes open. His ears were ringing, and his head spun with such dizziness that he momentarily believed he was still in the prisoner’s carriage amidst the frozen, snowy plains. He remembered seizing someone’s sword; the icy chill of the blade against his throat and the piercing agony seemed as though they had yet to fade.

He stared at the carvings on the ceiling beam, panting for a long time before his senses slowly returned. His gaze shifted, and he suddenly found the surroundings familiar. His mind was a complete blank; trying to think deeply triggered a dull ache.

Shen Zhaoxue reached up with difficulty to press his forehead. As the ringing in his ears subsided, he suddenly froze, lifting his face in a daze toward the tightly closed window. He heard the thunder and the rain outside.

He could still hear.

Dormant memories came rushing back at that moment. Shen Zhaoxue sat bewildered in the armchair, surveying the room’s furnishings until a clear realization dawned on him.

This was the side courtyard where he had once lived during his stay at the Wan family estate.

He was born with hypersensitive hearing and could not tolerate excessive noise. Before his parents left the capital, they placed him with the Wan family. He lived here for over three years in a room where the doors and windows were specially designed to block out most noise, preventing him from falling ill due to the disturbance of rainy nights.

This was Wan Shenghan’s home.

He wasn’t dead. Had Wan Shenghan brought him back?

Shen Zhaoxue stood up slowly, yet he felt no pain from any wounds. His body felt energized, showing no signs of having undergone torture. Stunned, he walked to the table and picked up a bronze mirror.

His reflection appeared the jawline was soft, clearly the face of his twenty-year-old self, still carrying a hint of lingering youthfulness. He stared blankly at his reflection in a trance.

This was clearly not his current age. Was this a vision before death, or were his previous years the actual hallucination?

Outside, the rain fell steadily. When thunder struck, a sharp pain shot through his ears, reminding him that this was likely not a dream. His head throbbed painfully. Covering his ears, he pushed open the heavy door. The warm, humid air of the early summer night rushed in along with the scent of rain. The chaotic sounds of wind, rain, and the rustling of swaying trees made his vision blur. He tripped over the threshold and tumbled heavily into the downpour.

The stinging pain in his palms and knees from the scrape reminded him: this was truly not a dream.

Shen Zhaoxue propped himself up. Raindrops fell on his cheeks and soaked his lashes. He heard the sound of footsteps splashing in the water ahead and slowly lifted his head.

A young girl holding an umbrella ran toward him in a panic. The paper umbrella fell into a puddle as both their hair and clothes became drenched. Shen Zhaoxue murmured, “Chunya…”

The girl hurriedly signaled to him in sign language.

Because of Shen Zhaoxue’s condition, he required silence. Back then, the Shen household was bustling, and clumsy servants would often accidentally disturb him, causing him to suffer high fevers at night. Later, his parents found Chunya. The girl was mute but very steady in her work; from then on, Shen Zhaoxue’s daily life was handled solely by her.

After the Shen family moved away from the capital, Chunya stayed here with Shen Zhaoxue, living under someone else’s roof and enduring the cold glares of others.

He hadn’t seen Chunya since he entered the palace. It felt as if a lifetime had passed. His throat felt parched as he struggled to process this strange turn of events. He called out softly again, “Chunya…”

The girl signed: Young Master, get up quickly, or you’ll catch a cold.

Shen Zhaoxue gave a light cough. Ignoring his physical state, he grabbed Chunya’s sleeve and pressed: “What year is it now?”

Chunya was confused by the strange question but answered truthfully: The thirteenth year of Yuanshun. Today is the Beginning of Summer.

Shen Zhaoxue’s eyes widened. The thirteenth year of Yuanshun—the year he was twenty. It was six months before he was summoned into the palace by Emperor Yuanshun.

His breath hitched, and his mind suddenly cleared. Perhaps the heavens had taken pity on him and given him a chance to start over.

His heart began to race. Shen Zhaoxue scrambled up from the ground, ignoring his wet, soiled clothes as he made a move to head out.

Chunya grabbed his sleeve: Young Master, if you go out in the rain now, you will surely catch a cold.

Shen Zhaoxue’s health was poor; even a slight chill was a major ordeal for him. He calmed down slightly, though his heart was still pounding. He breathed deeply, steadying his breath, though his voice still trembled as he said, “You are right. I need to bathe now.”

Chunya replied: Alright. Go inside and change your wet clothes, Young Master. I will have someone prepare ginger soup.

Chunya was a girl of action; she helped Shen Zhaoxue back into the room and quickly ran off with the umbrella.

Shen Zhaoxue sat in the chair in a daze. After a long while, he covered his face. His body shook, yet he let out a laugh—a laugh of madness and obsession. He murmured, “To let me live again… truly, ‘vile characters live for a thousand years.’ Heaven is remarkably merciful.”

His hand tightened on the armrest, veins bulging on the back of his hand. The hatred he had suppressed for so long erupted in an instant. Shen Zhaoxue began to recall the ten years after he entered the palace. Those ten years were spent in darkness. He believed he was ridding the people of a curse, yet he ended up being despised by everyone.

So many people hated him, and he accepted that. But he carried his own hate as well. He hated those who took sides and insulted him without knowing the truth; he hated the displaced anger and suspicion; he hated Emperor Yuanshun and his nephew; and he hated Wan Shenghan even more.

But at the thought of Wan Shenghan, his clenched hand suddenly relaxed, along with his tense thoughts.

“Why didn’t you believe me?” Shen Zhaoxue whispered to himself. “Why didn’t you believe me? If only you had believed me then…”

“We wouldn’t have reached this point.”

A piece of paper lay on the desk. Water from his wet hair dripped onto it, blooming into large stains. He lowered his eyes, held his sleeve back, and set the brush to paper.

—Spring Imperial Examinations.

In his previous life, after the Shen family fell from grace and moved away, they sent Shen Zhaoxue to stay with the Wan family. He entered the Wan household at seventeen and stayed until he was twenty, spending three whole years in Wan Shenghan’s company day and night.

Wan Shenghan became the top scholar in the spring examinations of the fourteenth year of Yuanshun. He rode a tall horse amidst the thunderous sound of gongs and drums. Traveling from the city gate to his home in a red robe, he did not wish to disturb Shen Zhaoxue, so he dismounted, halted the cheering, and returned home quietly.

It was this unintentional act that drew Emperor Yuanshun’s gaze toward the Wan family, leading him to discover Shen Zhaoxue, who had been hidden in the back courtyard.

Shen Zhaoxue had always thought the Emperor summoned him because of his beauty. He had been very resistant at first, but later he learned that the Emperor had threatened the Wan family multiple times, even using Wan Shenghan’s career as leverage. Feeling grateful for Wan Shenghan’s care and unwilling to bring trouble to the family, Shen Zhaoxue accepted the decree and entered the palace.

His elder sister was already a concubine of Emperor Yuanshun. He looked very much like her. When he first entered the palace, the Emperor had stared at him for a long time, sighing at the resemblance, before granting him the position of Right Envoy and keeping him by his side.

For over ten years, Emperor Yuanshun never made any improper advances toward him; he simply consulted Shen Zhaoxue on official decisions. Shen Zhaoxue was well-read and well-versed in history; he had once had long discussions by candlelight with Wan Shenghan, reviewing lessons and offering guidance.

Shen Zhaoxue fingered the jade pendant in his hand and closed his eyes.

When he first came to the Wan family, many people looked down on a son of a fallen house who had been abandoned by his family. They often neglected or bullied him. Wan Shenghan gave him this jade pendant and told him to wear it. Later, this pendant became their token of love. Back then, Wan Shenghan simply refused to believe in his sincerity and left him in the palace.

Wan Shenghan had a hand in the final outcome of his life. He couldn’t describe his current feelings for the man; he was simply looking forward to meeting him again.

“Ten years…” Shen Zhaoxue leaned against the edge of the bath barrel, stirring the warm water. He whispered with lowered eyes, “Ten years without seeing you. I’ve almost forgotten what you look like.”

Chunya entered quietly to bring him clothes. Shen Zhaoxue asked, “Chunya, do you know what the eldest son of the Wan family, Wan Shenghan, is doing now?”

Chunya lifted her head in confusion: The Eldest Young Master? She signed that the young masters of the noble houses were all studying at the Shanyue Academy in preparation for the spring examinations; Wan Shenghan had not yet returned to the manor today.

Shen Zhaoxue’s fingertips curled slightly. After a moment, he made up his mind. He dismissed Chunya, stood up, dried himself, and dressed.

In the mirror, his body was fair and delicate, without a single scar. He touched his lower abdomen where the new Emperor’s blade had once pierced through, then touched his neck—everything was smooth and clean. This twenty-year-old body possessed a hint of healthy vitality, masking the lingering aura of despair from his old soul.

Thinking of the past life still made him feel empty, as if he had never truly escaped that nightmare. It made him feel as though the present was a fragile hallucination that would shatter at a touch. Those inexplicable things had hollowed out his flesh and soul; he now felt more like a walking corpse, devoid of the capacity for thought or struggle.

He curved his eyes into a smile, but then silently lowered his head and tied his sash, putting on his garments piece by piece.

The sudden rain outside hadn’t stopped. Shen Zhaoxue checked the time, took his ear covers to block out the world’s noise, and stepped out of the room.

The scenery of the courtyard came into view. Memories that had been gradually forgotten became clear at this moment. Shen Zhaoxue stood under the corridor, watching the rain lashes and the droplets falling from the eaves. It suddenly felt ethereal. He thought perhaps this was still a dream—that after so many years in the palace, he had often thought of his former, free, and simple self. Perhaps before death, his obsession had turned into a dream to fulfill his wish.

His body felt a bit stiff. He slowly propped up an umbrella, stepped into the rain, and walked toward the main gate of the Wan estate.

Passing the small garden, he saw several of Wan Shenghan’s cousins in the pavilion at the center of the pond, playing with crickets. Shen Zhaoxue thought distantly that over the years, only Wan Shenghan had been successful; the rest of the Wan children were good-for-nothings.

Shen Zhaoxue had no friends due to his poor health. These youths always liked to bully and tease him, taking advantage of the fact that he had no family to protect him. They treated him like Wan Shenghan’s book boy or follower. But with Wan Shenghan shielding him in the past, no major trouble had ever occurred.

Shen Zhaoxue gave a light sneer and continued walking.

Wan Shenghan’s cousin, Wan Jingyao, particularly loved bullying people. Seeing Shen Zhaoxue come out, his eyes darted around, and he quickly leaped out of the pavilion, following a small path to intercept him. Shen Zhaoxue had no intention of clashing with him and moved aside to let him pass, but he didn’t expect Wan Jingyao to reach out and snatch the jade pendant hanging from his waist. His lips moved, saying something Shen Zhaoxue couldn’t hear.

Shen Zhaoxue’s face turned cold. Within this youthful shell was the soul of a treacherous court official. His gaze carried an icy, murderous intent that fell like an invisible blade upon Wan Jingyao’s neck.

The boy shivered. He surveyed Shen Zhaoxue for a moment, then decided the “sickly weakling” was no threat. He tilted his chin and said haughtily, “What are you looking at, you little deaf-mute?”

Shen Zhaoxue extended his hand. His tone was calm and his voice very light. “Give it back to me.”

“You tell me to return it, so I return it?” Wan Jingyao mocked. “You really think you’re a master here? Even my brother doesn’t want to deal with you.”

Shen Zhaoxue didn’t hear him and couldn’t be bothered to read his lips. He had things to do and didn’t want to waste time on Wan Jingyao, so he leaned forward to snatch it.

Wan Jingyao suddenly grabbed his umbrella and threw it aside. He shoved Shen Zhaoxue’s shoulder and, in one smooth motion, tossed the jade pendant into the pond.

Shen Zhaoxue stumbled from the shove and fell sitting into the water. His clothes and hair were instantly soaked, clinging miserably to his skin and face. The youth before him laughed loudly. Shen Zhaoxue couldn’t hear what he said, but he could vaguely read the boy’s lips through the blurred rain—telling him to go pick it up himself.

The murderous intent in Shen Zhaoxue’s heart deepened, but he didn’t show it. He simply lowered his eyes, climbed up, and walked wetly toward the pond. That jade pendant was very important to him. When he first entered the palace, he had been in despair; the jade felt like a tether to Wan Shenghan, the only thing supporting his will to live.

When he had lost it in his previous life, he had broken down several times and fallen gravely ill. The palace attendants didn’t know its importance and found many similar ones for him, but they were never the original. It felt as if the heavens were reminding him that he and Wan Shenghan could never return to the past—that he could only rely on that jade to find his own name, to know he was Shen Zhaoxue and not just the Great Yan’s Right Envoy.

Shen Zhaoxue stood by the pond for a while. The other boys had already run off. He slowly bent down to remove his shoes and stepped into the water as if he couldn’t feel the cold. Fortunately, the water wasn’t deep it barely reached his knees. He began to feel around in the pond despite the rain.

Dizzy and with a throbbing headache, his cheeks began to flush and his mind grew clouded. Yet he did not give up. Finally, he fished the jade pendant out of the water. He straightened up and let out a long breath.

By the time he waded to the edge, his strength was gone. He could only cling to the side of the pond, trying to gather enough energy to climb up. His breath became scalding. Shen Zhaoxue closed his eyes and panted, raindrops falling mercilessly upon him as if trying to submerge him entirely.

His fingertips trembled. Suddenly, someone grabbed his arm and pulled him up. Through his dazed and blurred vision, he saw Wan Shenghan’s face, devoid of emotion or expression.