The Mad Villain Driven to Death - Chapter 21

A sudden surge of heat rushed toward his lower abdomen. Wan Jingyao’s head buzzed, and his body went rigid. For a long while, he offered no reaction, staring blankly at the bright red tip of the tongue inside that parted mouth.

Shen Zhaoxue truly resembled a spirit a creature capable of siphoning a man’s very essence.

As Wan Jingyao thought this, he noticed the other man growing impatient from the wait. Shen Zhaoxue reached out, fumbling to grasp the hem of Wan Jingyao’s robe. However, because Shen Zhaoxue was blind, he acted purely on imagination and sensation; the moment he raised his hand, he accidentally brushed against Wan Jingyao’s private parts.

Both men were startled. Shen Zhaoxue recoiled abruptly into the depths of the bed, his eyes widening in terror. His tone turned frigid as he demanded, “Wan Jingyao?”

Only then did Wan Jingyao realize he had inadvertently let out a sound.

The momentary reliance and intimacy he had “stolen” from his elder cousin vanished instantly. Looking at Shen Zhaoxue’s distant, even loathing expression, a flicker of jealousy rose within him. Had he known his cousin’s attitude toward Shen Zhaoxue would change so rapidly, he never would have bullied him on purpose.

It was all his cousin’s fault for giving him the wrong impression.

“Hey,” Wan Jingyao said crossly, “didn’t you want water? Do you still want it or not?”

“No,” Shen Zhaoxue replied, his voice raspy and devoid of emotion. “Get out.”

“Ingratitude is all I get,” Wan Jingyao muttered, his temper rising as his frustration peaked. “You ungrateful wolf.”

Those words ungrateful wolf instantly triggered memories of Shen Zhaoxue’s nightmare from the previous night. A surge of melancholy rose within him, and the metallic taste of blood filled his throat. His chest heaved. He tried to swallow the blood back down, but his throat felt parched and itchy. A single suppressed cough spiraled into an uncontrollable fit of coughing up blood.

His head throbbed violently, and his entire body ached. He lost consciousness for a brief period, only regaining clarity as the vomiting of blood finally subsided.

Slumped by the edge of the bed, he sensed Wan Jingyao standing nearby, flustered. “Hey, are you alright?” the younger man asked, his voice panicked.

Wan Jingyao reached out to touch Shen Zhaoxue’s shoulder, but the moment his fingertips made contact, Shen Zhaoxue seized his wrist. The young man looked up, his face deathly pale and his lips stained with blood. His eyes, which should have been clouded, burned with a chilling aura and murderous intent that made Wan Jingyao shudder instinctively.

Wan Jingyao struggled to pull his hand away, and as he succeeded, he saw Shen Zhaoxue’s lips move, though no sound came out.

Stunned into silence and unsure of what to do, Wan Jingyao hesitated for a moment before the room door was suddenly kicked open. His elder cousin, Wan Shenghan, entered with an expression even more somber than Shen Zhaoxue’s. He grabbed Wan Jingyao by the collar and threw him out of the room.

With an “Ouch,” Wan Jingyao tumbled down the stairs, landing flat on his back. Before he could crawl up, Wan Shenghan descended the steps expressionlessly, grabbed him by the foot, and dragged him out of the courtyard, far away from the room.

Shen Zhaoxue gently wiped the corner of his mouth. His murderous intent gradually faded, replaced by a sense of calm. He slowly sat upright, smoothing his disheveled hair strand by strand and tying it loosely with a ribbon by touch.

He climbed down from the bed, navigating the room by memory toward the table and chairs. He poured himself some water and drank it all. As he prepared to pour a second cup, he heard footsteps approaching from outside.

His hands paused for a split second before resuming their motion. He raised the cup to his lips. In the next instant, his wrist was grabbed.

Wan Shenghan’s breathing had not yet steadied; his breath was warm and slightly ragged. He looked at Shen Zhaoxue with a dark face and said, “You can tell the difference between footsteps, yet you deliberately put on an act in front of Wan Jingyao.”

Shen Zhaoxue remained still for a long time. Eventually, his eyes curved into a smile, and he twisted his wrist to break free from Wan Shenghan’s grip. “Did Wan Jingyao tell you I was acting?”

The water in the cup was ice cold. It felt uncomfortable in his stomach, but it cleared his head. He smiled faintly. “You only believe your cousin’s words anyway. Since you’ve already made up your mind, why come here to question me?”

His throat felt dry, and the lingering taste of blood made him uneasy. He wanted more water, but Wan Shenghan suddenly snatched the cup from his hand.

“The water is cold,” Wan Shenghan said. “Wait for the medicine.”

Shen Zhaoxue disliked bitter medicine. The smile left his face, and he pulled his sleeves tight, returning to the bed to rest.

Wan Shenghan continued, “I’ve seen you put on a show in front of Chen Luo; I don’t need to ask a fool like Wan Jingyao to know you’re capable of it.”

It seemed Wan Shenghan had a very clear understanding of his cousin’s intelligence. Shen Zhaoxue, lying with his back to Wan Shenghan, let out a soft laugh.

Wan Shenghan grew agitated. “I am not joking with you. Do you even realize what kind of people you have been provoking lately?”

“Of course I know,” Shen Zhaoxue replied softly, making no move to turn around. He sounded drowsy. “One has a deep desire for cruelty and loves to see others suffer; the other has no mind of his own whatever his elder cousin likes, he likes as well.”

Shen Zhaoxue yawned and chuckled. “Don’t you find these people interesting, Eldest Young Master?”

Wan Shenghan clearly did not share the sentiment. He changed the subject: “If you want to sleep, close your eyes. You were crying and making a fuss all last night; I thought you wouldn’t wake until noon.”

Wan Shenghan glanced at the time. It was still early. Shen Zhaoxue was usually prone to lethargy due to his weak constitution, but perhaps the nightmares had woken him prematurely. Wan Shenghan hadn’t expected it, which was how Wan Jingyao had found the chance to sneak into the room.

Shen Zhaoxue’s body went rigid. Crying and making a fuss? When had he caused a scene last night?

As he drifted into thought, the memories of his dream returned. It was a nightmare he had avoided for a long time. It took place shortly after he entered the palace, a time when he endured daily insults and physical abuse. His only hope then was a message Wan Shenghan had sent through the young Chen Shi, saying he had found a way to smuggle Shen Zhaoxue out of the palace.

Shen Zhaoxue had waited for Wan Shenghan until Emperor Yuanshun summoned him to the Imperial Study. The Emperor had asked casually, “Since you grew up with the top scholar, Wan Shenghan, what kind of man is he?”

At the time, Shen Zhaoxue hadn’t sensed any hidden meaning. He thought the Emperor had simply realized he had neglected Wan Shenghan’s career for too long. Emperor Yuanshun had given Shen Zhaoxue a low-ranking position to keep him nearby to record daily events, occasionally asking for his opinion on official documents.

Believing the Emperor trusted him, Shen Zhaoxue tried to put in a good word for his friend. “Wan Shenghan is a man of extraordinary talent and strategy—a rare mastermind of this era.”

He hadn’t realized then that those words would utterly destroy Wan Shenghan’s career. Isolated in the palace, the news didn’t reach him until the Wan family was already prepared to flee the capital for a remote town. Wan Shenghan had been unceremoniously dumped into a trivial post as a lowly county official, forced far away from the center of power.

Shen Zhaoxue, raised in seclusion due to his sensitive hearing and protected too well by Wan Shenghan, had been too naive to realize that Emperor Yuanshun was so suspicious that he would rather discard a brilliant scholar than risk a potential threat to his throne.

Filled with regret and panic, Shen Zhaoxue had gone to the Emperor’s chambers and knelt outside all night. He confessed he had spoken wrongly, that he had overestimated Wan Shenghan’s abilities. After a night of kneeling until his knees were bruised and his forehead was bloodied from kowtowing, he received no response.

Shen Zhaoxue fell gravely ill. When he finally sat by the Emperor again, he was too weak to even hold a pen. Emperor Yuanshun wasn’t angry. He simply said, “If the Right Envoy is unwell, I shall grant you a few days of leave to recover.”

Shen Zhaoxue’s lips trembled as he bowed. “Yes.”

He spent those days in a daze, cut off from the outside world. Then, one night, Chen Shi sneaked into his room and shook him awake. “Uncle, the Eldest Young Master Wan has sent word. You are to leave the palace tonight; he is waiting for you outside the Wan estate.”

With renewed hope, Shen Zhaoxue managed to escape the palace with Chen Shi’s help.

And then… he never saw Wan Shenghan.

Shen Zhaoxue suddenly snapped awake, his drowsiness vanishing. He couldn’t remember exactly what happened last night; he thought he had only been crying in his sleep, but based on Wan Shenghan’s words, he must have actually woken up.

Wan Shenghan was here last night! Had he said something he shouldn’t have?

His breath hitched, causing him to choke. He curled into a ball, coughing heavily. Wan Shenghan sighed, approached the bed, and leaned over to gently pat his back. “What is the rush? Are you afraid I might hear one of your secrets?”

Shen Zhaoxue nearly coughed harder. He managed to stop and pushed the other man away. “What secrets could I possibly have? Not as many as you, Eldest Young Master.”

He still suspected that Wan Shenghan knew something, otherwise, why would he be so different from his previous life? He thought he knew Wan Shenghan—knew that because his words had ruined the Wan family, Wan Shenghan would hate him to his core, just like everyone else who loathed him. He was the rat that everyone wanted to beat.

Past events seemed to prove him right. After Chen Shi had tied him to the throne, after he was run through the abdomen with a sword and tortured in the judicial prisons, Wan Shenghan had never once come to see him. He must have hated him so much he didn’t even want to soil his eyes with the sight of him.

But now, Shen Zhaoxue could no longer say with certainty that he understood Wan Shenghan. This version of Wan Shenghan felt foreign, even strange. The image of the man in his memory was beginning to blur.

Shen Zhaoxue closed his eyes and shook his head. Just as he was about to speak, someone arrived at the courtyard and called out to Wan Shenghan.

“Eldest Young Master, Lord Xu of the Court of State Ceremonies is here to see you. He says there is an urgent case to investigate.”

The messenger paused, then added, “The Fifth Prince has also arrived. He says he is here to take Young Master Shen back to the Prince’s estate.”