The Mad Villain Driven to Death - Chapter 33

Those strange, eerie totems resembling those of southwestern tribes were something he had only seen in books, typically used as objects for sacrificial rites.

The bookshelf was far too high. Wan Shenghan, being much taller than him, likely had no trouble reaching it, but Shen Zhaoxue was at a loss. After standing on his tiptoes for a long while without so much as touching the wooden carving, he finally gave up. He had no intention of moving tables or chairs to use as a footstool. It was merely curiosity, not something he felt compelled to investigate thoroughly.

He had other matters to attend to, so he did not linger in Wan Shenghan’s room. After a brief rest, he left the courtyard to resume his search for Wan Jingyao’s quarters.

His sense of direction had diminished significantly; it took a great deal of time before he finally found the right location. He leaned against the courtyard gate, panting for a long time to catch his breath. When he raised his hand, he realized the courtyard had likely been neglected for ages; the gate was thick with dust that coated his fingers.

Irritated, Shen Zhaoxue lowered his eyes and wiped his fingers clean. Only then did he compose his expression, lift the hem of his robe, and step through the gate.

As he reached the center of the yard, he suddenly remembered why the place felt so unfamiliar, as if he had never set foot there. Previously, when Wan Jingyao threw away his jade pendant, Shen Zhaoxue had dropped a firebrand in the man’s room, letting it burn through the night. This place must have been rebuilt, which explained why it felt so out of place compared to the rest of the estate.

Shen Zhaoxue surveyed the scenery. After the reconstruction, it seemed no one had bothered to maintain it. The vegetation was withered, and after the recent winds and rain, the ground was a mess of fallen leaves. It truly did not look like a place fit for human habitation.

A tiny arc formed at the corner of Shen Zhaoxue’s lips, yet the smile did not reach his eyes, as if there was nothing left in the world that could truly make him happy. He didn’t look further, walking straight through the corridor and up the steps to Wan Jingyao’s bedroom. He pushed the door open with a single motion.

The room was filled with the stale, oppressive scent of decaying dust. Shen Zhaoxue’s nose immediately felt itchy and sore; he leaned over, covering his mouth and nose as he let out a few sneezes. The sudden movement was too much for his ears, which began to buzz, leaving his head feeling muddled.

He coughed for a bit longer until someone spoke from the inner room, asking, “Who is there?”

Shen Zhaoxue’s eyes flickered with a cold light. His face, initially expressionless, soon broke into a light smile that dispelled the chilly aura. He stepped softly into the inner room, rounding the screen to slowly approach the figure lying on the bed.

“It is I, Second Young Master,” he said.

He always spoke in a soft, gentle whisper, sounding very submissive. His voice was as crisp as spring water striking a chime stone, instilling a sense of peace that made one willing to listen patiently.

Wan Jingyao had been bewildered when Shen Zhaoxue suddenly visited him in prison and spoke of bailing him out. He thought the youth was lying to him, but the boy had truly brought him out. Having been locked in the Judicial Prison for months, his sudden return to the Wan estate felt like a dream; he could hardly believe it was real.

He had ruined Shen Zhaoxue’s eyes—why did the youth not seem angry? No wonder his elder cousin’s attitude had changed so drastically; it was truly… impossible to be cruel to him.

Wan Jingyao had been back for a few days, nursing old injuries. Since returning, he had learned the true meaning of a “fall from grace.” They had been severed from the main family, and his presence in the estate now felt illegitimate. The servants were negligent. Left to his own devices in this courtyard, he had already prepared himself to die quietly of illness. He hadn’t expected a visitor.

And that visitor was Shen Zhaoxue.

Wan Jingyao suddenly remembered his own wretched and disheveled state. Seeing that ethereal and beautiful figure slowly approaching the screen, he felt a wave of embarrassment and shouted, “Don’t come over!”

He failed to control his volume, and the shout came out like a roar. The figure behind the screen froze. Shen Zhaoxue appeared flustered, hesitating for a long moment before whispering, “I only came to bring you some ointment for your wounds…”

Wan Jingyao dazed, then heard the youth continue in a hurt tone, “If you do not wish for me to come, I will not come again.”

Shen Zhaoxue’s voice was full of self-pity, yet his gaze remained chillingly detached. He lowered his eyes, set the medicine bottle on a nearby table, and said softly, “I’m leaving then. Recover well.”

He made a show of leaving. Wan Jingyao, who hadn’t seen anyone or spoken to anyone in so long, was desperate for company. He called out, “I didn’t mean it that way! It is just that I am a mess right now, and not fit to be seen.”

Shen Zhaoxue’s lashes flickered as he lifted his eyes and offered a soft smile. He lingered behind the screen for a moment before finally rounding it to show his face, looking at Wan Jingyao with an expression of deep concern. Such a gaze was impossible to resist; it even sparked a sense of greed.

Does he usually look at elder cousin with those eyes? Wan Jingyao wondered in a daze. Elder cousin is truly lucky.

“You are the Second Young Master of the Wan family. You grew up in luxury; now, you are merely ill,” Shen Zhaoxue said. Fearing his eyes might betray him, he quickly withdrew his gaze and looked down. “I do not mind.”

He paused, then added, “If you are uncomfortable living here, I will speak to your elder cousin and have him change your quarters. This courtyard is far too dilapidated.”

Shen Zhaoxue had no authority over the Wan estate, nor did he have any money of his own, yet he was generous with these empty promises that were unlikely to ever be fulfilled. He painted many “grand cakes” for Wan Jingyao, yet offered not a single concrete commitment it was all just talk.

However, Wan Jingyao was currently isolated and helpless. When the family split, Wan Shenghan’s father had been sentimental and couldn’t bear to leave them with nothing, so he had given them some funds. He hadn’t expected Wan Rong to run off with the money, or for Wan Jingyao’s mother to disappear to parts unknown. Wan Jingyao was all alone in the capital.

Filled with misery, he lacked the spirit to analyze or distinguish Shen Zhaoxue’s words; he took them all to heart. He even felt a sense of unreality, as if he were in a beautiful dream. He asked Shen Zhaoxue blankly, “If you say these things to my elder cousin, will he truly agree?”

As soon as the question was asked, the youth’s expression became pained. He lowered his head, clutching his hem and biting his lip until it turned white and bloodless. Wan Jingyao, as if possessed, reached out his hand. He wanted to touch the youth’s lips, to rub them until the color returned.

But before he could touch him, Shen Zhaoxue suddenly stood up. Looking flustered, he said, “I… I borrowed some money from your elder cousin, and… and I promised him a few things… he will be willing to help.”

Shen Zhaoxue’s lashes fluttered rapidly like the wings of a butterfly. He hurriedly left a sentence “Second Young Master, please don’t ask any more” and turned to run out. Wan Jingyao didn’t even have time to call him back before he vanished.

He wondered if the youth would return in the coming days. Wan Jingyao felt a gnawing restlessness; he hadn’t expected that Shen Zhaoxue’s presence would be like an addiction. Having tasted it once, he even birthed the thought of replacing his elder cousin.

He soon snapped back to reality, knowing it was mere wishful thinking. The Eldest Young Master had been brilliant and independent since childhood, taking over as head of the family at a young age and managing the estate while excelling in his studies. He was almost certainly the next Zhuangyuan. Such a man was not easily replaced.

Wan Jingyao thought of Shen Zhaoxue’s vague words. He is so close to Wan Shenghan, and there have always been those harmless rumors… could it be he truly exchanged his body?

The moment the thought arose, Wan Jingyao was startled. Elder cousin wouldn’t do such a thing. But… what if? If they truly made such a deal, wouldn’t that mean Wan Shenghan got the better of it?

Wan Jingyao felt a surge of anxiety. He wanted his own estate and career as soon as possible so he could rival his cousin. He couldn’t compete in scholarship but what about wealth? He turned the thought over in his mind all night, unable to sleep.

Shen Zhaoxue slept quite well that night, free from nightmares. He woke leisurely just before noon. Wan Shenghan had the kitchen prepare a meal and brought it over himself, setting it on the desk and waking Shen Zhaoxue.

Shen Zhaoxue murmured something muddled without opening his eyes, simply turning over and falling back into a deep sleep.

Wan Shenghan had to coax him softly: “Eat something before you sleep, otherwise you’ll hurt your stomach and be sick for a long time.”

Shen Zhaoxue’s voice was muffled. “Not eating.” He had no appetite; as the weather grew colder, he felt increasingly lethargic and weak. He wanted nothing more than to sleep all day.

“Just a little bit to line your stomach,” Wan Shenghan said. “The doctor will be here soon with your medicine.”

Shen Zhaoxue had no choice but to sit up slowly. Listless, he was supported by the man to the table. He searched for his silver testing needle and asked, “Where did it go?”

“Someone was cleaning the estate recently; perhaps it was misplaced,” Wan Shenghan said. “I will test the dishes for you. Stop looking for the needle.”

Shen Zhaoxue was deeply suspicious, especially in the Wan estate. He had to check everything meticulously before he would eat. Wan Shenghan tested every dish on the table; seeing no reaction, he finally allowed Shen Zhaoxue to pick up his chopsticks.

“Give Wan Jingyao a different courtyard,” Shen Zhaoxue said tonelessly. “One closer to me.”

Wan Shenghan’s hand, which was serving him food, paused. He lifted his eyes and asked, “Why must he live near you? His temperament is strange. If he does something to you while I am away, who can help you?”

“I do not need anyone to help me,” Shen Zhaoxue said flatly. “I only hope no one stops my plans. As for whether I succeed or fail, that is my own business; no one else needs to worry about it.”

He paused, then intentionally changed the subject. “I heard the Eldest Young Master has been studying at the academy lately. I wonder how the preparations for the imperial exams are going?”

Late autumn was nearly over. The spring examinations would arrive with the new year. The time was drawing near.

“They are acceptable,” Wan Shenghan replied. He didn’t seem to want to discuss the exams, adding, “You were asking for news of the Chancellor recently. I heard last night that he passed away several days ago. His family hasn’t made an announcement yet, fearing chaos at court or beyond the Pass.”

Shen Zhaoxue’s movements paused. He thought: The timing is slightly off, but things are indeed following the previous course.