Chapter 4#

Outside the hall, Han Lang had been kneeling for a day and a night. A layer of frost covered his eyelashes, no longer melting.

The vermilion door opened a narrow slit, and a corner of the imperial robe fluttered, stopping hesitantly in front of him.

“If Your Majesty is not appeased, this subject can keep kneeling.” Han Lang lowered his head. This sentence was not to torture himself, but to torture his Emperor.

The Emperor indeed sighed, squatting down to look at him. His face was small, his eyes helpless, exactly the same as when he was a child.

Han Lang finally smiled, tightening the wind cloak for him: “That’s right, this is my good Emperor. You should believe that this subject is the only person you can rely on.”

The Emperor remained silent, allowing him to slowly help him up, then slowly embrace him into the door, and slowly hold him in his arms.

“Su Tang colluded with the enemy and committed treason; his crime indeed deserves death.” Han Lang held his Emperor on his lap, his burning lips biting onto his earlobe, breathing out desire: “Your Majesty should not have torn up my memorial, delaying important military and state affairs.”

The Emperor struggled, futile as always. Han Lang’s right hand familiarly grasped his member; a few rubs were enough to turn him into a pool of water.

“How about this, to save Your Majesty the trouble, this subject will draft the imperial decree to execute Su Tang’s nine kins, and Your Majesty just needs to stamp the vermilion seal?” Han Lang whispered in his ear, spreading out a roll of imperial silk, and pressing his hand onto the jade seal.

The Emperor raised his hand, but stubbornly refused to let it fall, struggling in Han Lang’s arms.

Han Lang did not use force, but simply bit open his clothes, biting along his collarbone one by one, really biting, leaving a shallow tooth mark with each bite.

The Emperor’s hand, held high, trembled slightly, and his legs involuntarily opened at an angle.

Han Lang loosened his underpants and thrust in. His right hand still refused to spare him, holding his swollen desire, sometimes teasing, sometimes stroking madly.

Pleasure surged like waves. When the peak arrived, the Emperor opened his mouth silently, his body falling forward. The jade seal stamped onto the imperial silk, leaving a bright red, square imperial seal.

“Thank you, Your Majesty, for fulfilling this.” Han Lang completed the final thrust with a hoarse voice, his arms wrapping around, hugging his weak, drooping head.

The Emperor struggled no more, slowly shrinking into his embrace, falling into a deep sleep just like that.

For a day and a night, Han Lang stood in the snow; when had he ever closed his eyes for a moment?

Now he was tired and needed a stable embrace to fall asleep.

Han Lang held him motionless for a long time. Only when he was sleeping soundly did he carry him to the inner room.

“Your Majesty, my Emperor.” Kneeling by the bed, Han Lang whispered, reaching out to gently stroke the Emperor’s forehead: “I will definitely cure you, definitely make you speak again.”

The Emperor turned over, sighing faintly in his dream, yet the sigh remained soundless.

A cold glint flashed in Han Lang’s eyes. He walked slowly around the large bed, familiarly twisted the mechanism in the hall, and opened a secret door.

Inside the secret door was a secret room, containing a table, a bed, and a dimly lit candle.

There was a person squatting by the bed, hugging his knees and staring blankly at the candle flame.

Han Lang stepped forward, grabbed his neck, and pinned him against the back wall: “Did the Emperor let you out? What did you say to him?!”

“What does the Prince think I can say to the Emperor?” The person replied coldly. It was the voice that had spoken to the Emperor the day before yesterday.

“Whatever you say is useless. You will never have hope for revenge.” Han Lang tightened his grip, only letting go at the moment the person was dying, letting him fall to the ground dejectedly.

“He will never betray me, because he loves me.” Han Lang said word by word, squatting down, laughing wantonly in that person’s despair.

The person hissed, like a trapped beast.

Han Lang laughed long and waved his sleeve to extinguish the candle.

“You are just a voice, a voice that will never see the light.” Han Lang said again as he left.

The secret door closed in response, and there was not a trace of light left in the room.

“I am just a voice, a voice with no hope of seeing light…” The person behind the door murmured. The voice was initially mocking, but gradually lowered, finally turning into a desperate whimper.

Facts proved that Hua Gui had overestimated Hua Rong.

With three of his four limbs broken by someone, and then tormented by Han Lang for half the night, even if he were an immortal, he couldn’t have walked back.

Hua Gui Ren had no choice but to bend his waist, drag his shoehorn face, and carry him back.

After returning, he pulled a long face and stewed pig’s trotter soup every day. Lin Luoyin’s sword soon turned into a white-furred sword.

As the old saying goes, it takes a hundred days for injured tendons and bones to heal, but under the nourishment of pig’s trotter soup, Hua Rong actually got out of bed in less than a month, dressing up like a scallion and wandering the streets as usual, taking business as usual.

Endowed with natural talent, he was indeed a peerless bottom.

For the past month, Han Lang had been entangled with hundreds of matters and hadn’t found time to let him cling.

So when he appeared this day, Hua Rong was a little surprised, then quickly put on a fawning smile.

Han Lang’s mood didn’t seem very good. He had no time to joke with him. After drinking a cup of tea, he cut to the chase: “How did you become mute? Why can you hear but not speak?”

Hua Rong was a bit coy and refused to say.

The big loudmouth Hua Gui couldn’t stand it anymore and hurriedly stepped forward: “Prince, I know. My master told me. It’s a mental illness. When he was young, his father had heart disease but was lecherous and stole women at home. He happened to come home and saw his father rolling in bed with a woman, so he shouted ‘Dad’ like a broken gong, scaring his father to death. Since then, he hasn’t been able to speak.”

After finishing, he bounced up and down with joy, almost laughing himself out of breath.

Han Lang’s expression, however, gradually became grave. Holding the rim of the cup, he asked murderously: “What was your father’s name? Where are you from?”

“My father’s name was Hua Yixiong. I am from Daxi Town, Yuyao, Zhejiang.” Hua Rong dipped his finger in water and wrote on the table.

Han Lang said nothing more, pushed the table, turned, and left.

Three days later, Han Lang returned. His expression when looking at Hua Rong suddenly became extremely kind, as if a flower were blooming on his face: “That’s right, there was a Hua Yixiong in Daxi, Zhejiang. You didn’t lie. Because you are so honest, I have decided to take you to the Prince’s residence to cure your muteness.”

Hua Gui was scaling a fish with that sword at the time. Hearing this, he was startled again, and the black carp fell to the ground with a thud.

Hua Rong, of course, would not refuse. Of course, he was flattered, almost to the point of tears.

“The Prince’s residence has plenty of people to serve. Do you still want to bring your Hua Gui Ren?” Han Lang added idly.

Hua Gui hurriedly lifted the black scabbard sword covered in fish scales and flashed it at Hua Rong.

“Bring…” Under threat, Hua Rong had to gesture sloppily: “I’m only used to eating the food he cooks. I’ll vomit if I eat anything else.”

=====================

Hua Rong finally clung to the Prince of Funing. The scallion head bloomed, turning into a noble narcissus, kept in the Prince of Funing’s residence. This was excellent gossip material.

The streets and alleys of the capital were buzzing with gossip, and the imperial court was not peaceful either.

The current Emperor, at some unknown time, felt unwell again. Finally, that day, there was no morning court, and a decree was issued directly:

“With the change of autumn and winter, We have caught a cold and have been ill for a long time; deeply afraid that while recuperating, state affairs might be delayed, We now promise: The Sovereign’s Vermilion Rescript shall be exchanged for the Subject’s Blue Rescript. All memorials shall be forwarded to the Prince of Funing’s residence, to be read by Grand Tutor Han on Our behalf. Respect this.”

From this day on, the Emperor disappeared from the court. The Youzai Hall’s main gate was tightly shut. The eunuchs all said in unison that the Holy One had gone south to avoid the cold and recuperate.

The Prince of Funing’s residence became even livelier from then on. There was always a line of officials waiting for an audience at the gate, rotating shifts twenty-four hours a day.

Hua Rong was now recuperating in such a center of power and desire, and his mood was indescribably cheerful.

Han Lang was obedient to him in every way. Doctors were invited in waves, tied together with a rope to examine him.

And Hua Rong was absolutely a good patient. He extended his hand when asked, stuck out his tongue like a hanged ghost when checking the tongue coating, poured whatever medicine into his mouth, and definitely didn’t frown even when needled like a hedgehog.

After tossing and turning like this for a few days with no progress, fewer doctors came to the residence, and they started to become more profound one by one.

One of them, a white-skinned fatty, loved to take Hua Rong’s pulse. After taking the left side, he switched to the right, and after a full two hours, he said: “The young master is not sick. The young master’s pulse is very good.”

Hua Rong rolled his eyes and almost fainted from anger, but the fatty still refused to let go, holding his hand and sending a stream of true energy.

The true energy went up against the meridians, knocking on Hua Rong’s heart like a heavy hammer with a ’thump’.

Hua Rong opened his mouth wide and let out an extremely low hiss.

The white fatty continued to hold his hand: “There is still an instinctive reaction to stimulation, which shows that your function of vocalization is still there. As long as you break through the barrier and make the first sound, you should be able to recover.”

These words immediately aroused Han Lang’s interest, making him sit up straight and ask word by word: “Then how can he be made to produce the first sound?”

The fatty stroked his goatee and hesitated: “This is hard to say. Maybe it requires strong stimulation, or maybe we need to find the root of his mental illness and untie the knot in his heart.”

Hua Rong hurriedly gestured: “The knot in the heart definitely can’t be untied. My dad definitely won’t come back to life to yell at me again.”

“Then let’s have strong stimulation.” Han Lang said softly, smiling gracefully.

Although he said strong stimulation, Han Lang was actually merciful, merely tying a rope around Hua Rong’s little finger.

After tying it, he just hung him up, slightly off the ground, with his entire weight hanging on one little finger.

Han Lang was afraid he would be cold, so he very pityingly placed a brazier under his feet, forcing him to bend his legs, and said: “I actually don’t want to do this either. This is all for your own good. Just shout ‘stop’ and I’ll let you down immediately.”

Hua Rong nodded very sensibly. Han Lang yawned, expressed that his heart also ached, and went to sleep.

A night of dry hanging was very boring. Later, Hua Rong gestured, asking Hua Gui in front of him: “Do I look like Nezha stepping on fire?”

Looking at his purple-black little finger, Hua Gui’s face turned green, and he answered him seriously for once: “Do you really think that Prince has good intentions towards you?”

Hua Rong blinked, refusing to answer.

Hua Gui’s voice unconsciously rose: “I really wonder what you are after.”

Hua Rong rolled his eyes, expressing disdain for him, and slowly gestured: “Of course, I’m after becoming an official and getting rich, inlaying gold teeth, sitting on a gold toilet, and walking sideways like a crab when going out.”

Hua Gui was furious, stiffened his neck, and left with a flick of his sleeve.

So only Hua Rong was left hanging alone in the hall, a purple-black little finger under the thin rope, slowly oozing blood.

He clenched his teeth tight, seeming to have no intention of breaking through the barrier to speak.

The time in the latter half of the night slowly became unbearable. He began to stand on tiptoe, trying to find a footing in the brazier to relieve the pain in his little finger.

With this stand, his socks caught fire, burning upwards with a whoosh. He stepped on two balls of raging fire, truly becoming Nezha.

“Shout once and I’ll put out the fire for you.” A human voice came from behind, it was Han Lang, who became more awake as the night went on: “Shout anything.”

Hua Rong hurriedly opened his mouth wide, veins popping out on his face, and mouthed the word ‘Prince’.

This effort was in vain. The word ‘Prince’ could not be voiced, but the two balls of fire under his feet burned more and more fiercely, smelling of burnt flesh.

The corners of Han Lang’s lips curled up, seeming to appreciate his painful expression, and he came up slowly to put out the fire for him.

Hua Rong gestured to express thanks. Before he could catch his breath, his waist was embraced by Han Lang’s hands.

The brazier was kicked far away with a thud. Han Lang stood on tiptoe and pierced him fiercely from behind. The weight of both of them almost hung on his little finger, swaying back and forth in the firelight.

“Just shout anything, and we’ll continue on the bed.” In the intervals of rising and falling, Han Lang didn’t forget to whisper.

Hua Rong opened his mouth wide, made a futile effort, then quickly closed it, biting his lower lip with his upper teeth. He used so much force that he bit himself into a three-lipped rabbit.

Han Lang’s movements became faster, and his voice began to turn hoarse: “If you can’t shout, just hum. Loud moaning counts too.”

Hua Rong tried, but his throat only made a wheezing sound, like a broken bellows.

The little finger was pulled longer and longer under the force, and the white finger bone could already be seen.

Han Lang roared low, grabbed his hair and moved madly, ordering him to look at himself.

Hua Rong turned his head as told, but his eyes were already unfocused when looking at him.

The little finger could no longer withstand the pulling force. It snapped into two pieces in mid-air with a ‘hiss’, shooting out a blood firework.

Hua Rong clenched his teeth tightly, falling to the ground into Han Lang’s arms just like that, and even cooperatively tightened his rear entrance, allowing Han Lang to finally reach climax.

The experiment was declared a failure, but Han Lang did not waste this night. His fingers left deep scratches on Hua Rong’s back, and his breathing could not calm down for a long time.

When the dizziness passed, he realized there was an extra pair of feet in front of him, and the owner of the feet was looking down at him, eyes full of resentment.

“May I ask what Grand Tutor Han is doing?” The person gestured, ten fingers trembling slightly.

Han Lang suddenly got up and held his hands, clasping his ten fingers against his chest, then looked back at Hua Rong.

Hua Rong’s eyes were tightly closed, blood flowing from his little finger. He actually fainted at the most appropriate time and didn’t see this scene.

The person who broke in pushed away Han Lang’s grasp with hatred, grabbed the iron rod used for poking the charcoal fire nearby, and smashed it madly at Han Lang with tears in his eyes.

Han Lang didn’t dodge either, and his shoulders and back took several solid hits. In an instant, streaks of blood appeared.

Seeing him injured, that person began to feel reluctant again, and vented his anger on the unconscious Hua Rong.

Han Lang saw his intention, and with quick hands and eyes, he grabbed the iron rod swinging down towards Hua Rong’s head. “Enough, Huaijing!”

The crazy person stopped abruptly.

For many years, this was the first time he called his name. The original name of Emperor Tianlan.

The Emperor narrowed his eyes, didn’t let go of the iron rod, gasped loudly, his chest heaving violently.

Han Lang began to regret. He shouldn’t have felt sorry for the Emperor and helped him sneak out of the palace to have fun in his own residence. Now…

Suddenly the Emperor let go of his hand, handed the iron rod to Han Lang, and said firmly: “Kill him!”

Han Lang calmly threw the rod several zhang away and shook his head: “He is useful to me.”

Tears congealed in his eyes, no longer falling. The Emperor looked with disdain and gestured neatly: “The Prince has a special preference for the rear court flower. Is this his use?”

Han Lang frowned. Before he could explain, the Emperor’s hand had slowly clenched into a fist, nails digging into the flesh.

Han Lang sighed and reached out a hand, wanting to comfort him.

The Emperor stepped back, rejecting his embrace this time. His hands gestured quickly, clearly expressing: “I will avoid suspicion. Please take your time, Grand Tutor Han.”