Chapter 8#
Kill That Emperor (8)#
Shen Jue’s recovery from this injury took much longer than the previous time.
For the first half-month, he lay in a daze on the bed, occasionally waking to the sound of Feng Qingbao’s crying.
Shen Jue’s head ached a little—in his past lives, Feng Qingbao had never been particularly close to him. Why was he so deeply attached this time?
He wanted to tell him to stop crying, but he didn’t even have the strength to open his mouth.
Four of Shen Jue’s ribs had been kicked and broken. When Imperial Physician Xu saw him, he was so startled that he worked day and night without rest for three days, barely managing to drag Shen Jue back from the brink of death. Logically speaking, Imperial Physician Xu wouldn’t have needed to be so devoted to a eunuch, but as he treated him, Murong Xiu and the Regent King stood nearby watching him—especially the Regent King, who smiled and said, “Physician Xu, I trust he will survive, won’t he?”
If the Regent King wanted him to live, why had he struck so viciously in the first place?
Imperial Physician Xu was somewhat angry, but he couldn’t let it show.
Within two months, he had treated Shen Jue three times, and the third time, Shen Jue was practically indistinguishable from a corpse. Imperial Physician Xu was genuinely puzzled—what crime had this young eunuch committed to be punished so relentlessly?
And the third injury had been inflicted personally by the Regent King.
He knew the Regent King had killed many people, but he rarely acted with his own hands—and even more rarely did he try to save someone after striking them down.
Seated by Shen Jue’s bedside, Imperial Physician Xu changed his bandages with a hint of curiosity. He had examined Shen Jue thoroughly—not just his face, but almost every part of him. He found nothing remarkable, unless one counted the mutilated lower body.
When the physician’s gaze lingered on that area too long, Feng Qingbao, who was assisting, slowly changed expression.
Why was Imperial Physician Xu staring so intently at Shen Jue’s… that?
This…
As a healer, Imperial Physician Xu calmly reached out and gave it a quick lift, completely ignoring Feng Qingbao’s grimace.
Nothing unusual about it.
He set it down again and composedly washed his hands.
Feng Qingbao shuddered. After a long pause, he finally dared to ask, “Physician Xu, is he injured there too?”
“No,” the physician replied calmly.
Feng Qingbao hesitated. “Then…?”
“Just curious,” the physician said flatly.
“…Oh.” In the days that followed, Feng Qingbao deliberately kept his distance, afraid that Imperial Physician Xu might also take an interest in his own parts.
When the physician did this, Shen Jue was still unconscious, so he never knew anyone had touched him there. And when he occasionally regained consciousness, Feng Qingbao didn’t tell him—he didn’t dare, fearing that if he did, the physician might come after him.
…
After half a month in bed, Shen Jue began to stay awake for longer periods, though he still couldn’t get up.
He lay in bed all day, drinking only thin congee. For the first half-month, Imperial Physician Xu came personally to change his bandages; after he woke up, the physician’s medicine boy took over. The only person who came to see him after he woke was Feng Qingbao—Murong Xiu never visited.
Feng Qingbao did mention Murong Xiu to Shen Jue.
“His Majesty has lost a lot of weight now. He sleeps late at night and eats very little. If this goes on, how will his body hold up?”
Shen Jue closed his eyes, wracked with pain. Listening to Feng Qingbao talk about Murong Xiu only made the pain worse. He opened his eyes weakly. “Don’t you need to attend to the Emperor?”
Feng Qingbao gave a vague “mm.” “His Majesty has more attendants now. He told me to come and look after you more.”
More attendants?
Were they arranged by the Regent King?
Shen Jue closed his eyes again. He had barely escaped death this time, and it was no surprise that Murong Xiu hadn’t come to see him. That man was actually quite cold-hearted—otherwise, in his past lives, after Shen Jue died for him, he still ended up with the Regent King.
Such a heartless man was also very guarded.
The Regent King had looks, status, and time to wear Murong Xiu down. Most importantly, everything Murong Xiu now possessed was given to him by the Regent King. Falling in love with him was only a matter of time—especially since they already shared a bed.
When skin pressed close, could hearts communicate?
Shen Jue didn’t know, but men were always more agreeable in bed.
Women loved through sex, but men loved through sex.
In his past lives, it was only after Shen Jue’s death that the Regent King and Murong Xiu truly crossed that line.
Shen Jue closed his eyes and pondered his next move. Feng Qingbao, thinking he was tired, tucked in his blanket and left. Not long after Feng Qingbao departed, two men barged straight in. Shen Jue opened his eyes and immediately recognized them.
He knew these two very well.
They were the Regent King’s men. In his past lives, during the time he tried to seduce the Regent King, they were the ones who brought him there. And after he was beaten black and blue, they would dump him back.
But in this life, he wasn’t planning to seduce the Regent King—so why had they appeared again?
Though he knew their identities, Shen Jue pretended not to, putting on a surprised expression. “Who are you?”
The man on the left was Dao Zhan. He had a scar on his chin and always wore a smile. He spoke first, his voice quite gentle. “Little eunuch, the Prince requests your presence.”
The man on the right was Yang Xu, quiet and taciturn. As soon as Dao Zhan finished speaking, he hoisted Shen Jue under his arm and walked out without a word. The pain nearly made Shen Jue black out. Dao Zhan, quick as lightning, fed a pill into Shen Jue’s mouth and tapped an acupoint on his body.
After that, Shen Jue fainted and knew nothing more.
When he woke up again, he was lying on the floor atop a pure white carpet.
Before him sat a man in tight-fitting clothes, drinking wine.
Shen Jue gasped for breath. His unhealed ribs ached fiercely, the pain numbing his entire body, making him wish he could faint again. But he couldn’t afford to. Gritting his teeth, he crawled up from the floor and knelt properly.
“This servant pays homage to Your Highness, the Regent King.”
The man gave a soft “mm,” tapped the armrest of his pear-blossom chair, and asked an obvious question. “Does it hurt?”
Shen Jue bit his lip. “Yes, it hurts.”
The man seemed satisfied. He said gently, “Good. Hurting is good. I was afraid it didn’t hurt.” He paused. “Otherwise, who knows where you’d bite me this time.”
Shen Jue pressed his head even lower, almost prostrating himself on the ground—the most humble of postures.
The man glanced at him with a smile and drank another cup of wine. After finishing, he said slowly, “Take off your top.”
Shen Jue’s hand moved slightly inside his sleeve. Then he straightened up a little and obediently undid his clothes, revealing his bandaged upper body. After taking them off, he carefully folded them and set them aside.
He had his reasons. As a lowly eunuch, he only had a few sets of clothes. The Regent King’s residence wouldn’t have eunuch’s clothes, and he wouldn’t be given any to wear afterward—Shen Jue had learned this in his past lives. By protecting his clothes now, at least he’d have something to cover himself with later.
Dao Zhan, standing at the door, was momentarily startled, then smiled silently.
Yang Xu frowned. This kind of spineless creature probably wouldn’t last long under the Prince’s hand.
They both knew the Regent King favored those with strong, unyielding natures. The more fawning and servile someone was, the less they could gain favor here.
The Regent King showed no particular reaction to Shen Jue’s action. He simply rose, crouched down, and personally unwound the white bandages from Shen Jue’s chest. He pulled them off carelessly, causing Shen Jue to see black spots from the pain—but that was only the beginning.
When the Regent King poured strong liquor over his chest, Shen Jue felt a bone-shattering agony.
He writhed on the ground in pain, so much so that Yang Xu had to step forward and pin down his limbs.
Shen Jue watched as the Regent King, with a gentle expression, poured the liquor over his wounds and then pressed his foot down on the injured areas. The pain was so excruciating that he forgot to feign anything, merely glaring at the Regent King with a cold, venomous look—ferocious as a mountain wolf.
Seeing this, the Regent King seemed satisfied, admiring Shen Jue’s expression.
This grey mouse was truly unusual. He had never seen a servant with such nerve, nor one so resilient.
This barely counted as the fourth time.
The Regent King thought.
The regent deigned to reach down and pinch Shen Jue’s chin, speaking in a soft voice. “Little mouse, if you survive this time, I’ll give you a great gift.”
With that, he released his hand. Dao Zhan quickly handed him a handkerchief.
The Regent King wiped his hands with the handkerchief, then discarded it casually. The cloth drifted down onto Shen Jue’s face, covering his features.
…
When Imperial Physician Xu saw Shen Jue again, he felt too drained even to sigh.
This time, there was not a single patch of unbroken skin on Shen Jue’s body—all whip wounds.
He didn’t even know how to position Shen Jue to lie down.
Dao Zhan stood behind him, speaking mildly. “Once again, we trouble you, Physician Xu. His Highness said to save him if possible, but if not, then so be it.”
Imperial Physician Xu nodded. “I understand.”
Was the Regent King testing the limits of his medical skill?
Probably.
After Dao Zhan left, the physician instructed his medicine boy. “Go, bring me that thousand-year ginseng.”