Chapter 56: Are You Worried About Me?

Chapter 56 You Worried About Me?

Are these old-school Chinese doctors really that good?

What can you even tell from taking a pulse?

In TV shows, they always spout that "qi and blood deficiency," "fatigue," "caught a chill" crap—just stuff to brush you off. What can they even find? Just pop some pills and call it a day.

The doctor said, his tone heavy: "The young master's body looks like it's from overindulgence—qi and blood both depleted..."

"..."

The doctor didn't even finish before he felt the vibe turn and clammed up.

Li Zhiming's face was just as telling. Overindulgence? He hadn't indulged in jack. It was all Sang Yu's fault. How could he even tell that from a pulse?

The doctor quietly wiped the sweat off his brow: "The Prime Minister ordered me to treat you, young master. This, this..."

"Don't bother." Li Zhiming said in a low voice. "Doctor, just tell my father that my 'root' is beyond saving. I've got my own plans for what happens next—just say what I told you."

"But if the Prime Minister comes after me..."

"I'll take the heat."

Li Zhiming shoved two silver ingots into his hand, the corners of his mouth curling down in a threat.

The doctor knew when to quit and nodded like crazy: "Yes, thank you for the tip, young master."

He got rid of that doctor, and then the next one showed up.

Five or six showed up, but most were so-called "miracle doctors" from out of town. The Old Prime Minister clearly had a face to save—didn't dare call in the famous local doctors, and definitely didn't want to ask the emperor for an imperial physician.

Gotta save that old face.

Once he figured that out, Li Zhiming just laid his cards on the table. Putting on a look like he'd been slapped in the face, he went and knelt in front of the study again.

"Dad, rumors are flying everywhere, and I've got no face left. If another doctor comes to my door to humiliate me, I—I'll just die of rage and shame!"

Turns out that kind of threat actually worked a little.

At least things calmed down a lot for the next few days.

That night.

Li Zhiming lay in bed, Sang Yu next to him, arm around his waist, face buried in his hair, breathing steady, dead asleep.

He, on the other hand, was wide awake.

His waist was still sore and achy, and lying still was uncomfortable, so he carefully shifted onto his side.

Sang Yu mumbled something, scooted closer to him, and didn't wake up.

Thank God.

This life was really going nowhere.

His gorgeous wife had flown the coop, and now he was being cuddled every night by some stinking dude. What pissed him off even more was that he was slowly getting used to it—not even minding the guy's hugs anymore?

It was a total disgrace.

Ever since that window paper got poked through, Sang Yu had gotten lazier and lazier about pretending. He'd throw random tantrums, demand compliments, and if the compliments weren't good enough, he'd get handsy—rougher than a street punk.

Who exactly was crashing at whose place here?

Who got kidnapped by who?

How did the tables get flipped?!

Li Zhiming cursed out the original owner more than once—that two-timing playboy. Why'd he have to mess with this guy? Weren't pretty girls good enough? He had to go after a dude.

This peaceful but awkward stretch went on for a while.

Li Zhiming figured it'd just keep going on like this, plain and uneventful, until the emperor gave the word and the imperial hunt came around as scheduled.

As the only son of the Prime Minister's house, he was the kid of a big shot, so he had to go.

Sang Yu, being a prince sent from another country, had a special status, so of course he'd tag along to the hunt too.

The two of them showed up together.

Standing by the emperor were a few princes who looked sharp as hell.

Especially the Crown Prince—every little smile and frown had the same authority as the emperor, even his moves were similar, all proper and reserved.

"Greetings, Crown Prince."

Li Zhiming greeted the Crown Prince as he walked over.

The Crown Prince glanced at Sang Yu, his look complicated, then shifted his gaze to Li Zhiming. He said gently, "There's been a lot of talk about Minister Li lately. You holding up okay?"

Li Zhiming kept his eyes down and answered politely: "Thanks for asking, Your Highness. I'm fine."

His cushy little post technically made him an official.

"In that case, good."

"Yes, Your Highness."

The Crown Prince dropped his voice, dropping the whole warm and grand act, and smiled: "A gentleman knows what to do and what not to do. The Prince of Nanxun forcing himself on people isn't exactly gentlemanly behavior."

A weird smile was plastered on his face.

Li Zhiming's heart went cold. That hint was way too obvious—he definitely knew something. Would he go blab about it?

Sang Yu, though, stayed totally chill, even staring the Crown Prince right in the eye and clapping back without a care.

"Your Highness, as the future heir, is super careful with every word and move. Tell me, is playing the gentleman exhausting?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"No hidden meaning. Just a heads-up—don't let that mask of yours crack. Otherwise, the emperor won't keep a crown prince with a tarnished reputation."

The Crown Prince didn't say a word. He knew he'd been called out, so he shut up and just stared at Sang Yu.

His eyes looked like he wanted to kill Sang Yu on the spot.

But since this wasn't the right place, he didn't dare make a move.

Back in Liangzhou, the reason Li Zhixing had been so bold was partly because the Crown Prince was pulling strings behind the scenes. He wanted Sang Yu dead—that was way too obvious.

It just never got put into action.

That conversation ended badly, but when the Crown Prince left, he still wore a friendly smile and a concerned look, so flawless no one could find fault with him, as if he were born to be the heir.

Once he was gone, Li Zhiming, remembering what happened in Liangzhou, turned to Sang Yu and asked, "Why does he want to kill you?"

Sang Yu shrugged, unconcerned. "Because I'm the Emperor's son. He's afraid I'll steal his spot as Crown Prince."

"????"

Li Zhiming stood there, completely frozen.

He felt like he'd heard those words in one of the loops, but at the time, he'd been too shocked, scared, and harassed to even think to ask about it later.

Sang Yu had no clue he'd heard that before.

So he just casually spilled his own secret?

"What, got the young master stunned?"

"No kidding."

His jaw nearly hit the floor, and for a second, he didn't know what to say to break the awkwardness.

Sang Yu looked unbothered. "None of that matters. What matters is that fake Crown Prince, all gentlemanly and humble on the surface, is gonna die sooner or later."

"What are you gonna do?"

Li Zhiming clapped a hand over Sang Yu's mouth, afraid someone might overhear that treasonous talk.

Sang Yu's eyes lit up, thrilled.

Feeling awkward under that look, Li Zhiming let go.

"You worried about me?"

"No, I'm not! Don't read into it!"

"You are."

"I'm not!"

"If you're not worried, then I'll go kill the Crown Pr—uh..."

"Have you lost your mind?!"

Li Zhiming slapped his hand over his mouth again, shooting daggers at him, and hissed between gritted teeth, "Quit talking crap! I don't want to get my head chopped off as a traitor with you."

Sang Yu paid him no mind, and seizing the moment, he stuck out his tongue and gave a soft lick.