Chapter 6: Perform, Perform Until He Weeps

Chapter 6: Act, Act Until He Weeps

"Li Zhiming harmed our lord, severed the ties between our two nations, and must be destroyed."

"Who are you..."

Damn it!

Before he could even finish his sentence, he was stabbed through like a pincushion.

When Li Zhiming woke again, it was early morning. He gasped for air, his entire body aching and numb, as if it had been pierced with countless holes.

What a damn mess.

This trip out wasn't entirely without gain—at least he now knew there were still people lying in wait for him outside, and that someone was deliberately trying to harm him. Sang Yu might just be an excuse.

Back then, that group insisted he had harmed Sang Yu. But he had only imprisoned him, not taken his life—the man was still alive.

The only question was whether Prince Cheng was friend or foe.

Damn it all!

These people were complicated and troublesome. He'd come here for no reason at all, and all they wanted was to kill him.

Some "Prince of Nanxun."

A major headache.

He was badly injured now, so he might as well knock him out and send him away overnight. Then when his men saw him, maybe they wouldn't come looking for Li Zhiming anymore.

With that thought, Li Zhiming did exactly that.

He personally went to the dungeon to change the man's bandages, coaxed Sang Yu into drinking some soup with gentle words, slipped a sleeping potion into it, then brought him out and sent him overnight to the residence that was supposed to be Sang Yu's.

The night passed peacefully.

But the very next morning, he was roused from sleep.

Sang Yu had died for no apparent reason in his residence, the wounds covering his body all pointing to Li Zhiming's brutal cruelty. The soldiers in the dungeon also confessed one by one that they had acted on Li Zhiming's orders.

The emperor was displeased, the prime minister was furious, and the prime minister personally took him into custody.

Before he had even spent a full day and night in prison, someone killed him with a cup of poisoned wine.

*

"Did I kill someone in my past life, or set fires in this one? What the hell!"

Even sending him away didn't do the trick.

Li Zhiming grumbled furiously, kicking over the chair in the room. The teapot on the table wobbled and crashed to the ground and shattered.

If worst comes to worst...

Then act—act it out until he's moved to tears of gratitude, or at least until he lets bygones be bygones.

He had brought a doctor to treat that guy's wounds before. Sure, the guy had wanted to kill him too, but he hadn't just snapped his neck without warning—he'd at least told him beforehand, right?

That meant a better attitude might still help.

So he'd act even more convincingly—make him believe he was innocent, make him willing to spare him.

With that decided, Li Zhiming had Feng Yin make the arrangements and bring the doctor along again.

This time.

The moment he entered the dungeon, he hurried over to Sang Yu with an anxious look, his face full of earnest concern: "How are you feeling? Can you move? Are your wounds any better?"

As he spoke, he pulled a packet of preserved fruit from his robes, opened it, and took one out, holding it to Sang Yu's lips.

"The doctor will change your dressings soon—it might hurt a little. I was in such a rush yesterday that I didn't think to bring any. Have something sweet; it'll help with the pain."

Sang Yu didn't move.

Li Zhiming noticed his cracked lips and said, as if it just dawned on him: "Right, your lips are all chapped. You need to drink some soup first."

He fumbled to offer a bowl of nourishing broth: "Here, have a sip."

He wouldn't drink.

So hard to please.

Li Zhiming could only coax him with soft words. He'd managed to get him to drink last time, so he could do it again—it would just take some effort to go through the motions.

He did drink a little.

Li Zhiming was secretly delighted and quickly popped a piece of preserved fruit into his mouth: "Hold it in your mouth. It's sweet."

Sang Yu's lifeless eyes finally flickered.

The two stared at each other in silence for a moment.

Feng Yin reminded him: "Young master, the doctor..."

"Oh, right." Li Zhiming snapped back to reality and pushed the doctor forward. "Doctor, hurry and change his dressings. We don't know how, and I'm afraid we'd hurt him. Better for you to do it."

The doctor nodded, sweating nervously: "Yes, yes."

"Be sure to be gentle."

The doctor began to unwrap the bandages covering his body to apply fresh medication and re-bandage the wounds.

Li Zhiming stood nearby, his gaze casually drifting to the soldiers. He suddenly remembered that the last time he died, he'd heard these soldiers all claimed they were acting on his orders.

He narrowed his eyes. Perhaps from dying so many times, he now carried a certain menacing air.

"You. Come here."

He crooked a finger at the leader.

The man trembled all over and crawled over on his knees, cowering in fear.

When he reached him, Li Zhiming didn't hold back—he kicked him to the ground with a cold sneer: "I forgot to settle accounts with you yesterday. Using such cruel torture right under my nose—who gave you the nerve?"

The man lay on the ground, his voice shaking: "Young master, spare me, spare me! I... I was trying to help ease your worries, to help..."

"Share my burden? I think you received orders from someone—kill Young Master Yu first, then pin it on me. Am I right?"

"Young master, spare me, spare me..."

The men kowtowed frantically.

As expected.

All the plays he'd acted in and the stuff he'd watched weren't for nothing.

Li Zhiming's eyes turned colder. He shot Feng Yin a look and gave a signal.

Feng Yin drew his sword and brought it down in one swift stroke.

"Ah..."

The ringleader screamed, clutching his bloody arm and writhing on the ground. The doctor, shaking with fear, applied the medicine, his hands trembling like leaves.

The others went deathly pale and scrambled back to hide.

"Young Master, what should we do with them?"

"These idiots hid this from me and let Young Master Yu end up like this. Anyone would think I was the one who ordered this!"

His voice was furious and frantic, and he kicked them a few more times in his rage.

"Lock them up and punish them harshly. There's got to be someone among them who's out for my head. Dig deep, find them, and finish them off."

"Yes."

Feng Yin tied them all up in the dungeon and knocked each one out with a single palm strike.

"Hiss..."

Sang Yu let out a muffled grunt, the chains clanking heavily as he shifted.

Hearing this, the doctor got the gist of it, but his distraction made him lose control of his strength, and he hurt Sang Yu.

Hearing the pained sound, Li Zhiming hurried over and repeated, "Doctor, go easy on him."

Li Zhiming moved to Sang Yu's side and reached out to steady his swaying frame, keeping the chains from pulling at the wounds on his wrists.

"You feeling better? I'll get you out of here soon. Don't move—your health comes first."

The pain, which had nearly gone numb, eased a little.

The sweetness in his mouth bloomed fully.

Sang Yu listened to the fussing in his ear, the candied fruit tucked in his cheek, breathing quietly and looking perfectly calm.

But Li Zhiming could still feel the slight tremor running through his body.

Remembering last time, Li Zhiming reached out and gently stroked his dry hair, murmuring, "Don't be scared. You'll be fine. It's okay."

Sang Yu's eyes flickered as he took in his refined, handsome profile, the long lashes throwing shadows, the tenderness and focus in his gaze nearly spilling over and flooding his heart.