Chapter 180 A Good Meal

Chapter 180: Time for a Great Meal

"Clang—!" A crisp sound rang out as the jade soup bowl shattered into pieces, with scalding herbal medicine and porcelain shards splattering everywhere.

Lin Nanshu's face turned instantly pale, and he shoved the door open and rushed straight in: "Muyu! What's wrong with you?!"

He saw Cheng Ge lying stiffly on the bed, the bright yellow brocade blanket pulled over his head, not even a strand of hair visible.

The blanket wrapped him so tightly that even the slight rise and fall of his chest was invisible, as if he were completely still, as though...

Seeing this sight, Lin Nanshu was so terrified that his soul nearly fled, his heartbeat almost stopping.

He rushed to the bedside, his voice cracking: "Muyu! Cheng Muyu! What's wrong? Don't scare me! Let go!"

In a fluster, he tried to pull open the blanket, fearing Cheng Ge had fainted from some discomfort.

After much effort, he managed to pry open a gap, revealing Cheng Ge's face.

Cheng Ge's face was flushed red and purple, his features tightly scrunched up, eyes squeezed shut, teeth clenched, and veins bulging on his forehead.

"Muyu! Breathe! Breathe!" Lin Nanshu was terrified, thinking it was a sudden illness, and turned to rush out, "I'll call the imperial physician!"

But before he could take a step, he felt his pinky finger hooked by Cheng Ge's hand.

Lin Nanshu spun around sharply.

He saw Cheng Ge, as if finally exhausting all his strength—or finally giving up on suffocating himself—open his mouth wide and gasp for air, his chest heaving violently.

His eyes stared blankly at the dragon-patterned embroidery on the bed canopy, his face slowly turning from purple-black to a lifeless white.

"I... I'm fine..."

As the saying goes, some people may look alive, but they're already dead.

Right now, Cheng Ge wished he could scoop out his own brain, grill it with minced garlic and little chili peppers, and finally sprinkle it with a handful of charming scallions to throw to Dahuang.

Lin Nanshu's hand was still frozen mid-air, staring at Cheng Ge's face—which looked like it had just been hit by lightning—momentarily at a loss for what to do.

Before he could get his head together, Cheng Ge suddenly jerked on the bed.

Lin Nanshu: "???"

As the things he'd done replayed in his mind, his scalp tingled with horror.

He curled his toes so hard inside the blanket he could've dug out a three-courtyard palace.

"Slap—" The image froze on Zhou Mingqi's enraged, gloomy face, and a chill shot up his spine from his heels to his skull.

Cheng Ge yanked the blanket up to cover his head again, but Lin Nanshu instinctively grabbed his wrist.

That slight resistance seemed to drain the last bit of his self-deluding strength.

It's over... completely over. This was more than just social suicide.

This was a grand slam of crimes that even getting your whole family wiped out wouldn't be enough to pay for. The emperor would definitely turn him into fried pork cracklings.

People really can't empathize with their past selves. Cheng Ge now only wanted to go back in time and kill himself, stomp himself to death, strangle himself right then and there.

He closed his eyes in despair, took a deep breath, then opened them, his gaze was filled with the calm acceptance of a man walking to the executioner.

He slowly turned to look at Lin Nanshu, his voice hoarse but calm: "Yuli... I want a nice meal."

Saying that, Cheng Ge instinctively started ordering dishes: "I want a feast—the fattest chicken, the freshest fish, and a braised pork hock so tender it melts off the bone.

Also, buy me a jar—no, make it two jars—of that green plum wine from Wang's shop on West Street."

He got dead serious, even going into the cooking details.

"The fish should be steamed, drizzled with soy sauce, and topped with shredded scallions and ginger, then hit with hot oil... mmm..."

Cheng Ge described it with great enthusiasm, his gaze drifting off into the distance: "The chicken has to be slow-cooked over a low flame until the meat falls off the bone, the broth golden.

The pork hock has to be braised until sticky and tender, the skin trembling, so that one poke with chopsticks makes it fall apart..."

Getting into it, his Adam's apple bobbed, and then a loud, longing slurp—'Slurp!'—rang out in the silent hall.

"That... That..."

Lin Nanshu: "..."

In the end, under Cheng Ge's hopeful gaze, Lin Nanshu set up a feast fit for an emperor.

Even though it was clearly a light recovery meal, it was made to perfection.

Cheng Ge shot up from the bed, ignoring his aching body, grabbed his chopsticks, and began devouring everything.

Lin Nanshu stood by, carefully serving him, barely keeping up with his pace.

Cheng Ge used his rice to wipe up the last bit of sauce from the plates and quickly shoveled it into his mouth.

Only then did he set down his chopsticks with satisfaction, collapsing back into the soft brocade blankets.

With his stomach filled with warm food, all his blood headed to his stomach to help digest, and his happiness level skyrocketed.

Cheng Ge: Hmm... maybe... I don't wanna die that bad anymore?

When you're full, you tend to overthink and start rationalizing and making excuses.

He blinked, stared at the canopy, and launched into a deep self-analysis and mental gymnastics:

He slapped the Crown Prince? — Tsk, how was that a slap? That was clearly an emergency physical wake-up therapy!

At that time, Zhou Zhan was clearly delirious; if he had done something irreparable...

After all, he had once been the Crown Prince's Tutor, a role with the authority to supervise and correct.

This was totally the act of a loyal minister! Logically... he should actually be praised, right?

"———Skipped———"

Now, come to the most prickly, core, and life-threatening issue—

And about the fact that he might've, possibly, maybe... committed a major offense against the Emperor, even slapping the emperor in the face?

How was he supposed to play this to save his own neck? This seemed kinda tricky—

Should he just accept Cui Ji as his dad to borrow his family's immunity plaque? But that would be crossing a line, wouldn't it?

Then again, this probably counted as one of the ten abominations, which is usually not covered by the Iron Deed's immunity.

And even if he recognized Cui Ji as his godfather, he wasn't his actual blood, so it pretty much wouldn't save his sorry ass.

Cheng Ge scratched his head in frustration, thinking, "I should've skipped that stupid Mid-Autumn banquet! Screw it!"