Chapter 475 Game Over

Chapter 475: Well, That's Just Great

"Y-Your Highness..." His voice squeezed out from his throat, thin and reedy, like a flute being squeezed out of a strangled throat, "What a coincidence..."

Zhou Zhan snorted coldly and turned his head away.

"What, I'm not allowed to come?" Zhou Yinyun said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Cheng Ge's body stiffened, and he instinctively glanced at Wuliji.

Wuliji didn't look too pleased, but he didn't say anything either.

He scooped one up, put it in his mouth, chewed twice, and swallowed.

Then he picked up his spoon and, right in front of everyone, scooped several wontons into Cheng Ge's bowl.

The spoon moved from the big bowl to the small one, the wontons, plump and white, tumbled into Cheng Ge's bowl one after another, splashing a few drops of soup onto the table.

He scooped four, paused, looked at how much was left in Cheng Ge's bowl, then scooped two more before withdrawing the spoon and continuing to eat his own.

Cheng Ge looked down at the six extra wontons in his bowl and felt a chill run down his spine.

When Zhou Zhan and Zhou Yinyun saw this, they nearly ground their molars to dust, their eyes boring into Cheng Ge.

Cheng Ge felt like their stares were drilling holes through his back.

If he didn't do something to smooth things over, he'd probably be limping back to the manor on his sorry legs tonight.

He curled his lips into a smile, his eyes crinkling, looking completely harmless and innocent.

"Just been swamped with work lately. Got off work, got hungry, figured I'd grab a bite."

He paused, then asked politely, "You two want a bowl too?"

The second those words left his mouth, Cheng Ge felt like a genius.

It explained why he was here, issued an invite, made him look hospitable, and neatly swept the awkwardness under the rug.

Perfect. Flawless. He nearly gave himself a round of applause.

Zhou Zhan was still steaming. He shot Cheng Ge a glare, snorted, and turned to walk away—

But to everyone's surprise, Zhou Yinyun swept his robes aside and sat down right next to Cheng Ge.

Zhou Zhan: "...???"

Zhou Zhan shot a look at this traitor Zhou Yinyun, then yanked out the chair on Cheng Ge's other side and plopped down.

Cheng Ge suddenly felt like he was sitting on pins and needles. Zhou Yinyun was on his left, Zhou Zhan on his right, and Wuliji across from him.

He felt like a suckling pig placed on a roasting rack, with three fires burning beneath him—flip over and he'd roast, stay still and he'd roast. Either way, he was cooked.

It wasn't just men on his left and right—there was one in front too. Cheng Ge's head was about to blow.

"Busy official duties, my ass?" Zhou Yinyun spoke up. "I think you've been lingering in those pleasure houses, drinking yourself sick on that fancy liquor and burning a hole in your stomach."

When he said "pleasure houses," he bit off each word with deliberate clarity.

Zhou Zhan immediately jumped in. "Hmph, I bet those girls have got you so bewitched you can't even eat."

Cheng Ge: "............"

His mouth twitched once, then again, and he decided to just tune out this wave of snark.

He turned to the old stall owner and called out, loud and bright—so bright it was almost forced, like he was trying to drown something out: "Boss, two more bowls of wontons, uh... extra vinegar on the side!"

The owner stood frozen behind the stove, one hand on a wonton wrapper, the other holding chopsticks with meat filling.

It wasn't that he didn't want to move—he just didn't dare.

A row of guards stood in front of the wonton stall, blades out, a dark wall blocking the whole place.

Moonlight glinted off the scabbards, throwing a pale, cold gleam that stung the eyes.

The lead guard stood there stone-faced, his eyes sweeping over everyone in the shop, like he was counting heads.

A thin sheen of sweat broke out on the owner's forehead.

He glanced down at the wrapper in his hand, then up at the guards, and swallowed hard.

Then he picked up his chopsticks, scooped up a big wad of filling, and slapped it on the wrapper.

He hesitated, shot another look at the guards, then scooped up another lump and piled it on.

The wrapper stretched tight and bulging, about to split at the seams.

He carefully pinched the edges, sealing it little by little. By the time he was done, the wonton had turned into a dumpling so fat it looked wrong.

He studied it, decided it still wasn't enough, then scooped up a dab more filling and shoved it through the opening.

Only then did he set this "wonton" on the board and start on the second one.

When the wontons hit the pot, the water splashed up high, and the broth was a good third fuller than usual.

Pretty soon, two bowls of wontons came out.

The owner carried the tray over gingerly, each step slow and soft, like he was treading on eggshells.

He set one bowl in front of Zhou Zhan, one in front of Zhou Yinyun, then tucked the tray under his arm, rubbed his hands, and forced a smile.

"T-Two honored guests, enjoy your meal."

With that, he turned and bolted, quick and frantic, like a ghost was on his tail.

Back at the stove, he grabbed a rag and mopped his forehead.

Then he slung the rag over his shoulder and shrank into the corner, trying to make himself small—smaller, even smaller.

Cheng Ge decided to pretend these men didn't exist.

He made this decision in the third second before his head blew—rational, decisive, pure survival instinct.

He lowered his head, buried his face in the bowl, and ate with total focus.

Wontons went in one after another, soup was chugged straight from the bowl without a spoon, and scallions stuck to the corners of his mouth went completely ignored.

He chewed at a pace so fast it was like someone was chasing him with a death sentence—

And in fact, someone was. One on the left, one on the right, and one in front.

Three pairs of eyes, six gazes, like six invisible forks nailing him to the bench.

All he could do was eat—eat like his life depended on it, eat until the end of time, until these people finally cleared out.

He polished off the six wontons Wuliji had scooped into his bowl, then drank the broth.

The bowl was scraped clean, but he still held it up to his mouth and tilted it, draining the last few drops. Then he set it down, grabbed his spoon, and started scooping at the soup—

Even though there wasn't a drop of soup left, he kept scooping, the spoon clinking softly against the empty bottom.

Zhou Yinyun's brow twitched slightly.

He watched Cheng Ge, whose bowl was so clean it could double as a mirror, still scooping up air and shoveling it into his mouth.

His mouth twitched, then he ducked his head, picked up his own spoon, and scooped out the wontons from his own bowl one by one, adding them to Cheng Ge's.

The wontons moved from his bowl to Cheng Ge's—plump, white, and packed together, broth trickling down the sides to gather in a little puddle at the bottom.

Cheng Ge stared down at the wontons that had magically appeared in his bowl, then looked up at Zhou Yinyun and flashed a sweet smile.

His eyes crinkled into two crescent moons, the corners of his mouth curled up, showing a flash of teeth.

There was still a scallion stuck to his cheek, bright green and clinging on, against that smiling face, making him look equal parts goofy and sincere.

"Thank you, Your Highness."

Zhou Yinyun's face went warm. He turned away, picked up his spoon, and lowered his head to eat.

Zhou Zhan saw this and pressed his lips into a thin line.

He lowered his head, picked up his own spoon, scooped up his wontons and dumped the whole lot into Cheng Ge's bowl.

The smile on Cheng Ge's face was getting stiffer by the second. His appetite wasn't what it used to be, and after eating so much just now, he was clearly already at his limit.

And Zhou Zhan was still piling more on.

"Your Highness," Cheng Ge spoke up, genuine pleading creeping into his voice, "you should save some for yourself..."

He reached out, casually covering the rim of his bowl with his hand.

His palm rested on the rim, five fingers spread slightly like an open fan, covering most of the opening.

Zhou Zhan's face dropped instantly. "Oh, so you can eat theirs, but not mine?"

Cheng Ge: "............"

Cheng Ge's survival instincts finally kicked in at this critical moment.

"Your Highness, what are you saying?" he blurted, his words firing off like firecrackers, as he reached out and tugged at Zhou Zhan's sleeve.

"I'm just worried you won't get enough to eat," he went on, his voice going soft—soft as sugar melting in the sun, sticking to Zhou Zhan's cuff like syrup, "Your Highness handles a thousand things a day—what if you end up hungry?"

The second those words left his mouth, he got goosebumps himself—too fake, so fake even he didn't buy it.

But his poker face was impeccable. The corners of his mouth curved up, his eyes wide, staring at Zhou Zhan without blinking, desperately trying to sell the "fake" as "real."

Zhou Zhan glanced down at the two fingers tugging his sleeve, then looked up at Cheng Ge.

He saw the sincerity in Cheng Ge's eyes, and the corner of his mouth almost twitched.

"I'm the Crown Prince—do you think I'd be short on food?"

He put on a stern face, pressing his brows down a little.

"Eat what you're given." Four words, hard as stone.

But the hand Cheng Ge was tugging didn't pull away, the cuff still caught between his fingers.

After he spoke, his gaze slid to the side, landing on Wuliji.

Wuliji's bowl was empty, spotless, not even a drop of broth left.

Zhou Zhan glanced at him, then looked away, his voice flat:

"Finish up and get back to the residence. Don't keep hanging around just anyone, or you'll pick up those barbarian habits."

Cheng Ge: "......"

He instinctively looked up at Wuliji, who was looking right back at him, his gaze soft, clearly having no clue Zhou Zhan was taking a jab at him.

Cheng Ge looked at Wuliji's face—so open, almost naive—and felt something in his chest go soft.

Zhou Zhan saw him swapping looks with this barbarian, and his mood went sour again.

His fingers stirred under the table, then he reached out and pinched Cheng Ge's hand.

The pinch wasn't hard, landing right on the webbing between Cheng Ge's thumb and index finger.

Two fingertips pressed against his skin, a gentle squeeze, like a reminder: someone's here, look here, don't look at him.

"Cheng Muyu..."

Cheng Ge turned, didn't say a word, grabbed his spoon, scooped up a wonton, and shoved it straight into Zhou Zhan's mouth.

"Mmph—!" Zhou Zhan's face went crimson, his ears burning, every trace of his earlier sharpness gone.

The hand pinching Cheng Ge's webbing unconsciously loosened, tracing a little circle around his index finger.

"Your Highness, eat up, don't just talk..." Cheng Ge tapped his palm back.

Zhou Zhan felt a little lightheaded, muttering under his breath, "I'm not a kid, why are you feeding me..."

"Your Highness!" A guard suddenly stepped forward and dropped to one knee. "His Majesty orders you to return to the palace at once."

Zhou Zhan's brow furrowed slightly, irritation flickering in his chest—why now, of all times?

But he said nothing, just stood up and straightened his sleeves, smoothing out the wrinkles. "Understood."

He looked down at Cheng Ge, cleared his throat, and said, "I'm heading back. I'll come see you tomorrow." With that, he turned and left, the guards trailing behind him.

The clink of armor rang out as they went, fading and fading, until it vanished at the end of the long street.

The wonton shop suddenly went quiet.

Cheng Ge sat there, let out a long breath, then finished off what was left in his bowl.

He wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, turned to the shop owner, and said, "I'm heading out. Settle the bill with Sister Lvrou like usual."

The owner couldn't have been happier to see these heavy hitters leave. "Take care, come back anytime."

Cheng Ge turned to look at the other two, jerked his chin, and said, "Let's go."

The three of them walked along the long street, their shadows stretched long by the moonlight, overlapping on the flagstones, so tangled you couldn't tell them apart.

After a while, Zhou Yinyun suddenly spoke up.

"By the way," his voice drifted over from the left, "we've got two peacocks at the estate, brought up from the south—they've got gorgeous plumage."

Cheng Ge turned to look at him. Zhou Yinyun wasn't looking back; his gaze rested on the road ahead. "You wanna come check 'em out?"

"Sure," he said without even thinking, like it was no big deal. "I'll swing by in a couple days when I've got time."

When they got to the marquis's gate, two red lanterns swayed in the night breeze.

Cheng Ge stopped, turned around to face the two men, and said, "Alright, this is you. Get home safe."

Zhou Yinyun stood at the foot of the steps. "Don't forget the peacocks."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Zhou Yinyun didn't look back again, at an easy pace, and soon he disappeared into the alley.

Cheng Ge turned to look at Wuliji. He was still standing there, quiet as the night sky over the Northern Di plains.

"You should get some rest too when you're back," Cheng Ge said. "Your wounds aren't fully healed yet—don't stay up."

Wuliji nodded. He reached out and brushed his fingertips across Cheng Ge's forehead. "You too... get some rest... I'll... come find you tomorrow..."

Cheng Ge nodded back at him. "Mm."

Wuliji turned and walked away. The moonlight followed him, catching his broad shoulders, before the darkness swallowed him whole.

Cheng Ge stood there watching for a moment, then turned and entered the manor.

"Sweet sweet... you smile so sweet, like a flower blooming in the spring breeze..."

Cheng Ge hummed the tune as he crossed the front courtyard, passed the screen wall, and walked down the bamboo-lined path.

The bamboo leaves rustled in the night wind, and he walked slower than when he'd arrived.

The moon gate was right ahead—he stopped dead.

In the courtyard, Cui Ji sat on a stone stool, a teacup held loosely in his hand.

Moonlight fell on his dark robes, his eyes downcast. The tea had gone cold long ago—who knows how long he'd been sitting there.

The smile died on Cheng Ge's face.

He spun around and bolted.

"Stop." Cui Ji's voice came from behind him, not loud, not soft, calm like he was stating a plain fact.

Cheng Ge ran faster.

He tore down the bamboo path in three strides, his shoes slipping on the stone. He nearly fell, grabbing a bamboo stalk to catch his balance.

Only one thought filled his mind—run, get inside, slam the door, deal with it tomorrow, deal with it the day after, never deal with it at all—

His waist suddenly tightened.

An arm wrapped around him from behind, clamping down like iron pincers around his midsection, and his whole body was lifted clean off the ground.

Cheng Ge's feet left the earth, his legs kicking twice in the air like a cat scruffed by the neck.

"Damn—! Cui Ji!! Let me explain, listen to me!"

Cui Ji said nothing. One arm locked around Cheng Ge's waist, the other pushed open the door, and he strode in with long, heavy steps.

"Damn! What are you doing?!" Cheng Ge's hands flailed wildly in the air, grabbing at the doorframe—he missed—and was dragged inside again.

The door slammed shut behind them with a bang. The sound exploded in the quiet night, rattling the window lattices with a hum.

"Damn!! Don't be rash!! Don't be rash!! My wounds aren't healed yet!!!"

"Damn!! You animal!!! Stop!!! Stop!!!"

"Every little bit of support helps, folks."