Chapter 8: A Secret Night Visit

Chapter 8: A Secret Night Visit

He really did go take a bath.

In cold water, no less.

He figured it'd ease up after a while, but the burning heat in his body only intensified, like it was trying to burn him up from the inside.

So the monk was actually telling the truth?

So this poison really does make you burn? He never said "burning" meant *this*!!

That bastard.

Pei Yuhuai gritted his teeth, his hands white-knuckling the edge of the tub. His skin was flushed with a telltale rosy glow, his thoughts churning, aching to—

"Young Master."

Pei Yi came in with clean clothes, pushed the curtain aside, and saw Pei Yuhuai's eyes red and alarming, with angry scratch marks on his slender neck—impossible to miss.

"Young Master, what happened to you?"

Why the hell was he scratching his own neck?

Did he find out Ji Huaiyu went out with the princess to have a good time, and now he wants to off himself?

Pei Yi panicked, ran over, and started wailing.

"Young Master, don't do anything stupid! Don't strangle yourself! Young Master Ji's already the princess's consort—don't lose hope! If worst comes to worst, we can always hit up the Pleasure Pavilion again, right?"

"..."

Pei Yuhuai let out a heavy breath. "Get lost!"

"No, no, I can't leave! If anything happens to you, Young Master, I'm not living either."

He sobbed and sniffled, hovering by the tub, terrified his master would off himself.

Pei Yuhuai's nails were about to break from how hard he was gripping. He felt like he was burning alive—the raging lust was genuinely eating him up.

He looked at Pei Yi.

The little bookish attendant had delicate features and wasn't bad-looking, though he had an annoying mouth and a bit of a dull mind. His skin was also somewhat fair.

...

Pei Yi felt a chill run down his spine under that stare and instinctively backed up two steps, and said weakly, "Y-Young Master, why are you looking at me like that?"

He was scared, okay!

The sound of his voice snapped Pei Yuhuai back to reality. He pinched himself hard under the water, his eyes bloodshot and scary as hell. "Go get me a set of low-key clothes."

At this rate, he was afraid he'd lose his mind and do something to the little attendant.

He was thin-skinned.

If anyone saw him like this, he'd rather die. He might as well go find that bastard Lan He and get the antidote.

Pei Yi didn't get it, but he obediently went to do what he was told.

Pei Yuhuai changed into a plain, dark set of ink-black clothes, threw on a matching cloak, and slipped out quietly in the dead of night.

Fuck.

If anyone found out about this, he'd lose all face.

But he couldn't worry about that right now.

Lan He's place, Qingwu Manor, wasn't far from the Marquis's estate—just one street over. The streets were empty, and he made it there without any trouble.

"Qingwu Manor..."

Pei Yuhuai stood at the gate, gathered his courage, calmed his nerves, and raised his hand to knock.

The door swung open instantly.

It was Lan He's face—one that could charm anyone.

Pei Yuhuai's legs gave out, and he nearly collapsed into Lan He's arms. The faint scent of incense wrapped around him, oddly calming.

"Quick—give me the antidote. I can't handle it anymore."

He grabbed weakly at Lan He's robes, legs shaking, his dick hard and burning against Lan He's thigh.

Lan He reached out to steady his waist and asked flatly, "Is the benefactor feeling unwell and seeking help?"

"..."

Dog!

Pei Yuhuai was about to curse him out, but talking took too much effort, so he grabbed the man's hand and bit down hard on it.

Who was the real dog here?

Lan He lowered his eyes, staring at the teeth marks on the back of his hand. His gaze darkened, and his Adam's apple bobbed almost imperceptibly. "Since the Young Master has come for help, this humble monk will naturally assist you."

"Follow me."

Truth was, Pei Yuhuai could barely walk. He leaned on Lan He, letting him wrap an arm around his waist and drag him along.

They crossed the courtyard, incense smoke curling through the air. The residence had a statue of a Buddha, with servants around, and a few monks sitting in meditation, chanting scriptures.

Pei Yuhuai's eyes went wide, and he unconsciously grew reverent.

A disciple of Buddha.

Holy.

You can't defile the Buddhist path.

He desperately told himself not to be too shameless in front of the Buddha.

Lan He led him toward the inner rooms. A young monk of about fifteen or sixteen came out from inside—shaved head, wearing monk robes.

He pressed his palms together and bowed to Lan He. "Master, the guest room is ready."

"Good. This benefactor is unwell, and I need to treat him. No one is to disturb us."

"Yes, Master."

Pei Yuhuai: "..."

Why does it feel like I've walked into a thieves' den?

And a monk's got his arm around my waist.

Pei Yuhuai tugged at the collar of his cloak and muttered awkwardly, "For a monk, your behavior is terrible. You don't deserve to worship Buddha."

Lan He was amused.

"You stole my stuff to eat, and now you're blaming me? Where's the logic in that?"

"You..."

That was true, actually. Hard to argue.

Pei Yuhuai huffed, all indignant, "You're a monk—why would you brew this kind of poison? Didn't you say you'd eat it yourself? What, you can't get it up?"

He paused, then added to himself, "Oh, wait, you're a monk. Doesn't matter if you can or can't. So why even make this stuff?"

Lan He's smile dropped. "I told you it was poison, but you didn't believe me. Everyone's built different. Your body's weak, so it set off the hidden toxins."

"Shut up already, you're full of it. Give me the antidote now. If you mess up my manhood, I'll kill you."

"Don't worry."

Lan He led him to the guest room and closed the door.

In the closed-off room, alone with just the two of them, certain urges got blown way out of proportion—especially with the drug in play, things went completely off the rails.

But Lan He was taking his sweet time making the antidote, slower than a snail.

Pei Yuhuai couldn't hold out any longer. He was already at his limit when he decided to come here, and he'd barely made it the rest of the way.

"Don't rush, Your Highness. The antidote's being made."

In his spotless white robes, moving so gracefully, he looked like some celestial immortal blessing the mortals below.

Too damn slow.

Even a snail beat him.

He seriously suspected this guy was dragging his feet on purpose.

He was about to blow.

A hottie was right in front of him—in his state, wasn't the best cure just a person?

Pei Yuhuai's eyes were bloodshot, his head all foggy, and once that thought popped up, he couldn't hold back anymore.

"Lan He, you're the one who got me like this. You owe me!"

Pei Yuhuai ripped off his cloak in a fury, grabbed the half-made antidote from Lan He, slammed it on the ground, and lunged at him.

"Ugh..."

Lan He let out a muffled grunt, stumbling back from the hit, knocking the table and making the bottles rattle.

"Your Highness, that was the only batch of antidote."

He casually flicked his wide sleeve, and the bottles and jars tumbled to the floor, smashing to bits.

Pei Yuhuai didn't notice. His mind was all on the gorgeous monk—any thought of not defiling the Buddhist faith went right out the window.

Damn, that's some strong poison.

Well, well.

So the monk's waist was this thin.

The monk had such long legs.

Why was the monk so damn good-looking?

He dragged and hauled the guy into the bed curtains, dead set on letting off some steam.