Chapter 25: His Highness the Sixth Prince

Chapter 25: His Highness the Sixth Prince

Yuan Rang's expression was icy, his long, narrow eyes narrowing to slits, then snapping wide open as if he'd spotted something.

He swung off his horse, his expression fierce, and hurled his longsword forward, striking directly into the black bear's neck. His voice was cold and sharp: "Half your men against a single bear—have you forgotten what matters most?! If a single Hu person escapes today, I'll hold you personally responsible, Song Xu!"

Seeing this, Gesur and the others scrambled over the wall and bolted.

Yuan Rang rushed to Chen Shuoan's side and knelt on one knee, his blood boiling. His lips trembled as he rasped, "Chase them down."

He reached out but didn't dare touch Chen Shuoan's blood-caked face, terrified of hurting him more.

Chen Shuoan looked rough—hair a mess, face puffy, and his fair, slender fingers were scraped up in several places.

The visible injuries were bad enough; Yuan Rang was too scared to imagine what was under his clothes.

A coppery sweetness rose in his throat, his eyes bloodshot, the corners glistening. For once, he looked like an actual kid.

In both his lives, Chen Shuoan had never seen anyone this brutal. He pried open his swollen eyes, saw Yuan Rang's cold, striking face, and instantly felt like he'd found his rock.

He burst into loud sobs but still managed to hit the key points even in crisis: "I didn't break anything. I need a doctor. I need a doctor..."

Then, through tear-filled eyes, he looked at everyone sprawled around him and whined miserably: "They need a doctor too."

Yuan Rang scooped him up by the crook of his knees, catching the scent of Chen Shuoan's blood. His chest ached, and his breathing hitched as he said in a trembling voice: "I'll take care of it. Don't worry."

At that, Chen Shuoan went limp in his arms. Everything hurt now, especially his stomach—like it was being ripped in half.

The two factions had already scattered. Song Xu hurried in from outside, sword in hand, and clasped his fists anxiously. "Reporting to Your Highness—six men and three women, all captured!"

Yuan Rang's face was still unnaturally pale, but upon hearing this, he gave a creepy smile and said: "Lock them up in the Dali Temple prison. I'll question them myself."

Zheng Yuanzhi hauled himself up off the ground, waving off the guards who tried to help, signaling he was okay.

He turned and spotted Zhang Chenggong writhing on the ground.

Zheng Yuanzhi: "..."

Life is so dull, and cockroaches are cosplaying as people.

Zhang Chenggong was sprawled on the ground, throwing a fit, snot and tears everywhere as he wailed: "I can't even imagine how happy I'd be if someone carried me like that."

"You seem to be imagining it pretty well right now." Li Wei's mouth twitched as he yanked Zhang Chenggong up, so grossed out he wanted to slap him.

"Quit messing around. Shuo'an really doesn't look good—let's go check on him." Qin Zhonglian wiped his face and said urgently.

————

"Pulse is deep and weak, blood isn't flowing well, plus sore limbs—basically bad bruising. No bone or tendon damage. Just need to get the blood moving and break up the bruising." The imperial physician rushed over in a panic, examined him thoroughly, and felt like he'd been played.

He'd been summoned like his life depended on it, run ragged like a donkey, expecting some rare, nasty disease—only to find it was just bruising from a fight.

But seeing everyone crowded around this young master like he was on death's door, he broke out in a cold sweat, scared he'd misdiagnose something.

But no matter how he looked at it, all he could come up with was six words.

"It'll heal in a few days."

Then he picked the gravel out of Chen Shuoan's hands.

After applying medicine, he scratched his head, confused when he was dragged in and just as confused when he was led out.

Yuan Rang sat by the bed, tall and imposing, one big hand holding Chen Shuoan's face—swollen like a pig's head—while the other gently wiped the dust and dried blood off his face. He spoke softly: "Who came up with this?"

The room went dead silent. No one dared speak.

Yuan Rang's touch was gentle, but the cloth was useless against the dried blood. Staring at the stubborn scabs on Chen Shuoan's face, a dull, inexplicable anger welled up in his chest.

Yuan Rang's demeanor was cold and hard, but his voice was soft as silk.

He asked again, still sounding patient: "Who came up with this?"

Chen Shuoan's dark eyes swept over the four people nearby, his brain feeling scrambled.

Huh? What's going on?

Is he about to get scolded?

He watched the four of them mumble and stammer without producing a single word, and with a flash of inspiration, said: "Everyone's idea."

Dead silence.

Yuan Rang let out a soft laugh, applying a bit more pressure as he wiped the scabs clean from his face, then gently applied some medicine.

Chen Shuoan, thoroughly pampered, assumed the matter was settled.

He drifted hazily into the soft blankets, as if wrapped in layers of clouds.

From somewhere far away, a voice seemed to sound.

"Come out."

It was Yuan Rang speaking.

Chen Shuoan drowsily closed his eyes and fell into peaceful sleep.

Surely none of this had anything to do with him.

The scheme was cooked up by these four, the private room was booked by Qin Zhonglian, the bold move was led by Chen Shuoan, and the injuries were shared by all five.

Aside from Chen Shuoan, the Sixth Prince treated the other four with perfect impartiality.

They stood facing the gates of the entertainment house, waiting for their respective fathers to come pick them up.

"That damn Chen Shuoan is so lucky." Zhang Chenggong wept with envy.

"I want someone to dote on me like that too. My heart is so tired. I want to die." Li Wei smiled at the sky—for the first time, this young master of the capital felt fate was profoundly unfair.

Zheng Yuanzhi, seeing that the two were indeed in a poor mental state, couldn't help but console: "You can want to die, but you can't actually go through with it."

Qin Zhonglian: "..."

All three of them are idiots.

Actually, the punishment was quite lenient.

This matter had already implicated the Xiongnu. The Hu people had used economic exchange as an excuse to brazenly cross the northern border of Rongchao, and had even used it to travel all the way into the interior.

And these people today—openly performing along the way, secretly conducting reconnaissance—had apparently been at it for many days, their numbers likely growing by the day.

This is not a simple street brawl; with a prince and the deputy chief of the Grand Court jointly hearing the case, it likely falls under major judicial proceedings.

"Ten days of confinement, hand-copy ten volumes—if you don't finish, don't bother showing up to the study hall. Since you can't keep your own legs in check on a normal day, then I'll have the esteemed officials do it for you."

Qin Zhonglian recalled the Sixth Prince's exact words, his face expressionless.

The "esteemed officials" were, of course, their own fathers.

Going back today would definitely mean a dose of family discipline.

And whether the punishment was light or heavy had nothing to do with Chen Shuoan.

Qin Zhonglian thought Zhang Chenggong and Li Wei were right.

He looked up at the sky, feeling that the gap between people could not be measured by ten books.

In this world, every gain comes with a loss, and every loss brings a gain.

For instance, Chen Shuoan gained the chance to skip copying books, but lost the joy of doing so.

Qin Zhonglian consoled himself with that thought.