Chapter 20: Here to Pick Someone Up

Yu Hualiang was forcibly dragged inside by him, and once they entered the room, he mysteriously shut all the doors and windows. After making sure they were safe, Chang Zihao sat across from him, staring in silence.

“Why did you drag me up here?” Yu Hualiang complained. He looked at the table, where there was nothing but a kettle, and burst out, “There’s no food? I want to eat stewed chicken!”

“Eat, eat, eat—still thinking about stewed chicken!” Chang Zihao snapped angrily.

He continued, “I know the Seventh Prince gave you a jade pendant, but can’t you stop flaunting it in the streets?”

“What’s wrong with that?” Yu Hualiang was completely unfazed, as if he had done nothing wrong by merely taking it out to look at.

“Showing the jade is like showing the Seventh Prince himself. With such a treasure on you, be careful or you’ll be marked! Do you want to keep living?”

Hearing this, Yu Hualiang suddenly understood—he was worried about him. Yet, just recently, they’d acted like enemies upon meeting...

Yu Hualiang was surprised. “Why are you being nice to me? Didn’t you wish I was dead?”

“Hmph!” Chang Zihao snorted. “If you weren’t Master’s son, I wouldn’t bother!”

Yu Hualiang got it now. He hadn’t expected that the usually arrogant Chang Zihao actually had this side to him.

“Who would have thought—you’re actually quite filial?”

Chang Zihao refused to respond. He remembered something and added, “Don’t get your bracelet repaired at those street stalls. Who knows if they’ll even show up tomorrow! If you must, leave it at a reputable gold and jade shop—it won’t go missing.”

Yu Hualiang realized he was right and blamed himself for being rash.

He truly hadn’t expected that, after spending some time with Chang Zihao, the man wasn’t so bad after all.

“So, why did you come today?” Yu Hualiang asked.

“This is the Chang family’s street—why wouldn’t I come?”

“Wow!” Yu Hualiang was shocked. He opened the window and looked out at the bustling street stretching as far as the eye could see. All of it belonged to the Chang family! They were incredibly wealthy!

Chang Zihao rolled his eyes at him and quietly sipped his tea, clearly unwilling to waste words on a fool.

Yu Hualiang turned to tease him, “Then why are you so stingy when I ask to borrow money?”

“You!” Chang Zihao nearly smashed his cup in exasperation.

He added, “Master wrote last night, telling me to look after you more.”

“Oh... that old man...” Yu Hualiang muttered under his breath. Truly, he was his real father. He sighed, thinking of his own father.

He was an only child. If he died, he wondered how many more gray hairs his parents would get...

“What’s wrong?” Chang Zihao asked.

Yu Hualiang waved his hand. “Nothing, nothing!”

Chang Zihao straightened his clothes and said, “If you’re fine, I’ll be off. If you need anything, come to the Chang family for help!”

Yu Hualiang watched him. He spoke like a big brother. Yu Hualiang grinned, “Alright, you should come visit my place someday!”

“Hmph...” Chang Zihao snorted reluctantly and left with Mu Qi.

Mo Cai looked at Yu Hualiang and asked, “Young master, where to now?”

“Let’s go. First, to the gold shop to get the bracelet repaired, then to buy some brushes and ink.”

Yesterday, Yu Hualiang had rummaged through the courtyard and found only supplies for practicing calligraphy, but not a single sheet suitable for painting.

The Seventh Prince had hired a painter yet hadn’t even prepared the necessary materials—one had to wonder if he’d really wanted a painter.

Grumbling, Yu Hualiang set about gathering everything he needed.

All at once, he remembered the little assassin he’d rescued the other day. He wondered how the young man was faring. Since it wasn’t far, why not go and see...

Mo Cai shook his head. “Young master, best not. We’ve already discovered his secret. Be careful or he’ll silence us...”

Yu Hualiang had considered this as well, so he planned only to sneak a peek. If the boy had recovered, he’d leave; if not, if he truly couldn’t be cured and died, then Yu Hualiang would see to his burial.

He hired a carriage and went over. As soon as he got out, the owner of the clinic, recognizing him, came over with a broad smile.

“Young master, you’re here! The patient is awake now. You should go see him.”

Yu Hualiang shook his head hastily. “No need, I’ll be on my way.”

The clinic owner looked awkward. “Young master... don’t you know—someone inside is looking for you.”

Before Yu Hualiang could figure out what the owner meant, the window on the upper floor creaked open. Dressed in black, with a cold expression, the assassin gazed down at Yu Hualiang.

Under that stare, Yu Hualiang felt as if a thousand ants crawled over him—unbearably uncomfortable. Clearly, the assassin wanted to talk.

Unable to refuse, Yu Hualiang entered. Only then did he notice the man was standing on one leg, more upright than most could manage on two.

Truly, a trained professional, Yu Hualiang thought.

The man in black hopped to the table, sat down, and stared intently at Yu Hualiang for a long time. Yu Hualiang was unnerved and kept avoiding his gaze.

Finally, the man spoke: “Yu Hualiang...”

“Mm...” Was he just now trying to remember his name?

He handed Yu Hualiang a slip of paper, speaking solemnly: “Place this in the Dragon Well at the west entrance. Make absolutely sure no one sees you.”

“Eh?” Yu Hualiang took the note, dazed. Seeing Yu Hualiang’s distracted look, the man repeated, “In the Dragon Well at the west entrance. Absolutely do not let anyone see you!”

“But... why should I... ah... no problem, I’ll do it.”

Just as he said “should,” the man had drawn a dagger from who-knows-where and pressed it against Yu Hualiang’s throat.

Faced with life and death, Yu Hualiang abandoned all pretense without hesitation.

Mo Cai was terrified, fumbling as he tried to help. “Don’t be rash, be careful not to hurt our young master...”

“Remember, don’t let anyone see you. You know how sharp my blade is. If you’re not back in half an hour, prepare to collect his corpse,” the man said to Mo Cai.

“Young master!” Mo Cai was worried.

Yu Hualiang nodded. “Go on... don’t worry about me.”

After Mo Cai left, the man put away the dagger and collapsed on the table as if drained, cold sweat beading on his brow. Yu Hualiang guessed his wound was hurting again.

Yu Hualiang offered, “Shall I fetch the doctor to take a look?”

“Sit down!” As Yu Hualiang was just about to leave, the man ordered him back.

Yu Hualiang slumped into the chair with a dejected “oh.” The man was sweating profusely, clearly in pain. Seeing this, Yu Hualiang poured him some tea and set it before him.

But the man, in a foul temper, picked up the cup and smashed it, shards scattering across the floor.

“Are you alright?” Yu Hualiang asked, genuinely concerned.

The man said nothing, likely in too much pain. He’d bitten his lip until it bled. Yu Hualiang patted him gently, but received no response.

Had he fainted from pain?

Yu Hualiang nudged him and found him shivering on the table. He touched the man’s forehead—it was so hot he could have fried an egg.

His wound was infected, and he had a high fever. The situation was serious. Yu Hualiang carefully helped him back to bed. He couldn’t stand by and do nothing.

He called for the doctor, who, upon seeing the patient, explained that the medicine’s effect had worn off. The man had woken earlier, and when the doctor wanted to change his dressing, he’d refused.

Yu Hualiang understood. The boy was an assassin—how could he let just anyone touch him?

When the doctor changed the dressing, Yu Hualiang wanted to step out, but the youth, wracked with pain, grabbed his hand and refused to let go.

His grip was so tight, Yu Hualiang thought his skin would be torn off. All the while, the boy muttered a name...

“Zi Yan...”

Yu Hualiang guessed it was the name of a girl dear to his heart. When the doctor finished bandaging him, he turned to Yu Hualiang’s arm and said, “Well, young master, perhaps you’d like some medicine too?”

Yu Hualiang would have gladly accepted, but whenever he tried to pull his arm free, the boy gripped tighter, nails digging into flesh. Yu Hualiang didn’t dare move.

The doctor handed him a towel, instructing him to wipe the boy’s forehead frequently.

Holding the towel, Yu Hualiang reflected that he must be a glutton for punishment—why did he insist on coming here for no reason?

He looked at the young man lying in bed. The boy’s face was still a bit childish, his complexion pale as jade, his small lips drained of color.

He was handsome, Yu Hualiang decided—even more so than Ah Liu, though when compared to Lian Sheng, it was a close contest.

One could only say the boy was more ethereal.

While Yu Hualiang was lost in thought, the boy slowly opened his eyes, as bright and clear as crystal.

He gazed at Yu Hualiang wordlessly. Yu Hualiang guessed he wanted water—wasn’t it true that sick people usually wake only when thirsty?

Yu Hualiang went to pour him some, but his hand was still held fast. Wincing in pain, Yu Hualiang drew the boy’s gaze to his arm, now a mess of bruises.

The boy released him. Had it always been these few people by his side, saving him while he was unconscious?

He looked at Yu Hualiang with a peculiar expression, watching him bring tea over, a strange emotion flickering in his eyes.

“I’ll blow on it for you!” Yu Hualiang fussed.

The boy flatly refused, making it clear he had no desire for water.

Yu Hualiang said, “Brother, your injuries are serious. You should focus on recuperating. I won’t bother you anymore—I’ll go out.”

But as soon as Yu Hualiang moved to leave, the boy’s gaze turned cold and threatening, as if warning him that if he dared step out, he’d be devoured whole.

Yu Hualiang obediently stayed put. Mo Cai returned shortly, breathless, and relaxed only when he saw that Yu Hualiang was unharmed.

“I’ve put the note where you said! Now let our young master go!” Mo Cai demanded of the boy in black.

The boy slowly closed his eyes, seeming to acquiesce. Without further ado, Mo Cai pulled Yu Hualiang away.

By the time they returned to the Seventh Prince’s residence, dusk had fallen. Yu Hualiang’s arm throbbed. Looking down, he saw his wrist was nearly mangled.

“Young master, what happened to you?”

“He scratched me!” Yu Hualiang grumbled.

Mo Cai was dumbfounded. That knife-wielding man was actually capable of scratching someone like a girl.

What a striking contrast—was this what they called “unexpected charm”?

As night deepened, the doctor was startled awake by the sound of footsteps. Opening the door, he found a group of men in black, standing at attention with military discipline.

He nearly fainted from fright. The leader, tall and clad in black with a cloak covering half his face, revealed only a faint smile.

Terrified, the doctor dropped to his knees, pleading, “Good sirs, I beg you, spare my family...”

The leader helped him up. “Don’t be afraid, old doctor. I’m only here to collect someone.”