SEHE Chapter 17

Cooperation

 

“How dare you! To directly call out adoptive father’s name!” Huo Cun roared furiously. “You are utterly treasonous!”

 

“Tang Xizhui is hiding behind the screen and hasn’t made a sound, yet you, this jumping clown, are barking here.” Pei Yanci’s gaze passed over him, looking toward what was behind him, his lips slightly parted as if he wanted to speak but stopped himself.

 

Huo Cun’s expression changed, and he instinctively wanted to follow his gaze toward the screen, but halfway through he forcibly twisted his head back. “Adoptive father is not here right now.”

 

“Oh, so he really is here then.” Pei Yanci smiled.

 

Only then did Huo Cun realize he had been played—this person was just trying to trick him into talking. Immediately enraged, he grabbed the leather whip from the wooden rack beside him.

 

The whip was as thick as a baby’s arm, remarkably soft and pliable. Huo Cun gripped the handle, his arm muscles bulging as he swung it through a large arc in the air, viciously lashing it toward his body.

 

The air made a teeth-grinding whistling sound. Pei Yanci’s heart tightened, and he couldn’t help but turn his head and close his eyes.

 

“Hmm…”

 

The whip struck his shoulder blade, and immediately his entire shoulder along with his collarbone erupted in searing, piercing pain. He let out a muffled groan, his hands bound above his head clenching into fists as he forcibly swallowed his voice.

 

Guards from the Elu Bureau stood watch all around. They were the same as Huo Cun and Tang Xizhui behind the screen—the more miserably he cried out, the more excited they would become, ultimately only provoking even more brutal abuse.

 

“Adoptive Father?!”

 

Before more lashes could fall, Huo Cun’s voice was already tinged with panic and terror.

 

Immediately after, he heard a piercing scream.

 

Pei Yanci’s tightly furrowed brow relaxed, and he opened his eyes.

 

Before him stood a tall figure with his back turned, wearing moon-white robes embroidered with exquisite silver thread depicting qilin and cloud patterns. In the dim interrogation hall, it seemed to shimmer with flowing light, appearing particularly striking.

 

The person who had been so arrogant moments before was now being whipped and rolling on the ground, wailing continuously.

 

In just two breaths, Huo Cun had already been lashed more than ten times. Disheveled, he used his last bit of strength to struggle to maintain a kneeling position on the ground, tears streaming down his face as he kowtowed repeatedly. “Adoptive Father, spare me! Adoptive Father, spare me! This son truly didn’t mean it!”

 

Tang Xizhui’s face was devastatingly beautiful yet cold as ice. Expressionless, he raised his eyes, languidly coiling the soft whip section by section back into his hands.

 

“Go tend to your wounds.”

 

“Yes, thank you, Adoptive Father!” Huo Cun felt as if he’d been granted amnesty. His pained expression became even more twisted as it was overlaid with joy. He tried several times before he could shakily stand up from the ground, yet even so, he withdrew respectfully and properly, not daring to show the slightest sign of overstepping.

 

From the moment Tang Xizhui appeared, the guards standing in the hall had already dropped to their knees, like sculptures that couldn’t breathe. From beginning to end, they kept their gazes lowered, never glancing at Huo Cun even once, nor did anyone move to help him.

 

Pei Yanci slumped weakly with his head tilted, a strand of sweat-dampened hair covering half of one eye, casting half his face in shadow.

 

Seeing the person finally turn to look at him, he chuckled softly. “No good, Dugong Daren. This adoptive son is too incompetent—you actually had to take action yourself.”

 

“Stubborn.” Tang Xizhui’s crimson lips curved into a cold smile. His right eyelid and the lower rim of his eye were adorned with crushed gold leaf, making him look like a gorgeous, spirited fox demon, or like a fallen saint stained with earthly corruption.

 

The next moment, Pei Yanci felt the rough whip against his chin, his head forced up and back.

 

A fresh, faint scent of blood wafted from the soft whip, as if it still retained Huo Cun’s earlier miserable, desperate wails and pleas for mercy.

 

“Who was it that was so scared he nearly wet himself just now? If this lord hadn’t intervened, right now that mouth of yours would only be good for gasping for air—where would you find the leisure to spout such nonsense here?”

 

The person before him forced him to raise his head and meet his gaze, that striking face also drawing closer, taking his time to appreciate the expression in his eyes.

 

Though he didn’t want to admit it, Pei Yanci considered himself reasonably tall among men, but Tang Xizhui had a larger frame and was nearly a head taller than him. Just by approaching, the other could bring him a sense of oppression through height advantage alone.

 

Just like now—whenever Tang Xizhui wanted, he only needed to lower his head slightly and his heavy shadow could easily envelop him.

 

“Is this how you treat a collaborator?” Pei Yanci was quite displeased with the unfamiliar breath spraying freely across his face. Today Tang Xizhui wore no incense, yet this made it easier for his nose to catch the faint natural fragrance from the other’s body.

 

He frowned, struggling free from the whip pressed against his chin.

 

The cold whip body, covered in dense sharp barbs, slid from his chin to his cheek like a red snake with scales unfurled, leaving behind a trace of pale pink bloodstains.

 

That was Huo Cun’s blood.

 

“You’re not yet qualified to be this lord’s collaborator.”

 

“I brought down the Crown Prince—surely you don’t intend to go back on your word?”

 

Pei Yanci shifted uncomfortably, but felt Tang Xizhui’s hand brush against his face, lightly touching along the bloodstain. A barely perceptible purple gleam flashed in his eyes, but when looked at closely, it disappeared into the dark, mysterious depths of his pupils.

 

Only leaving behind excitement suppressed to the extreme.

 

Pei Yanci cursed silently.

 

“This lord never promised you any conditions. However, you can exchange for another condition.” Tang Xizhui lowered his head and whispered in his ear, his voice utterly seductive. “Tell me, who are you?”

 

“An ordinary steward who entered the slave registry at the Eastern Palace.” Pei Yanci tried his best to steady his breathing.

 

Because they were so close, he could even feel the other’s lips intentionally or unintentionally brushing against his earlobe, and the breath from his speech repeatedly washing over his ear, making his body tremble involuntarily.

 

This was an offensively close distance.

 

No one had ever dared to do such a thing!

 

He wanted to push the person away, but his hands were still suspended, unable to move.

 

“Before entering the Crown Prince’s mansion, who were you?” Tang Xizhui’s eyes narrowed slightly, clearly having little patience left.

 

He had already invited this person out last time and asked this question.

 

“I lost my memory. Shouldn’t you be the one telling me about my background?” Pei Yanci’s bound hands curled slightly then relaxed. “The omnipotent Elu Bureau surely hasn’t failed to investigate this either.”

 

“Disappointingly ordinary,” Tang Xizhui said with waning interest, “yet inconsistent with who you actually are.”

 

Pei Yanci’s eyes flickered like a bright moon reflected on a cold blade.

 

“Perhaps you could try another approach.”

 

“Let’s hear it.” Tang Xizhui stared at him intently.

 

“Agree to cooperate with me. Afterward, you can keep me under your nose and freely deduce my true identity from my words and actions.” Pei Yanci said, “Compared to having your subordinates hang me here for interrogation, wouldn’t this be far more interesting?”

 

This suggestion indeed aroused Tang Xizhui’s interest.

 

“Sounds good.” Tang Xizhui satisfiedly tossed aside the soft whip in his hand. Taking a closer look, his pale, slender fingers brushed aside the dark hair falling across Pei Yanci’s chest, his index finger hooking the clothing torn by the whip, about to rip it open.

 

Pei Yanci pulled his left shoulder back, dodging his finger, his eyes full of wariness, his lowered brow revealing traces of spine-chilling killing intent.

 

Tang Xizhui noticed his defensiveness and raised an eyebrow. “Is this your attitude toward a new collaborator?”

 

Before Pei Yanci could answer, he hooked his hand, and the entire left shoulder of the garment crumbled to powder.

 

“If this lord wanted to make a move on you, why would it need to be so troublesome?”

 

“Don’t want to trouble yourself, so you send your adoptive son to interrogate while you hide behind the screen to eavesdrop?”

 

Using such pretexts of personal grudges—he had been too worried about his own body and hadn’t reacted immediately. If he really were an enemy spy, he might have confessed on the spot.

 

“Tsk, it’s no fun once it’s out in the open.”

 

Who wants to satisfy your strange voyeuristic desires?

 

Pei Yanci said mockingly, “I really should thank you for saving me.”

 

He was the one hanging here, being whipped—all of this was this person’s handiwork. Was he supposed to be grateful?

 

“Hiss—what are you doing?!” Pei Yanci’s eyes widened.

 

“A mere servant, yet so delicate.” Tang Xizhui sneered, his thumb pad rubbing against the whip wound.

 

Pei Yanci’s original body in the Crown Prince’s mansion at most did work like serving tea and water, staying indoors year-round. His shoulders were constantly wrapped in thick clothing, making his skin indescribably smooth and fair.

 

That whip mark appeared jarringly on him there, running from collarbone to shoulder, about three inches long, red and swollen, with some places seeping fine threads of blood.

 

At first Pei Yanci wanted to dodge, but seeing he meant no harm—and Tang Xizhui’s fingertips were soft and cool, actually making the burning wound less painful.

 

If he had taken Huo Cun’s lash full force, the injury would definitely be more than just this.

 

But as the rubbing continued, Tang Xizhui’s eyes seemed to carry something different.

 

Those black pupils, tinged with chilling evil, flickered with flames of greed. The thick darkness dissolved, flowing out in gorgeous poisonous purple, raging in surging undercurrents, eager to devour everything.

 

He was even more excited.

 

Pei Yanci: “……”

 

Before he could speak, he saw the other lean down, his crimson tongue extending to lick his whip wound.

 

His mind exploded with a buzzing sound.

 

This person, this person!

 

A heart-stopping tremor spread from his shoulder, upward to his scalp, downward to his toes.

 

His arm muscles tensed, his hands clenched into fists, wanting to push away this damned violator, or at least protect his own body. But in the end, he could only listen helplessly to the rough hemp rope above his head scraping against the wooden frame with harsh creaking sounds.

 

The wet heat made him involuntarily tilt his head back, his slightly parted lips like a trembling flower bud, releasing an indistinct sob from the depths of desire.

 

His legs couldn’t find any point of leverage, and in the entanglement of pain and desire, heat and sting, every toe that couldn’t touch the ground was rigid, tense, trembling helplessly.

 

It shouldn’t be like this.

 

He was supposed to be the one in control of everything.

 

A soft laugh came from his shoulder.

 

As if mocking his current helplessness.

 

Pei Yanci’s eyes darkened, and he opened his mouth to bite down on the snow-white neck so close at hand.

 

The sharp pain at his throat’s vital point brought Tang Xizhui slightly back to his senses. He licked the shoulder wound once more, his tongue carrying away a trace of blood, then licked his lips with satisfaction.

 

“Have you bitten enough?” After a while, he asked calmly.

 

Only when his teeth ached did Pei Yanci reluctantly release his bite. On the wet skin, two rows of tooth marks were like pomegranate seeds embedded in snow-white flesh. Some had broken the skin, seeping drops of fresh blood, looking even more severe than the whip wound on his shoulder.

 

If only he could have bitten off a piece of flesh.

 

Tang Xizhui straightened up, dipped his finger in the blood on his neck, and put it to his mouth to suck.

 

“Quite sharp teeth.” He said, “Shall we call today’s matter even?”

 

“Mm, even.” Pei Yanci’s tongue traced over his sharp canine teeth, finally feeling somewhat balanced about being hung up and whipped.

 

But another matter couldn’t be considered even.

 

“Your collaborator’s hands are numb.” He said coldly.

 

The person opposite seemed to be in a good mood and didn’t say much. He took out a mysterious black folding fan that Pei Yanci had never seen before, fanned it twice through the air, and the ropes immediately snapped.

 

Pei Yanci’s hands immediately dropped limply, and his whole body couldn’t help but fall toward the ground, only to land in a fragrant embrace.

 

He was lifted up horizontally, his hands burning and hot from the rapid blood flow, especially his wrists, which had been rubbed raw by the coarse rope into two circles of red marks, swollen beyond recognition.

 

Looking up, Tang Xizhui was indeed staring at his hands.

 

He quickly tucked his hands under his sleeves.

 

“This lord just thought of something,” Tang Xizhui set him down to sit properly, his gaze falling on his shoulder.

 

“Doesn’t this count as a kiss-on-the-neck kind of friendship between us?”

 

“……”