Chapter 45

“Ah, Young Master Feng, did we wake you? It’s nothing, really. The prince had a bit too much to drink, and we’re just taking care of him. You should go back to bed; everything will be fine soon,” Uncle Yang said with a smile.

Murong Qiufeng raised an eyebrow in surprise. Drunk? The prince? He couldn’t recall ever seeing Shangguan Ye in such a state—he had always been someone who could drink endlessly without getting intoxicated. The idea of him being drunk was unexpected. Despite his curiosity, Murong Qiufeng had no intention of helping; with so many people around, it wasn’t his place to step in, especially since he wasn’t skilled in caring for others. He nodded, ready to turn back, when suddenly, Shangguan Ye’s voice rang out, loud and furious.

“Get out! All of you, out!” The sound of objects smashing followed his shout.

“Oh no, here we go again,” Uncle Yang muttered, slapping his forehead before rushing back inside.

From within, the sound of sobbing could be heard, likely from frightened young maidservants.

Murong Qiufeng, now curious and slightly concerned, pulled his robe tighter around himself and followed. The tone of Shangguan Ye’s voice was unsettling, like a wild beast that had lost control.

“Get out!” As Murong Qiufeng stepped into the room, he was met with chaos—broken objects were scattered everywhere, making the place look like a battlefield. In the center of it all stood Shangguan Ye, disheveled and half-undressed, surrounded by the mess.

Shangguan Ye’s eyes were bloodshot, and a crazed expression distorted his usually composed face. Unlike his usual imposing presence, he now resembled a bloodthirsty madman. Fortunately, though furious, he seemed to retain just enough control to avoid intentionally harming anyone.

Uncle Yang quickly ushered the terrified maidservants out of the room, then tried to calm the prince, saying, “There’s no one here, Your Highness.”

Only then did Shangguan Ye’s raging intensity subside a bit, though he remained standing, his sharp gaze now locked onto the entrance where Murong Qiufeng stood.

Meeting those piercing eyes, Murong Qiufeng felt a chill. This was the first time he had seen such a deadly sharpness in Shangguan Ye’s gaze—like a predator ready to pounce, with a calm, emotionless focus that hinted at lethal intent.

A strange thought crossed Murong Qiufeng’s mind: If he wanted to kill me, I wouldn’t stand a chance. He’d strike with deadly precision, like a top-tier assassin.

Uncle Yang noticed Murong Qiufeng and panicked, quickly saying, “Young Master Feng, it’s late. You should rest. I can take care of His Highness.” He was mainly concerned that the prince, in his current state, might inadvertently hurt Murong Qiufeng. Shangguan Ye rarely got drunk, but when he did, he was extremely dangerous, almost unrecognizable, and prone to magnifying his negative emotions, reacting violently to anything that displeased him.

“Uh, well…”

“You, come here.” Shangguan Ye suddenly spoke, pointing directly at Murong Qiufeng, his voice commanding.

Uncle Yang was startled, and Murong Qiufeng was taken aback.

Shangguan Ye seemed less agitated now, his dark eyes glinting as he watched Murong Qiufeng. Despite his drunkenness, he looked as composed as ever, though his tone indicated that he wasn’t fully aware of his actions.

Uncle Yang observed the prince’s expression, a sudden realization dawning on him. He quickly turned to Murong Qiufeng, saying, “Young Master Feng, why don’t you help us out here?”

“Come here,” Shangguan Ye repeated, his tone firm and demanding, though not angry.

Murong Qiufeng hesitated briefly, then nodded and walked over. “How much did you drink to get this drunk?” he asked as he approached, wrinkling his brow at the strong smell of alcohol coming from the prince.

“His Highness was heavily pressured to drink at today’s banquet,” Uncle Yang explained.

Murong Qiufeng understood. Shangguan Ye was currently at the height of his power, controlling a significant portion of Yan Kingdom’s military and now stepping into the imperial court. Naturally, many would seek to curry favor with him, even if it meant forcing him to drink excessively.

As soon as Murong Qiufeng came closer, Shangguan Ye draped his arm over Murong Qiufeng’s shoulder, almost leaning his entire weight on him, and commanded impatiently, “Take me to bathe.”

Murong Qiufeng hesitated, instinctively supporting his waist as he glanced at Uncle Yang.

Uncle Yang, now relieved, quickly let go of the prince and said, “Thank you, Young Master Feng. I’ll go prepare some sobering soup. Oh, and don’t let anyone else near His Highness—someone might get hurt.” With that, he hurried off.

Murong Qiufeng was left standing there, a bit exasperated. Am I not considered someone? he thought wryly.

“Move,” Shangguan Ye demanded again, his impatience growing.

Murong Qiufeng sighed in resignation. “Alright, alright.” He couldn’t help but find Shangguan Ye somewhat endearing in his drunken state, despite the outbursts. His tantrum was almost like that of a spoiled child. Chuckling softly, Murong Qiufeng began guiding him toward the hot spring bath.

As they walked, Shangguan Ye turned his head and leaned in close to Murong Qiufeng’s ear, speaking in a low, eerie voice, “What are you laughing at?”

Startled, Murong Qiufeng instinctively moved his head away, but in doing so, their lips brushed lightly against each other.

His heart skipped a beat, and his pulse quickened. The intensity in Shangguan Ye’s deep, serious eyes caught him off guard. Embarrassed, Murong Qiufeng quickly turned his head, feeling his face flush with heat. He pressed his lips together, telling himself it was just an accident, and swiftly used his light-footed skill to carry Shangguan Ye to the hot spring chamber.

The air inside was thick with mist, giving the place a dreamlike quality.

Shangguan Ye continued to stare at Murong Qiufeng, his eyes narrowing slightly before a mischievous smile curved his lips. “You’re quite beautiful,” he said, his fingers playfully tilting Murong Qiufeng’s chin as if he were some rogue teasing a fair maiden. Yet, the way Shangguan Ye did it carried an air of dominance and authority.

Murong Qiufeng felt his face burn, unsure whether it was from the earlier accidental touch or the strange shift in his emotions. Even though he knew Shangguan Ye was merely drunk and speaking nonsense, he couldn’t help but feel unsettled.

Swatting away Shangguan Ye’s hand, Murong Qiufeng stepped back. “You should bathe first. I’ll go check on the sobering soup,” he said, hoping to escape. He felt that the atmosphere was becoming too strange, too dangerous.

Shangguan Ye cast a cold, disdainful glance at him, lifting his chin arrogantly before spreading his arms wide and saying with an air of entitlement, “You’re to serve me while I bathe.”

Murong Qiufeng frowned, but Shangguan Ye’s expression grew more impatient, as if he were on the verge of losing his temper. “Hurry up.”

Seeing that the prince was entirely unreasonably reacting, Murong Qiufeng couldn’t help but find the situation amusing, yet he also realized that any misstep might lead to Shangguan Ye’s uncontrollable fury. Sighing in resignation, he moved closer and accepted his fate, preparing to act as a personal attendant and help him undress.

When only the innermost layer of clothing remained, Murong Qiufeng hesitated, then stopped, signaling to Shangguan Ye, “You can take off the rest yourself.”

The prince’s gaze remained fixed on him, making Murong Qiufeng increasingly uneasy. The atmosphere was growing too intense, and his emotions too complex.

Shangguan Ye suddenly smirked with a wicked smile, his gaze burning as he leaned in closer to Murong Qiufeng. “You’re being naughty, little one.”

Startled, Murong Qiufeng instinctively tried to step back, but Shangguan Ye suddenly wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him close. With a sudden push, both of them tumbled into the hot spring with a splash.