Chapter 21

A faint flush crept over Shadow Twelve’s face. He explained in a low voice, “Master, this subordinate cannot get off the bed.”

Yin Wuji’s gaze landed on the shadow guard, who wore nothing yet insisted on kneeling. It traveled over the perky curve of his rear, then elsewhere — until it registered that the shadow guard might be cold. Yin Wuji’s expression darkened; he swept an arm around the shadow guard’s waist and covered him with the quilt.

“Nonsense.”

It was a scolding for himself, bewitched by lust, and a scolding for the shadow guard, who never took care of his own body.

Shadow Twelve lowered his eyes. Whatever Yin Wuji said, he accepted in full. “Yes.”

Unable to help himself, Yin Wuji rapped the blockhead’s skull — no sound. Apparently not a true blockhead after all; the shadow guard only looked up at him blankly.

Without hesitation, Yin Wuji said, “Foolish.”

Even sadder now — but he knew Master spoke only the truth. He knew only how to kill; nothing else, and nothing like the male favorites and male courtesans outside who knew how to please Master.

The hand hidden in the quilt tightened. Shadow Twelve asked, “Whatever Master wants, this subordinate can go learn it.”

Yin Wuji didn’t respond, so he pressed further: “Anything at all. Anything.”

Shame, forbearance — the shadow guard had bitten his lips white. At last Yin Wuji understood what the shadow guard was actually saying. He frowned. “What on earth is stuffed inside that head of yours?”

Yin Wuji began to wonder where things had gone wrong. After all, he had set out to forge a sharp blade — not a male favorite, and certainly not something for warming his bed. Where exactly had the error crept in?

Self-loathing deepening, Shadow Twelve pressed his lips together. “This subordinate was indulging in idle fantasies. He has defiled Master.”

The room was eerily quiet. Shadow Twelve’s heart felt like it was frying in a pan, flipped over and over. The corners of his eyes reddened — aggrieved, at a loss — yet somehow, inexplicably, alluring.

Manor Master Yin felt an odd flicker of guilt. He had just accused the shadow guard of having a head full of such things — when in truth, so did he.

Yin Wuji eased his expression and, for the first time ever, offered comfort: “It has nothing to do with you.”

“Yes,” Shadow Twelve answered on his own: “Once this subordinate goes to Qingzhou, it will have nothing to do with the Manor Master.”

Yin Wuji: “???”

“How badly do you want to go to Qingzhou?”

Yin Wuji was growing irritated. He had already stopped using the Qingzhou transfer as a threat — why did the shadow guard still dream of Qingzhou every waking moment?

Could it be…

Yin Wuji’s eyes went deep, his gaze on Shadow Twelve carrying something intriguing. He asked with great interest, “Could it be you have a sweetheart in Qingzhou?”

Otherwise, why keep pining for the place?

Yin Wuji doubled down: “Wonderful. Carrying This Manor Master’s child while pining for someone else. How wronged you must feel.”

Manor Master Yin invented accusations with gusto while Shadow Twelve’s mind was still turning.

“Sweetheart” meant nothing to the unenlightened shadow guard. Several mental detours later, it finally clicked, and he told Yin Wuji urgently, “No.”

He laid his heart bare. “Only… only Master.”

The accusation had been baseless to begin with, and hearing this, Yin Wuji felt a flicker of pleasure — though his face stayed cold. “No is best.”

The physician arrived before the new clothes did. Stepping into the inner chamber, his first thought was: the Manor Master had quarreled with Lord Shadow Guard again — most likely the Manor Master nursing some spite, deliberately making things hard for Lord Shadow Guard.

Seeing Shadow Twelve’s state clearly, the physician continued speculating recklessly: no doubt the Manor Master had tormented Lord Shadow Guard only after being thoroughly indulged. Was that not one of the petty cruelties of men in power?

Shadow Twelve extended his hand, and at the sight of that fair arm, the physician was, for once, stunned. This, this, this…

The Manor Master’s tastes were a bit too many — downright aggressive, even.

Yin Wuji coughed lightly. What exactly was this physician looking at?

The physician came back to himself. After taking the pulse, his tone was, for once, cold: “Lord Shadow Guard’s fever has broken.”

“Understood. Withdraw for now.” Yin Wuji nodded haughtily.

The physician stood his ground, speaking out of a sense of justice: “Even if Lord Shadow Guard has never ranked highly in the manor, I beg the Manor Master not to go too far.”

Yin Wuji: “…”

Watching the physician’s proud, straight-backed departure, Yin Wuji thought darkly: he simply must replace this physician.

The plan to replace the physician was raised yet again.

The Steward arrived late with the clothes, but quickly grasped Yin Wuji’s meaning. “Rest assured, Manor Master. I will arrange it properly.”

“Someone tight-lipped, skilled in medicine, who won’t spread rumors about me.”

Tight-lipped, skilled in medicine… rumor-spreading?

The Steward gave Yin Wuji an inscrutable look. Before the idea of replacing the Steward too could take root, the Steward said, “Rest assured, Manor Master.”

A displeased Yin Wuji found fault with everything in sight, starting with the shadow guard slowly taking the clothes.

“Those aren’t Shadow Guard Uniforms. You’ll wear them anyway?”

Shadow Twelve’s arm stiffened. “Every garment Master gives this subordinate is a good one.”

Yin Wuji sneered. “That’s not what you said before.”

“This subordinate offended Master. Master may punish as he sees fit.”

Back to square one. Round and round they went — every word from this shadow guard was him hoping Yin Wuji would punish him.

And how was he to punish? He couldn’t strike him, and apparently he couldn’t even scold him now.

For the first time in twenty years of ruling Listening Crane Manor, Yin Wuji was stumped. The situation before him was intractable — he had no place to even begin.

The shadow guard had tossed the hot potato into his hands and was now rustling into the clothes, the brocade quilt rising and falling with his movements, easily inviting the imagination astray.

“What are you doing?” Yin Wuji demanded.

“This subordinate wishes to dress, so as to go to the Punishment Chamber and confess his guilt.”

The image of the shadow guard’s rounded belly flashed through his mind. The shadow guard was threatening him, wasn’t he? His head heating, Yin Wuji’s hand reached in.

He touched somewhere — and the shadow guard froze entirely, not daring to move a muscle.

Turning his head, his reddened earlobe came into Yin Wuji’s view. Shadow Twelve asked, “What does Master intend to do?”

“Punish you,” Yin Wuji said coolly.

A barbed whip. A back crisscrossed with whip scars, then doused in salt water. Every time, Shadow Twelve had gritted his teeth and endured. Thinking of his own belly, in this contest of wills — which mattered more: Master’s orders, or the child within?

Sweat beaded on the shadow guard’s body. With each probe against his back, he trembled finely all over. The shadow guard who spoke of accepting punishment feared the Punishment Chamber instinctively.

Yin Wuji softened, intending to let it go — but Shadow Twelve said, “Please postpone this subordinate’s punishment until after June.”

The child was Shadow Twelve’s only hope. He wanted to keep it.

The hand resting on the shadow guard’s inner thigh gave an unexpected pinch. Shadow Twelve stifled a moan — one that did not sound like pain.

What a blockhead who liked him to the utmost degree.