Chapter 16: The Young Master’s Fever

When the young master first returned from the palace, the servants thought he was merely tired from playing polo. Too exhausted to stay awake, he stumbled to bed in a daze and fell asleep.

But when Su Zhuozhi slept straight through dinner, they realized something was wrong.

Qingping carefully lifted the bed curtain. The sight of his master’s pallid, sickly face startled him. Flustered, he scrambled out of the room, shouting for someone to fetch a doctor and another to inform the master and madam.

The commotion was as if the sky had fallen.

Xie Jue thought it was overly dramatic. He had already slain the monster before it could cause any harm; the lingering demonic aura would at most give Su Zhuozhi a common cold.

Soon, Master Su, Madam Su, Su Huailang, and the Old Madam all rushed over, arriving even before the doctor. Their faces were tight with worry.

“How did he get sick so suddenly? He was fine this morning! How are you taking care of your master?” Master Su’s face darkened, barely restraining his anger. “Did you call a doctor? Where is he?”

“Zhuozhuo just came back from the palace. He was sweating from polo, his clothes got wet. The weather is cold now, so it’s easy to catch a chill.” Madam Su appeared relatively composed, but her hands, clutching a handkerchief, were trembling.

Though it was improper—her child was ill and she was a mother—she could no longer abide by the rules of propriety. She even felt resentment toward the emperor who had summoned Su Zhuozhuo to play polo. It was nearly winter; why play such a pointless game, and why must he call her son? Weren’t there plenty of other noble young masters willing to accompany him?

The Old Madam sat by the bed, stroking Su Zhuozhi’s sweat-dampened forehead. Her eyes overflowed with tenderness. “My poor darling grandson, how awful you must feel…”

Su Huailang had also lost his usual smile. His brow furrowed, barely concealing his anxiety, as he held his younger brother’s hand—it was scalding hot.

Finally, the doctor arrived, nearly unable to squeeze through the crowd around the bed. Su Huailang yielded his spot so the doctor could examine him.

Xie Jue stood outside the door, but he could hear everything clearly from inside. Without realizing it, his gaze seemed to bore through the wooden door, fixed on the person within.

Qingping, who was by the door, noticed him. His heart was in turmoil, and he couldn’t help but want to talk to someone to ease his anxiety. “You’re new here, so you don’t know. Our young master used to be very weak. He was practically inseparable from medicine—a real medicine jar. He’s been through the gates of death several times. The doctors said there was no hope, told him to eat whatever he wanted, that he wouldn’t last two years. But the master and madam never gave up. They searched everywhere for divine physicians, burned incense, prayed to Buddha. Maybe even heaven took pity on him, couldn’t bear to see such a good young master suffer. He miraculously recovered, little by little, until he was almost like anyone else. But because of those past incidents, whenever the young master gets sick, everyone can’t help but panic, afraid it’ll be like before…”

Hearing this, Xie Jue’s eyes flickered. He understood now why these people panicked and worried so exaggeratedly. Mortals were already fragile, and the young master was even weaker than most.

Xie Jue frowned. His gaze darkened, a murderous intent spilling out. A fierce, violent impulse suddenly surged in his heart. Since he couldn’t find where the great demon was hiding, why not just raze the entire imperial palace to the ground and kill everyone inside? Whoever dared to touch what they shouldn’t would pay the price.

“You’re worried about the young master too, right? You’ve been staring at the door. I understand. The young master is so good—who could bear to see him suffer?” Qingping muttered.

“I am not.”

Xie Jue’s cold denial made Qingping freeze, his face full of surprise and confusion. “What did you say?”

After a moment, Qingping realized, “You mean you’re not worried about the young master?”

But Xie Jue ignored him, treating him as if he were air.

Qingping shot him a strange glance and mumbled under his breath, “Staring without blinking, and saying you’re not worried. Do you think I’m blind…”

Before he finished, Qingping felt a prickling sensation on his back, as if needles were piercing him. He shuddered and dared not continue.

“I wonder what the doctor will say.”

Inside, by the bed, the doctor carefully felt his pulse, examined him thoroughly, then turned to reassure them: “The young master has been invaded by wind-evil, causing fever and lethargy. A few days of medicine and rest will take care of it. No need to worry too much.”

The Su family breathed a sigh of relief, then asked the doctor in detail about dietary restrictions and precautions. They also instructed an apothecary to quickly decoct the medicine.

While the medicine was brewing, Su Zhuozhi woke up.

He half-opened his eyes, saw a crowd of people around the bed, and asked dazedly, “…What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? Don’t you even know you’re sick?” Master Su scolded without mercy.

The Old Madam wiped Su Zhuozhi’s sweat with a handkerchief, her aged face full of worry. “Zhuozhuo, do you feel uncomfortable anywhere? Tell your grandmother.”

Su Zhuozhi blinked slowly, his reactions sluggish. He reached up to touch his forehead and murmured, “I’m sick? No wonder I feel so dizzy.”

He turned his head to see his family’s anxious expressions, paused, then grinned easily, carefree. “Just a little fever. You’re all overreacting. Anyone would think I had some incurable disease.”

Su Huailang suddenly gripped his brother’s hand tighter, his face darkening. “Nonsense.”

Su Zhuozhi immediately scrunched up his face, pretending to be in great pain, pouting and inhaling sharply. He turned to Madam Su and tattled, “Mother, brother pinched me.”

Even though he knew his brother was deliberately exaggerating, Su Huailang immediately loosened his grip, helpless and indulgent.

Madam Su twisted her handkerchief and smiled. “This time I’m on your brother’s side. Pinch him again, so he’ll learn not to say such reckless things.”

“I was wrong, okay?” Su Zhuozhi lowered his lashes, like butterfly wings, looking innocent and obedient.

The family exchanged glances and smiled helplessly.

There he went again. And yet, they always fell for it.

With just a few words, the young master had relaxed the tense atmosphere.

Su Zhuozhi’s smile was so sweet it seemed honey was about to spill from the dimples at the corners of his mouth. He tugged at Su Huailang’s sleeve and whined softly, “Brother, is there anything good to eat? I’m starving.”

Su Huailang smiled gently. “Alright, I’ll have some good food sent right away.”

Immediately, Qingping heard the call and hurried in. Upon learning that the young master was hungry, he ran back out joyfully.

Xie Jue stood under the eaves. The soft, sweet voice of Su Zhuozhi talking to his brother came through clearly, tickling his ears like a gentle stroke, again and again, leaving a tingling sensation. He frowned. How could a man’s voice be so coquettish?

He found it unpleasant to hear, yet he didn’t leave. Instead, he stayed right by the door, listening to every word Su Zhuozhi said while acting spoiled with his family.

Servants filed in, each carrying dishes that Su Zhuozhi loved. His eyes sparkled as he ate with gusto. Soon, he finished an entire bowl of rice and still looked unsatisfied.

But Master Su stopped the servants from bringing more. “Don’t eat too much. There’s still a bowl of medicine.”

Hearing that, Su Zhuozhi instantly wilted, acting like a child. “It’s just a little fever. If I cover myself with a blanket and sweat it out, I’ll be fine. I don’t need medicine. I won’t drink it.”

“Are you the doctor, or is that man the doctor? You must drink it. No arguments.” Master Su had one expression while watching his youngest son eat, but another when he refused medicine.

Su Zhuozhi blinked, turning to the Old Madam for help. “Grandmother…” he called pitifully.

Even though the Old Madam doted on her grandson, she wouldn’t indulge him when it came to taking medicine when sick. She coaxed, “Grandmother knows you’re afraid of the bitterness. I’ve prepared plenty of candied fruit. Don’t worry.”

He looked around—no one was going to save him. Su Zhuozhi flopped back against the soft pillow, sprawled like a salted fish, his face full of resignation.

Just then, the medicine was ready, and Xie Jue brought it in.

As soon as Su Zhuozhi smelled it, he covered his nose in agony and whined, “No way, it stinks. I’m going to throw up.”

Master Su told him to drink it while it was hot, but he had a dozen excuses. First, he said it wasn’t that he didn’t want to, but his body rejected the medicine—just seeing it made him want to vomit. Then he said it was too hot to drink, and he’d wait for it to cool down and down it in one gulp.

Su Zhuozhi said considerately, “It’s already late. Father, you should go bathe and sleep.”

Master Su was unmoved. “I’m staying until you finish it.”

The standoff continued.

Seeing that the medicine was about to get too cold and lose its effect, Master Su said sternly, “Huailang, if he doesn’t obey, just force-feed him.”

Su Zhuozhi’s eyes widened in disbelief, his expression wounded.

The Old Madam saw this and angrily slapped her son. “Is this how you raise a child? Threatening him! Can’t you be more patient?”

Taken aback by the strike, Master Su was incredulous. “Mother, you never treated me like this. You always said, ‘Only by enduring the bitterest hardships can one become a master.’ If I dared not drink my medicine, you’d immediately grab something and beat me.”

“Zhuozhuo is such a good child. Can you compare to him?” The Old Madam dismissed him with righteous disdain. In her eyes, her son’s greatest achievement was finding a good wife and producing two excellent grandsons, each more obedient and filial than the other.

Master Su couldn’t win an argument against his mother. He turned and saw Su Zhuozhi grinning at him as if he were entertainment, which only fueled his anger. He pointed at Xie Jue and ordered, “You, go over there and force-feed him.”

Su Zhuozhi snorted defiantly. “I’m his master. He won’t listen to you.”

But as soon as the words left his mouth, Xie Jue actually approached. With one hand holding the medicine bowl and the other pinching Su Zhuozhi’s cheeks, he looked ready to force-feed him.

Su Zhuozhi immediately bristled. His eyes rounded, sparks of anger igniting. “How dare you…!” he cursed, feeling betrayed.

Because his cheeks were pinched, his lips puckered into a heart shape, and his voice came out muffled and indistinct.

Drinking bitter, foul medicine was painful enough, but his own man disobeying and overstepping his bounds made Su Zhuozhi even more furious.

He resisted fiercely, jerking away, flailing his hands, scratching and shoving Xie Jue, telling him to get lost. He looked just like a cat being forced into a bath.

The cat was extremely uncooperative. Even with Xie Jue forcing it, he only managed to get one sip down.

Su Zhuozhi winced at the bitterness, turned his head, and coughed up half of it. The corners of his eyes turned red, and faint fingerprints lingered on his cheeks. He looked utterly pitiful.

The Old Madam couldn’t stand it anymore. She shouted sternly, “How dare a servant be so rough with the young master! Give me the medicine. Stand back!”

She snatched the bowl away and personally fed Su Zhuozhi.

Although the order had come from Master Su, Xie Jue still bore the brunt of her anger. He was shoved aside and could only stand in an inconspicuous corner. Master Su, too, was hit several times by his wife, who scolded, “Isn’t Zhuozhuo your son? Don’t you have any pity? The sight of you is annoying. Get out!”

Master Su tried to argue, but no one listened. He had no choice but to flick his sleeves and slink out.

In the end, Su Zhuozhi did drink the medicine. His grandmother coaxed him like a child, offering to spoon-feed him, but drinking it slowly would only prolong the torture. Better to get it over with. Pinching his nose and closing his eyes tightly, he downed it in one gulp. Then he retched twice and quickly stuffed candied fruit into his mouth—one, two, three… a full five pieces. His cheeks bulged, his mouth filled with sweetness, forcefully suppressing the bitterness on his tongue.

“Zhuozhuo did great.” His grandmother patted him, not stingy with praise. In her eyes, no matter how old her grandson got, he was still a little child. Drinking medicine was a remarkable feat worthy of praise.

Su Zhuozhi accepted the compliment without any false modesty. Who could blame him? The medicine was so terrible; finishing it in one go was indeed impressive, extremely impressive.

After drinking the medicine, he looked weary. In a soft voice, he coaxed his grandmother to go back to rest and not worry about him. It was just a minor ailment; after a good night’s sleep, he’d be full of energy again tomorrow.

His elder brother and mother wanted to stay up and watch over him, worried he might get a fever again in the middle of the night, but he sent them away too.

They didn’t want to leave, but they remembered what the doctor had said: if family members are overly anxious, it can affect the patient’s mood and hinder recovery. Seeing that Zhuozhuo was in good spirits, they hesitated, then decided to check on him in the middle of the night after he fell asleep. For now, they would go along with his wishes.

Su Huailang ruffled his hair and said gently, “If you feel uncomfortable, don’t keep it to yourself. You have to tell us. If you can’t sleep at night, have Qingping send word, and I’ll come keep you company.”

“Okay.” Su Zhuozhi nodded with a smile, looking docile and soft.

Nothing like the arrogant, domineering wastrel he pretended to be.

Xie Jue stood to the side, seeing this through the bed curtains.

After the mother and son gave Qingping a thorough set of instructions to take good care of the young master, they finally left.

The moment they were gone, Xie Jue walked to the bedside and asked calmly, “How do you feel now, young master? Any discomfort?”

Su Zhuozhi hadn’t forgotten his earlier “betrayal.” He folded his arms, snorted, and turned away, refusing to even look at him.

The young master made no effort to hide his displeasure. It was an open, unrestrained resentment, completely different from the habitual airs he put on. It seemed he truly disliked Xie Jue.

Xie Jue felt a surge of irritation. He reached out, grabbed his face, and turned it back so Su Zhuozhi had to look at him.

But then, unexpectedly, Su Zhuozhi’s expression changed. He suddenly bent over and vomited violently, spattering Xie Jue’s legs with the food and medicine he had just consumed.

Did he find Xie Jue so repulsive that it made him physically ill?

Xie Jue’s breath caught in his throat, as if pricked by a needle. His expression turned complicated, indescribable.

Qingping was terrified. He rushed over, shouting anxiously, “Young master! What’s wrong? I’ll go fetch the doctor!”

Su Zhuozhi lay weakly on the edge of the bed, his face pale as paper. The protruding shoulder blades on his back trembled slightly, making him look exceptionally frail and thin. He stopped Qingping, shaking his head. “I’m fine. Don’t tell my mother and the others.”

“But this…” Qingping hesitated, disapproving.

Su Zhuozhi’s voice turned firm, an order not to be disobeyed. “Do as I say.”

Qingping sighed and had no choice but to comply. “…Yes.”

At that moment, how could he not understand? The young master had merely been putting on a brave face in front of his family, pretending to have an appetite and be fine.

Xie Jue realized that too. His expression turned extremely ugly.

That night, he pulled out the strand of demonic aura and crushed it viciously.

It was hard to believe that just earlier, he had confidently told Qingping he wasn’t worried about the young master. In his heart, he had resolved not to care how much Su Zhuozhi suffered from the demonic aura.

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