Feudal Dregs - Chapter 36

The Eighth Concubine's drowning was publicly attributed to a sudden, fatal illness. A life extinguished without a ripple.

Lan Yu didn't know how he left the ancestral hall. Stumbling back in a daze, he fell into a feverish sleep, his temperature soaring uncontrollably. Attending to him was a fourteen or fifteen-year-old maid named Yin Huan. Young and having only served in the household for half a year, she'd been assigned to Lan Yu. Being a man, Lan Yu maintained a proper distance, never allowing her close. As dusk fell and Lan Yu still hadn't risen, Yin Huan hesitated before pushing open the tightly shut door.

To her shock, she found Lan Yu delirious with fever, his face flushed crimson on the bed.

Yin Huan gasped, reaching to touch his forehead, only to notice the bite marks and love bruises on his collarbone. She froze, staring at his furrowed brow, when a sudden realization struck her, making her recoil in alarm.

She had seen such marks on Lan Yu before—during the time when Old Master Li doted on him excessively. But now, the old master hadn't summoned him for nearly half a month.

Yin Huan thought of the Eighth Concubine who had been thrown into the well this morning and couldn't help covering her mouth, her mind buzzing. For a moment, she didn't know how to react.

The Ninth Concubine... the Ninth Concubine was also having an affair.

Yin Huan came from an ordinary farming family, with four younger siblings at home. Unable to support them all, her parents had sold her to the Li Mansion as a maid. When she first saw Lan Yu, she had been momentarily stunned—apart from the young masters of the Li family, she had never seen such a handsome man. It was a pity that a fine man like him had ended up as a concubine. She felt a pang of regret, mixed with a hint of disdain.

But setting aside the fact that Lan Yu was a man, he was undoubtedly an excellent master. He never scolded or hit her, never complained about her clumsiness, and even when she failed in her duties, he would quietly take care of things himself without uttering a single harsh word. Over time, Yin Huan began to feel pity for him. Being Old Master Li's concubine meant no worries about food or clothing... but even women were reluctant to become concubines, so how could a man willingly become one? Perhaps... he had been forced.

After hesitating for a long time, Yin Huan carefully adjusted his clothes to cover his neck, then jerked her hand back as if burned. She turned and ran out of the room.

She had to call a doctor for Lan Yu.

If she let him burn up like this, he might not survive.

The young girl was in such a hurry that she bumped into someone as soon as she crossed the courtyard. She staggered back two steps, nearly falling to the ground, and when she looked up, she met the cold gaze of Li Mingzheng. Her face instantly paled.

"...Y-Young Master," Yin Huan scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding with fear, her body trembling.

Li Mingzheng said coolly, "Why the rush?"

Yin Huan bit her lip and whispered, "Young Master, the Ninth Concubine is ill. He's burning up with fever right now. This servant was going to fetch a doctor for him."

Li Mingzheng paused, then stepped past her. "Go quickly."

Yin Huan nodded and had just straightened up when she suddenly realized—this was Lan Yu's courtyard. She instinctively glanced back and saw that Li Mingzheng had also stopped.

Their eyes met.

The image of the bite marks on Lan Yu's collarbone flashed through Yin Huan's mind. Her breath hitched, and she could hardly bear to meet Li Mingzheng's gaze, her slight frame shaking violently. "Young Master..."

Li Mingzheng looked at the trembling maid and said, "You stay."

"Tong Ping," Li Mingzheng raised his voice, and a man emerged from the arched doorway, bowing his head as he said, "Young Master." Li Mingzheng said, "Fetch Doctor Liu."

Tong Ping responded, "Yes."

The windows in the room were shut, and with dusk falling, the entire space was plunged into darkness, carrying an oppressive weight.

Li Mingzheng looked at Lan Yu, who was burning with fever and unconscious, then lifted the hem of his robe and sat by the bed. He instructed Yin Huan, "Open the windows and fetch hot water."

Yin Huan had yet to regain her composure, still reeling from the horrifying truth laid bare before her. She murmured an acknowledgment, but her feet felt as though weighed down by lead, unable to move. Frantic and terrified, she was on the verge of tears.

Li Mingzheng showed no hesitation in front of her. He wiped the sweat from Lan Yu's cheek, then unfastened the collar of his robes. Noticing Yin Huan standing frozen, her face pale, he frowned slightly and turned his gaze toward her.

Yin Huan dropped to her knees with a thud.

Li Mingzheng rubbed the damp heat lingering on his fingertips—Lan Yu's feverish body had left a scorching warmth behind.

"Are you afraid?" he asked.

Yin Huan was just a young maid, unable to withstand Li Mingzheng's overwhelming presence. She shook her head, but tears spilled down her cheeks. "This servant knows nothing... saw nothing."

Li Mingzheng said, "You saw."

"It's exactly what you think," he stated calmly, as if he weren't admitting to an affair with his own father's concubine.

Yin Huan's face turned deathly pale. She kowtowed repeatedly, trembling as she pleaded, "This servant will never tell a soul! I beg Young Master to spare my life—“

Only after her forehead had turned red from knocking did Li Mingzheng finally speak again, his voice slow and deliberate. "Do what you're supposed to do. Keep your eyes and mouth in check. Understood?"

Yin Huan felt as though she had been granted a reprieve. She hurriedly replied, "Understood, this servant understands!"

Doctor Liu, who usually treated the Li family, was already past fifty. Having served the household for over twenty years, he was well-versed in the ways of survival in such a grand estate. So when he saw Li Mingzheng in the Ninth Concubine's quarters, his eyelid twitched, but he wisely said nothing.

He was a perceptive man. The old master was aging, and the Li family would soon fall into the hands of this young master. He still relied on the Li family for his livelihood, and he knew very well who his true master was.

Doctor Liu proceeded to take Lan Yu's pulse as usual, deliberately ignoring the bruises on his wrist. He simply diagnosed it as pent-up frustration and shock-induced fever, prescribing a few doses of medicine to bring the fever down.

Li Mingzheng said politely, "Thank you for your trouble, Doctor Liu."

Doctor Liu replied, "No need for thanks, it's merely my duty."

With that, he went to prepare the medicine. Yin Huan, having regained some composure, followed him out, leaving only Li Mingzheng and the feverish, unconscious Lan Yu in the room.

Li Mingzheng rolled up his sleeves, wrung out a damp cloth, and slowly wiped Lan Yu's forehead and cheeks. His collar had been loosened, revealing his flushed neck and collarbones.

A bite mark stood out starkly on his throat—left the night before when Li Mingzheng had watched Lan Yu ride him to climax, his Adam's apple bobbing. The bite had been deep enough to draw blood.

Now, a day later, the mark remained vivid.

Li Mingzheng traced the bite with his fingers, the skin beneath his touch burning hot. He rubbed it firmly, and soon the area reddened. Lan Yu's eyelashes fluttered as he hovered between consciousness and delirium, letting out a faint, distressed moan.

Lan Yu, in his illness, exuded an air of fragility from head to toe—like a flower with weak stems, seemingly too delicate to touch yet blooming so beautifully that it made one want to snap or crush it in their hands. Li Mingzheng's face remained expressionless, showing no remorse for tormenting a sick man. Slowly, he removed Lan Yu's long robe, revealing his bare body, covered in marks of passion.

Such marks undoubtedly pleased Li Mingzheng greatly.

He wiped every inch of Lan Yu's body with a damp cloth—his chest, armpits, waist, and abdomen. When he spread Lan Yu's legs apart, the swollen, reddened entrance was immediately visible.

Twisting the cloth again—this time not fully wrung out, leaving it damp—he pressed it against Lan Yu's skin. The moment it touched him, Lan Yu instinctively clenched his thighs, his breathing growing ragged. Li Mingzheng pried his legs apart and meticulously wiped along the plush inner thighs. When he parted the soft folds, Lan Yu trembled, whimpering weakly in his sleep, his voice hoarse and barely audible.

Unmoved, Li Mingzheng ignored his own growing arousal, focusing instead on cleaning Lan Yu inside and out with painstaking care, as if polishing an exquisitely beautiful statue of Guanyin.

Not even his feet were spared. Lan Yu's feet were perfectly proportioned, with delicate toes—Li Mingzheng had seen them many times, stretched out in wanton display beneath another man. He gripped the sole, sliding the damp cloth between the toes, causing them to curl reflexively. Then, with practiced ease, he found the red mole on Lan Yu's ankle.

Li Mingzheng thought to himself: A silver anklet with bells would suit him—one that jingles with every step.

Yin Huan had finished brewing the medicine and was about to enter when she remembered Li Mingzheng was inside. Holding her breath, she bit her lip and knocked lightly. "Young Master," she called softly, "Ninth Concubine's medicine is ready."

"Come in," Li Mingzheng replied.

Yin Huan pushed the door open to find him casually washing his hands. Water droplets slid down his long, well-defined fingers—an ordinary action, yet it inexplicably made her heart race.

"Young Master," she murmured, "here is Ninth Concubine's medicine."

Her gaze flickered toward the bed, where the white curtains were drawn. Through the thin fabric, she could faintly make out Lan Yu lying beneath the covers, a white cloth resting on his forehead, the quilt tightly wrapped around him.

"Leave the medicine and go," Li Mingzheng ordered.

Yin Huan obeyed, retreating and shutting the door behind her.

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