CH 11.2

On the other end of the courtyard, unaware of the manservant’s confession, Meng Huan let the servants place a lounge chair in the courtyard, looking at the starry night while enjoying the breeze.

The ancient environment was good, with a full moon hanging in the dark blue night, reminding Meng Huan of Runtu’s rejection on a moonlit night. He had just curved his lips and smiled, but his mind was filled with seduction by sex and murder.

Ugh.

So annoying.

Meng Huan softly mumbled, “Don’t want to think about it. Go back to the room to sleep.”

The movement of the maids catching chickens came from next door.

“To the left, block the door, don’t let it get out.”

“Aiya, it’s still pecking at people!”

Meng Huan’s thoughts were disturbed, and he looked over. “What are you guys doing?”

The maid replied, “Madam, the maids caught two chickens to be plucked and chopped, planning to simmer them overnight on a low fire to prepare chicken soup for Madam tomorrow morning.”

Meng Huan saw the two old reed hens she was carrying in her hand.

“Are you killing the chickens now?”

“Replying to Madam, yes.”

The matter of assassinating Lin Bozhou weighed on his mind, so Meng Huan abruptly had an idea and said, “Let me do it?”

Maid: “?” And then, “Madam’s body is invaluable—”

“It’s okay, let me try.”

Before transmigrating into the book, Meng Huan lived in the city, and any fresh products could be easily purchased without the need to prepare it himself. He was still timid, and except for the occasional mosquito he killed, he had not experienced any blood or death.

There was no way he could kill this way, so Meng Huan decided to practice a little. He made up his mind, reached out, and twisted the old hen’s wings in the hands of the maid, bringing it to the side of the trench where the chicken was killed.

The old hen’s wings were warm; it was very apparently a living, breathing being, which immediately caused a wave of discomfort in Meng Huan. After convincing himself, he blinked and took the sharp knife handed to him by the manservant and watched him demonstrate how to kill the chicken.

—

—The sharp knife stabbed the chicken’s throat and cut it, and vermilion blood suddenly gushed out and flowed along the trench.

Meng Huan smelled the strong smell of blood.

“Madam, it’s your turn.” The manservant said.

Meng Huan’s brain surged with a rising feeling of retching, his fingers loosened, and the old reed hen he grabbed ran away immediately, flapping the blood on the ground to the hem of Meng Huan’s clothes, sticky and unpleasant while creating a foul stench.

Meng Huan bent down and covered his mouth to let out a painful “Vomit—”

Maid: “………………”

Male servant: “………………”

Meng Huan: “………………”

The maid was startled. “Madam, are you all right?”

Meng Huan held back the urge to vomit. With tears in both eyes, he raised his hand to signal to stop, and said in a sobbing voice, “I won’t kill the chicken.”

He headed into the courtyard, sat his butt back in his chair, and began to seclude himself while performing self-mind repair.

I didn’t think I would vomit.

What a loser. I guess I’m still not suitable for killing, right?

Meng Huan silently hugged his arms tightly. At this level, not even daring to kill a chicken, how could he expect to cut off Lin Bozhou’s head with a knife?

The more he thought about it, the more frustrated he became.

Two lantern-bearing figures walked in at the entrance, and Shan Xing stood there hunched over. “Madam, the prince is asking for you.”

“!”

Meng Huan jumped to his feet.

Having read that letter, he was now particularly nervous, his scalp tingling as he licked his lips and asked, “Is there something wrong?”

“The prince summoned his wife to serve in bed,” Shan Xing said. When he saw an old hen clucking and flying pass before him, he gaped, “What’s going on?”

The servant hurriedly told the story, and when he mentioned Meng Huan vomiting, he had difficulty holding back his laughter.

Shan Xing laughed while walking back, meaningfully saying, “I will quickly tell the prince about this so that the prince is also happy.”

Meng Huan: “………………”

Reduced to a laughing stock, Meng Huan stood in place for a few seconds in despair as the servants urged, “Madam, prepare to serve in bed.”

“Got it.” Meng Huan muttered.

It seemed that he could only use sex. Compared to killing, he, who had seen countless pictures, was more familiar with this method.

With the dual task of preserving his own life and seducing Lin Bozhou, the tension inexplicably became very heavy. Meng Huan walked to the door with heavy steps, remembered his equipment, wilfully turned back, and said, “Please help me bring those pictures from the table.”

The servant hurriedly went to get them, glancing at them as they took them.

Tsk, these things were quite lecherous.

The paper was handed to Meng Huan, and the servants gave a second look of understanding.

Meng Huan clenched the drawing paper with a complicated spirit of sacrificing himself to the back hall study.

The study room was dimly lit, and the shadows swayed.

Chen An organized the books on the desk for Lin Bozhou, his face gentle and pure. He had followed him since he was in Kuzhou and was a close friend of Lin Bozhou. He casually said, “Your Highness, His Majesty has ordered the Northern Zhenfu Division to use heavy punishment to investigate Deputy Minister Zhou, who impeached you a few days ago.”

“Has the trial produced any results?” Lin Bozhou looked tired, but his posture in the chair was upright, gently rubbing his brow as if his eyes were a bit tired, and his bony fingers were propped up on his forehead.

Chen An laughed and said, “After Vice-Minister Lu took a trip this morning, guess what? Those tight-lipped people began to confess. Dragging forces, and it was even them who conceded first.”

Lin Bozhou did not smile. He raised his eyes to see Meng Huan standing behind the curtain and stopped the conversation. His voice very soft. “Huan Huan, come here.”

His tone was low, with a little bit of confused tiredness.

Somehow, Meng Huan’s heart seemed to be paralyzed for a while.

Meng Huan said a little hastily, “Ah.”

The back of his ears was red, his spine was tense, and he walked before him with his head down. “Coming.”

“Sit down.”

Gesturing to the seat beside him, Lin Bozhou turned his head sideways and continued to talk to Chen An. “You have to pay attention. It won’t do if the confessed instigator is too small. At least…… it has to be a frontier minister. This time, this prince wants to pull a big fish for the blood sacrifice.”

The frontier minister referred to the governor of a province or several provinces of the Zhong Dynasty.

This was a high-ranking official with a significant influence in the court.

Chen An was shocked and nodded. “Okay.”

“Go down.” Instructing Chen An to leave, Lin Bozhou rubbed his forehead with his fingertips, sat back in his chair, and closed his eyes.

The air fell into silence.

The candlelight created a shadow on the side of Lin Bozhou’s face. He closed his eyes, and faint shadows fell on the side of his face from his long, slender eyelashes, making him look handsome with deep eyebrows and thin, sharp lips.

Probably because he read the letter today, Meng Huan subconsciously look at his neck, taut thin skin, Adam’s apple rolling, sexy lines—

“?”

Meng Huan: Shouldn’t I be thinking about how to chop his head off?

Meng Huan: Keep smiling.

Lin Bozhou slowly opened his eyes and seemed to have briefly recovered his spirit after the nap he had just taken, reaching out his hand to hook something on the table.

He was given a colorful collection of pictures with a mottled cover.

Meng Huan vaguely recognized what it was, and his scalp tightened.

Lin Bozhou lowered his eyes. “The spring paintings that the servants found at the bottom of the bed, did you bring it over to serve in bed?”

“…………”

——————–

The author has something to say.

Huan Huan: (clenching the new spring paintings brought in his hand) I came to discuss with you how to avoid stabbing me to death.