“Keep lying,” Yan Xiaohan erupted in anger, “Do you want me to bring a mirror for you to look? Your lips are completely dry! Drinking medicine? With what, your ear holes? Didn’t the medicine treat your brain?!”
Fu Shen was speechless.
He angrily paced around the room, finally kicking a white porcelain spittoon from beside the bed, and upon looking down, caught him red-handed.
Fu Shen sat obediently on the bed, with a very sincere attitude of admitting his guilt.
Yan Xiaohan pointed at him, barely suppressing his anger, went out to order another decoction of medicine, then returned and closed the door, speaking with a stern face: “Speak. When did this start?”
Fu Shen chuckled dryly a few times: “Don’t get worked up, my cold has already recovered, whether I take the medicine or not doesn’t matter much…”
“Doesn’t matter?” Yan Xiaohan coldly retorted, “Who told you that the medicine can be skipped? Shen Yice? Or me?”
Fu Shen: “…”
It was clear he was trying hard not to lose his temper, all out of consideration that Yan Xiaohan was concerned for his health. However, that bastard who loved to expose others’ shortcomings continued to nag: “Ruining your body while young, don’t you think about what will happen when you’re old? Don’t you know how many injuries you have? If the cold isn’t treated properly, by the time you learn your lesson, it’ll be too late!”
Fu Shen’s head was aching from his nagging. He had a stubborn and decisive side to his personality, and no one had dared to scold him like this for many years. Originally feeling guilty, Yan Xiaohan’s words instead provoked his rebellious nature. Fu Shen impatiently waved his hand: “Enough, going on and on.”
Thinking carefully, since returning to the capital, the situation had been rapidly deteriorating – ambushes, assassinations, conspiracies, the emperor’s arranged marriage. Each matter was enough to make one worry and toss and turn. Yet now, it was actually these trivial matters that made two grown men argue and then make up like children playing house.
Fu Shen, with his iron-like backbone, and Yan Xiaohan, with his deep scheming, were just human, with full emotional range.
All because this was “home”.
Chapter 16 Leaving the Capital | Ten Miles of Red Dowry, Surely Not Betraying You
