Chapter 168

Chapter 168

Xiyuan Duanmu looked with complicated eyes at the five people crammed into her modest house and began calculating how much food remained in the kitchen.

Wealthy people like them would not be stingy enough to refuse payment for their meals, would they?

Shengsheng Zhou, Zhiyu Jiang, and Weiqing Song stood with their arms folded, scrutinizing the little boy opposite them. A palm print marked his face, a bruise darkened the corner of his mouth, and Fusheng Duan stood coldly beside him.

Did you notice? The little boy’s face was injured.

It had happened moments ago. The boy had lunged at Shengsheng and tried to pull her forcefully into his arms, forgetting his current height and embracing only her thigh. Fusheng, who had been watching him like a hawk, promptly slapped him into the wall.

Weiqing raised his brows and laughed maliciously. “The Yong emperor grows younger by the day.”

Siran Ming shot him a sharp look, but his enormous eyes made even a glare resemble a pout. It had no power to intimidate whatsoever. “No need for your concern.”

After speaking those five words in a childish, milky voice, Siran himself was the first to freeze.

What kind of dogshit voice was this?

“Pfft–hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!”

The first to burst into laughter was none other than Miss Shengsheng Zhou, who had already evolved into a princess.

Next came Zhiyu, whom Siran had once carried over his shoulder.

The discussion promptly collapsed.

Now a heartbroken little dumpling crouched in the corner, questioning his entire existence.

In truth, everyone present had some idea what had happened.

This situation was most likely connected to the incident in which Shengsheng had shrunk.

After Zhiyu led Xiyuan away, Weiqing was about to ask Fusheng what had happened. But he glanced at Shengsheng and ultimately remained silent.

Shengsheng was remarkably self-aware. She rose on her own. “You two talk.”

*I’ll eavesdrop from outside.*

But Fusheng shook his head. “Sit.”

Already on her feet, Shengsheng froze for a second, then sat down again awkwardly.

*The sun will probably rise in the west tomorrow. I must wake early to admire it.*

Weiqing: “…” Don’t worry. When you fail to wake up, I will call you.

Sitting casually with his chin propped on one hand, Fusheng began explaining in detail.

“Our initial guess was correct. There really is something beneath the ground, but my blood was useless.”

Weiqing stroked his chin thoughtfully. “In principle, there shouldn’t have been a problem. But a descendant of the phoenix unable to open the door his own ancestors left behind? Isn’t that absurd?”

Shengsheng listened in utter confusion. Something felt profoundly wrong.

Blood one moment, phoenixes the next–was this not supposed to be a traditional ancient world?

Had they secretly upgraded the entire world to a higher plane behind her back?!

Jokes were jokes, but they could not treat the world itself as one!

“No. Perhaps your ancestors didn’t want a bloodline test. Maybe they wanted the exact opposite?”

Fusheng yawned lazily. Catching Shengsheng’s questioning look, he lowered his hand and sat a little straighter. “Perhaps. But I locked the man in Zhu Kingdom’s dungeon.”

After listening to their disjointed conversation for a while, Shengsheng accepted that it was beyond her comprehension. She let her gaze go blank and began daydreaming.

Only when Fusheng reached the crucial point did she return to herself.

“Come to think of it, the Yong emperor truly deserves his reputation as a god of war. There was only one trap, yet he still managed to step into it. Such valor.” Fusheng cast a mocking glance at the juvenile Siran, who was tied to a pillar with both his mouth and ears blocked.

Siran could not hear, but Fusheng’s moving lips and expression alone told him the man was undoubtedly insulting him.
Not only had Siran Ming’s body become childish, his mind had grown less mature as well. He kicked his legs several times in midair, the corners of his eyes reddening with rage.

Shengsheng Zhou pointed at him. “Look, Imperial Brother. This is what we call impotent fury.”

Weiqing Song nodded in understanding. “I’ve learned something.” Then he turned to Fusheng Duan. “He fell down and happened to run into you below?”

Fusheng nodded and sneered disdainfully. “Indeed. When he saw me–his prospective savior and the only person capable of getting him out–his chosen method of repayment was a combination punch.”

Shengsheng snorted with laughter.

She had thought Fusheng had become a taciturn mute after falling ill. Apparently, he had merely saved all his words for Siran.

“Naturally, I gave him an appropriate reward in return.” As he spoke, Fusheng took a small bottle containing pearly white liquid from his sleeve.

Shengsheng’s pupils contracted.

Had she not hidden that object atop the roof beam in her room?

He had managed to dig it out even from there?!

Weiqing took the bottle and examined it carefully, then seemingly by chance glanced at Shengsheng, who was peeking at it.

“Oh. This was what turned Xiaohong into that state before, wasn’t it?”

Shengsheng displayed precisely the right amount of curiosity. “Imperial Brother, who is Xiaohong?”

Weiqing smiled and stroked her head. “An ungrateful little wolf.”

Shengsheng thought, *You’re finished.*

“We should begin our return journey tomorrow,” Fusheng said suddenly.

Weiqing shook his head. “No. We will remain a few more days. Zhu Kingdom and Zhen Kingdom may be far apart, but at Qingbai’s speed, there is still enough time for the round trip.”

Fusheng knew the condition of Weiqing’s imperial father. Hearing this, he raised his brows slightly.

The two men held each other’s gaze for a while. In the end, Fusheng nodded with some irritation. “Understood.”

Shengsheng had no objections. She wished for nothing more than to spend a little longer playing with Xiaoyu.

Perhaps Siran’s current body was simply too small, and the night had grown late. He actually fell asleep against the pillar.

In the end, Shengsheng was the one who untied him. Looking at him now, she thought he seemed almost human when his eyes were closed.

The supposedly sleeping Siran suddenly opened his eyes, rushing to prove he was no such thing.

Shengsheng: “…You’re awake.”

“Mm…” Siran murmured, a trace of grievance in his childish voice.

Hearing him, Fusheng walked over, lifted Siran by the back of his neck, and tossed him to Weiqing. “He sleeps with you tonight.”

Weiqing: “…” You certainly arranged that neatly.

“I thought you would throw him outside.” Weiqing set the child down. Unfortunately, Siran had yet to master his current proportions. His short legs went soft as noodles, and he landed squarely on his bottom.

Siran withdrew into himself once again.

Fusheng scoffed. “Useless.”

He had originally wanted to kill Siran outright. But Fusheng never killed children. Even knowing that the person inside was already a third of the way into his coffin, he still could not do it and had left him there to fend for himself.

Unexpectedly, Siran had somehow crawled out on his own.

The mighty Yong emperor clung like a rotten loach, impossible to shake off.

He truly should have killed him back there.

Then again, it did not seem too late. He had plenty of time.

The instincts of a human child sent a dense layer of goose bumps across Siran’s skin. He glared warily at the tall man in red before him.