What’S Wrong With Just Eating His Majesty’S Soft Rice? Chapter 13
byChapter 13 What Kind of Empress?
They booked a medium-sized room. Everyone was accustomed to the dim KTV environment and the ghostly wailing echoing from the various private booths.
Only Zhou Yinli looked as if he were facing a formidable enemy. Standing beside Fang Cheng, he gripped the other man’s wrist.
His grip was quite forceful.
Fang Cheng felt a slight sting in his wrist, but he didn’t struggle or pull away.
He had long since grown used to Zhou Yinli having these occasional “glitches.” He wasn’t sure if it was some kind of stress response common in mental patients.
The moment Zhang Yi stepped through the door, she grabbed a microphone and refused to let go. The others followed suit, howling along with the music. The atmosphere heated up almost instantly.
Fang Cheng leaned in to sing a duet with Zhang Yi. Although the two of them had bickered several times over the past few days, they had reached a state of harmony during dinner, forming a strange sort of revolutionary friendship.
They soon discovered another commonality: their shared passion for mic-hogging. Each of them clutched a microphone, refusing to yield.
The two of them sang happily, completely ignoring everyone else in the room.
Seeing that they couldn’t get a turn at the mic, the others started other activities. Someone pulled out alcohol they had smuggled in—both beer and spirits—and everyone began playing games and drinking.
Zhou Yinli’s “stay away” expression ensured that no one dared approach him. In the dim light, no one noticed the look on his face. At some point, someone had shoved a bottle into his hand.
After that, everyone went about their own business. No one noticed him sitting there alone, silently finishing that entire bottle of white spirit.
Fang Cheng and Zhang Yi sang song after song until their voices were hoarse. While singing, Fang Cheng hadn’t been entirely oblivious to his surroundings; he knew the others were playing cards and that Zhou Yinli had been left out.
During this time, even though the room was incredibly dark, Fang Cheng knew that from the beginning to the end of his singing, Zhou Yinli’s eyes had been fixed on him.
Although Fang Cheng’s denseness and thick skin prevented him from clearly perceiving the emotions behind that gaze, the faint sensation still left a mark on his heart.
Fang Cheng stuffed the microphone into a cameraman’s hand. With a quick scan of the room, he squeezed his way onto the seat next to Zhou Yinli.
Noticing the empty bottle of white spirit beside him, he leaned in close to the man’s lips to sniff. “You drank? How much?” He had known Zhou Yinli was drinking something earlier, but he hadn’t realized it was hard liquor. Now that he was close, the smell of alcohol was unmistakable.
This movement caused Zhou Yinli’s body to stiffen. He remained motionless, his muscles so tense that even Fang Cheng could feel it.
The man spoke with a rare, emotional grit between his teeth: “Five cups. Not much. I used to be able to drink three jars.”
Fang Cheng usually drank quite a bit and had built up a tolerance for about half a catty of white spirit. “Three jars? You must mean beer. This is white spirit, over forty percent alcohol. You drank a whole bottle—that’s a lot. Let’s go home.”
Zhou Yinli’s tone softened slightly as he repeated, “Home? What home?”
Fang Cheng said, “My home. That’s where you’re living now. Why, do you have another home? Did you remember something? Should I send you back?”
Zhou Yinli said slowly, “No. No other home. Only your home.”
Fang Cheng gave an affirmative grunt. There was no point in arguing with a drunk. “Then that’s that. Just follow me quietly.”
Fang Cheng said his goodbyes to Lin Er and the others. Zhang Yi was still clutching the mic and ignored him completely.
He pulled Zhou Yinli out of the KTV. Zhou Yinli followed him obediently, trailing behind him like a lost primary school student. Wherever Fang Cheng pulled him, he went without resistance.
The way back wasn’t far. To save money, Fang Cheng decided to walk with Zhou Yinli. The short walk would be good for him to clear his head in the breeze.
Fang Cheng found it amusing and couldn’t help but say, “You’re usually not this obedient.”
Zhou Yinli frowned, thinking for a long time. “When has Zhen ever been disobedient? No, why should Zhen be obedient? It is you who must listen to Zhen.”
Fang Cheng thought about it and realized it was true. Whenever he wanted Zhou Yinli to do something, he usually had to use a few tricks to get him to agree. It often required quite a bit of mental effort.
Why was he back to “Zhen, Zhen” now that he was drunk? He really loved playing the Emperor.
Too lazy to argue with a drunkard, Fang Cheng said, “Fine, fine. I’ll listen to you, alright?”
Only then was Zhou Yinli satisfied. “You must listen to Zhen. Zhen is the Son of Heaven. Everyone under heaven must obey Zhen.”
Fang Cheng knew how to deal with drunks. If you contradicted them, they would argue or even start a fight. So, he humored him. “Sure, sure. Whatever you say.”
“Zhen orders you not to sing with that woman!” Zhou Yinli said coldly, his voice carrying quite a bit of authority.
Fang Cheng was stunned for a moment before he processed the words. He thought to himself that drunks were truly unreasonable. “On what grounds? If I don’t sing with her, will you? Do you even know how?”
Zhou Yinli’s face turned unexpectedly red after saying those words, but since he had started, he couldn’t stop himself. “Zhen simply forbids it. There is no ‘why’.”
Fang Cheng laughed. “And what if I do? Are you going to call your guards to seize me and chop off my head?”
Zhou Yinli looked at him, his gaze carrying a strange hint of danger. “I will not chop off your head. But Zhen will lock you in the Imperial Palace. You will stay in the palace and remain only with Zhen. You will… make… make… make instant noodles for Zhen.”
Fang Cheng was baffled by the mention of instant noodles. After all that, it was just for noodles? He really shouldn’t waste his breath on a drunk. “Fine, fine. We’ll cook instant noodles when we get back. I’ll cook as many as you want. It’s not like I can’t afford them. I’ll let you eat until you’re sick of them. If you won’t eat them, I’ll shove them down your throat.”
After arriving home, Fang Cheng told Zhou Yinli to go shower and change. Over the past few days, he had scrounged up some of his own old clothes for Zhou Yinli; the size was more or less a fit.
Fang Cheng touched the money in his pocket, feeling a strange sense of irritation.
Logically, he should have gotten rid of Zhou Yinli yesterday. It was all Lin Er’s fault for insisting on that wrap party, which resulted in Zhou Yinli staying at his place for another day of free food and lodging.
Tomorrow. He would definitely get him out tomorrow.
Over the past few days, Fang Cheng had actually searched missing person websites several times. However, he couldn’t find anything on Zhou Yinli. The names didn’t match, and there wasn’t even anyone who looked like him.
Could it be that his family wasn’t looking for him? Logically, enough time had passed that they should have reported it to the police.
Fang Cheng found it strange. If the family didn’t care, why would they have bought him that expensive set of ancient clothing? If they did care, why was there no missing person notice?
Could it be that those clothes were like a “last supper”? That they bought them for him and then abandoned him? Was he a burden his family had dumped outside to fend for himself?
The more Fang Cheng thought about it, the more likely it seemed. This family probably couldn’t handle a mental patient anymore.
But to throw away a living person like that was truly disgraceful.
Fang Cheng had no intention of being a charity, but after spending these few days with Zhou Yinli, he had developed a tiny bit of sentiment. He couldn’t bring himself to just dump the man outside and leave him to his fate.
Thud. A sound came from the bathroom. Fang Cheng called out, “What happened?”
Silence.
As expected, one shouldn’t let a drunkard shower alone.
Resigned to his fate, Fang Cheng pushed open the bathroom door. Zhou Yinli was sitting on the floor, shirtless, though his pants were still on.
The bathroom light was bright. The showerhead lay on the tiles, spraying water everywhere.
Fang Cheng clicked his tongue as he went to turn off the water. “Look at you, drinking yourself into this state! And wasting water! Do you know how much the water bill is? I’m docking your pay! And your rent and food costs. That five thousand is already gone, I’m telling you. Don’t even think about it anymore.”
Zhou Yinli looked up at him. “I am not thinking about it. I had nothing to begin with.”
Hearing this, Fang Cheng felt a strange pang of sympathy. He thought to himself that he didn’t have anything either.
But Zhou Yinli still needed to finish his shower. He couldn’t just sit in the bathroom until morning.
“Stand up first. Take off your pants,” Fang Cheng said roughly.
Fortunately, Zhou Yinli could still understand instructions. He stood up obediently, but his hands were clumsy as he tried to undo his belt. He fumbled for a long time without success.
Since he wasn’t familiar with this kind of belt to begin with, Zhou Yinli simply let go. He frowned and stared at Fang Cheng.
Fang Cheng couldn’t bear to watch any longer and leaned down. “Fine, fine. I’ll do it.”
He moved closer, quickly loosening the belt and unbuttoning the waist of the pants.
The consequence of doing this was that he was extremely close to Zhou Yinli, right against his firm, flat stomach and well-defined abdominal muscles.
There were many strange, faded white scars on them.
How did he get so many injuries? Did he get into fights at the mental hospital?
Could it be self-harm? He had heard that many mental patients had self-harming tendencies.
But the locations of some scars didn’t look like self-harm. Who would self-harm by leaving a long scar across their back?
Was he abused?
“Hey, what’s the deal with the scars on your body?”
“War…”
Fang Cheng thought to himself that this was never-ending. Forget it, he wouldn’t ask.
“And you still brag about your drinking capacity. I should have just left you on the road, you drunkard.” Fang Cheng picked up the showerhead, preparing to turn it on.
“Zhen is not drunk.” Zhou Yinli’s voice was slurred. If this wasn’t drunk, what was?
Fang Cheng rolled his eyes.
“Why are you saying ‘Zhen’ again? Say ‘I’. Acting like an Emperor all day long… have you thought about who you can actually command?”
“Zhen… I am the Emperor! I… want to command you to… be…” Zhou Yinli struggled to think.
“Be what?” Fang Cheng turned on the water.
Zhou Yinli was still wearing his underwear, and Fang Cheng didn’t intend to take those off. Removing another man’s underwear was a bit much.
“Be,” Zhou Yinli looked at Fang Cheng blankly. His face, already flushed from the alcohol, suddenly turned even redder, as if steam were about to rise from it.
“Empress…”
Fang Cheng gave a dismissive grunt. “What Empress? You’re having another episode.”
As he spoke, he took a few more glances at Zhou Yinli. For a man’s body, it was so good it made him feel a bit envious. He even felt a strange urge to whistle.
Forget it, they were both men. What was there to look at?
Even as he told himself not to look, he couldn’t help but steal a few more glances out of curiosity.
It wasn’t that he hadn’t been to public baths with his friends before, but those people’s physiques were usually quite unrefined. One look was enough to hurt Fang Cheng’s eyes.
Was it because this guy’s body was just too perfect that it felt different?
Fang Cheng shook the thoughts from his head. “Alright, alright. Stop talking about being an Emperor.”
However, the more he looked, the more puzzled he became. The scars on the man’s body really did look like wounds from swords and blades. If one followed his story about being at war, they actually looked quite consistent.
Fang Cheng had been obsessed with cold weapons in middle school and had studied them for a while. He felt that some of these marks really did look like they were left by ancient weaponry.
But how could that be possible?
Fang Cheng looked away, ignoring the faded scars, and handed him the body wash. “Use it yourself.”
Zhou Yinli didn’t take it. He just tilted his head and looked at him through a daze.
Fang Cheng’s temper flared. He set the body wash aside. “Then don’t use it. Just rinse off.” He used the showerhead to spray him for a while longer. Seeing that it was enough, he found a dry towel and handed it to Zhou Yinli to wrap around himself.
He then handed him clean clothes and pulled him up, shoving him out the bathroom door. “Hurry up and change so you can go to sleep. Don’t expect me to keep serving you.”
What did he say he wanted him to be after drinking?
Empress?
Pfft. He was crazy and wanted to drag others down with him. Was he so desperate for a wife that he’d lost his mind? Sorry, but Fang Cheng was only willing to be the Retired Emperor!