Regent Zhou Lingyu couldn’t stand the sickly.
Especially the legitimate son of the Song family, who coughed every three steps. He was the finest porcelain in all of Great Zhou: too fragile to touch or scold, and someone everyone had to tiptoe around.
At a tavern, he scoffed, “Song Lingyu? I could make him cry for half a month with one punch.”
A soft laugh suddenly came from behind the screen.
A jade fan lifted the bamboo curtain, revealing a pale, exquisitely beautiful face.
“Your Highness,” the man said, the corners of his eyes red as he smiled dazzlingly, “I’m feeling unwell, so I’ll take my leave.”
Later, the Regent’s residence was locked up night after night, a chain fastened around someone’s ankle.
Zhou Lingyu gripped that slender ankle and gritted his teeth. “...My darling, will you take your medicine, or drink my blood? Pick one.”
Song Lingyu tugged at the chain and gave him a feeble kick to the chest.
“Let go, you untamable mongrel.”
