Futile Devices Scans

Shangchuan Hong walked straight to Mu Xueshi’s bedside. From his sleeve, he took out a small bottle containing the remaining medicinal solution from before. Before applying it, he carefully studied Mu Xueshi’s face, memorizing his features. Only then did he pour the liquid into his hand and gently spread it across Mu Xueshi’s face.

He had originally worried that the material used for the thin facial layer the Third Prince had applied might have been changed. But when that thin layer slowly peeled away from Mu Xueshi’s face, Shangchuan Hong let out a sigh of relief. It made sense—facial skin was delicate, and frequently changing materials would easily damage it. Clearly, the Third Prince treasured this face immensely.

Even though it was already the second time he had seen it, Shangchuan Hong still found his breathing unsteady. This face was simply too beautiful—beautiful to the extreme. Skin as pale and lustrous as jade, lips as red as ripe golden fruit, a small, elegantly upturned nose—every feature seemed as though it had been meticulously carved by heaven itself.

He knew he should immediately conceal this face again, deceive the servants, and then take Mu Xueshi to Linhan Palace. Yet he found himself unable to move at all. Nearby, a stick of incense burned, a wisp of white smoke curling through the air. The powder in the incense tray accumulated as the stick grew shorter, silently urging him to act quickly.

Shangchuan Hong looked at him again and again, reluctant to part, a trace of melancholy rising in his heart. If he brought him to Linhan Palace this time, once everyone saw him, it would surely cause a great uproar. Future disputes and struggles would be inevitable. Yet no matter who he ultimately belonged to, it would not be Shangchuan Hong.

Perhaps this was his last chance to be close to him.

His hands trembled, his mind tangled with countless conflicting thoughts. He resented himself for being so easily bewitched by beauty, yet another glance made him feel that even if he lost himself, so what? Hao Lin’s words echoed constantly in his mind—bring the man to Linhan Palace within half an hour. But the moment his hand touched Mu Xueshi’s body, he could no longer pull away.

The door was tightly shut, and there was not even the sound of footsteps nearby. The stillness of the air drifted gently around that peaceful sleeping face, forming a kind of fatal allure.

Carefully, he parted Mu Xueshi’s clothing, as if holding a piece of crystal, afraid it might shatter. When Shangchuan Hong saw the smooth, translucent skin beneath, his mind exploded.

Even a newborn infant could not possess such soft, delicate skin. His hand traced lightly over it, not daring to use any force, afraid of leaving even the slightest mark on that flawless body.

Shangchuan Hong had completely cast aside all thoughts of others. With extreme gentleness, he loosened Mu Xueshi’s clothing. When the ties of his inner garment came undone with ease, Shangchuan Hong felt his heart pounding wildly.

Mu Xueshi’s entire chest was revealed before him—his slender waist, nearly translucent skin, and the two small rosy buds adorning it—all perfect to the extreme.

Yet when his gaze moved downward, he noticed a bandage wrapped around the lower abdomen.

Was he injured?

Shangchuan Hong couldn’t help but wonder.

Such a delicate, lovable body—yet someone could still bear to let it be hurt. As Shangchuan Hong stared at that spot, a faint ache stirred in his chest. A hazy thought suddenly arose in his mind—he wanted to whisper softly by Mu Xueshi’s ear: if you were with me, I would devote my entire life to cherishing you, never letting you suffer even the slightest harm or grievance.

Everything remained silent. Shangchuan Hong could not make a sound. His gaze shifted from the wound back to his chest, his throat growing dry.

A sudden bitterness welled up in his heart. This exquisite body, these tender features—who knew how many times they had been handled by the Third Prince. Thinking of Mu Xueshi beneath the Third Prince, letting out soft, wanton sounds and murmuring his name, Shangchuan Hong felt both a trace of bitterness and a surge of excitement.

Careful not to touch Mu Xueshi’s wound, Shangchuan Hong supported himself with one arm at the bedside, his upper body hovering while his lower body leaned against the edge of the bed. Slowly, he lowered his head, stopping just above Mu Xueshi’s face.

Suddenly, Hao Lin’s face flashed clearly in his mind. Just as Shangchuan Hong was about to lean closer, he abruptly startled, his eyes widening slightly as he stared motionlessly at the person on the bed.

At that moment, Mu Xueshi seemed to sense something and tried to turn over, but Shangchuan Hong’s arms restrained him. He unconsciously reached for the blanket, but instead grabbed Shangchuan Hong’s arm. His soft lips murmured something indistinct as he hugged Shangchuan Hong’s arm, rubbing his smooth cheek against it before becoming still again, not letting go.

Mu Xueshi had a habit of holding onto something while sleeping. If no one was beside him, he would naturally hug the blanket. But with the blanket pulled away, his hand found no support and instead latched onto Shangchuan Hong’s arm. The warmth was just right, and a look of comfort spread across his face.

This kind of stimulation was fatal to Shangchuan Hong. His mind went completely blank. He lowered his head into the crook of Mu Xueshi’s neck, breathing in his scent.

His breath brushed against Mu Xueshi’s neck, making him feel slightly ticklish. Mu Xueshi let out a soft murmur, and a faint blush spread across the skin of his neck.

Shangchuan Hong felt an unmistakable reaction stirring within himself. Normally restrained and self-controlled, he found that merely breathing in Mu Xueshi’s scent was enough to provoke him.

Unable to control his desires, Shangchuan Hong began moving across Mu Xueshi’s body. Wherever his lips and tongue touched felt irresistibly sweet. Gradually, his movements grew bolder. When his moist tongue brushed lightly over one sensitive spot, Mu Xueshi’s body trembled in response.

Mu Xueshi’s reactions only further stimulated Shangchuan Hong’s arousal, wave after wave of desire to explore deeper flooding his mind. The incense stick had already burned out—Shangchuan Hong knew he still had time. If he stopped here, dressed Mu Xueshi, and took him away, it wouldn’t delay matters at Linhan Palace.

That was what he thought, yet his hand continued to move downward. Through the fabric, he touched the still-soft jade stem beneath Mu Xueshi—and at that moment, all thoughts of leaving vanished.

Shangchuan Hong gently wrapped his hand around it, stroking lightly once or twice. When he felt Mu Xueshi begin to make faint sounds of discomfort, his throat tightened, and he increased the movement of his hand.

Suddenly, the peaceful, content expression on Mu Xueshi’s face disappeared, replaced by panic and fear. The sensation below had just reached his mind when Mu Xueshi abruptly opened his eyes, gasping for breath, a sharp pain rising in his abdomen from the force of it.

Shangchuan Hong froze for a moment, but showed no panic. He simply looked at Mu Xueshi quietly.

Mu Xueshi’s face was flushed, beads of sweat covering his forehead. His long, thick lashes fluttered twice before his obsidian-like eyes opened wide, looking toward the person below him.

First came fear, then caution, then relief. After that, he glanced down at his bare upper body, and his expression turned to surprise.

So many expressions flickered across that incomparably beautiful face—it was a mesmerizing sight.

“Master,” Mu Xueshi called softly.

Shangchuan Hong was startled. He hadn’t expected that Su Ruhuan was actually Mu Xueshi’s master. Seeing the complete trust in Mu Xueshi’s expression, he realized just how close their relationship must be.

A faint smile curved his lips as Shangchuan Hong leaned closer and softly responded, “Good disciple…”

“Huh…?” Mu Xueshi blinked, momentarily confused. Although Su Ruhuan had been taking good care of him these past days and had become gentler, he had never been this… overly affectionate.

Then, noticing the hand placed below him, Mu Xueshi asked bluntly, “Master, what are you doing?”

Shangchuan Hong chuckled. “Of course I’m changing your medicine, checking your wound.”

“But didn’t you just check it earlier?” Mu Xueshi hurriedly pulled his clothes back around himself.

“Even if I just checked, I still want to look again. I’m worried—my heart aches for you,” Shangchuan Hong said, reaching out to stroke Mu Xueshi’s soft cheek.

Mu Xueshi quickly propped himself up with his arms and retreated, his face full of alarm. “Master, don’t scare me!”

The movement tugged at his wound, and Mu Xueshi let out a sharp, pained gasp, his face contorting.

Shangchuan Hong moved closer again, pretending to examine the wound. The more Mu Xueshi retreated, the more he wanted to approach. After all, he was using Su Ruhuan’s identity—whatever he did could be blamed on him later.

With that thought, Shangchuan Hong let out a low chuckle.

Mu Xueshi looked at him, increasingly certain something was wrong, yet still asked with concern, “Master… did someone… drug you or something?”

Shangchuan Hong froze for a moment, then burst into laughter. Seeing Mu Xueshi’s wide, darting eyes and recalling his words, he found him incredibly amusing. Not only was his face breathtakingly beautiful, but his personality was also so simple and endearing—it only deepened Shangchuan Hong’s fondness.

“What kind of drug?” Mu Xueshi tried to push him away but couldn’t move.

Shangchuan Hong leaned in and lightly licked Mu Xueshi’s small ear, speaking in an extremely suggestive tone, “A bewitching drug… a beauty’s drug… a heart-stealing drug… an aphrodisiac… a drug of blissful oblivion…”

“AHHH!!!” Mu Xueshi suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs, yelling, “Sun Ye, come quick! My master’s gone crazy!!”

Shangchuan Hong hadn’t expected such a reaction—nor that someone who looked so fragile could produce such a loud cry. He was momentarily stunned, then realized the situation had turned bad.

Sun Ye burst in almost immediately, rushing to Mu Xueshi’s bedside. Seeing the disheveled sheets and bedding, anger surged through him. He raised his sword and pointed it at Su Ruhuan’s neck.

He had intended to berate him for daring to do such a thing behind the Third Prince’s back, but remembering not to mention the Third Prince in front of Mu Xueshi, he instead attacked without hesitation.

Shangchuan Hong knew his martial skill was not inferior to Sun Ye’s, but if they fought too long, his identity would surely be exposed. It was more important to escape now and regroup with Hao Lin. There would be other opportunities—being exposed here would not be worth it.

Sun Ye’s sword slashed toward him. Shangchuan Hong dodged lightly. Sun Ye continued pressing with fierce attacks, while Shangchuan Hong retreated again and again, only defending, never striking back. As he neared the window, Shangchuan Hong turned, preparing to leap out—but at the last moment, he hesitated and glanced back at Mu Xueshi.

That single moment of hesitation was enough—Sun Ye’s sword pierced straight into Shangchuan Hong’s left arm, blood spurting out and staining the blade red.

“Don’t stab my master! He’s already injured!” Mu Xueshi shouted, attempting to get out of bed.

Startled, Sun Ye quickly turned back to check on him. Taking advantage of that moment, Shangchuan Hong leapt out the window, landing steadily before dashing away. The guards outside, seeing it was “Su Ruhuan,” were puzzled but did not dare pursue him. In no time, Shangchuan Hong disappeared without a trace.

Knowing pursuit was useless, Sun Ye returned to Mu Xueshi’s bedside in frustration. Mu Xueshi was bent over, clearly having aggravated his wound, gritting his teeth in pain.

Sun Ye quickly supported him, about to ask where it hurt—when he caught sight of Mu Xueshi’s face and froze completely.

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