The man was stared at by the floating gaze and felt a little weak, his eyes subconsciously dodged, and a wave of anger poured out uncontrollably in his heart.

The originally frozen face became hideous, and the teacup in his hand slammed towards Fusheng.

"What if my father is ashamed of treating Gu Mansion, I am the prince, the prince of the Dayong Dynasty!"

The man is sensitive, has low self-esteem and does not dare to admit it, and because of his biological mother, he is paranoid and extreme.

Fusheng knew that he was sick.

Incurable disease.

So he's always been on his way.

As long as he doesn't go to the end of the road.

The man raged impotently, and the contents of the desk were swept to the ground, and then the desk was kicked over, and the next shelf was kicked down, and the porcelain placed on it shattered all over the ground.

Fusheng just looked at it like this, without saying a word, even if there was a tingling pain on his forehead, and a warm heat spread down his forehead...

Until the man gradually calmed down, he looked at the mess all over the place, the memory just now emerged, and his eyes gradually cleared.

His lips trembled, the redness of his eyes had not yet dissipated, and he looked at the floating life, and when he saw the wound on his forehead, he ran over in a panic.

"Uncle... Uncle... Right... I'm sorry..."

His hands were raised and lowered, like a child who didn't know what to do when he did something wrong, and he spoke with a crying tone.

"It must have hurt so much blood...

It's all my fault... It's all useless to me... I couldn't control myself..."

"It's fine."

Fusheng smiled, raised his hand rarely, and rubbed his head as if he were facing a young man.

"Your Highness, don't worry, it's just a little injury, I'll take medicine later, it'll be fine tomorrow, it won't hurt."

The man's body froze for a moment, not being noticed by the floating life.

He hung his head, tears silently fell, and he stirred his fingers helplessly, and then, as if blessed with a soul, he raised his head suddenly, and looked at Fusheng with those wet eyes.

"I'll go get the medicine!"

As the man's words fell, Fusheng saw him hurriedly rushing to the place where the medicine box was placed in the study, and hurriedly hugged the entire medicine box.

The man didn't seem to have completely calmed down, his hand was shaking, and his strength was not well controlled.

Fusheng didn't say anything, let him medicate himself and bandage himself, and his head was wrapped with circles of gauze, looking very badly injured.

The man's eyes flickered, and he threw the rest of the gauze back into the medicine box, and then looked at Fusheng with concerned eyes.

"Uncle..."

Although Fusheng didn't know what he was bandaged, the restraint on his head told him that it must be strange.

However, his expression did not change, and he praised the man with a light smile, "Your Highness is very well bandaged, and the slave will feel much better." ”

The man's hands under the sleeves were clenched into fists, and he subconsciously lowered his eyes, not looking at the floating life.

What he hated the most was the eyes that were always filled with pity and sadness when the floating life looked at him.

That look was always there to remind him of his unbearable, tragic past.

Let him have a kind of heart in his heart, no matter how well he hides it now, no matter how beautiful he is to the outside, he can't erase the fact that he is an inconspicuous bedbug that once hid in the shadows, and his heart is dirty and twisted, and extremely ugly...

The man's fingers tightened tighter and tighter, his nails almost embedded in his palms, and he strongly restrained the restlessness in his heart, trying to calm his emotions.

When I raised my eyes again, I saw that he was so radiant that even his eyebrows seemed to jump.

The corners of his mouth couldn't help but curl, but he suppressed it vigorously, like a child who has been praised, obviously proud, but wants to pretend that he doesn't care.

Fusheng looked at him like this, and the remembrance in his eyes was even worse.

Like, too much like...

He unconsciously lowered his voice, and the expression on his face became softer and softer, "It's getting late, and the slave has to get up early tomorrow, so it's time to rest."

At this time, after the curfew, Ming is not a big dynasty, why don't Your Highness rest in the slave mansion tonight, and wait for the time of the last dynasty tomorrow, and then let the next person send you back to the house, how about it? ”

The man nodded, not refusing, and both of them tacitly did not mention the original topic.

Fusheng knew that he had listened.

Asked the steward to send the man to the guest room, Fusheng looked at the mess in the house, rubbed his eyebrows, and beckoned his subordinates to quickly clean up.

The moment the man turned his back to the floating life, the expression on his face disappeared, and his eyes were extremely cold.

The next day, Fusheng woke up early in the morning, and he didn't sleep well at night.

He dreamed of his deceased sister-in-law, grabbed his hand, and begged him to take care of her child.

He agreed, but the righteous sister changed, her eyes were hollow, and blood and tears flowed down.

She questioned him.

Why? Why not do it and watch her children go to the point of no return?

He said he didn't.

But Yimei kept repeating these words as if she couldn't hear them, and her blood and tears flowed more and more, dyeing the white clothes on her body red.

Until he came to his senses, the whole body was sweating profusely.

The wound on his head hurt a little, and Fusheng frowned and took a cool breath.

The subordinate who was on the night vigil heard the movement and said, "Is the master awake?" Do you need a slave to come in and serve? ”

Fusheng answered, and the subordinate walked in around the screen, and seeing that he was sweating profusely, he hurriedly asked the people outside to get some hot water to come in.

Fusheng leaned back on the bed, "What time is it?" ”

"Back to the master, it's the end of the ugly time."

As soon as he heard this, the remaining sleepiness also quietly disappeared, and he got out of bed and stretched his muscles.

Hot water was also brought at this time.

The servants served him to wash and change his clothes, and removed the gauze from his head.

The wound had healed, and the opening was not big, just a little deep.

The next man took the ointment, intending to use it for the floating life, but was stopped by him, "I didn't use the medicine, I wanted to take some makeup powder and cover the wound." ”

There are maids in the house, and if you want to get some makeup, it is naturally not a problem.

It's just that the subordinate glanced at the wound on the floating forehead, and hesitated, "Master, this is a new injury, if you cover it with makeup powder, it is not conducive to the recovery of the wound..."

Fusheng didn't say anything, just glanced sideways at him.

The subordinate chuckled in his heart, and immediately lowered his head, "The slave will do it." ”

He withdrew, found a few maids, and brought several boxes of makeup powder.

The makeup powder of the Dayong Dynasty is also divided into color numbers, floating and fair-skinned, and the subordinate took the makeup powder and compared it, picked out the makeup powder that was most similar to his skin color, and covered up the wound at the corner of his forehead.

The effect of the makeup powder is very good, but it is not long-lasting, and the next person hands the makeup powder to Fusheng to facilitate his touch-up.

The carriage was already waiting at the back door.

Fusheng thought that the wound was powdered, so he asked his subordinates to go to the kitchen to get buns and dumplings to deal with his stomach.

Then he looked at the wound in front of the bronze mirror, and after confirming that there was no change, he went to the back door.

Before leaving, he lifted the curtain and said to the steward who was guarding the carriage, "Over there in the kitchen, can the chicken soup be boiled?" ”

Yimei is the best at making chicken noodle soup.

The chicken broth has to be simmered over low heat, and when the chicken is soft, the fat is skimmed off, and the boiled, hair-thin hand-pulled noodles are added, sprinkled with chopped green onions.

His Royal Highness has loved to eat since he was a child, and he loves to eat too.

It's just that after the righteous sister died, no one did it for them.

Early yesterday morning, I was taken to the countryside to attend my husband's cousin's college banquet.

In the evening, my uncle couldn't drive because he was drunk and couldn't drive us home, so he stayed there for one night.

The phone is out of battery and there is no extra charger, so there is no update, sorry~