The Untouchable Prince | A Norenmin FanFiction

一百三

One Hundred Three
Updated: December 25, 2023

Author's Note
VERY minor mentions of sexual assault, but no detailed descriptions. Still, be cautioned while reading.

March 23.

On this day, eleven years ago, Renjun was assaulted by his then-fiancé, ruining the rest of his life and traumatizing every aspect. He had lost his childhood, lost his youth, his innocence in only a few hours. And, for the years that followed he was no longer the same.

Eleven years ago, he was eight.

However, one year ago, Renjun got engaged, and the months after turned out to be the best few months of his life. His nightmares had slowly gone away, and his condition greatly improved. In those few months, he could hold someone's hand without feeling that irritating itch and without his body being thrown into a sweaty panic. He had gained back what he had lost and done what he thought was impossible.

Yet, again, it was lost again in those horrible eight months.

And, today, at nineteen-years-old, Renjun found himself in a situation much worse. He could barely look someone in the eye, barely even hold a normal conversation with someone. What he had gained in those few months and that previous decade, thrown out the window and stomped on like weeds, no longer to be recovered.

He had woken up screaming like he did most days, his throat hoarse and dry. Cold sweat drenched his inner robes, sticking his hair to his forehead and neck.

Another nightmare.

Another nightmare of those days in the dungeon, chained to the cold floor with nowhere to go but that little faux house. He was abused and used brutally by Yimu, body shaking with pain, unable to move even an inch without feeling himself be ripped apart. In the corner of his eye, he had seen some familiar faces, watching him, almost laughing and giggling as they watched his abuse.

The pain and betrayal.

Those months of physical abuse and mental manipulation. Every word out of Yimu's mouth stabbed Renjun in the heart, engraving a brand forever to remain. Those things about his fiancés, about his family, about his friends. All of it seared into the side of his brain, and Renjun had fully believed it all. He believed every word, every syllable. It was all he heard everyday for eight months while his body was being tortured and ruined.

He remembered laying there after Yimu had left, staring at the ceiling and dreaming. Dreaming about home, about his parents, his fiancés. Dreaming about their abuse and thinking that this would happen to him at home eventually, that this was his ultimate fate.

To be used.

He never thought, in those months, that he would ever see the light of the sun or the comfort of his own bedroom and paintings. He never thought he would be home again.

But, also, he never thought his father would pass.

Renjun fell out of the bed, crawling his way desperately to his medicine cabinet, where he opened a drawer and placed an herb into his mouth, draped tiredly against the wall, out of breath.

Deja vu, wasn't it?

When his anxiety ceased, he found that in his moments of panic, something had dropped from the top of the cabinet, landing in front of his knee.

It was a small drawstring bag, one that was all too familiar to Renjun. When he picked it up, he found that its contents were still there: individual small yet slightly hard pieces. Dried meat, the same ones that Renjun had cured and dried by hand for Xiao Yue.