Fated | Fangs Of Fortune [ZhuYi]

Chapter 15 : The Idol, The Fanboy and The Demon

As the sky turned dark, two figures trudged along the dirt path toward a small wooden clinic. One supported the other, who was clearly injured and swaying dangerously on his feet, looking ready to pass out at any moment.

"Help! Help! He's going to die!" yelled the uninjured man dramatically.

The injured one groaned in irritation. "Tone it down, will you?" he muttered, glaring.

"Zhuo Daren, we have to look convincing" the other whispered back with an infuriating smirk. Then he raised his voice to an almost comical pitch. "H-E-L-P!"

Yichen winced, his eyebrows furrowing in annoyance. "You're making it worse" he hissed.

The clinic door creaked open, revealing a young boy dressed in a vibrant green robe. A small bell dangled from his hair, jingling softly with his movements. If the two strangers hadn't already known the physician was a boy, they might have mistaken him for a girl.

"What's wrong? Bring him in quickly!" The boy flung the door wide open, stepping aside to let them through.

Without hesitation, Zhu Yan half-dragged, half-flopped Yichen onto a bed inside the clinic. The small space was thick with the smell of herbs and incense, a mix that made Zhu Yan wrinkle his nose in distaste.

"What happened?" the young physician asked as he rushed over, placing two fingers against Yichen's wrist to check his pulse.

"He's poi--" Zhu Yan said casually, only to have the kid cut him off.

"What kind of poison? Never mind—I know! Wait here, I'll get the cure." The boy darted toward a cluttered table covered in strange equipment and jars of powdered medicine.

Zhu Yan glanced at Yichen, his brow furrowed. "Why does he ask questions if he's just going to answer them himself?"

Yichen shot him a glare that clearly said, Shut Up.

Moments later the kid returned, carrying a small bowl filled with a murky liquid. "Help your brother sit up" he said briskly, glancing at Zhu Yan.

"Brother?" Zhu Yan repeated, his voice thick with indignation.

Yichen glared at him again, as if daring him to argue.

Grumbling under his breath, Zhu Yan helped prop Yichen up, not without a dramatic sigh. The physician carefully tipped the liquid into Yichen's mouth, watching him swallow it slowly.

As Yichen leaned back onto the bed, the boy turned to Zhu Yan, grabbing his wrist. "Now, let me check you."

"Me?" Zhu Yan blinked, thoroughly confused.

The kid's fingers pressed lightly on his wrist, and suddenly his eyes widened. "You're not human!" he squeaked, his voice climbing several octaves. "You're a demon!"

Yichen's head snapped up just as Zhu Yan opened his mouth to reply, but neither got the chance to speak before the kid let out an ear-piercing scream—and promptly fainted.

There was a stunned silence as both men stared at the unconscious boy.

"This is your fault" Yichen said flatly, glaring at Zhu Yan.

"My fault?" Zhu Yan retorted, looking genuinely offended. "He screamed and passed out on his own! I didn't even do anything."

Yichen groaned, swinging his legs off the bed and kneeling beside the boy. "Help me get him onto the bed."

"You can't do it yourself?" Zhu Yan asked, smirking.

Yichen shot him another withering glare. "I'm poisoned. And I just drank who-knows-what. Pick him up."