He furrowed his brow. “Where’s the servant responsible for the incense?”

“Dead,” Xuan Qi replied curtly.

Fu Jing’s heart dropped. “What?!”

“He fucked up, so I killed him.”

Fu Jing gaped at Xuan Qi in disbelief. The demon spoke as though this was as mundane and common as drinking tea.

“You can’t be serious! He did nothing wrong—I tricked him!”

At Fu Jing’s incredulous voice, Xuan Qi’s gaze snapped down, sharp as a blade, glaring right back at him.

“Listen, human,” he said, his tone dangerously calm. “If someone makes a mistake, they have to face the consequences. I have no room for failures.”

Fu Jing’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening in horror.

There it was again, the emotion he thought he’d overcome: Fear.

He stared at the kneeling servants, his heart heavy with guilt, grief, and an overwhelming sense of powerlessness. His fingers trembled as they dug into the fabric of Xuan Qi’s vest. He pressed his head against the demon’s bare chest.

“This isn’t fair…” he said in a choked voice.

“Life rarely is.”

Fu Jing shook his head as broken sobs escaped him. The nausea in his stomach abruptly worsened.

Once they’d reached the bedroom, Xuan Qi dropped Fu Jing onto the bed, where Fu Jing immediately curled up like a foetus.

Xuan Qi stepped out of the room, only to return a minute later, carrying a wooden basin filled with water, and a fresh cloth. He placed them on the bedside table next to Fu Jing. “Clean up.”

Fu Jing scowled at the basin before shoving it off the table. The water splashed across the floor, the bowl clattering loudly against the marble stone.

He didn’t care. He’d rather feel dirty than obey a single one of this bastard’s commands.

After his act of defiance, Fu Jing turned his back on Xuan Qi.

Xuan Qi didn’t say a word. Instead, his unwavering gaze rested on Fu Jing for a long, silent moment before he walked out.

The instant the door clicked shut, it was as if a dam burst inside Fu Jing. All his emotions came crashing down at once—the shame, the guilt, the helplessness. The fear, the anger, the despair. The contempt.

All of it.

Fu Jing didn’t know when Xuan Qi would come back, but he couldn’t hold it back any longer. His whole body was shaking as sobs wracked through him. The demon had seen him in far worse states, so what if he bawled like a baby now?

Hugging himself tightly, Fu Jing cried without restraint, letting it all out. The pain, the sorrow, the frustration and the fury that had clogged his heart.

He’d come so far. Why wouldn’t that stupid demon let him go? He didn’t want to be here anymore. He couldn’t take it anymore. He hated it here.

He hated this bed, this palace, and most of all, he hated this demon and his stupid, arbitrary rules.

He wished he could burn it all to the ground. He wished he hadn’t been so foolish as to fall for the demon’s childish provocation. That he hadn’t come here in the first place.

He should’ve listened to the warnings of his companions.

He regretted every decision he’d made leading up to this point.

He just wanted to go home.