Chapter 9
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The pinholes were small, and the blood on Han Yun's feet soon stopped.

Seeing Louis cry, a large group of people gathered around to hug him, comfort him, and even called an ambulance. Han Yun suddenly wanted to cry— he was also in pain, and he stepped on the needle.

But no one came to ask him how he was, whether it hurt or not.

He couldn't help thinking that if he was an emperor and was injured, everyone would be nervous about him...

After thinking for a while, Han Yun refused to continue thinking about it, he pressed his own needle-eyed foot with a paper towel, and the more deeply he thought about the matter, the more he felt wronged.

Director Xiu held Louis over his arms and asked him what was going on: "You also have pinholes on your feet?"

Han Yun said: "Some needles were planted on the grass." Louis climbed into his arms and Han Yun grabbed him, but he didn't know how to speak Spanish, nor could he comfort him, but could only touch his head.

Director Xiu's face was dignified.

Han Yun: "I don't know who did it."

Director Xiu: "I know, I will investigate."

The morning and afternoon rehearsal were fine, which means the needle was hidden into the grass during the time before the audience entered, so it is easy to find out who it was by asking who was not there.

There are tons of people who could possibly saw it.

"You don't want to say anything about this first."

Han Yun felt a pain in the soles of his feet, throwing his blood-stained tissue in the trashcan beside him before looking up at Director Xiu: "I won't say anything, but if I don't find out who it is, I'll... call the police."

Perhaps because Han Yun suffered a work-related injury, he was paid 800 more, his feet were so painful that he took a taxi without even attending the celebration banquet.

He happily bought a case of milk downstairs in the neighborhood, limping on his foot as he carried it upstairs, wondering whether it was pain or psychological.

As soon as the elevator arrived, Han Yun felt that the atmosphere on the floor was not right today. It was dark and the lights were not as bright as usual. There was an indescribable sensation... When he reached the door, he saw a black dog lying on his doorway.

The dog is tall and erect, looking like a deer with pointed ears, and its black fur is very shiny. At first glance, one would identity that it's a famous breed, a particularly fierce one, and it exudes a vicious atmosphere.

It's a breed he doesn't know.

Han Yun took a step back quietly, fearing that the dog would come up and bite him.

However, the dog suddenly stood up and walked towards him. He knew he couldn't outrun a dog, and running might anger it so he didn't dare to run, rather he just held the milk on his chest in fear and didn't move a limb.

So full of shit, even afraid of dogs ah.

He was forced to retreat to the wall, and with a loud voice: "I'm warning you, you can't bite me!"

After that, the dog stopped and looked at Han Yun, cocking its head sideways.

... It's still a bit good.

Han Yun was relieved that the big dog was not so terrible at all: "All right, go home to your master, don't let me do it." As he was about to move slowly through the door, the ferocious dog came to him, and Han Yun thought it was really going to bite, but he hung his head low and gently snubbed his legs.

He looked down and saw the dog's black eyes flashing a light of dependence, as if he had found his master.

Han Yun came downstairs and met a poodle peeing next to him in the elevator that day. When he stared at the dog, he shivered. He didn't like dogs very much. There were a lot of beasts in the dog owner's room, but he just takes a look and never touches them.

Oddly enough, every time the ferocious beasts in the dog owner's room see their owner, they're as good as a kitten as the ferocious dog in front of Han Yun.

It's just... looking at this one, especially in the eyes, he has a sense of inexpressible familiarity, which makes him feel soft.

He shook his head helplessly and muttered: "Forget it, I will keep you for one night. Damn, you are huge..."

The dog slapped his legs obediently again.

Han Yun was not happy: "Don't be stingy!"

"Are you hungry?" He opened the door by pressing the password and rushed the dog to the bathroom first: "Will you wash your own feet?"

So the dog put its foot in the basin where Han Yun had not been able to wash and soak his underpants before he went out in the morning, stomped it, stepped on the carpet and wiped it dry.

"... Very smart!" He put down the milk, sitting on a small sofa packed with clothes, taking off his shoes and socks, and looking at his injured foot, he could still see the pinholes, several small red dots, it was aching.

He didn't know what to do, so he put his feet on the coffee table and reached for the TV.

The big dog who had just washed his paws jumped onto the sofa, but Han Yun pushed it down: "Don't come up." The big dog didn't listen and climbed to the sofa, its whole body nested on Han Yun.

When Han Yun caught a whiff of good smell, he stopped: "Well, the shampoo your host used for you is pretty good..."

The dog was so warm that even with the air conditioning turned on in summer, Han Yun was deeply reluctant to embrace the dog he was not familiar with.

However, in terms of its cleanliness and good smell, Han Yun thought that he would have to take a bath anyway, still he didn't move. He casually searched a costume drama channel, holding the big dog in his arms, as if speaking to himself: "You can't find a home, right?"

He looked down at the dog, and the dog looked at him.

The voice of Han Yun was low, with a deep silence, amber eyes falling down as if they were about to cry: "Me too... I can't find a home."

His face was full of grievances. He was miserable. He was lonely and broken that even holding a dog felt a lot warmer.

No wonder, he thought, that in this single apartment building, there are so many people who have dogs, they might be all lonely.

Han Yun couldn't cook, and he forgot to order takeaway. So he drank a few glasses of milk that night, ate a box of soda crackers, and fed the dog some ham sausages. After taking a bath, Han Yun sighed again: "When can this hair grow out!"

He was so sad that his short hair was so ugly that he threw his underpants off in a basin. He was going to wash it tomorrow. He was too lazy to wash them now.

Before he went to bed, he was afraid that the dog would go to his bed so he locked the dog in the bathroom with an exhaust fan inside.

Han Yun felt that it was a miracle that he could live alone.

In the middle of the night, he felt tickled like something licking his injured foot. He slept too well, but he checked it anyways, hugging his quilt without waking up.

Under the moonlight, the big black dog, who was dependent on Han Yun, transformed into a tall figure glistening in strange black smoke. He was naked and magnificent, carrying a lingering evil spirit that could not be dispersed, with two black horns on his head.

For the time being, Fu Yuan has no way to take back the horns. If he wants to approach Han Yun, he can only use this method. When he saw this Han Yun, he knew that this was the person he was looking for.

Sixty or seventy years ago, a war broke out on the ground, and a bomb fell on Mt. Beibei, awakening the sleeping Fu Yuan in the tomb. When he woke up, some memories came back, and the emperor's bones were cold and his soul was gone already.

During these decades, he traveled the world. He wanted to resurrect the little emperor, so he created the same green body as his lifestyle, but when he went to find a person in Yincaodifu¹, the name of Han Yun was not on the book of life and death.

Yincaodifu is the netherworld.

"He didn't reincarnate, I'm afraid his soul is still wandering around."

But Fu Yuan couldn't find him.

More than a decade ago, when archeologists excavated the tomb of the emperor, he moved the entire tomb, along with the mountains, without disturbing anyone else.

He sat by his bed, reaching out to Han Yun's sleeping face that carried a melancholic atmosphere.

Once sleeping was a naive emperor, now he's worried about life.

Feeling his cheeks, Fu Yuan stared at him in the dark, and sighed: "Your Majesty, When I'm not here. How do you take care of yourself?"

Han Yun fell asleep, completely inaudible of his words, and as he rolled over on the bed, it seemed that the air conditioner was turned on too low, which made him cold, and he muttered in his sleep: "Cold..."

Fu Yuan paused, lifted the quilt and embraced him with his arms.

In his dream, Han Yun returned to his palace.

It was his third year as an emperor, and he felt cold and extremely ill. He kept coughing on the dragon bed in a weak state.

The royal doctor took turns to diagnose his pulse and prescribe medicines. He drank the astringent medicine for half a month, and his body still didn't improve. As a result, Han Yun secretly poured out the medicine and refused to take another sip.

He thought he was going to follow the footsteps of the prince, living his life before he could even sit down on the throne. His heart was sad- he had not even had time to have a baby.

That night, a lot of snow fell in the palace. The doors and windows were closed. The wind fluttered on the window paper, and the eunuch reported: "Your Majesty, the National Teacher is outside the Weiyang Palace." When Han Yun opened his eyes half-heartedly, he moved his fingertips weakly and spit out in a hoarse voice, "Pass."

Han Yun has been in a state of disfavor for half a month, but he has not even been able to catch fire. He had no strength to get angry.

When Fu Yuan came in, he was wrapped in snow and wind, and the coldness made Han Yun wrap the quilt tightly.

As soon as the teacher came in, he immediately noticed that the hall was abnormally stuffy, making it difficult for him to breathe, and the little emperor on the dragon bed was flushed and abnormally red.

Han Yun waved his hand and motioned to all the servants to step down. He watched the tall figure approaching from a distance.

Fu Yuan came to the dragon bed and asked Han Yun: "Why didn't your Majesty open the window?"

With no strength, Han Yun gave up his plan to sit down, and his eyes, blinded by illness, stared at the teacher and swallowed: "Imperial Doctor... don't let myself be blow by the wind."

His voice was hoarse and his nose was stuffy.

The teacher scoffed at the foolish remark and marched toward the window, pushing open the two windows with his hands, and the winter's hunting wind poured in.

Han Yun shuddered in the duvet slightly, muttering: "Cold, cold..."

"Cold?" Fu Yuan approached closer, almost reaching the eyes of the little emperor. Han Yun looked up at him and saw a pair of ice-cold eyes gazed down at themselves, but there was a kind of love that Han Yun had only seen in the eyes of his mother and concubines.

Han Yun's heart moved, and nodded poorly, saying that he was cold.

Then, Fu Yuan made an unexpected move for Han Yun. He sat on the bedside, reached into the little emperor's bed, and grabbed his hand.

Han Yun was horrified, eyes widening: "Bold!"

However, because of his illness, he was unable to deter himself, and he was like a poor and lovely sick ghost, only causing Fu Yuan to laugh and to recite in his warm voice: "Is Your Majesty still cold?"

The teacher, oddly enough, had just come from the wind and snow, but he seemed warmer than the dragon, which was burned in the Central Palace. It was warm instead of hot, which made Han Yun feel comfortable for a long time, as if the pain on his body suddenly disappeared.

But how did the minister make such a thing to the emperor?

Han Yun's face was abnormally red, and he wanted to pull out his own hands, but he was far less powerful than Fu Yuan. He coughed, "Let go of me!"

The teacher held him in his hand and did not speak, let alone let him go.

Han Yun simply didn't care about it. He pulled his eyelids because of drowsiness and raised his eyes as he remembered something and asked him: "Ai Qing² came late at night, what's the matter?"

Ai Qing, a nickname for Fu Yuan, since they are "close friends."

The eyes of Fu Yuan were born with a kind of rampant murder. So everyone is afraid of him, including the former Han Yun. However, he always seemed to smile before the little emperor. Every time he smiles, it makes Han Yun less afraid of him.

"Nothing," he said, then Fu Yuan lowered his voice, "Warming the bed for His Majesty."

-

The author has something to say: The Dog Emperor cp is out!

PS: FY is rich, but he can't take off his horns, for the time being he could only take the form of a dog hahahaha, and he's not a dog, he's not a dragon, he's a kind of monster with a dragon horn, you can guess.

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