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201 Perhaps, the Artist Murdered Someone?

    At this moment, Yujia straight-up panicked.

    Zixu fell into her very exhausted arms and Yujia almost toppled over with him from the unexpected impact. The steaming cup of tea he just handed her tipped over, spilling all over her right hand, but Yujia didn't even have time to react. She was too busy trying to keep Zixu propped up.

    "Senior Brother!" she exclaimed, pushing him upwards with both of her hands, trying to shake him as well, "Senior Brother? Zixu? Yu Zixu!"

    He didn't respond. Yujia's arms, which were extended upwards, were getting tired almost immediately.

    "You idiot!" Yujia added loudly, "Clearly you're so sick, so why did you keep denying it?" Her voice dropped to a mutter, "What do you expect me to do now?"

    He still didn't respond- which, thank God. Yujia probably wouldn't dare to insult Yu Zixu when he was conscious. She couldn't imagine calling him an idiot to his face like that. Now was her only chance to do something like this.

    Yujia shook him for another moment, then gave up on trying to wake him. Yujia was now stuck with a very unconscious Zixu.

    She wasn't quite sure what to do, more panic rising up within her. She couldn't just let him drop to the floor. If anyone walked in, the unconscious Zixu on the floor would look more like he just died then and there. Yujia didn't want to come off as a murderer.

    Yujia figured that it would be best to drag Zixu to his bed first. She couldn't keep him propped up any longer- her arms felt like they were going to fall off- so she might as well throw him on his bed.

    Her eyes scanned across the room, locating his bed, which was thankfully in the same room, only a few meters away.

    She cast a look at Zixu's face, with his closed eyes and relaxed expression, wondering how she would do this task. She definitely didn't have the strength to pick him up and lug him over. After all, he was a grown man and she was a frail, sickly, and exhausted weakling. This left her with the option of dragging him.

    "Apologies," Yujia quietly noted for what she was about to do ahead of time, for a reason she wasn't quite sure of. Zixu couldn't hear her, obviously. What point was there in apologizing? Nevertheless, she already said it, so she might as well leave her apology be.

    Then, she lowered Zixu onto the floor as gently as she could.

    She walked to the other side where his feet were, raising him by his shoes and rotating his body to face the direction of the bed. Next, Yujia dragged him slowly across the room by pulling him by his feet, trying to summon all the strength that she possibly could and wincing on the inside.

    When she finally reached the bed, Yujia looked behind at Zixu, taking in his completely messed up hair and wincing more. This must've been the first time that Zixu was ever dragged across a floor. Yujia felt like a murderer dragging a corpse to bury it somewhere discreet.

    She was ever so thankful that Zixu didn't wake up halfway through her dragging. That would've been embarrassing, to say the least.

    Yujia walked back to the side of his head, propping him up to a sitting position. Then, she fit her arms under his, pulling upwards with all her strength to lift him. Once he was up enough, she pushed him onto the bed.

    It was all so awkward. So, so awkward. Why did humans have to be so awkwardly shaped? All the limbs and body mass made it so difficult to move an unconscious person around. Not to mention, with Yujia being as exhausted as she was from a morning of scurrying around the kitchens, she had practically no energy left. By the time that she got Zixu to his bed, she was sweating terribly again.

    The moment she shoved him onto his bed, things became even worse. Yujia had positioned the angle of the push wrongly, and the moment she pushed him, Zixu's head smacked soundly on one of the wooden poles holding up the bed.

    "Oh sh*t."

    Yujia flinched back, staring at the sight in front of her.

    Half of Zixu's body was on the bed. The other half was still slumped over on the floor. The top half that managed to make it on the bed was face-planted down. When Yujia flipped him over with another shove, she noticed that a splotch of red was already appearing on his forehead, clearly a sign of a future bruise. His dark hair was messily tossed over his entire face, and Yujia had to brush it aside in an even sloppier manner to check on his bruise.

    When Yujia stepped back, getting a good look at all of this, she realized that the situation now seemed even more like a murder case.

    Zixu was unconscious. Out of context, he looked dead. Meanwhile, she was standing and staring down at his corpse with a delirious gaze, her eyes so wide that they were about to pop out. Zixu's hair and clothes were a mess from her act of dragging him across the room, and Yujia's sleeves were stained with tea, making it look like a scuffle occured. A big bruise was spreading across Zixu's forehead, seeming like a location of attack.

    Murderer? Yang Yujia.

    Victim? Yu Zixu.

    Weapon? A wooden bed post.

    She started off the morning trying to cook some food for Yu Zixu. Now it looked like she killed him. The irony of the situation was just too good. Despite how exhausted she was, Yujia couldn't hold back a laugh from escaping her.

    Great. She now seemed like a mentally insane killer, laughing at her victim's dead body.

    She stopped herself, deciding to move the rest of Zixu onto the bed. She needed to stop focusing on how awkward this situation was. Since it was just her and a fainted Zixu, no one else in the room, at least all of these actions and appearances would not actually matter. No one could possibly judge her.

    If she didn't make the situation awkward, it wouldn't be awkward. With no one else here, none of the things that Yujia fretted over quite mattered. Find authorized novels in Webnovel,faster updates, better experience,Please click www.webnovel.com  for visiting.

    Yet before Yujia could do anything else, she heard footsteps approaching. She whipped around, hands suspiciously clenched into fists, brows creased, eyes wide.

    It was a servant, carrying a tray with some books stacked atop. Upon entering the room and noticing that his young master wasn't in his usual spot studying, her turned his head in Yujia's direction. His eyes took in the scene in front of him.

    He froze. The tray in his hands clattered to the ground.
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