C139 — Kill the Top Scorer（6）

Shen Jue didn’t seem to notice anything unusual, but Wen Yurong’s expression was already somewhat awkward. Still, reminding himself that they were both men, he forcibly suppressed the discomfort in his heart.

Shen Jue had only sat up to pour himself some water. He leaned forward, struggling to reach the small table beside him. His fingers barely grasped the teapot, but his hands trembled uncontrollably. The moment he left Wen Yurong’s embrace, the cold instantly wrapped around him again.

Annoyed, he let go of the teapot and immediately pressed himself back against Wen Yurong, his body trembling like a sieve.

Wen Yurong had already noticed what Shen Jue was trying to do. After a brief pause, he spoke softly, “Your Majesty, allow me to pour the water for you.”

However, Shen Jue didn’t loosen his grip. Wen Yurong glanced down slightly and saw that the emperor, nestled in his arms, had already closed his eyes. His long lashes trembled, as if he were still too cold.

With no other choice, Wen Yurong had to keep one arm wrapped around Shen Jue while using the other to carefully sit up and pour the water. It was an arduous process, making him realize for the first time that serving someone wasn’t an easy task.

He brought the cup back and looked at Shen Jue, whose eyes remained tightly shut. His voice was gentle as he said, “Your Majesty, the water is ready.”

Shen Jue weakly opened his eyes and focused on the cup in Wen Yurong’s hand before reaching out to take it. But the moment he held it, his fingers trembled so violently that he couldn’t even support the weight of a simple water cup.

Seeing the water spill onto the carpet, Wen Yurong had no choice but to take the cup back. “Allow me to serve Your Majesty.”

He brought the cup to Shen Jue’s lips.

At that moment, their positions were rather intimate—Wen Yurong was half-sitting, half-lying against the carriage wall, while Shen Jue curled up in his embrace, wrapped in thick blankets.

Shen Jue had wanted to drink on his own, but his frail body simply wouldn’t allow it. Left with no choice, he drank directly from the cup Wen Yurong held.

His lips pressed against the rim, slowly taking in the hot water.

Despite being chilled to the bone, Shen Jue’s throat was parched from the overwhelming heat in the carriage. After finishing one cup, he still felt unsatisfied. Licking his lips, he lifted his gaze toward Wen Yurong.

“More…”

His voice was weak, so he kept it short.

But it was too short. It sounded… peculiar.

Especially since, in his current state, Shen Jue didn’t resemble an emperor at all. His long hair cascaded down his back, partially covering his pale, almost bloodless face, making it appear no larger than a palm. His phoenix eyes, inherited from Tong Meng’er, had lost their usual sharpness, replaced with a fragile, unfocused gaze. The only bit of color on him came from his lips, which had been tinted a soft red from the heat of the water.

If not for the bright yellow robes embroidered with dragon patterns—clothing that only one person in the world was permitted to wear—one might have mistaken him for an escaped courtesan from some pleasure house.

Yet upon closer inspection, no such mistake could be made. That natural air of nobility in his features was not something an ordinary household, let alone a brothel, could ever cultivate.

Wen Yurong quickly withdrew his gaze and poured him a second cup.

Shen Jue drank three full cups before finally quenching his thirst. Then, satisfied, he nestled back into Wen Yurong’s arms.

But while Shen Jue was comfortable, Wen Yurong was suffering.

A healthy man like him could hardly tolerate the stifling heat inside the carriage. As time passed, sweat began to form on his back. The only relief came from the icy figure in his embrace.

He endured it for as long as he could, but when beads of sweat finally formed on his forehead, he couldn’t help but speak.

“Your Majesty, this humble servant is feeling rather hot. May I remove my outer robe?”

Shen Jue agreed, and only then did Wen Yurong get up to remove his outer robe. But even after shedding it, he still felt unbearably hot, so he took off his middle garment as well before lying back down.

The emperor in his arms, warmed by the contact, gradually fell into a deep sleep, while Wen Yurong, now serving as a human cushion, simply stared at the ceiling of the carriage in a daze.

He had memorized the Four Books and Five Classics, passed the imperial examination as the top scholar, and yet, in the end, he had become nothing more than a human bed warmer. The absurdity of it all left him feeling both amused and helpless.

From that night onward, Wen Yurong had to report to Shen Jue’s carriage daily. Eventually, he even started spending his nights there.

The palace attendants serving Shen Jue all knew exactly why Wen Yurong was there. They had long grown accustomed to it. So even when they came in to change the tea or replace the warming stones, they remained unfazed at the sight of their emperor curled up in the top scholar’s embrace like a boneless serpent.

However, Wen Yurong himself still found it rather awkward.

He was only supposed to be Shen Jue’s reading companion. How had he ended up as his bed warmer? And not just occasionally—he was warming the emperor’s bed day and night.

Two grown men constantly tangled together—what kind of situation was this?

Wen Yurong couldn’t help but think that if his former classmates from the academy saw him now, they would certainly tease him endlessly.

Yet, after so much close contact, Wen Yurong had made a surprising discovery—Shen Jue’s skin was truly delicate.

Just how delicate?

If Wen Yurong applied even the slightest pressure, a red mark would appear. If he pressed any harder, it would likely bruise.

All in all, the emperor in his arms was both precious and fragile.

He was sickly, yet his temper was terrible. Wen Yurong thought to himself that it was fortunate Shen Jue had been born into the imperial family. Otherwise, how could any ordinary household possibly afford to raise such a person?

When they finally arrived at the Southern Palace, Wen Yurong was freed from his duty.

The weather in the Southern Palace was much warmer than in the capital, resembling early autumn rather than winter. With the added benefit of hot springs, Shen Jue no longer needed Wen Yurong to keep him warm.

But with that change, Wen Yurong suddenly found that he no longer saw Shen Jue.

It wasn’t until winter arrived in the Southern Palace as well that he finally met him again.

And every time he saw Shen Jue, the emperor was either reclining listlessly or bundled up in thick layers, his face perpetually pale, his lips so colorless they nearly blended into his skin.

Today was no different.

Though Shen Jue had been soaking in the hot springs daily, his body remained frail, and his energy never seemed to recover. Even though he took his medicine on time, it was barely keeping him alive.

Unlike his previous lives, in this one, he didn’t have the luxury of time. His body was too weak, so he couldn’t afford to leave Wen Yurong idle for too long.

“Minister Wen, come here.”

Shen Jue’s voice was soft as he looked at Wen Yurong, who was standing a distance away.

Wen Yurong bowed his head and stepped forward until he was right before Shen Jue.

Shen Jue coughed twice before continuing, “Serving as my reading companion is truly a waste of your talents. Is there something you’d rather be doing?”

Wen Yurong was momentarily taken aback by the question but quickly composed himself.

“Your Majesty flatters me. This humble servant possesses no great talents. To be able to accompany Your Majesty is already my greatest honor.”

Shen Jue fell silent at that response.

In truth, he had no idea what Wen Yurong actually wanted. But since Wen Yurong had taken the imperial exam, he must have ambitions of becoming an official.

He would have to think on it further.

“For now, stay and have a meal with me,” Shen Jue said, ordering the attendants to prepare a seat.

As the emperor, Shen Jue had access to out-of-season fruits even in the dead of winter. However, he could barely eat much himself.

Meanwhile, Wen Yurong sat beside him, feeling restrained and hesitant to move. The atmosphere between them was stiflingly awkward.

Just then, a hurried figure entered the room.

“Your Majesty, this servant has a report.”

A palace attendant knelt on the floor.

“Speak,” Shen Jue responded lazily.

“Minister Shi has arrived. He is currently waiting outside the palace gates.”

TN:

DRAMMAAAAAA 🤭