C141 — Kill the Top Scorer（8）

Even though he complained, he still had to serve in the emperor’s presence. After all, the other party was the Son of Heaven, while they were merely subjects.

After bathing, Shi Ji went over with a dark expression. By nightfall, the Imperial Guards accompanying them had already set up the tents, with the emperor’s tent situated at the very center. Just as Shi Ji arrived, an eunuch stopped him.

The eunuch bowed and said, “Lord Shi, please come with this servant to change into new attire.”

“Change? Change into what?” Shi Ji frowned. It was then that he learned Shen Jue disliked the roughness of his clothing and had specifically ordered him to change. Unlike the meticulous Wen Yurong, Shi Ji never cared about the quality of his clothes. As long as they were wearable, that was enough.

Since there was no court session or battle, he had simply worn his usual everyday attire—only to be rejected.

When changing clothes, Shi Ji’s expression turned even darker, and the nearby palace attendants didn’t dare to make a sound. His grandfather was a minister who had served three reigns, his father was a highly decorated general, and even Shi Ji himself held military merits. If anyone had the ability to wear a sour expression, it was him.

Before entering the emperor’s tent, Shi Ji took a deep breath, forcing away his foul mood. He strode in and was immediately hit by the intense warmth inside.

Yet despite the heat, the person curled up under the blankets seemed unaffected, his face pale, his lips even more colorless.

“Come here.”

As soon as Shi Ji entered, Shen Jue spoke.

Shi Ji hesitated for a moment before reluctantly moving closer. The moment he sat on the bed, he was pulled into an embrace. His brow twitched as he lowered his gaze to the sickly emperor who had burrowed into his arms.

“Your Majesty.”

“Hmm?”

Finally holding onto his personal heater, Shen Jue felt like he was alive again. When would summer arrive?

“How long does Your Majesty plan to hold onto this subject? So I can be mentally prepared.”

Resting his face against Shi Ji’s chest, Shen Jue replied tiredly, “Naturally, the whole night. What, you don’t want to?”

I don’t.

Shi Ji tugged at the corner of his lips. “No.” After a pause, he added, “Then may this subject adjust his position a little?”

“Mm.” Shen Jue agreed.

Shi Ji, with his considerable strength, directly lifted Shen Jue off of him, sat up, and stripped down to his inner garments. In truth, he wanted to take those off as well, but fearing the emperor’s wandering hands, he reluctantly kept them on.

After undressing, he loosened his hair before lying back down on the bed.

Once settled, he reached out, pulled Shen Jue forward, and firmly pressed his head back against his chest.

Shen Jue frowned at the forcefulness. “Shi Ji!”

Shi Ji released his grip. “This subject is strong. If I have offended Your Majesty, I ask for forgiveness.”

Shen Jue stared at him for a long moment before finally lying back down. He even pulled the blanket higher, wrapping himself up completely, leaving only a few strands of hair exposed.

Shi Ji rested his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. Having spent years in the military, he had slept in all kinds of places—except an imperial bed. This one was ridiculously soft. The person on top of him was even softer.

He sneered inwardly. How could someone this weak become emperor? He could probably kill him with a single punch. If Shen Jue weren’t the emperor, he would’ve flipped out long ago. And yet, here he was, letting this fragile thing lie on top of him. Hmph.

Shen Jue, eyes closed, had much simpler thoughts.

The bear beneath him was really warm.

Compared to Shen Jue’s comfort, Shi Ji felt rather uncomfortable. But he endured it. And as he endured, he eventually fell asleep.

Until the next morning.

He was used to waking up early. The moment he moved, he heard a muffled grunt from above him.

Hearing that sound, Shi Ji wasn’t fully awake yet, but his body stiffened as he realized there was a weight pressing down on him. Before he even recalled what that weight was, he shifted slightly, his waist instinctively arching upward.

It was only after that movement that Shi Ji suddenly remembered where he was—and what was on top of him.

His expression changed slightly as he looked down. Under the blanket, a head slowly emerged.

The owner of that head seemed furious, his eyes burning with rage. “Shi Ji! You’re being insolent.”

Perhaps because he had slept well, Shen Jue’s complexion looked much healthier today, for the first time carrying a natural flush on his cheeks.

Shi Ji furrowed his brows and said helplessly, “Your Majesty, this is a normal reaction for men. It happens every morning. This subject can’t control it.”

Shen Jue hadn’t expected this man to be so shameless. He didn’t even bother to show respect to the emperor, speaking so bluntly about such things. Shen Jue gritted his teeth, attempting to get up, but he had spent the entire night lying on top of Shi Ji in the same position. His body was stiff from sleep. As he tried to rise, he staggered—and fell again, his hand pressing down directly onto—

Shi Ji: “!!!”

He sucked in a sharp breath.

Fortunately, Shen Jue’s limbs were weak, and he didn’t have much strength. But that only made it worse, because—

Shi Ji’s lips trembled. Just a moment ago, he had been speaking so self-assuredly, but now his face drained of all color.

Shen Jue seemed to realize something as well. He lifted his gaze, his expression shifting into something indescribable.

A moment later, Shi Ji took a slap to the face.

Then he was kicked off the bed.

“Get out!”

Shi Ji obediently rolled off. Before leaving, he didn’t forget to grab his outer robe. As he stepped out of the tent, he hastily tied the robe around his waist in an attempt to cover up his predicament. When the palace attendants along the way greeted him with bows, he merely waved his hand dismissively.

When he finally saw the attendant assigned to him, he lowered his voice. “Prepare water for me. Cold water is fine.”

Damn it. Today was a complete disaster.

—

Wen Yurong observed Shi Ji, who kept alternating between blushing and turning pale, and asked with some suspicion, “What’s wrong with you?”

Shi Ji had been staring out the carriage window. Hearing Wen Yurong’s question, he refused to turn his head. “Nothing.”

A flicker of thought flashed through Wen Yurong’s eyes. “You didn’t train today.”

“Ah, I was too tired. Besides, we have to keep moving, so there’s no time for training.” Shi Ji coughed and then fanned himself with his hand.

“Really?” Wen Yurong glanced at the movement. “Are you feeling hot? Why don’t you take off your outer robe?”

“No! No need!” Shi Ji seemed to think of something and refused immediately, his face tinged with an odd flush.

—

For the entire day, Shen Jue did not summon Shi Ji to serve him again.

It wasn’t until nightfall, when the traveling party finally stopped to rest and set up camp, that one of Shen Jue’s personal attendants approached Wen Yurong and Shi Ji’s carriage.

“Lord Wen, Lord Shi.” The palace attendant greeted them with a bow.

“What is it?” Shi Ji recognized the eunuch—it was the same one who had forced him to change clothes the night before. He raised his chin slightly. “Is His Majesty calling for me?”

The eunuch forced a polite smile. “No, His Majesty has invited Lord Wen for dinner.”

Shi Ji glanced at Wen Yurong beside him, looking awkward. “Oh? Nothing to do with me, then. I’ll go for a walk. Sitting in the carriage all day made my legs stiff.”

Once Shi Ji had left, Wen Yurong nodded at the palace attendant. “Then I’ll trouble you to lead the way.”

Wen Yurong’s expression remained unchanged as he gracefully took his seat and reached for the roasted lamb leg.

Shen Jue knew perfectly well that Wen Yurong despised lamb. Yet, he watched as Wen Yurong silently ate every last bite without the slightest flicker of hesitation. Finally, a faint smile surfaced on Shen Jue’s face.

“Watching you eat gives me an appetite,” he remarked lightly before turning to a nearby eunuch. “Clear the table. Oh, and take this bowl of soup to Shi Ji—tell him to drink it for nourishment.”

After issuing his orders, Shen Jue turned back to Wen Yurong. “Bathe and then come see me again.”

“…Yes.”

Wen Yurong bowed before leaving.

The moment he stepped out of the tent, his hand flew to his mouth. He walked a fair distance away from the camp before doubling over, retching violently until every last bit of lamb meat was expelled from his stomach.

—

Meanwhile, on Shi Ji’s side, he glanced at the porcelain bowl placed in front of him, raising an eyebrow. “An imperial reward?”

As he lifted the lid, his expression darkened.

Inside the bowl floated a very… special ingredient.

Shi Ji: “…”

The eunuch beside him smiled awkwardly. “His Majesty instructed that I can only return once the bowl is empty.”

Shi Ji’s face turned a shade darker. Without a word, he picked up a pair of jade chopsticks, fished out the offensive ingredient, and unceremoniously dropped it into an empty bowl on the side. Then, with a deep breath, he lifted the soup bowl and downed its contents in one go.

“Done,” he declared, showing the eunuch the empty bowl.

The eunuch’s gaze flicked to the untouched ingredient in the side bowl. He said nothing.

Shi Ji: “…”

Damn it. Did he actually have to eat that thing?!

…Forget it.

Letting out a heavy breath, he picked up the chopsticks again, clamped down on the thing, and bit into it with a loud crunch.

The eunuch watched with something akin to admiration in his eyes.

Only after Shi Ji finished chewing and swallowing did the eunuch let out a relieved sigh. “Since Lord Shi has finished his meal, I shall return and report back.”

Shi Ji grabbed the eunuch’s sleeve before he could leave. “Hold it. Since I’ve finished eating, go ask His Majesty—what’s my reward?”

The next day, his reward arrived.

Another bowl of the same damn soup.

—

Having purged his stomach completely, Wen Yurong took three full baths and rinsed his mouth seven or eight times before finally dressing and heading toward Shen Jue’s tent.

Upon entering, he was surprised to find that Shen Jue wasn’t lying in bed but rather seated on a chair, a book in hand.

Though winter had passed, Shen Jue was still wrapped in a thick fox fur coat, the red fur collar framing his pale face and making him look slightly less sickly.

“Yurong, come here and take a look at this for me.”

Wen Yurong, dressed in flowing silver robes, exuded an ethereal grace—like a celestial being bathed in moonlight.

Unfortunately, Shen Jue spared him only a brief glance before returning his gaze to the book.

After bowing, Wen Yurong stepped forward and peered at the passage Shen Jue was reading.

The moment he registered the text, a faint flush crept onto his pale cheeks.

Shen Jue’s voice was calm, almost teasing. “Explain this passage to me.”

Shen Jue never expected that the ever-eloquent top scholar, a man who could argue circles around scholars in the academy, would be rendered speechless by a mere passage in a book.

Wen Yurong’s usually composed expression was betrayed by the creeping flush on his cheeks. His lips parted, but no words came out for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a murmur.

Shen Jue listened, blinking in mild surprise. “I never knew the Buddhist path had such methods of cultivation. This ‘Joyous Buddha’ doctrine is quite… interesting.”

With that, he reached out, grasped Wen Yurong’s wrist, and pulled him onto his lap.

However, Shen Jue had clearly overestimated his own strength. As soon as Wen Yurong’s weight pressed down on him, pain shot through his body, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

Wen Yurong was mortified. He immediately scrambled to stand up, his hands hovering as if unsure where to place them. “Your Majesty, I must have been too heavy—did I hurt you?”

Shen Jue was indeed in pain, but since he had already started this charade, he refused to let it end so anticlimactically. Enduring the discomfort, he stood up, then pulled Wen Yurong over to the bed. This time, he climbed on first before settling down.

“Is it supposed to be like this?”

Wen Yurong hesitated for a moment before adjusting their posture with the utmost seriousness. He placed his hands under Shen Jue’s hips, lifting him slightly before crossing his legs and pulling Shen Jue firmly against him. Their chests pressed together.

“This is the correct position.”

It had to be said—when Wen Yurong was serious, he was meticulous to the extreme, unwilling to allow even the slightest deviation.

Unfortunately, this level of precision only served to make the situation all the more awkward. Their breaths mingled in the too-close proximity, the tension growing unbearable.

Shen Jue sat stiffly for a moment before deciding he’d had enough. He shifted as if to get up—only for his legs to betray him.

His knees buckled, and he promptly collapsed back down.

Wen Yurong, who had been holding himself together up until now, felt his forehead break out into a thin layer of sweat.

 

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