C142 — Kill the Top Scorer（9)

“Y-Your Majesty…”

Wen Yurong’s voice carried an indescribable pain. He bent slightly at the waist but still knew he couldn’t let Shen Jue fall, so he firmly supported Shen Jue’s waist with his hands.

Shen Jue cast his gaze downward, seeming to understand something. Lifting his head, he looked at the young man before him, whose features were as delicate as jade. Shen Jue leaned in closer, narrowing the distance between them.

“Wen Aiqing.” He softly called out the other’s name.

“Your humble servant is here.” Wen Yurong was drenched in cold sweat, and his jade-like face tinged with a camellia-red blush, appeared even more stunning.

A cold hand quietly caressed that flawless face. Shen Jue lowered his voice further, “Aiqing, as the ancient saying goes, ‘Under heaven, all land belongs to the king.’ What about people?”

Wen Yurong’s gaze flickered slightly. He lowered his long lashes and answered softly, “In the lands, all are the king’s subjects.”

Hearing this answer, Shen Jue seemed quite satisfied. He let out a chuckle and pinched the top scholar’s cheek. “Gu sees that Shi Ji is quite the resilient one. Tell me, if Gu were to favor him, what then?”

[TN: Gu — an imperial pronoun used by emperors referring to themselves]

Such crude words; it was utterly indecent.

Wen Yurong had lived twenty years, and no one had ever dared to say such vulgarities in front of him. But this was the ruler of a nation speaking. He pursed his lips together, steadied his heart, and finally said, “Your humble servant does not know. However, Young General Shi is a commander of the nation. His father and grandfather have rendered immense service to Da Wei. If Your Majesty were to indulge in personal pleasure and turn Young General Shi into a mere plaything, toying with him in bed, it may damage Your Majesty’s reputation.”

As soon as he finished speaking, he heard Shen Jue laugh.

“Reputation? What reputation do I have? In the eyes of you people, I am nothing more than a foolish tyrant.”

Saying this, he suddenly reached out, pressing down on Wen Yurong’s shoulders and forcing him onto the bed. “Gu plays with whomever Gu wishes. Wen Yurong, if you wish to plead for Shi Ji, why don’t you take his place?”

Shen Jue gazed down at Wen Yurong, his eyes filled with mockery.

Wen Yurong’s lips trembled slightly, his jet-black eyes fixed on Shen Jue, as if deep in thought.

Shen Jue stared at him for a long while before pushing himself up. He turned his back to Wen Yurong. “Gu won’t force you. If you leave now, go call Shi Ji over.”

Time trickled by, and just as Shen Jue was about to lose patience, Wen Yurong finally climbed up from the bed. With a heavy thud, he knelt on the floor, his head bowed low. “Your Majesty, this humble servant… this humble servant…”

He struggled for half the night but couldn’t form a complete sentence.

Shen Jue turned back to look at him. After a moment, he reached out and stroked Wen Yurong’s head. “Have you made up your mind?”

Wen Yurong clenched his teeth before nodding firmly.

But just as he did, he heard Shen Jue laugh again.

“Wen Aiqing, it’s getting late. You may leave.” Shen Jue’s tone carried a hint of amusement.

Wen Yurong froze for a moment. He forgot his manners and lifted his head directly. “But… Your Majesty…”

Shen Jue lowered his gaze and stared at him. “But what? Gu was merely testing your loyalty. Did you truly think Gu was some desire-driven fiend?”

The red hue drained from Wen Yurong’s face. After that, he didn’t even know how he left.

When he saw Shi Ji being led into Shen Jue’s quarters by palace attendants, his steps halted involuntarily.

Shi Ji also noticed Wen Yurong. He seemed puzzled by Wen Yurong’s expression and hesitated as if wanting to approach him. But the attendants urged him forward, leaving him with no choice but to frown and continue on.

…

Outside the tent, Shi Ji waited until he heard the summons before bending slightly and stepping inside.

He saw Shen Jue already nestled under the blankets. After bowing, he was granted permission to rise and, without further hesitation, began to undress.

Shen Jue narrowed his eyes at Shi Ji. “You wouldn’t still… tomorrow, would you—”

Before he could finish speaking, Shi Ji assumed he understood and responded with a serious expression, “That will never happen again.”

However, they were not talking about the same thing.

The next morning, Shen Jue was furious and once again kicked Shi Ji off the bed. Though Shi Ji’s face flushed slightly, he actually felt relieved—at least this time, he hadn’t lost control.

Yesterday must have been because he’d been holding back for too long.

Fortunately, within two days, they arrived in the capital. As soon as they entered the city, Shen Jue’s imperial carriage went straight into the palace, while Wen Yurong and Shi Ji were sent back to their respective residences.

For the next half a month, they received no summons to enter the palace. It was only after Wen Yurong inquired through his father that he learned Shen Jue had fallen ill just days after returning to the capital—so ill that he couldn’t even get out of bed. In the past few days, the Empress Dowager’s eyes had been swollen from crying.

“Yurong, submit a memorial and request an audience to visit His Majesty in the palace,” the Prime Minister instructed.

Shen Jue’s illnesses were nothing new, but recently, Tong Meng’er’s mood had been especially unusual. She even seemed distracted when they discussed state affairs. The Prime Minister suspected that Shen Jue might not make it through this spring.

If that were the case, they needed to anticipate Tong Meng’er’s next move.

Shen Jue had no children of his own, meaning an heir would have to be adopted from another branch of the Shen imperial family. Among the former emperor’s surviving sons, only Prince Yong remained—but he had long since lost his sanity. Though Prince Yong had a few children, only the eldest son was somewhat accomplished, while the rest were utterly mediocre.

However, it was unlikely that Tong Meng’er would accept the eldest son. After all, he was already sixteen.

The previous emperor also had a few surviving brothers, currently residing in their fiefdoms. If news of Shen Jue’s failing health spread, they would surely start making their moves.

From the Prime Minister’s perspective, the best course of action was to adopt Prince Yong’s eldest son. Prince Yong was the former emperor’s son, had he not gone mad, the throne never would have fallen to Shen Jue in the first place.

Upon hearing that Shen Jue was gravely ill and listening to his father’s words, Wen Yurong immediately understood the Prime Minister’s intentions. Everyone knew that Shen Jue would eventually have to adopt an heir, as Tong Meng’er had never allowed a formal imperial selection for consorts. With an empty harem, there was no way for him to father a prince.

This was also why the court had begrudgingly tolerated Tong Meng’er and her son for so long. The moment Shen Jue died, Tong Meng’er’s power would inevitably be handed over. The ministers had never respected her background, and for them, restoring imperial authority to its proper lineage was the only rightful course.

Back then, the Prime Minister had actually supported Prince Yong. But when Prince Yong lost his mind, he had no choice but to shift his focus. Once Wen Yurong was appointed as Shen Jue’s study companion, the Prime Minister instructed him to serve attentively—if he could persuade Shen Jue to adopt Prince Yong’s eldest son, it would be ideal.

Meanwhile, Shi Haoran held a different view. As far as Wen Yurong knew, Shi Haoran favored the eldest grandson of King Jinling, one of the former emperor’s brothers.

In the end, it was pitiful. To the ministers of court, Tong Meng’er and Shen Jue were nothing more than imposters in royal robes, propped up by the former emperor’s favor. No one expected them to sit on the throne for long. They only hoped that before they were removed, they wouldn’t throw the empire into chaos.

…

Early the next morning, Wen Yurong submitted a memorial. It wasn’t until the afternoon that he was granted permission to enter the palace.

Upon arrival, he was led to Shen Jue’s bedchamber. Before he could even greet anyone, he heard the sound of fabric rustling behind the beaded curtain.

Tong Meng’er stepped out from behind the curtain. “Wen Yurong, you’ve come to see Jue’er?”

Wen Yurong lifted his robes and knelt. “Your humble servant greets the Empress Dowager. May Your Majesty live for a thousand years.” After a pause, he added, “As His Majesty’s study companion, I have been remiss in my duties. Upon hearing of His Majesty’s illness, I took the liberty of submitting a request for an audience, hoping to offer whatever meager assistance I can to His Majesty and Your Majesty.”

Tong Meng’er’s eyes were indeed swollen and red, just as the Prime Minister had said. She hadn’t even applied any makeup; her bare face looked both haggard and worn.

“You’re a considerate child, knowing to care for your master. Go in and see Jue’er.”

As she spoke Shen Jue’s name, her eyes reddened further. The palace maid beside her quickly supported her. “Your Majesty, you haven’t eaten anything today. How will your body endure this? If His Majesty wakes up and you fall ill instead, what will we do?”

Tong Meng’er sighed and patted the maid’s hand. “You’re right. I must take care of myself. Otherwise, what will happen when Jue’er wakes up?”

With the maid’s support, she left the chamber, leaving only Wen Yurong and the remaining palace attendants behind.

Wen Yurong stood up and slowly walked toward the beaded curtain. His hand hesitated for a moment before he reached out and pushed it aside. Behind the curtain, a figure lay on the bed. As Wen Yurong stepped closer, he finally saw the person clearly.

The sight made his heart tremble.

Just half a month ago, Shen Jue had still been in relatively good health. How had he deteriorated into such a skeletal state in just a few weeks?

His cheeks had no flesh at all, his lips faintly tinged with blue. If Wen Yurong hadn’t known he was still alive, he would have mistaken him for a corpse lying there.

Taking a deep breath, Wen Yurong steadied himself and called softly, “Your Majesty?”

He called several times, but the person on the bed showed no response.

Glancing outside the beaded curtain, Wen Yurong saw shadows moving faintly—meaning the palace attendants outside couldn’t see inside. Only then did he cautiously reach out and touch Shen Jue’s forehead.

Scalding hot. It felt like he had been running a persistent low fever.

Perhaps… he really wouldn’t last much longer.

Wen Yurong thought to himself.

For the next few days, he remained at Shen Jue’s bedside, personally tending to him—even taking on the task of wiping his body. Tong Meng’er watched all of this, her gaze filled with unspoken contemplation.

Five days later, at dusk, Tong Meng’er summoned Wen Yurong. After dismissing all the attendants, only the two of them remained in the grand hall.

She sat high above, adorned in pearls and silk, her gaze deep and unreadable. No lamps were lit in the hall; only the fading sunlight from the window provided illumination, casting half her face into shadow, making her expression eerie and unsettling.

“Wen Yurong, I know you are a good child, but I truly have no other choice. Jue’er has yet to wake up, and the imperial physicians say that if he doesn’t wake soon…” She blinked, suppressing the tears in her eyes. “There’s only one solution left. The Grand Astronomer said that your birth characters are the most compatible with His Majesty’s. If you stay by his side, perhaps… he might wake up.”

Though Tong Meng’er’s words were vague, Wen Yurong understood immediately—she wanted him to act as a talisman bride for Shen Jue.

Such customs existed among the common folk, where marriages were arranged to drive away bad luck and revive the ailing. But never had a man been offered as a talisman to another man.

Tong Meng’er stepped down from her seat, grasping Wen Yurong’s hands, her eyes filled with desperate hope. “Good child, please help me. Help His Majesty.”

Wen Yurong opened his mouth but found himself at a loss for words.

Seeing his hesitation, Tong Meng’er initially wanted to use the Wen family to threaten him. But remembering some of the things Shen Jue had once said to her, she held back. Instead, she gritted her teeth—and knelt.

Wen Yurong was utterly shocked, immediately kneeling as well and trying to lift her up. “Your Majesty, please rise! I am unworthy of this!”

Tong Meng’er looked at him pleadingly. “Yurong, please save him. Don’t worry—whether this works or not, I will owe the Wen family a great favor. Isn’t your family hoping for Jue’er to adopt Prince Yong’s son? I will agree to it. Will that not suffice?”

Hearing Tong Meng’er’s words, Wen Yurong finally realized that she was far from the foolish, manipulative empress that the rumors painted her to be. No wonder that even with Shen Jue bedridden, she had still been able to keep the Great Wei Dynasty in order.

She had, in fact, seen through many things—she had simply chosen not to speak of them. Wen Yurong even began to suspect that her refusal to hold a selection for Shen Jue’s consorts was an intentional move to keep him alive.

Because if Shen Jue had an heir, some ministers might push for the child to ascend the throne, deeming it preferable to having a chronically ill emperor and a woman in power.

Seeing that Wen Yurong remained silent, Tong Meng’er’s gaze shifted slightly before she suddenly added, “Are you worried about your reputation in the future? How about this—we’ll handle this matter in secret. Apart from the necessary few, no one else will know. If Jue’er recovers, you will still be free to marry whomever you choose in the future. And if Jue’er… if he passes, this matter will never be spoken of. You will remain the distinguished top scholar, and whatever official position you desire, I will grant it.”

Wen Yurong remained silent for a long time before he finally lowered his head slightly and said, “I will do as the Empress Dowager wishes.”

—

Though Shen Jue spent his days in deep slumber, there were fleeting moments of wakefulness. However, he could neither open his eyes nor speak.

He had expected this illness—it had happened in his past lives as well. But he had miscalculated the timing, believing it would strike in the spring of the following year. He hadn’t had the chance to warn Tong Meng’er, to tell her not to worry too much.

This time, the illness lasted for twenty-five days before he finally managed to open his eyes. But the first person he saw wasn’t a familiar palace servant, nor was it Tong Meng’er—it was Wen Yurong.

 

Wen Yurong appeared momentarily stunned when he saw Shen Jue awake. He blinked several times before softly calling out, “Your Majesty?”

Shen Jue, still weak, couldn’t speak. He could only stare at Wen Yurong.

Wen Yurong blinked again, as if making sure he wasn’t seeing things. Once he was certain, he immediately turned and left to summon others.

Tong Meng’er arrived in an instant, overjoyed to the point of tears. She embraced Shen Jue and spoke to him at length before the imperial physicians flooded into the chamber, surrounding him and conducting a thorough examination. Only after prescribing new medicine did they leave.

Seeing that Shen Jue, though still too weak to sit up on his own, could at least move his eyes, Tong Meng’er was already relieved. She carefully fed him a full bowl of medicine before reluctantly leaving to attend to state affairs, not forgetting to instruct Wen Yurong to take good care of him before she left.

It wasn’t until the second hour after waking that Shen Jue finally managed to utter his first words. Or rather, just a few syllables.

“Bath… ba… th…”

He struggled to push out the words he had been trying to say.

The moment Wen Yurong heard them, he immediately issued the necessary orders. Then, without hesitation, he lifted Shen Jue from the bed.

Shen Jue looked at him in surprise, but Wen Yurong remained as composed as ever. When they reached the bathing pool, Wen Yurong first set him down on the couch beside it, allowing the palace servants to support him. Then, he began to unfasten his own robes before reaching out to undress Shen Jue completely and carry him into the warm water.

This time, Shen Jue wasn’t just surprised—he was completely dumbfounded.

He hadn’t realized that a single illness had brought him so close to Wen Yurong. Even the palace attendants watching had no reaction, as if it were entirely natural for Wen Yurong to be the one undressing him.

Realizing what was happening, Shen Jue instinctively tried to push him away. But his body, still frail from illness, lacked any strength. What he thought was a forceful shove amounted to nothing more than a weak, feeble touch against Wen Yurong’s chest.

“Pre—posterous…!” Shen Jue was truly furious. No one wanted to be seen in such a powerless state—least of all by Wen Yurong, the very person he had sworn to kill. In his past lives, Wen Yurong had been the one to utterly disgrace him, the one who had placed an enormous green hat on his head.

But Wen Yurong acted as though he hadn’t heard him. He simply took a cloth and carefully wiped down Shen Jue, meticulously cleaning every inch of him without missing a single spot.

Through a thousand cycles of reincarnation, Shen Jue had never suffered such humiliation. Even in other worlds, at least he had been able to speak properly, to resist. This time, he was of the highest status, with power in his hands—so how could this be happening…?

His fury burned so hot that his eyes turned red. But he was too weak to fight back, and the palace attendants around them merely feigned ignorance. No matter how much he struggled, he was still washed over and over again.

By the final rinse, Shen Jue had given up entirely. His strength was drained, his body limp as he rested against Wen Yurong’s chest, his gaze dark and stormy.

Wen Yurong had no idea what was running through Shen Jue’s mind at that moment. He was an extremely intelligent man, and he knew full well that Shen Jue despised this—but for some reason, after doing it, he felt as if a long-held suffocation in his chest had finally been released.

Under heaven, all land belonged to the emperor. Across the empire, all subjects served their ruler.

And yet, he had just humiliated the emperor.

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