C145 — Kill the Top Scorer（12）

Shen Jue stopped Wen Yurong’s hand when it reached for his belt. His breathing was slightly uneven, and his usually pale lips were now an unnatural shade of red, even glistening with suspicious moisture—just like a begonia after the rain, lush and dripping with allure.

But those eyes of his were still filled with arrogance, even now. He glanced at Wen Yurong and commanded, “Stop it, Wen Yurong.”

Wen Yurong didn’t look any better than Shen Jue, but when he heard the words, he pressed his lips together and stopped.

Seeing Wen Yurong withdraw, Shen Jue glanced toward the cobbled path—no one was there anymore. Feeling drained, he leaned fully against Wen Yurong without caring whether it was uncomfortable. “What strange thing did you eat today?”

Wen Yurong lowered his gaze and wrapped an arm around Shen Jue’s waist to keep him from slipping. “Just had some tea,” he replied, his voice noticeably less enthusiastic than before.

Shen Jue clicked his tongue, lifted his head, and touched Wen Yurong’s face. “Don’t eat random things again. What if I wasn’t here?”

He made it sound like he’d helped ease Wen Yurong’s suffering, when in fact, all he did was add fuel to the fire. He clearly knew Wen Yurong was already uncomfortable, and yet insisted on pressing closer.

Wen Yurong could obviously hear the teasing in Shen Jue’s tone, but could only sigh and respond helplessly.

Watching Wen Yurong sweat and struggle to hold himself back, Shen Jue’s lips curved into a slight smile. He reached out to wrap an arm around his neck, pulling him down. “Yulang is so obedient. Good boy.”

Then he lightly brushed their lips together.

…

The drug Tong Meng’er had used was well-measured—it would make someone briefly overwhelmed with desire, but they’d return to normal after a while. It wasn’t one of those dangerous aphrodisiacs that absolutely required resolution.

After all, she didn’t want Wen Yurong to lose face in public. She just wanted Shen Yongcheng to realize that Wen Yurong was way out of his league.

Shen Jue and Wen Yurong stayed a little longer in the pavilion. Eventually, the heat in Wen Yurong’s lower abdomen finally subsided. He let out a long breath and looked down at the emperor now asleep in his arms, sighing softly in resignation.

…

After that day, Shen Yongcheng became much more restrained—he no longer secretly stared at Wen Yurong. But a young man couldn’t hide his feelings easily. Whenever he faced Shi Ji, the smile he wore would falter, replaced by a gloomy expression.

Shi Ji noticed Shen Yongcheng looking even grumpier than him and found it curious. He asked a few questions, “What’s troubling the crown prince?”

It was Shen Yongcheng’s first crush, and it ended quickly—and completely—because the person he liked turned out to be his imperial uncle’s lover.

He thought, If Wen Yurong weren’t a man, he might’ve ended up as empress. After all, his family background, appearance, and talent were all flawless.

So, did that mean he had fallen for his stepmother? At the very least, his aunt-in-law?

It was the kind of teenage heartache he couldn’t talk about with anyone—not even his own mother. If she found out, she’d skin him alive.

But bottling it up inside was unbearable.

Looking at Shi Ji, Shen Yongcheng figured he was a brawny guy with a simple brain, so after some hesitation, he decided to confide in him.

“I’ve fallen for someone… but that person already likes someone else,” Shen Yongcheng said, staring gloomily at the tall red palace walls in the distance.

Shi Ji secretly rolled his eyes in boredom but said aloud, “Then just forget them.”

“I can’t.”

“Then take him by force.”

“I can’t,” he replied. “How could I possibly take him from Royal Uncle?”

Shi Ji: “…”

Shi Ji said, “Then, does Your Highness want a drink?”

Shen Yongcheng had lived sixteen years without touching a drop of alcohol, but Shi Ji’s words moved him. He ordered the palace attendants to bring wine immediately, and began drinking with Shi Ji.

Cup after cup, they drank together. Shi Ji was used to battlefield drinking—he usually drank from bowls, and the wine was always the kind that burned down the throat. This delicate palace wine in tiny cups had no effect on him.

But Shen Yongcheng wasn’t used to it. After only a few cups, he was drunk, and all the secrets in his heart came tumbling out.

“Yulang… why did Yulang have to be Royal Uncle’s?” he sobbed. “I can’t beat him, no matter what I do.”

Shi Ji had been treating the wine like water, but when he heard that, his eyes went wide. He leaned forward. “Your Highness, what did you say? Yulang? You mean Wen Yurong? Are you joking? How could he be His Majesty’s?”

Shen Yongcheng lifted his head, eyes filled with sorrow. “He is! I saw Yulang kissing Royal Uncle in the back garden. It lasted forever… I—I didn’t even dare make a sound, afraid they’d notice me.”

Shi Ji’s face instantly darkened. He didn’t care that Shen Yongcheng was drunk—he stood up and left the room without hesitation.

…

The weather was warming up, and Shen Jue’s condition had improved. He could now handle some government affairs. Although Tong Meng’er wasn’t happy about him working again, Shen Jue didn’t want to leave everything to her alone.

Shen Jue never avoided Wen Yurong while reviewing memorials—he even let him help organize them, like separating routine greetings from regional tax reports. Every memorial was first read by Wen Yurong, then passed to Shen Jue.

“Your Majesty,” a palace servant entered, “Lord Shi requests an audience.”

At the mention of Shi Ji, Wen Yurong glanced briefly at Shen Jue.

Shen Jue was focused on the documents and gave a soft hum in response. “Did he say what it’s about?”

“No, but he looked rather anxious.”

Shen Jue paused. Could it be something happened with Shen Yongcheng?

“Let him in,” he said.

Shi Ji soon strode into the hall and gave Shen Jue a bow.

“Rise,” Shen Jue said, putting down his brush and leaning back tiredly. He rubbed his nose. “What’s the matter?”

Shi Ji immediately noticed Wen Yurong sitting beside Shen Jue, handling memorials.

How close did two people have to be for a subject to read the emperor’s documents?

When had they become this intimate?

His stare was so direct that even Shen Jue, already fatigued, straightened and frowned.

“Shi Ji, who taught you such lack of manners? Shi Haoran? Or your grandfather?”

That was a heavy rebuke—he even dragged the entire Shi family into it.

But Shi Ji, stubborn as ever, stiffened his neck. “Does Your Majesty truly believe I’m the one out of line? Then why is Lord Wen allowed to sit beside Your Majesty and read state documents?”

Wen Yurong hadn’t expected Shi Ji to be this bold—to openly defy Shen Jue, and even bring him into it. His expression shifted, and he tried to signal Shi Ji to kneel and apologize. But the stubborn fool was too caught up arguing, his wide eyes daring and unafraid of death.

Shen Jue, seeing this, let out an angry laugh and grabbed the teacup from the desk, hurling it at Shi Ji. “Well then, Shi Ji—when did it become your place to lecture me?”

His aim was off, and the cup hit the floor before it could reach Shi Ji. Shi Ji didn’t even glance at it.

“Is it because I’ve uncovered something shameful, Your Majesty? Is that why you’re so angry?”

TN:

Shi Ji is so dumb 🥲