Becoming Puppet Emperor of a Paranoid Eunuch - Chapter 127

The youth, with his waist slumped and his legs kneeling stiffly, clutches at himself, while the room is filled with a golden fragrance from incense. The figure behind the curtains is elusive, making it difficult to see clearly.

Due to being overly wet and slippery, it’s almost impossible to control how deeply the hand sinks into the soft flesh, which tightly envelops it.

Each attempt to push in brings a strange sensation, causing Wu Jing to whimper louder and panic as he tries to withdraw his hand but doesn’t know how to stop the overflow of moisture.

Helpless and blushing deeply, he trembles with fear of the punishment Ning Qinghong had mentioned, feeling pitifully distressed.

Tears nearly blind him, and he cries so much that saliva almost spills from his mouth. Seeing how violently Wu Jing is trembling, Ning Qinghong finally stops, casting a glance over the entire red, soft flesh covered in finger marks.

A gentle touch of his fingertips causes immediate pain, mingling with the remaining dampness not yet dried.

Ning Qinghong comforts Wu Jing, softly tracing his fingers along the youth’s waist, then tenderly lifts the almost tearful Wu Jing into his arms.

Discomfort, pain, pleasure, and a sense of unbearable shame…

All these feelings explode as soon as Wu Jing is held in his arms. He clings desperately to Ning Qinghong, burying his face and crying loudly, “Just once, just once someone used their hand on me… I—”

The last two words are muffled by his sobs.

“I clearly said it wasn’t my fault, it hurts… whimper, it hurts so much.”

“And… you scared me.”

“I just… I couldn’t control it, whimper…”

“It’s so comfortable that I couldn’t help it.”

The youth speaks honestly and confusedly about his feelings, seemingly both complaining and trying to please at the same time.

Ning Qinghong chuckles, “You said it hurt earlier, now you say it’s comfortable.”

Wu Jing stammers, “Yes, it hurts, it’s painful when it happens, but it’s also very comfortable. I… I’m not lying.”

With an innocent and confused demeanor, he speaks plainly.

The youth’s face is still covered in tears, and he is gently comforted.

Ning Qinghong pats his back repeatedly, and without warning, his fingers continue to explore, one by one, gently opening him, while soothingly asking, “Wu Wu, keep talking.”

Wu Jing begins to sob even harder, “Brother, don’t, I… I’m scared.” He shakes his head, “It’s embarrassing.”

“Don’t block it, don’t stuff it up.”

“… Don’t.”

Wu Jing’s voice fluctuates with his cries, and he is deeply immersed in his pleas, begging, “Brother, please?”

Ning Qinghong’s movements are slow, almost motionless. He kisses the youth’s brows and eyes, saying softly, “I did scare you earlier.”

He doesn’t say “good” or “bad,” just soothes him in a gentle voice.

Wu Jing clings tighter, relying on the wet face he’s rubbed against Ning Qinghong’s cheek, sniffling, “If someone sees… and finds out… it would be very embarrassing.”

“I can’t go out, I want to stay with you.”

“I don’t want… outside.”

“Scared, Brother… I’m scared.”

“So painful, whimper… touch it.”

As Wu Jing speaks, his words become incoherent with the movements, and he babbles, not even knowing what he’s saying, subconsciously wanting to stay close to Ning Qinghong, pressing closer, rubbing his face more against him.

He never wants to separate.

He clumsily grabs Ning Qinghong’s hand, placing it on the painful area, his tearful eyes pleading, “It hurts, Brother… can you put some medicine on it? Blow on it…”

Ning Qinghong smiles and asks, “Hmm?”

Wu Jing falls silent, “I… I said it wrong.”

Ning Qinghong continues, gently asking, “What if Brother continues to punish you like this in the future…?”

He leaves the last part unsaid.

Wu Jing’s body visibly tightens with fear, shaking his head rapidly, instinctively swallowing.

Ning Qinghong laughs, “You’re obviously scared, but your body seems to enjoy it. Brother will let you be comfortable for a while longer…”

Wu Jing is gently kissed on his brows and eyes, with his hand caressing his face, tenderly kissing his full lips.

His tense mind starts to relax, allowing him to sink into a daze. It’s unclear how long this state lasts. In his nightmares, the red silk and bells that usually haunt him are brought out. When there’s no one in the room, he is bound by the silk, unable to move. When Ning Qinghong returns after dealing with court affairs, he unties Wu Jing, tenderly holding him and feeding him medicinal food to nourish him.

Afterward, he holds Wu Jing close, letting him cry against his shoulder. Soon, the medicine he drank turns into clear liquid, dripping down onto the bed.

This process repeats, and Wu Jing is in a state of continuous unconsciousness, even when he manages to fall into a restless sleep, his tongue remains protruding, his body trembling, and he continues to leak fluid in his dreams.

He loses track of how many days pass.

One day? Two days?

Or three days—

The curtain is constantly filled with faint whimpers. He hasn’t left the bed, and the wet, dirty bedding is replaced with fresh ones. When someone touches his face, his whole body trembles and goes soft.

His tongue remains out, unable to retract, and his eyes are vacant, occasionally rolling back. He can no longer control himself.

When he finally leaves the room, Ning Qinghong, in his kindness, gently carries him to wash up. By the time they see any daylight, Wu Jing doesn’t even know his own name.

He only curls up in Ning Qinghong’s arms, shivering and shrinking away.

Even though he hasn’t been touched by anything specific, he still grinds himself down, curling into a ball.

He no longer responds to Ning Qinghong’s words or soothing attempts, appearing completely dazed, his legs unable to retract, just dangling limply, needing support.

For five whole days and nights, he is entirely reduced to a creature that only curls up in someone’s arms, sticking out its tongue like a little animal.

After a full three days, he begins to recover slightly.

During these three days, the youth never leaves the house. Wherever he goes, he clings to Ning Qinghong, whether being carried or sitting on his lap.

He dares not leave for even a moment.

Outside the screen, servants wait, while inside, Wu Jing, still in a daze, rests in Ning Qinghong’s arms. He occasionally wakes and, seeing Ning Qinghong still busy with work, falls back into slumber.

Suddenly, without warning, he is lifted and comes into contact with the places that have been constantly wet these days. Ning Qinghong casually presses several small bells against the desk.

Wu Jing dares not cry out, fearing discovery.

Beneath his loose, wet clothes, his body is soaked halfway. His face is raised higher, and soon, he becomes limp and unconscious.

After Ning Qinghong finishes reviewing documents, more than an hour has passed. Wu Jing is silent, and Ning Qinghong’s robes are partially wet.

Ning Qinghong gently orders, “Everyone leave.”

Once the servants are gone, the small bells are taken out again, and Wu Jing suddenly cries out, sobbing in confusion.

Ning Qinghong asks softly, “Wu Wu, do you still recognize me?”

Wu Jing instinctively leans closer, recognizing Ning Qinghong and muttering in a daze, “… Yes, I recognize you, Brother.”

“I only recognize Brother.”

He gasps, obediently saying, “Whimper… It’s Brother who’s doing it… It feels so good, I want to be held by Brother forever.”

“Gasp… So much water leaked from both front and back.”

“Also, it’s going to dirty Brother’s clothes, I’m sorry…”

Ning Qinghong softly responds, “Wu Wu is so good.” He seems to praise and encourage, smiling, “You said it better this time than last.”

He then asks, “Anything else?”

Wu Jing whimpers, “It’s… it’s burning, and I’m…”—his words are unclear, still continuing in a vague manner, “So much water leaked.”

He clumsily lifts his layered clothing, raising his knees, and falls back onto the table.

His toes are placed on Ning Qinghong’s shoulder,

Gasping, mumbling.

“Show Brother.”

His thin fingers reach out, and he weakly spreads the soft flesh to the sides.