Becoming Puppet Emperor of a Paranoid Eunuch - Chapter 132

“If Brother could come with me, would that be okay?” Wu Jing murmured in a small, disgruntled voice.

Ning Qinghong paused, “What did you say, Wuwu? Speak up.” 

Wu Jing immediately shrank like a little quail, staying quiet and still.

After standing there for a while, he felt unwilling to give up and turned to look at the person holding his hair, “But what about your illness… Do you intend to stay like this forever?”

Ning Qinghong softly replied, “It doesn’t matter.”

It seemed as though he didn’t care. 

Or perhaps, if the young man went, he might not return. In comparison, the illness seemed insignificant, even though he was still sick at this moment.

Wu Jing wanted to say something more, but the next moment, he heard Ning Qinghong speak again, “Alright then, Wuwu, do you want to wait for Brother or go change your clothes by yourself?”

Ning Qinghong was still wearing a snow-white robe as he stepped into the pool. With the mist shrouding him, Wu Jing couldn’t clearly see anything, but just hearing his words made his face inexplicably flush, “…I’ll change by myself.”

Wu Jing went up to change his clothes, then obediently sat by the bed waiting for Ning Qinghong. He felt a little bored and began picking at his hands, but his ears were constantly alert, listening for the sound of water, too afraid to lift his head and sneak a glance.

Once Ning Qinghong had changed, he took Wu Jing away. Since Wu Jing didn’t need to attend lessons at the Guozijian (Imperial Academy), it didn’t make much difference whether he rested inside or outside the palace. Groggy, he ended up staying in the resting quarters of the Yangxin Palace Hall.

Because Ning Qinghong was ill, he didn’t go out the next day. Instead, a priest sent over a prescription. Wu Jing was still asleep when he was groggily made to drink a whole bowl of it. To avoid him finding it bitter, they had even added some honey, making it sweet and slightly fishy.

After rinsing his mouth with tooth powder, he felt a bit more awake.

Then he drowsily curled up in Ning Qinghong’s embrace, holding onto him as he fell asleep again. For several days, this was the routine—each morning, he drank a bowl of the sweet, slightly fishy medicine and didn’t leave the room. Wu Jing lay there so long his bones felt soft, and his lips were nearly swollen and bruised from being kissed, as if he had returned to those foggy days from some time ago.

The muffled sounds of crying and whimpering never ceased.

But when Ning Qinghong was ill and intimate with him, it was usually slow and deliberate. Most of the time, it was just a simple, lingering touch, without giving him full release, leaving Wu Jing’s mind muddled—wanting more, yet not wanting it at all.

He couldn’t wait for Ning Qinghong to recover.

Today, there was another bowl of medicine.

The palace attendants knocked on the door outside, waiting quietly.

Wu Jing was awakened. The thing that had been inside him all night was suddenly withdrawn without warning. Still half-asleep, he let out a hazy breath, the liquid he had been wrapped in all night soaking the bedding.

He was gently picked up and dressed in clean nightwear, then fed the medicine, drinking it down in big gulps.

Beyond the screen, Fuchen knelt outside, reporting, “Your Highness, the lord said the medicine guide (herbal activator) is about to run out.”

Ning Qinghong responded lightly, “I’ll meet with him again tomorrow.”

Fuchen bowed low, “This servant will inform him right away.”

He finished reporting and, knowing his place, quickly took the empty bowl away, not daring to look even a glance beyond the curtain, and hurriedly left.

Upon hearing the words “medicine guide,” Wu Jing drowsily opened his eyes again, “…Medicine guide?” Last night, they had stayed up late, and because he had something in his mouth the whole time, it had been hard to fall asleep. He was truly tired, struggling to stay awake, and asked with some wariness, “What medicine guide?”

Ning Qinghong pulled him into his embrace again, half-leaning against the bed, his expression tinged with weariness, “It’s still early. Wuwu, keep Brother company and sleep a bit longer.”

Wu Jing knelt and leaned on him. The gentle coaxing almost made him want to drift back to sleep, but he struggled to stay awake, shaking his head, “No, you’re trying to deceive me again.” He looked up, noticing the expression on Ning Qinghong’s face, and instinctively pressed his lips together.

In an instant, he was fully awake.

Wu Jing rubbed his soft face against Ning Qinghong’s shoulder and neck, then pressed his cheek to Ning Qinghong’s, asking quietly with big, pleading eyes, “Brother, when will you get better? I don’t want you to be unhappy.”

He cautiously gave a little kiss on the corner of Ning Qinghong’s lips, “What is the medicine I’m drinking for? What is the medicine guide made from? Can Brother tell me?”

Ning Qinghong slightly lifted his eyelids, seemingly smiling, “Wuwu has gotten smarter.” He knew he couldn’t get a straight answer, so he clung tightly, hoping to soften Ning Qinghong’s heart into telling him.

Wu Jing lowered his eyes guiltily, “I’m just worried about Brother.” Then he spoke more confidently, “I don’t want Brother to stay sick. I want Brother to be happy.”

Ning Qinghong chuckled softly, “Is that so?” He asked in return, kissing Wu Jing’s ear and neck, and whispered, “Since Wuwu doesn’t want to sleep, then we won’t sleep.”

Wu Jing hadn’t yet processed what was happening. The area that had been soft and wet moments ago was still damp, and without warning, Ning Qinghong’s fingers slipped inside through the thin layer of his underpants.

Wu Jing’s entire body went limp instantly, burying his face into Ning Qinghong’s shoulder and neck, occasionally letting out muffled whimpers. The fabric around his thighs tightened, and before long, he rolled his eyes and lost all strength.

His arms, which had been holding onto Ning Qinghong, could no longer stay wrapped around him, and he began to slide downward.

However, since he was kneeling on Ning Qinghong’s lap, when he tilted his face up, he was still slightly taller, allowing Ning Qinghong to cup his face. With long fingers and large palms, Ning Qinghong held Wu Jing’s face, his fingers pressing lightly against the nape of his neck, almost supporting the back of his head.

Ning Qinghong kissed him tenderly for a while, then gently guided Wu Jing’s head downwards to look at him, and softly asked, “How does Wuwu plan to cheer Brother up?” As he said this, he pulled the fabric away.

This action, along with his words, made the dazed Wu Jing misunderstand. Already not fully awake, Wu Jing, in his groggy state, blushed deeply. His damp eyelids quivered slightly, revealing a hint of trembling and a trace of grievance.

Clumsily, he slumped forward and retreated slightly.

Wu Jing stared hazily at Ning Qinghong’s waist, covered in the white robe, closed his eyes tightly, and with trembling, careful movements, he leaned his head down, not even bothering to remove the clothing.

His lips parted slightly, teeth held back, and he tentatively extended his soft tongue.

He moved so quickly that Ning Qinghong was a step too slow to cover Wu Jing’s face with his hand. But due to the hasty block, his aim was off by a bit, causing him to poke and rub against Wu Jing’s cheek. Wu Jing, still in a daze, was lifted up by the pinch of his cheek.

He blinked his tear-filled eyes in confusion, not understanding why Ning Qinghong was stopping him.

With the base of his thumb pressing into Wu Jing’s small face, Ning Qinghong both cupped and encircled him, guiding him to sit back on his lap.

Ning Qinghong curled his fingers and gave a light, reprimanding tap on Wu Jing’s temple. Wu Jing winced in pain, letting out a small whimper, and tried to turn his face away, protesting in a stammer, “…Don’t hit my head.”

What if it makes me stupid?

Ning Qinghong frowned slightly, his tone turning a bit cold, “Wuwu.”

Wu Jing instantly froze, obediently shutting his mouth and staying silent. He stared blankly as Ning Qinghong leaned in closer. The spot on his cheek where he’d been poked was now being gently wiped clean with Ning Qinghong’s fingers.

Even though there was fabric in the way, nothing had actually touched it.

Ning Qinghong said, “Wuwu really thinks he’s a little kitten or puppy, doesn’t he? Willing to put just anything in his mouth and lick?” His voice was soft, yet full of threat. “If you do that again, Brother will have to bring out the wooden ruler.”

Wu Jing shook his head in fear, “…But, but it was you—” He paused, recalling that Ning Qinghong hadn’t actually said anything just now, and realized that he had misunderstood.

His face flushed red all the way to his neck.

Ning Qinghong asked, “What about me?”

Wu Jing stammered, unable to get the words out, and finally gave up, lowering his head in defeat, “Then what do you want me to do to cheer you up?”

Ning Qinghong gently kissed him, “Alright, lift your head.”

Wu Jing obediently followed the direction of the kiss, tilting his face up. His breathing became labored, each inhale and exhale hot and heavy. As Ning Qinghong kissed him deeply, his lips and tongue were entwined, and his face was pressed close to Ning Qinghong’s, their noses almost touching. Even the air he breathed carried Ning Qinghong’s scent.

He was kissed until he was dizzy, swallowing his saliva repeatedly. The bits he couldn’t swallow in time trickled down the corner of his lips.

So sensitive that just being kissed was enough to make him go weak.

When Ning Qinghong noticed Wu Jing gasping uncontrollably, he eased up slightly, kissing the tip of Wu Jing’s nose and his brows, slowly soothing him with kisses, chuckling softly, “You’re even feeling sorry for yourself now.”

“Brother won’t make Wuwu do those things, be good.”