Becoming Puppet Emperor of a Paranoid Eunuch - Chapter 17

Doesn’t he ever get tired?

Wu Jing had just finished a hot bath and was brought back to the imperial study by the palace servants, where Ning Qinghong still sat in the armchair at the imperial desk, pressing his forehead and reviewing the cabinet’s reports.

That afternoon, they had a small court meeting in the imperial study. Wu Jing couldn’t sleep, nor did he dare to brush off Ning Qinghong’s hand. All he could do was blink lightly in the other’s palm.

Fortunately, it wasn’t long before it was time for dinner.

Although it had been ten days of discussions, the small court meeting wasn’t concluded yet. Wu Jing thought he would have to endure hunger for a while longer, expecting Ning Qinghong to continue deliberations with the ministers. However, when Fuchen reminded them of the time, Ning Qinghong stood up straight away, disregarding the ministers still reporting. He instructed them to write down their reports and present them to the palace that night.

Wu Jing couldn’t help but think of the oppressive capitalist system.

Ning Qinghong was like the boss who didn’t want to work overtime himself but made his employees do so.

After dinner, Wu Jing went to wash up, changed into light clothing, and draped himself in a white fox fur cloak.

He still wasn’t accustomed to the ancient soap and bath towels, taking his time soaking in the bath. Before bathing, he had to pretend to throw a fit to drive away the palace servants who wanted to assist him, then let the eunuchs help him dress after he put on his inner garments.

By the time he finished all this, Ning Qinghong had already returned to the imperial study.

Wu Jing sat back on the dragon throne, lying on the table and watching Ning Qinghong, who had changed into casual clothes.

Bored, he could only stare at the person.

Ning Qinghong was now wearing a blue robe, with his black hair half loose down his back. Despite the layers of clothes, his tall, slender figure was still evident.

Under the light of the orchid-scented candles, the blue of his robe looked even more vivid.

Ning Qinghong’s hand, emerging from his long sleeve, appeared extremely pale, quite different from Wu Jing’s fair skin.

Did those ministers not even have dinner?

How else could they finish writing the reports and send them so quickly?

How does he never get tired?

He seems to always have boundless energy.

What a strange person.

Wu Jing stared at Ning Qinghong’s distinctly jointed fingers, watching him flip through page after page. Suddenly, Ning Qinghong looked down slowly at him.

“Is Wu Wu bored with nothing to do?”

A question out of the blue.

Wu Jing instinctively nodded, then froze and carefully shook his head, “Wu Wu is here to accompany brother.”

That was close, almost upset the big boss.

Ning Qinghong smiled and didn’t say anything further.

Slowly, as the palace servants added more lamp oil, Wu Jing started to feel drowsy. He glanced at Ning Qinghong, who was still engrossed in reading documents, slipped off his shoes and socks, climbed onto the dragon throne, and had learned to use his cloak to cover himself, curling up on the chair to sleep.

Wu Jing dozed off in a daze, not knowing how long he had slept, but the sound of pages turning and writing never seemed to stop, making his sleep restless.

He woke up at the slightest noise.

Vaguely, he heard Fuchen’s voice, “Master, it’s midnight. You should rest.”

Midnight already?

Wu Jing groggily opened his eyes, seemingly catching a whiff of alcohol, and saw Ning Qinghong holding a delicate jade wine cup, looking relaxed.

The aroma of the wine was almost intoxicating.

He had switched to another document, which seemed to be a secret report from spies, as Wu Jing saw a shadow guard standing behind Ning Qinghong.

Half-asleep, Wu Jing was noticed awake again. A familiar hand reached over, gently covering his eyes to soothe him, and the scent of wine was mixed with the smell of calming incense.

“Did I wake you up, Wu Wu?”

“Go back to sleep.”

Sleepiness welled up once more, and Wu Jing unknowingly fell asleep clutching Ning Qinghong’s sleeve. His last thought was—why does he still look not tired at all?

Before long, he woke up again.

It seemed someone was bending over to pick him up, chuckling softly and murmuring helplessly, “Why do you like clinging to my clothes so much?”

The embrace carried no scent of alcohol, leaving only the comforting aroma at the collar, which made him feel very secure.

He fell asleep again.

Because the emperor held him tightly, Ning Qinghong stayed in the palace overnight. By the fifth watch, it was time to attend the early morning court session.

Fuchen stood outside the curtains, softly calling, “Master, it’s time to get up.”

Soon, there was a faint response from inside the curtains.

… The fifth watch? It’s five o’clock …

Wu Jing turned over, nearly rolling to the edge of the bed. He could hear rustling sounds behind him and couldn’t help but cover his ears.

So noisy.

He slept restlessly and turned over again, clutching something in his hand. Drowsily opening his eyes, he saw a corner of a blue robe.

Whose clothes are these?

Are they his?

It seemed someone was getting off the bed beside him. Wu Jing looked up in confusion, not fully awake, his gaze unfocused, not knowing what he was looking at.

He was in a daze.

Outside the curtains, shadows moved.

A quarter of an hour later, someone suddenly lifted the curtains.

Wu Jing’s eyes widened slightly.

He saw Ning Qinghong in a red official robe, with a crane emblem like an immortal. Leaning closer, the vivid red approached him as well. Ning Qinghong’s brows and eyes seemed to carry a smile, “Wu Wu, you’re awake?”

Wu Jing’s mind went blank, his head fuzzy, and his emotions completely genuine. He instinctively shrank back a bit, then feigned confusion, “Brother?”

Why was he sharing a bed with this person again?

Was he holding his clothes?

Did he not have his own bed?

Why scare him so early in the morning!

Wu Jing looked at Ning Qinghong, whose brows were slightly furrowed in amusement, watching him with interest. After a long while, Ning Qinghong suddenly said, “Didn’t Wu Wu say he was bored last night?” His pace was slow, as if he had just thought of it, smiling, “No worries, today you won’t be bored.”

His words carried some hidden meaning.

What is he planning now?

Wu Jing was no longer sleepy at all.

Ning Qinghong straightened up and asked, “How long has it been since His Majesty attended court?”

Fuchen counted the days, “About half a year.”

Since Wu Jing’s first day on the throne, he had not appeared before the court ministers again.

Ning Qinghong sighed softly, “It’s been so long.” He smiled warmly, “The ministers outside must have missed His Majesty. How about today, Wu Wu accompanies brother to court?”

The last sentence was obviously directed at Wu Jing.

The young emperor, still holding the outer garment Ning Qinghong had taken off the day before, looked bewildered. Seeing his brother smiling at him, he obediently smiled back.

He was incredibly compliant.

The ceremonial robes were brought out from the bottom of the chest, dusted off, scented with warm incense, and every corner was meticulously ironed. Wu Jing, having just finished washing, quietly watched with a look of confusion.

Only he knew how difficult it was for him to even swallow at that moment.

No one dared to voice any objections to the efforts of the revered eunuch, as if everyone was used to it.

Fuchen didn’t say a word either.

When being dressed by the palace attendants, the young emperor’s limbs were stiff from head to toe, allowing himself to be manipulated. As the twelve-beaded crown symbolizing the emperor was placed on his head, Wu Jing caught a glimpse of himself in the bronze mirror, feeling a sense of unfamiliarity.

What was unfamiliar was that the reflection didn’t resemble an emperor at all, but rather a child playing dress-up in an adult’s clothes.

The boy’s tender skin and delicate features would have suited him if these were just ordinary splendid garments, showcasing his elegant appearance.

He should have been nurtured like a precious jewel.

Ning Qinghong, in his crimson official robe, extended a hand towards him, “Wu Wu, come here.”

Wu Jing walked over in a daze and took Ning Qinghong’s hand.

His pale fingers gripped tightly around Ning Qinghong’s hand.

But to Ning Qinghong, this grip was just a child’s nervous dependence, which could be easily dismissed with a flick of a finger.

Wu Jing was led onto the imperial sedan, sitting restlessly beside Ning Qinghong.

Yes, this was the imperial sedan.

But the revered eunuch beside him seemed more like the master than he did.

The half-hour journey from the Hall of Mental Cultivation to the Grand Hall felt like a prolonged death sentence for Wu Jing.

He didn’t understand why Ning Qinghong was doing this.

Why suddenly, without warning, in such an absurd manner?

A person like him would usually hold power tightly in his own hands, wouldn’t he?

Why was he now, after a night’s sleep, made to attend court?

Wu Jing thought of the grand court scenes in TV dramas, with the emperor and officials in imposing spectacles. As a high school student with no experience in such matters, there was no way he could hold his own in such a situation.

How was he supposed to handle the looks from the court officials?

Would they discuss among themselves why he was attending court?

No, he was supposed to be a fool.

What would a fool do in such a situation?

Be scared? Scream and cry?

Would a fool even know to say “You may rise”?

Was this person trying to make a fool of him?

To show the officials that the emperor of Da Zhou was nothing but a joke, subservient to this revered eunuch?

“We’re here.”

A gentle voice sounded by his ear.

Familiar, yet making the already tense Wu Jing even more anxious. He looked up instinctively, opened his dry lips, and realized he couldn’t make a sound that could be heard. He then closed his mouth again.

Ning Qinghong slowly withdrew his hand from Wu Jing’s tight grip, “What are you daydreaming about?” He smiled, “It’s time to get down.”

Wu Jing felt the urge to grab his sleeve again, “… Brother.” He struggled to act foolish, “Accompany, accompany Wu Wu.”

Ning Qinghong simply replied, “We’re running late, Your Majesty.”

Wu Jing hadn’t yet reacted when Fuchen stepped forward and said, “Your servant will assist Your Majesty in disembarking.” He could only follow the force and get off the sedan.

When Wu Jing turned and looked up, he was greeted by a magnificent palace. The sky had not yet brightened, and in the dim light, he vaguely saw countless white steps with guards holding swords standing on either side.

He was also surrounded by a throng of palace attendants.

It was as if he, the emperor, was to ascend the throne once more, taking one step at a time towards the dragon throne that loomed above everyone.

Wu Jing noticed the officials bowing and standing outside the hall. It was only then that he realized that Da Zhou’s early court was indeed a grand assembly. The term “court officials” was an understatement; there were easily a thousand people present.

Unfamiliar palace attendants approached, holding his arm without allowing any resistance, intending to lead the emperor forward.

So many people—it was terrifying.

He couldn’t do this.

He really couldn’t do this.

It was so scary.

Wu Jing could barely hold back his trembling. His feet were frozen in place. As he was led forward, he suddenly turned around and ran desperately towards Ning Qinghong, who had just disembarked from the sedan.

The young emperor, like a fledgling sparrow seeking refuge, fearfully buried himself into Ning Qinghong’s embrace, “Scared… Wu Wu is scared. Brother, brother accompany.” He spoke incoherently, “No, don’t go.”

He clung tightly to Ning Qinghong, pressing his face into Ning Qinghong’s shoulder.

Ning Qinghong was very patient. He patted Wu Jing’s back, gently massaging the small bone at the back of his neck with a light touch, and softly soothed, “Wu Wu, don’t be afraid.”

He wasn’t bothered, patting him again and again, “Brother will stay with Wu Wu, okay?”

“Wu Wu just has to sit up there. You don’t need to listen to anything, look at anything, or say anything. Just sit there obediently.”

“Brother will come to take Wu Wu back.”

Wu Jing was on the verge of tears, “No, no.”

Ning Qinghong’s tone was light and slow, “It’s okay, be good.”

“Wu Wu, let go.”

Yet his command allowed no refusal.

Author’s Note:

Jiu Qian: Taking Wu Wu out for a stroll.

(Jiu Qian is Ning Qinghong’s Nickname)