Becoming Puppet Emperor of a Paranoid Eunuch - Chapter 32

Wu Jing’s mind went blank. As an instinctive reaction, he couldn’t hear what Fuchen was saying. When the voice woke him, the first thing he saw was Fuchen’s gesture, and then he fled in a panic.

 

He saw nothing.

 

He wouldn’t say anything.

 

He was just a passing fool who happened to be there.

 

Wu Jing told himself—calm down, calm down.

 

He should be going to have dinner now.

 

But he didn’t even know where he had run to. Apart from the faint light of palace lanterns barely illuminating the path, there were only the guards with their swords, standing motionless like wooden figures every few steps along the corridor.

 

He was lost.

 

Wu Jing swallowed hard.

 

Just as he was about to move, the guard in front of him suddenly unsheathed his sword, the scabbard reflecting the cold moonlight. Before Wu Jing could react, the guard knelt down on one knee before him, holding his sword and blocking his way without a word.

 

In the next instant, he heard the sound of hurried footsteps approaching from behind. Wu Jing turned around to see a line of people carrying palace lanterns, looking like a raging fire coming towards him.

 

This scene clearly looked like they were coming to silence him!

 

Wu Jing turned to run, but when he looked back, the guard was still kneeling in front of him, blocking his path.

 

He froze in place.

 

Wu Jing swallowed again, feeling panicked and suffocated, like a fish on the chopping block, with no escape in any direction.

 

So scary.

 

“Your Majesty—”

 

“Your Majesty—!”

 

In an instant, the group carrying lanterns reached the young emperor, their voices like the wails of evil spirits urging death.

 

So scary.

 

In a flash, the group had reached him, and a hand suddenly grabbed Wu Jing’s arm. A sharp voice sounded in his ear, “Your Majesty.”

 

Wu Jing looked over, face stiff, eyes blank.

 

He couldn’t move.

 

It was Fuchen.

 

Seeing a familiar person, Wu Jing felt as if he had returned to the human world.

 

Fuchen supported Wu Jing and started walking back.

 

The young emperor, completely frightened, stumbled along, purely relying on instinct to be led forward.

 

Fortunately, he matched the expected behavior, showing no inconsistencies.

 

“His Highness is in a bad mood right now. When you enter the Imperial Study, do not scream or shout.”

 

“Just follow whatever he says.”

 

Fuchen saw the emperor’s fearful and vacant expression as he led him along, not reacting to his words, looking completely scared out of his wits by the earlier scene.

 

He wanted to say more but sighed instead. Perhaps this dazed state was better; it would prevent mistakes later.

 

If the emperor had been as playful as usual, it might have irritated His Highness even more.

 

Fuchen rambled on, not caring if the emperor understood, saying everything at once out of fear that the emperor’s actions in the Imperial Study might lead to a new emperor on the throne the next day.

 

Even though the royal family only had this one male heir left, there were still two princesses. As long as they had the blood of the late emperor, anyone could sit on that throne as far as His Highness was concerned.

 

And right now, His Highness had no interest in considering the opinions of the court officials.

 

If things reached a point of utter destruction, His Highness probably wouldn’t care.

 

But while His Highness might not care about his own survival, those serving him certainly feared for their lives. Fuchen wiped his brow, not daring to think further, saying, “That attendant made a mistake. His Highness didn’t hold it against them, just had them taken away and beaten a few times.”

 

“It’s my fault for not instructing the attendants serving you better, making you witness such an unpleasant scene and scaring you.”

 

“When you go in, just cry.”

 

“But don’t cry like you’re throwing a tantrum. Once he falls asleep, everything will be fine.”

 

“……”

 

Cry?

 

Wu Jing finally understood a little.

 

He didn’t even need to force out tears; he was already about to cry.

 

Before long, Wu Jing had circled back around the glazed wall and returned to the wide-open doors of the Imperial Study, feeling somewhat dazed.

 

When he looked up, he saw the crimson official robe draped over the spring chair, and the person seemed to be resting with closed eyes.

 

Because of this, only half the lights in the Imperial Study were lit, with just a few attendants quietly standing by, the surroundings silent. Whether it was because of his fading vision or not, Wu Jing could barely see the path under his feet in the dim light of the hall.

 

The young emperor stumbled as he was brought before the purple sandalwood spring chair. Fuchen released his hand, bowed his head, and exited the hall.

 

Incense burners on either side of the dragon throne were lit, and attendants added spoonfuls of golden sandalwood powder, creating a fragrant, soothing mist that seemed to pull one into sleep.

 

Ning Qinghong seemed to hear the commotion, slowly coming out of his slumber and opening his eyes. He rested his fingers on the armrest, tapping it rhythmically.

 

There was no pattern to the tapping, but it made one’s heart race with anxiety.

 

Ning Qinghong remained silent, merely watching.

 

Wu Jing felt that something was off, but the tranquilizing incense seemed to fog his thoughts. Only a few strands of the calming fragrance were enough to make him drowsy.

 

He found Ning Qinghong’s gaze terrifying.

 

So terrifying that he felt he had to do something.

 

Do something…

 

Wu Jing cautiously reached out and took hold of Ning Qinghong’s tapping fingers, his own index finger curling pathetically. He pulled, watching Ning Qinghong’s reaction as he moved, testing the boundaries.

 

Slowly, he managed to encircle three of Ning Qinghong’s fingers with his own hand. Finding it difficult to grab the fourth, he stopped, preventing Ning Qinghong from tapping.

 

Ning Qinghong quietly watched his movements. There was a hint of weariness in his expression, looking more lethargic than Wu Jing had been when he was yawning at the table earlier.

 

He seemed utterly exhausted.

 

Ning Qinghong closed his eyes again, as if about to sleep, his fingers habitually moving to tap again but were held in place by Wu Jing’s hand.

 

Wu Jing pressed his lips together and squeezed out a phrase, “Brother, don’t tap.” He continued haltingly, “Wu Wu is scared.”

 

If he tapped a few more times, Wu Jing felt like he would lose it.

 

He was truly scared to death.

 

Ning Qinghong appeared to frown, as if annoyed by the noise, and uttered, “Annoying.”

 

Wu Jing did not feel wronged by the reprimand; instead, he felt relieved that Ning Qinghong had finally spoken and seemed not to be angry.

 

He breathed a sigh of relief but then immediately tensed up again.

 

“Take off your clothes.”

 

Ning Qinghong’s eyes remained closed, his tone unhurried.

 

There was not a hint of a smile on his face, completely unlike his usual gentle demeanor. Wu Jing didn’t even dare to refuse; he couldn’t utter a single word of protest. He looked down at his dirty clothes, covered in dog hair and dust from running around all day, and swallowed.

 

He suddenly thought of the wooden box Yan He had given him, and the ointment inside.

 

Wu Jing sniffled, his hands that were holding Ning Qinghong’s fingers trembling. After a while, he clumsily pulled off his outer robe, struggling to take off one sleeve for a long time.

 

Holding onto Ning Qinghong with one hand, he glanced at Ning Qinghong, whose eyes were still closed and breathing evenly as if he were asleep.

 

Wu Jing felt like he was holding onto a lifeline. He was so scared that he didn’t dare to let go of Ning Qinghong’s hand, switching hands to keep holding on while removing the other sleeve.

 

After much difficulty, the intricate outer robe finally fell to the ground at his feet.

 

Ning Qinghong, who seemed never to have slept, though his eyes were closed, seemed to be aware of Wu Jing’s every move. When the outer robe hit the floor, he spoke again.

 

He half-opened his eyes, “Come here.”

 

Ning Qinghong just slightly raised his other hand, making a gesture as if to embrace, like he often did.

 

Wu Jing’s anxious heart seemed to calm down in an instant. He sniffled again and tentatively leaned his body against the spring chair.

 

However, Ning Qinghong was occupying all the space, leaving Wu Jing with no place to sit except to stand.

 

But this wasn’t enough. Ning Qinghong’s slightly raised hand remained in the air, as if urging him to lie down.

 

Wu Jing’s mind went blank for a moment. He instinctively held the hand raised towards him, and as Ning Qinghong’s hand retreated, his body leaned forward.

 

Unconsciously, he followed the movements.

 

He climbed onto the spring chair, falling onto Ning Qinghong.

 

Completely dazed, he had no idea what he was doing.

 

Only when Ning Qinghong’s hand rested lightly on his back did Wu Jing’s tense body suddenly relax. He fearfully curled up into his embrace.

 

Like a fledgling returning to its nest, Wu Jing knelt with his knees apart, sitting on the person’s lap, hugging him, and buried his face into Ning Qinghong’s shoulder and neck. Only when he felt the familiar warmth did he stop suppressing his feelings of grievance.

 

Ning Qinghong’s tone was indifferent, “Why did you run?”

 

Upon being asked, Wu Jing couldn’t hold back anymore. Tears fell as he clung to him, sniffling, “Scared, Wu Wu was scared.”

 

Wu Jing said intermittently, “Brother was fierce, I was scared, so I ran.”

 

Ning Qinghong only slightly frowned, “Don’t cry out loud.”

 

Wu Jing’s tears paused, then flowed even more fiercely, an unspoken sense of grievance swelling up inside him.

 

He almost soaked Ning Qinghong’s official robe with his tears. Apart from the incessant sniffling, he pursed his lips, holding back angrily.

 

If I can’t cry out loud, I won’t.

 

Let’s see if I don’t drench his clothes.

 

Bad person.

 

Ning Qinghong’s fingers lightly patted Wu Jing’s back sporadically. He seemed unable to rest enough, always keeping his eyes closed.

 

But as Wu Jing continued to cry, the calming effect of the incense began to take hold, making him drowsy. He would occasionally wrinkle his nose and sniffle, his body almost going limp against the other person as he gradually fell into a deep sleep.

 

Ning Qinghong, however, was different. Despite his overwhelming drowsiness, he couldn’t fall asleep because he had already rested enough. He was caught in this state of laziness, unable to fully wake up or fall back asleep.

 

Trapped in a state where he didn’t want to do anything, a limbo between dream and wakefulness.

 

So he couldn’t rest, nor did he want anyone else to sleep.

 

Each time Wu Jing began to drift into a dream, he was woken up by someone kneading his nape. He would groggily open his eyes, unable to find the culprit, and see that the person beneath him seemed to be resting lazily with closed eyes.

 

He would then drowsily close his eyes again.

 

And the cycle would repeat.

 

**Author’s Note:**

 

Qinghong: Don’t disturb my hibernation