Becoming Puppet Emperor of a Paranoid Eunuch - Chapter 90

Earlier, when he asked, he didn’t get a response and didn’t feel wronged. But now, thinking back, Ning Qinghong’s faint reply, “Nothing much to say,” seemed like an evasion, a way to change the subject.

 

The more he thought about it, the more deliberate it seemed.

 

Seeing the young master in low spirits, Fu Chen didn’t dare to speak casually. The matter involved both masters and even the Lord, so how could he dare to meddle?

 

He silently led His Majesty to the Imperial Garden.

 

The little crippled stray dog was joyfully frolicking in the garden’s grass. Since it was raised by the emperor and the Lord turned a blind eye, the palace servants treated the dog like a master, taking great care of it.

 

Its coat was sleek and shiny.

 

Wu Jing thought that after being away from the palace for so long, the little dog would have forgotten him. But as he approached, the frolicking dog wagged its tail, circled around, and locked onto the young man in the distance.

 

Then, it happily dragged its lame leg over to him.

 

Wu Jing hadn’t expected it to remember him, and his earlier gloomy mood instantly lifted. Fearing to scare the dog away, he squatted down more slowly than before.

 

He cautiously petted the little stray dog.

 

As it was close to noon, the sun was much stronger than before. The autumn wind no longer had a chill, and the temperature was quite comfortable.

 

The palace servants had already transplanted out-of-season flowers and planted new ones, making the Imperial Garden look just like spring, with vibrant seasonal blooms.

 

The sounds of insects and birds gradually filled the air.

 

The very air seemed fresher.

 

As Wu Jing stroked the dog, the foggy head from dealing with court affairs in the Ascending Hall and the exhaustion from sitting too long began to clear. His slightly gloomy mood also brightened a bit.

 

He felt much better than before.

 

It was indeed the right decision to come out for a walk.

 

That person wasn’t wrong.

 

Wu Jing’s hand paused as he thought of Ning Qinghong, and the gloom returned.

 

The little stray dog, unaware of his mood, continued to playfully roll over.

 

Wu Jing could only play with it for a while before carrying the dog to a pavilion. He drank some hot tea when thirsty and ate some snacks when hungry. After filling his belly, the poor sleep from the night before caught up with him.

 

He felt sleepy.

 

Although there were many palace servants attending to him, someone had specifically instructed that only Fu Chen was to stay close by, while the others waited at a distance with their heads bowed.

 

Wu Jing, now familiar with Fu Chen, didn’t bother about appearances. He tugged at the fox fur cloak draped over him, patted the soft little couch, and prepared to sleep for a while.

 

The young man, holding the little dog in his arms, soon fell asleep. After a while, feeling bored, the dog jumped down and started playing on its own.

 

Half an hour? An hour?

 

Wu Jing was awakened by the pitter-patter of rain.

 

This afternoon autumn rain had been long overdue. Although the rain wasn’t heavy, it did moisten the dry earth. However, the clouds obscured the sun, making it hard to tell what time of day it was.

 

“Your Majesty? You’re awake?”

 

“You’ve slept for over an hour, it’s already past noon. Shall I have lunch brought here for you?”

 

Wu Jing, still groggy, couldn’t believe he had slept for so long. He shook his head, then nodded, “Not here, I’ll eat elsewhere.”

 

With someone else.

 

Fu Chen immediately understood the emperor’s implication and looked a bit troubled, “Your Majesty wishes to dine with the Lord?”

 

Wu Jing nodded.

 

“His Highness has already left the palace and returned to his residence.”

 

“Before leaving, he instructed that Your Majesty should stay in the Hall of Mental Cultivation for a few days.”

 

These words weren’t hard to understand, with no difficult phrases or ornate language, just plain and straightforward, catching Wu Jing completely off guard.

 

He couldn’t understand a word.

 

“He…left?” After a long pause, the young man asked blankly, “He left the palace on his own?”

 

Fu Chen nodded.

 

So, what about him? Not dining with him, not playing in the Imperial Garden, not taking a nap together—he just left the palace and went back?

 

What about him?

 

He asked himself again, feeling a surge of grievance.

 

Wu Jing was silent for a long time before quietly asking, “Is he…sick again?”

 

Fu Chen nearly bowed to the ground, wiping cold sweat from his forehead, not understanding how he got into this mess. He feared that if he said the wrong thing and angered the emperor, the Lord would have him executed.

 

“Perhaps…perhaps the rain today put His Highness in a bad mood?” He hastily added, “Since His Highness left instructions, he’s still thinking of Your Majesty.”

 

“But just look, this rainy weather makes people uneasy, and maybe the Lord felt the same…”

 

Fu Chen didn’t dare to continue, only saying, “Your Majesty hasn’t eaten yet, and if you go hungry, I won’t survive. I’ll go make the arrangements.”

 

“Wait!”

 

The young emperor said.

 

It was too sudden, too unexpected.

 

In fact, this was no different from all the previous times.

 

Such things are unpredictable, even by those involved.

 

But Wu Jing was now fixated on the words Ning Qinghong had said to him not long ago—“If I’m no longer here…”

 

His heart filled with an uncontrollable panic.

 

Fu Chen wiped his cold sweat again, “Your Majesty, please give your orders.”

 

“I don’t want to stay in the palace, living alone in the Yangxin Hall.”

 

“I want to go back to the residence too.”

 

“I want to see him.”

 

Fu Chen was almost ready to kneel before the Emperor. “Your Majesty, this isn’t something I can decide. The Lord has given orders, and you can’t leave the palace.”

 

Wu Jing was taken aback, racking his brains for a solution, and finally gave up in frustration, saying, “I insist on going out.”

 

“If I see him and tell him, you’ll be… you’ll be finished!” It was the first time he had ever used someone else’s authority to threaten someone, and he wasn’t very skilled at it. Still, it was evident that his desperation was making him flustered, his voice growing quieter as he spoke.

 

Using this to scare someone was indeed a bit excessive,

 

But Wu Jing was truly anxious.

 

“You know, he must be afraid I’ll be frightened if I go, but I’ll make it clear to him.”

 

“He definitely won’t blame you.”

 

First, a threat, then a reasonable reassurance.

 

It was a bit immature, but he had at least learned a little from Ning Qinghong.

 

Fu Chen was sweating profusely. “This, this…”

 

Wu Jing: “Am I the Emperor, or are you the Emperor?”

 

Half an hour later.

 

A soft sedan chair was carried out of the palace and stopped at the entrance of the Ning residence. The moment it halted, Wu Jing hurriedly got out, ignoring the calls of “Your Majesty, watch your step” behind him, and dashed inside.

 

He had been staying here long enough to know his way around, even in a place as large as this.

 

Outside, a gentle drizzle was still falling. A servant chased after him with an oil-paper umbrella. Though it wasn’t sunset yet, the sky was dim as if night had just fallen.

 

Wu Jing ran until he was out of breath, slowing down only when he was too exhausted to continue. A quarter of an hour later, he finally reached the door of the room where he had been sleeping that morning.

 

The door was closed, but not locked.

 

Leaning against the doorframe, Wu Jing caught his breath for a long time. Once his breathing steadied, he swallowed and cautiously pushed the door open.

 

Because the doors and windows were shut tight, and only an oil lamp was lit with a warm brazier burning, he almost thought it was already deep into the night.

 

As he stepped inside, he noticed something unusual underfoot.

 

Looking down, he realized that at some point, a carpet made of white fox fur had been laid across the floor.

 

He stared at it for a long time, suddenly recalling the scene from the night before when he had climbed off Ning Qinghong to eat a bowl of sweet porridge and had his bare feet frozen by the cold floor.

 

Wu Jing had thought Ning Qinghong was too engrossed in his book to notice, but by the next day, a carpet had been laid to keep his feet warm.

 

He carefully crouched down, removed his shoes and socks, and walked in barefoot before closing the door behind him. The outer and inner rooms were separated by a screen painted with landscapes in ink.

 

Wu Jing stood at the doorway, looking around. The outer room was empty, so he headed towards the inner room.

 

Just as he rounded the screen, he caught sight of a crimson official robe that brushed the floor. A mere glimpse of the hem was enough for him to recognize who it was.

 

Ning Qinghong had his back to him, seemingly standing by the window, listening to the rain. It was only when the hurried yet hesitant footsteps reached his ears that he slightly turned his head to glance over.

 

Wu Jing stared blankly at him. He still couldn’t tell any difference between a sick Ning Qinghong and a healthy one. They were the same person in his eyes, whether they were speaking to him gently or scolding him harshly.

 

To him, there was no difference.

 

“You can’t always…”

 

“Think that because it’s for my own good, you can make decisions for me.”

 

Wu Jing held onto the screen, standing still, not moving forward. He quietly stayed where he was, head lowered, speaking softly. “I know, I used to be scared every time, and you didn’t want me to be frightened, so you did this.”

 

“But I can overcome it.”

 

“I want to be with you when you’re not feeling well.”

 

As he spoke, Wu Jing started to feel aggrieved. “You said those things to me this morning, then sent me away in the afternoon. I get worried too.” He spoke earnestly, “I’m more scared now than I was before.”

 

“I’m more afraid that something might be wrong with you.”

 

The room fell into silence for a long time before a low voice finally broke the quiet. “Come here.” Wu Jing looked up and saw Ning Qinghong slightly extending his fingers toward him.

 

All those words he had said were met with just two light words in response. Wu Jing bit his lip, hesitating for a moment, but eventually obeyed, walking over and looking up at him.

 

In a small, muffled voice, Wu Jing asked, “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

 

It was like he was throwing a little tantrum.

 

But after his outburst, he felt something was wrong and changed his tone, cautiously asking, “Are you feeling unwell?”

 

Clumsily, Wu Jing stood on tiptoe, wrapping his arms around him, leaning in closer, looking up to meet Ning Qinghong’s lowered gaze. He waited a long time, but Ning Qinghong didn’t respond. In the dim light, he could only faintly see that Ning Qinghong’s expression wasn’t as gentle as usual.

 

He wasn’t very bright and had never faced a situation like this before. In his confusion, he tried using some of his clumsy methods, hoping they might work.

 

Clinging to him, Wu Jing hugged Ning Qinghong, looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. Then, cautiously, he tilted his face up and planted a kiss on Ning Qinghong’s thin lips, nuzzling him. He asked timidly, “What’s bothering you?”

 

His gaze was filled with concern, as if he was sharing Ning Qinghong’s pain.

 

When Ning Qinghong still didn’t respond, Wu Jing blinked in confusion, pressing his warm, soft cheek against him.

 

Still puzzled, he called out softly,

 

“Brother?”

 

Author’s Note:

 

Wu Jing: I’m already clinging to you so much, please pay attention to me.