Saving My Life By Simping For My Empress - Chapter 26

Chapter 26: Wei Yu didn’t dare look into Qin Ji’s eyes, afraid he might wake himself up.

The Spring Rite was a major event for the State of Qin. Even though Qin Ji was “injured,” it had to be held. However, after some deliberation, the bow and arrows designated for Qin Ji were replaced with lighter versions; after all, given Qin Ji’s skill in horse archery, no one expected him to showcase great prowess on the hunting grounds.

Qin Ji was well aware of his own limitations. He had taken emergency lessons from Huang Feihao, and being able to simply mount a horse and draw a bow was already significant progress. If he were to hold himself to the standards of a military general, he suspected he wouldn’t reach that level even in a lifetime.

An emperor who is a master of both the pen and the sword is, after all, a rarity. Qin Ji comforted himself with this thought.

As promised previously, a farewell banquet was held for the foreign envoys before their departure. Qin Ji did not invite anyone from the Kingdom of Wei; he kept them locked up, sending in three meals a day just to ensure they didn’t starve.

Seeing the Wei delegation played like puppets in the palm of Qin Ji’s hand, the Kingdom of Duogua became much more behaved. They no longer dared to plot sending Princess Aurora into the imperial harem as a consort. At the banquet, they did nothing but eat and drink, terrified of becoming the next group to be imprisoned. Being locked up was one thing; the real fear was dying silently and without a trace in the State of Qin.

At the banquet, Qin Ji gave those who needed it a firm warning. He spoke a great deal of “nonsense,” essentially hurrying the delegations back to their home countries. If they stayed any longer, he would have to invite them to watch Qin’s Spring Rite, and the rite could afford no accidents.

The day after the farewell banquet, every delegation except for Wei set out on their return journey. With the envoys gone, the time for the Spring Rite had arrived.

The Spring Rite was to be held at the Royal Hunting Grounds, which meant leaving the palace for the outskirts of the capital. Qin Ji had only left the palace once before, and it had left him with bad memories; this time, he repeatedly confirmed every security detail with Chen Xuanwu, terrified of another accident. If Wei Yu were to be hurt again, he would truly cry.

On the seventeenth day of the third month, with beautiful spring scenery, the procession departed from the palace and headed toward the Royal Hunting Grounds.

Qin Ji, the “fake” casualty, and Wei Yu, the real one, sat in a spacious carriage. Qin Ji was diligently reading memorials submitted from various regions, while Wei Yu was explaining the various types of “filler” text that could be written in these reports.

Not all memorials reported urgent matters; some were merely greetings. Having them sent to the Emperor’s desk was a waste of time to read, but it would be improper not to. Qin Ji didn’t handle important political affairs in the carriage; instead, he had a pile of accumulated “greeting memorials” moved in so he could pass the time on the road.

The procession was long, and it took half a day to reach the hunting grounds. Qin Ji used the greetings to pass the time. In these memorials, Qin Ji truly witnessed the pinnacle of “literature of nonsense”—everything written was filler, yet it was written with such high literary flair. It was a completely different concept from the modern “nonsense” memes. With that kind of writing talent, a modern teacher would surely pin these essays on the wall as a display of excellence.

“Speaking of which, the examinations are coming up. I wonder if we can recruit some people who talk less nonsense,” Qin Ji remarked after flipping through the reports for a long time, his head genuinely aching. Ancient people could manage to write several pages just to say hello; they were truly scholars produced by the Imperial Examination system.

“I recall that the Autumn Examinations were postponed to this spring due to the passing of the late Emperor?” Wei Yu pulled this piece of information from his vague memories of his past life.

Qin Ji poured Wei Yu a cup of red date and goji berry tea. “Exactly.”

When the Emperor passed away, the whole nation mourned. Furthermore, the late Emperor had been a truly wise sovereign; otherwise, he couldn’t have built such a capable team of ministers for his son. His passing was a source of heartfelt grief for the people of Qin. Since the timing of his death coincided with the Autumn Examinations, they weren’t held last year. However, the examinations had to proceed; Qin needed capable people to fill the bureaucratic ranks. Thus, they were pushed to this spring. Consequently, both the Metropolitan and Provincial examinations would have to be held this autumn…

Thinking of this, Qin Ji felt as if the silver in the national treasury had grown legs and started running away. He wasn’t great at making money, but he was quite talented at spending it.

He wondered if the messenger had reached Wei Qiong yet. Would Wei Qiong really trade three cities for Wei Wuxia and the others? He was waiting to make that “profit”—and he was anxious for it.

“Then Your Majesty must hurry.” Wei Yu didn’t take the tea; he felt he’d been drinking too many “warming” tonics lately and was getting internal heat.

Qin Ji was confused. “Hurry? For what?”

Wei Yu said, “The Palace Examination follows the Metropolitan Examination. Your Majesty must act as the examiner in person.”

Qin Ji: QAQ! It seems that is indeed the case…

“Being an Emperor is too hard.” Qin Ji spread a memorial over his face and pretended to be dead.

Wei Yu: “Then Your Majesty must have someone to take over the throne before you can stop being Emperor.” It was just a casual remark, but Wei Yu’s eyes darkened. If Qin Ji’s feelings for him remained unchanged, what would happen to the throne of Qin?

“Qin Zhao isn’t even one year old yet. It’ll take twenty years for him to grow up,” Qin Ji sighed.

“Qin Zhao?” Wei Yu blinked.

Qin Ji tossed aside the memorial and sat up. “Oh, Qin Zhao is Prince Cheng’s grandson. I’ve already settled it with Prince Cheng—I’ll adopt Qin Zhao as my heir and pass the throne to him in the future.”

Prince Cheng: …I clearly had conditions! Don’t summarize it like that!

Wei Yu’s fingertips slipped, wrinkling the page of his book. “Have you truly made up your mind?” No harem? No children of your own blood?

Wei Yu didn’t dare look into Qin Ji’s eyes, afraid he might wake himself up from this dream.

Qin Ji was puzzled. “What is there to hesitate about?” He wasn’t obsessed with biological succession. Of course, if Wei Yu could give birth, he would certainly want children, but Wei Yu couldn’t, so who else would he have them with?

Wei Yu’s heart was in a mess, unable to untangle his thoughts. He wasn’t a fool; he could clearly perceive Qin Ji’s feelings for him, but he didn’t dare to respond. He knew himself well enough: what he wanted was a love that belonged solely to him, with no one to share it. But Qin Ji was an Emperor, and being an Emperor came with inevitable obligations.

“Why aren’t we there yet? I’m tired of sitting.” Qin Ji pushed the memorials aside, lifted the curtain, and poked his head out. “Chen Xuanwu, how much longer until we reach the hunting grounds?”

Chen Xuanwu was riding alongside the carriage, acting as a close guard. “Your Majesty, another half hour. Please be patient.”

Qin Ji: Another half hour? That’s nearly an hour in modern time! He retreated back into the carriage, intending to torture himself with the greeting memorials for a bit longer.

Suddenly, the carriage hit a large stone, and the frame jolted. Qin Ji lurched with it.

Thud!

Qin Ji’s forehead slammed against the solid wood of the carriage.

“Your Majesty!” Seeing this, Wei Yu forgot all his internal confusion and rushed to check on him.

Qin Ji clutched the spot he had hit and rubbed it. “I won’t have to attend the Spring Rite with a huge bump, will I? That would be so embarrassing!”

“Move your hand and let me see.” Wei Yu took Qin Ji’s hand and gently lifted it. “It’s alright. No bump, just a bit of bruising.”

Qin Ji hissed. “If I had known, I should have practiced ‘Iron Head’ kung fu to see if it would still hurt.”

Wei Yu couldn’t help but laugh, gently massaging the spot for him. “It’s a small area. It might fade by the time we reach the hunting grounds and won’t affect the Rite.”

Qin Ji: “Fine.” Who would have thought that simply trying to pull his head back in would result in a collision with the carriage?

Fortunately, Wei Yu’s prediction was accurate. By the time they arrived, the swelling had subsided, leaving only a faint mark. By tomorrow’s official ceremony, it would be completely gone. He, Qin Ji, would still be a handsome guy tomorrow.

The hunting grounds weren’t like the palace; conditions were simpler. Everyone from the Emperor down to the servants had to live in tents. Upon arrival, everyone had their own tasks: Gao De was busy instructing servants, Chen Xuanwen was arranging hidden guards in secret locations, Chen Xuanwu was leading the imperial guards to sweep the mountains for assassins, and the officials from the Ministry of Rites were double-checking the procedures…

After arriving, Qin Ji surprisingly became the most idle person. Having finished the greeting memorials in the carriage and replied to them one by one under Wei Yu’s guidance (in his “chicken scratch” handwriting), he now had nothing to do. He called the imperial physician to change Wei Yu’s dressing.

Fortunately, Chen Xuanwen had used his head and handed Qu Tingquan a relatively blunt dagger that day; otherwise, Wei Yu’s injury would have been much worse and wouldn’t have even begun to heal.

The physician unwound the layers of gauze. No matter how comfortable the carriage, the journey had been bumpy, and there was a bit more blood on the gauze than yesterday. Seeing this, Qin Ji gritted his teeth in heartache. After skillfully applying the medicine and wrapping new gauze, the physician bowed and left with his medical chest.

Qin Ji’s fingertip brushed the gauze, and he recoiled as if from an electric shock. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, his heart aching.

Wei Yu: “???” Listen to the nonsense you’re saying. “If you used more strength, I might actually feel you touching me,” Wei Yu said.

Every time the physician finished changing the medicine, Qin Ji looked as if the sky were falling. Wei Yu had grown accustomed to it.

“This will leave a scar for the rest of your life. It won’t look good.” Qin Ji blamed himself. If not for him, the beauty would never have suffered this pain.

Wei Yu turned wary. “Are you saying you find me less attractive now?”

“Of course not!” Qin Ji replied without hesitation.

Wei Yu: “Then why the long face?”

Qin Ji felt like dejectedly digging a hole in the ground. “You were never injured before, and you were hurt because of me,” he said full of apology.

Wei Yu found it funny. “Just because of that?”

Qin Ji: “Yes.”

Wei Yu: “It’s alright. I’m used to it.”

Qin Ji exploded again. “How can you be used to it? Did Wei Qiong bully you before? How can anyone get used to this kind of thing?”

Wei Yu habitually covered Qin Ji’s mouth to stop him from continuing. “Shh, be quiet. You’re scaring me.”

Qin Ji immediately shut his mouth, not even stopping to think that he wasn’t exactly thundering and couldn’t possibly be scaring Wei Yu.

Of course, Wei Yu hadn’t been directly bullied by Wei Qiong like that; he had simply suffered all kinds of pain at the hands of the tyrant in his past life. For example, he had memories of the tyrant tormenting him at these very hunting grounds. In that life, the tyrant had forced him to come. He had walked all the way from the palace, and his pampered body couldn’t take it; his feet were covered in painful blisters. Upon arrival, the tyrant drove him into the forest and shot arrows at him, treating him like prey. Since the tyrant was a poor archer and couldn’t hit him, he released dogs—each one larger than the last, with sharp teeth. He had been surrounded with nowhere to hide. The tyrant shot at him with a bow; it was lucky the tyrant had a weak constitution and no strength, or he might have been shot to death there.

Living a second time, the people and circumstances were already different. He was cradled in the palm of Qin Ji’s hand, provided with the best of everything. He occupied Qin Ji’s Ziji Palace, and even at the hunting grounds, he shared a tent with Qin Ji. Qin Ji, worried about his injury, wanted him right under his eyes and even took on the task of getting up at night to pour him water—leaving Gao Huan feeling entirely redundant.

Wei Yu reached down, grabbed Qin Ji’s shoulder, and leaned against him. Qin Ji carefully avoided Wei Yu’s injury and held him gently. Although he wasn’t sure why the beauty suddenly leaned on him, if Wei Yu wanted to lean, he was welcome to.

Lunch was served in the tent. Afterward, Qin Ji had to attend to the Spring Rite affairs, leaving Wei Yu to rest. The physician said the medicine he used made people drowsy, so Wei Yu was sleeping more than usual. Qin Ji, afraid of disturbing him, specifically told Gao Huan to wait outside and directed any ministers seeking him to the main assembly tent.

Qin Ji was already familiar with the Rite’s schedule: first hunting, then fishing and planting. The hunt wasn’t just for the rite; it was an activity for all officials. After the ceremony, both civil and military officials could take up bows and horses to hunt. Naturally, civil officials competed against each other, and military generals against their peers. The winners would receive imperial rewards.

Qin Ji had personally selected rewards from the storehouse. The top civil official would receive a set of tribute-quality “Four Treasures of the Study” that no one else was authorized to use. The top military officer would receive a bow encrusted with gemstones. According to records, this bow was a trophy captured by a previous Qin Emperor after defeating a nomadic tribe that frequently raided the borders.

“Tomorrow, Your Majesty will stand on the sacrificial platform, recite the prayer, and pay respects to the Spring God. You will then place three sticks of incense into the censer, bow again, and then begin the hunt. Rest assured, Your Majesty, we have carefully selected the weight of the bow.”

Qin Ji: “…You didn’t actually have to tell me that last sentence.”

Reciting that long, long prayer was going to be painful. Given that he still didn’t recognize all the characters in the prayer and didn’t know where to pause, he intended to memorize the entire text to avoid mistakes tomorrow. If the prayer weren’t supposed to be burned after recitation—as a way for the Spring God to receive it—Qin Ji would have definitely added punctuation and pinyin to the scroll. He was truly grateful to whoever invented punctuation and pinyin; otherwise, his school years would have been even more miserable.

He spent half the day ironed out the details with the ministers. Only after they were certain he had memorized it and wouldn’t make a mistake did they let him leave the main tent.

When Qin Ji stepped out, dusk was falling, and soon a river of stars would fill the sky. “Gao De, looking at stars at the hunting grounds must be clearer than in the palace, right?” Qin Ji looked up and squinted.

Gao De smiled. “Of course. The hunting grounds are on a mountain, much higher than the palace.”

Qin Ji made a plan: he would watch the stars with Wei Yu. As expected of him—so romantic! He gave his own idea an “excellent” rating.

Unfortunately, Wei Yu was still injured; otherwise, they could have shared some wine to truly complete the romantic atmosphere.