Transmigrated as the Emperor, but Slacking Off - Chapter 12

The next day, the morning light was brilliant.

Beams of sunlight, too piercing to ignore, streamed through the virtually unobstructed windows of the City God Temple, shining directly onto Wen Xing’s eyelids. Stimulated by the intense glare, his eyelashes fluttered before he reluctantly pried his eyes open.

“So bright, Li Dequan” He raised a hand to shield his eyes, his voice raspy as he called out.

Why hadn’t the bed curtains been drawn? Had that old eunuch finally gone senile?

There was no answer. After several heartbeats of silence, Wen Xing’s consciousness finally returned. He blinked, his memory ending at the moment he had followed Ning Wujie along a pitch-black, muddy mountain path last night.

Hiss.

He rubbed his temples. As his gaze drifted down, his expression froze.

He was wearing nothing at all beneath his azure outer robe and inner garment, which had been draped over him. The clothes felt as if they had been dried over a fire; they were crisp and carried a pleasant, toasted scent.

Who had undressed him?

Ning Wujie?

Nearby, a bonfire crackled, and the sound of footsteps came from outside. Wen Xing looked up to see a silhouette standing against the light, a blade hanging at his hip and a waterskin in his hand.

“Your Majesty.”

Hearing that clear, familiar voice, Wen Xing’s brow relaxed. He massaged his tired Jingming acupoints and asked, “What time is it? Where are Xinghe and the others? Did you find them?”

Ning Wujie’s voice sounded somewhat awkward. “I went to find water. I will go look for them shortly.”

Wen Xing looked over with suspicion. He saw Ning Wujie setting down the waterskin with his back turned, seemingly trying to retreat without facing him.

“Wait a moment.”

Ning Wujie’s back stiffened.

Wen Xing propped himself up on an elbow, narrowing his eyes. He was sharp enough to sense something was wrong. “What are you hiding from?”

Ning Wujie turned his face slightly away, then quickly jerked it back. “Your Majesty has not yet finished dressing. I should not look at what is improper.”

Wen Xing looked down at himself. Because he had sat up, the draped clothes had slid down, revealing the distinct lines of his collarbones trailing to thin shoulders. His blindingly white shoulders and back were completely exposed.

Wen Xing: “…”

He found it somewhat amusing. “Last night when you were taking my clothes off, you didn’t say anything about not looking at what is improper?”

He thought he saw the youth’s silhouette stiffen for a second. Then, Ning Wujie quickly turned and dropped to one knee, keeping his head low as he answered honestly: “I did not look. I kept my eyes closed.”

His voice sounded a bit rushed.

Wen Xing swore that if his eyesight were better, he would surely see the youth’s ears turning red. What was this stubborn brat so nervous about? From a modern perspective, they were both men—what was there to be embarrassed about? But perhaps some people simply had a “short circuit” in their brains.

“It’s fine even if you did look; I won’t punish you,” Wen Xing laughed.

He stood up to dress. Throughout the process, Ning Wujie kept his head bowed.

Wen Xing glanced back at him, teasing, “You love kneeling that much? You’ve knelt all the way over here.”

He walked toward Ning Wujie while fastening his inner robe. A pair of snowy-white feet entered Ning Wujie’s line of sight; the trousers covered most of the insteps, leaving only jade-like toes exposed.

Seeing those feet stepping directly onto the dust-covered floor of the ruined temple, Ning Wujie couldn’t help but furrow his brow tightly and slowly look up. Wen Xing, dressed in pure white undergarments, was looking down at him from above.

Wen Xing glanced at Ning Wujie’s bandaged arm, which seemed to be wrapped in strips of cloth torn from an inner garment. He asked, “How is the wound?”

Ning Wujie shook his head. “A shallow cut. It’s no hindrance.”

Wen Xing nodded, raising his arms. “Then, serve me while I dress.”

Ning Wujie froze, reflexively refusing: “I am a military officer. I fear I will not serve you well.”

Wen Xing raised an eyebrow. “What? You know how to take clothes off, but you don’t know how to put them on?”

From his vantage point, he clearly saw the youth’s earlobes turn an even deeper shade of red. They looked like peach-blossom jade, white marbled with pink. Truly a sight one never tires of, Wen Xing thought.

Ning Wujie twitched his lips, his face turning stoic as he defended himself: “For the sake of Your Majesty’s health, last night was a matter of necessity.”

Wen Xing, in the mood to tease, said with a smirk, “And what if I insist on your service?”

As he spoke, he leaned down, lifting Ning Wujie’s chin with one hand. His dark, deep eyes locked onto the youth’s gaze. Sunlight streamed in through the doorway, leaving two silhouettes one high and one low standing against the light.

“If you don’t know how, you can learn. Properly learn the Way of Serving Your Sovereign.”

The heavy emphasis on those last four words made Ning Wujie’s pupils tremble. His peach-blossom ears turned the color of pigeon-blood rubies. He closed his eyes in deep, utter disappointment.

Who wants to learn that damn ‘Way of Serving the Sovereign’!

A whole night had passed, and nothing had changed. The faint-hearted tyrant was still the same tyrant—in fact, he was becoming even more shameless! Why on earth did he still hold out hope for this man? Was it because this lust-befuddled tyrant had risked his life to save him?

He’s becoming even more muddled!

He looked up, staring directly at Wen Xing. Gritting his teeth, he said, “I do not wish to learn.”

With that, he jerked his head to the side, shaking off Wen Xing’s fingers. He stared stubbornly at the bonfire, refusing to face the Emperor.

Wen Xing raised an eyebrow. He’s getting bolder by the second.

“Have you forgotten that I told you last night? I hate disobedient ministers.”

The moment those words fell, Wen Xing saw Ning Wujie’s eyes turn red again, filled with unwilling resentment and indignation. After a long silence, he heard Ning Wujie’s suppressed voice: “I obey your decree.”

Wen Xing smirked and lifted a foot. “Here. Put on my shoes.”

Ning Wujie’s brow twitched. He endured the frustration, pulled a handkerchief from his robe, and spread it over his knee. Then, he reached out and placed Wen Xing’s foot onto his lap.

His gaze instinctively fell on those neatly trimmed, lustrous toenails, which looked like Oriental pearls. He carefully wiped the dust away with the cloth, then reached for the socks and boots nearby.

The trouser leg was lifted, revealing a slender, well-proportioned calf. Ning Wujie’s thumb inevitably brushed against the cool skin. Though it was cool to the touch, he felt as if he had been burned, and he quickly finished putting on the socks and boots.

Wen Xing watched Ning Wujie rise hurriedly and bring over his outer robe. Throughout the process, the youth kept his eyes down and didn’t say a word; his expression was wooden, as if he were forcefully suppressing something.

As Ning Wujie stood face-to-face to fasten his belt, Wen Xing saw a pair of pitch-black, pool-like eyes hidden beneath lowered lashes. It seemed as though ten thousand grievances and furies were buried beneath those bottomless depths.

Wen Xing curled his lips into a smile.

Once the jade belt-hook was fastened, Ning Wujie took a step back and said expressionlessly, “It is done.”

Wen Xing looked down at his impeccably dressed self and praised him sincerely, “See? Didn’t you serve me quite well?”

He began to joke: “I think from now on, I’ll let Minister Ning handle my daily needs. What do you think?”

Ning Wujie looked up at him, meeting his gaze without flinching. “I must still complete the important tasks Your Majesty has entrusted to me. I fear I would be stretched too thin.”

Without waiting for Wen Xing’s reply, he turned and left. “I will go find the others.”

Watching the youth’s departing back, Wen Xing smirked and stretched toward the sun. The fatigue of the night vanished instantly. His mood had suddenly become quite excellent.

Ning Wujie hadn’t gone far before Wen Xing heard a crisp, loud boyish voice: “Over here! I see them!”

Xinghe!

Wen Xing walked out of the ruined temple and saw Xinghe leading a squad of men. Having spotted Ning Wujie, they were heading in their direction. Many of the guards were injured, and the horses’ hooves stumbled along the mountain path.

Seeing the child at the head of the group, Wen Xing called out, “Xinghe!”

The child’s eyes brightened with joy. Using lightfoot skills, he bounded over in a few strides. “Master!”

Wen Xing scrutinized the boy. He was covered in dirt, his clothes were torn, and his face had two muddy streaks mixed with blood. “Are you hurt?”

Xinghe shook his head. “No. We wiped out all the assassins, but during the fight, we lost track of you.” He scratched the back of his head, looking ashamed. “We searched all night, It’s all because of the rain; we couldn’t see anything.”

Xinghe pouted, muttering angrily, “Curse the heavens. If it hadn’t rained, I would have found you much sooner.”

Wen Xing laughed and ruffled the boy’s hair. “It’s all right.”

Since the group Xinghe was fighting had been eliminated, the ones who attacked him last night must have been a second group. Or, the mastermind had made dual preparations to ensure he had no chance of escape.

From a distance, Ning Wujie watched Wen Xing ruffling the child’s hair and laughing brightly. His gaze suddenly turned cold.

When has this tyrant ever smiled at anyone else like that?

Toward him, the man was always bossy or spoke lewdly; he was never this gentle. At that thought, the way he looked at Xinghe carried a hint of hostility he hadn’t even noticed himself.

Xinghe’s hair was a mess, and one of his double-buns had gone crooked. He quickly ducked out from under Wen Xing’s arm and hopped away like a rabbit, keeping a safe distance. “Master! My hair is ruined!”

Wen Xing’s shoulders shook with laughter. Then, as if noticing Ning Wujie’s gaze, he turned to look over.

Ning Wujie was caught off guard as their eyes met. He saw Wen Xing give him a small smile. Whether it was a hallucination or not, he felt that smile was like the warm sun on early snow, quietly melting the ice.

He remained silent, turned away, and walked over to the guards to lead a horse. He didn’t know if the tyrant knew how to ride; if not, they would have to share a horse. He had to pick a gentle one.

Just then, Xinghe gave a loud whistle, and a black horse trotted over on its own. “Master, ride my Cloud-Chaser!” Xinghe said as he flipped onto the horse.

Wen Xing was about to reach for Xinghe’s hand when he saw Ning Wujie ride past him on a white horse, acting as if no one else were there. Although the youth’s expression was blank, Wen Xing felt that someone was very unhappy.

He cleared his throat. “Ning Wujie.”

The white horse stopped. The rider turned back. “What does Your Majesty require?”

Wen Xing tilted his head. “Have you forgotten the Way of Serving your Sovereign? I haven’t even mounted, yet you dare to ride off?”

Ning Wujie lowered his lashes to hide his gaze. After a moment of silence, he maneuvered the horse back to stand before Wen Xing and dismounted.

Seeing he made no further move; Wen Xing raised his chin dissatisfactorily. “It’s so high; how am I supposed to get up?” He truly didn’t know how to ride.

Xinghe hopped over enthusiastically, taking a horse-stance and interlacing his hands. “Master, step on me.”

But before the words finished, Wen Xing felt a force at his waist lift him up. With a light leap, he landed softly on the horse’s back. A moment later, he felt a weight behind him. A pair of hands reached around his waist to take the reins.

A unique scent belonging only to the youth, one he had never noticed before enveloped him from behind. It was extremely faint; he wouldn’t have noticed it if they weren’t so close. He couldn’t quite describe the smell, but it made him think of a quiet, vast pine forest on a snowy ridge, instantly calming his heart.

Ning Wujie’s low voice sounded in his ear: “Sit tight, Your Majesty.”

“Hyah—!”

The horse bolted. Wen Xing felt a sudden jolt, but just as his body began to sway, an arm wrapped around his waist to steady him. The youth’s body carried the warmth of the morning sun, and his hot breath brushed against Wen Xing’s ear. Wen Xing felt his own ears grow a bit warm.

He straightened his posture, trying to pull away and escape that scorching heat source. “Ning Wujie, who told you that you could ride with me?”

Ning Wujie was behind him, so he couldn’t see his face. He only heard the youth’s voice, which sounded less clear and more dark than usual: “Does Your Majesty know how to ride?”

Wen Xing: “…” He actually doesn’t. “I can have Xinghe take me.”

As soon as he said it, the horse suddenly sped up. The forest path was rugged and uneven, making the ride exceptionally bumpy. It made him so unstable that he couldn’t help but fall backward, his entire body slamming into Ning Wujie’s chest.

He couldn’t control his body and could only shout: “Slow down!”

Ning Wujie didn’t respond, only urging the horse faster.

“Ning Wujie!”

Finally, Ning Wujie reacted: “Your Majesty was just assassinated; it is unsafe out here. It is best to return to the palace as soon as possible.” The youth’s voice carried the breathlessness of high-speed riding, swirling into the wind.

Wen Xing: “…” This kid always has ten thousand reasons to shut him up!

But he truly was afraid of death mainly afraid of another heart attack during a near-death experience. That was far too painful. Wen Xing gripped the saddle tightly, unable to find leverage anywhere, forced to rely on the body behind him to stay steady.

He highly suspected the kid was doing this on purpose. This was revenge for the “Way of Serving the Sovereign” talk, wasn’t it?

Hah, just you wait. He would definitely get his revenge.

Watching the two figures disappear into the distance, Xinghe scratched the back of his head in confusion. “Eh? Master used to love riding my horse the most.” He tilted his head, looking at his glossy black horse. Does he not like it anymore?

He looked at the white horse that had vanished from sight. Next time, I’ll switch to a white one too. He nodded, striking his palm with a fist. It’s settled!