Transmigrated as the Emperor, but Slacking Off - Chapter 19

Wen Xing studied the man lying on the couch. Ning Wujie was clad in the flying-fish patterned Yesa robes of the Bureau of Investigation. The tightly bound waist-seal accentuated his powerful, narrow waist, and the well-fitted fabric clung to his body, outlining a firm and toned physique. The man looked like a blade sheathed in its scabbard, radiating a sharp, crisp aura.

“Ning Wujie,” Wen Xing questioned in a deep voice, “You have defied an imperial edict; what should your punishment be?”

Ning Wujie’s heavy eyelids lifted slightly, his lashes trembling with the movement. His voice was still somewhat slurred: “I should… be killed.”

Wen Xing curled his lips. “Then how about I issue an edict tomorrow to grant you death?”

Ning Wujie closed his eyes and spat out a sentence: “As you wish. I desire nothing more.”

Huh? Why did this stubborn man have such a self-destructive vibe today? Wen Xing was puzzled. However, he seemed to have found something more entertaining than the sober version of Ning Wujie.

His eyes brightened slightly. “Fine then. I shall issue another edict, ordering your father and brother to personally come to the capital to claim your corpse and while they’re at it, I’ll appoint your brother as a ‘beauty’ for my harem.”

The man on the couch snapped his eyes open.

Wen Xing was looking forward to seeing Ning Wujie’s reaction with great interest. He could tell that this stubborn man usually relied heavily on reason to suppress his temperament; now that he was drunk, would his true nature be exposed?

But before Wen Xing could clearly see the other’s expression, he was shoved over.

The world spun, and in the blink of an eye, he was pinned to the couch by a heavy body. His wrists were held in a vice-like grip of iron, rendered completely immobile.

Shocked, Wen Xing lifted his eyes, only to find Ning Wujie looking down at him with a grim face. Or rather, “looking” wasn’t the right word; Wen Xing felt as if he were prey being targeted by a wild beast. Those eyes were stained like blood, all moisture gone, leaving only ruthlessness and a chilling coldness.

He warned in a low voice, “Ning Wujie, you are being insolent.”

“Why…” Ning Wujie’s voice was deep and dark, unlike the piercing clarity it usually held. “Why must it be me? Why do you insist on hounding me?!”

Wen Xing was startled. This kid is not right today.

“I hate you,” Ning Wujie hissed through his teeth. “You are the exact kind of person I hate most! Neglectful of state affairs, lazy, debauched, outspoken, and easily swayed by beauty! You made my Ning family a target for everyone! You made me worry for my father and brother yet remain powerless to help! Debauched! Faint-hearted ruler!”

Ning Wujie practically roared these words, his muscles tensed to the point of trembling with rage.

Wen Xing: … Though it didn’t sound pleasant, there was no way to refute it. Having never seen such an agitated Ning Wujie, Wen Xing suddenly wondered: Is this what he thought every time I teased him in the past? Then I truly have been quite wicked.

Wen Xing chuckled. Feeling that Ning Wujie in this state was a rare sight, he wasn’t willing to let it go easily. Thus, with a mischievous heart, he added fuel to the fire: “I am exactly that kind of faint-hearted ruler, and I insist on having you. What are you going to do about it? It seems you have no choice but to continue hating me.”

He expected Ning Wujie to flare up and say even harsher things. But instead, the other fell silent. He saw the skin on Ning Wujie’s jaw tighten until the outline of his teeth showed; he was nearly grinding his molars to dust. His eyes were filled with unwilling resentment.

He heard Ning Wujie whisper in a raspy breath: “I should… have hated you.”

Wen Xing: ? Should have? Driven by a strange impulse, he asked curiously: “Is that not the case?”

He received no answer. He only felt the hands pinning him down suddenly tighten further. It was a bit painful. He turned his head to look at his wrists, attempting to struggle, but couldn’t break free. His gaze, however, fell upon the hands gripping him.

The back of that hand was covered in bloodstains, and the skin over the skeletal knuckles was split open. Those hands, once extremely beautiful, were now shockingly injured. He was stunned.

At that moment, he felt a warm, wet sensation on his cheek. He whipped his head back, only to see that Ning Wujie’s crimson eyes had somehow filled with a layer of watery mist. Because of his position looming over Wen Xing, his eyes couldn’t hold the moisture, and a single tear condensed and fell onto Wen Xing’s face.

Wen Xing’s pupils shrank, and even his eyelashes trembled. He’s crying? Did he say something particularly out of line today? Thinking it over, he had only mentioned granting him death or threatening to summon his brother, but he had made such threats many times before and never saw the man actually cry. Is it because he’s drunk that all his usual self-restraint has been cast aside?

It was strange. Wen Xing knew he didn’t like seeing men cry. But Ning Wujie with his red eyes, stubbornly suppressing his rage, and his emotional collapse while still holding back all but a single tear actually looked… quite beautiful.

In a rare moment of conscience, Wen Xing thought of saying something to comfort him, but the words that came out only added fuel to the fire: “I am so loathsome, yet what can be done? I simply like you.”

Before his words finished, the figure before him blurred as it suddenly leaned down. Before Wen Xing could react, he felt a wave of heat on his lower lip, followed by a sharp, piercing pain.

Wen Xing frowned. This kid… is biting him? His lip hurt from the bite, so he began to struggle. However, the strength at his wrists was like welded iron, pinning him down tight. Ning Wujie, like a wild beast, clamped onto his lower lip and refused to let go, hissing through his teeth: “Don’t say it. Shut up!”

Wen Xing felt that his lip must be bleeding; he could sense a warm liquid sliding from the corner of his mouth. He grew annoyed: “Ning Wujie, do you intend to commit regicide?”

Perhaps this word worked. His lip was suddenly released. The grip on his wrists also loosened slightly. He seized the chance to break free and shoved the man off him. Propping himself up on the edge of the couch with one hand, he touched the corner of his mouth with the other.

Looking at his hand, his four fair fingers were indeed stained with blood the contrast of red and white was exceptionally jarring. Hiss… This kid really isn’t some innocent little flower. The history books were right about him being a cold-blooded tyrant.

Wen Xing had always been afraid of pain, and being bitten like that made his anger flare up instantly. “You!”

He saw the shoved-aside Ning Wujie looking dazed. A moment later, as if regaining a sliver of clarity, the youth looked at him with a grim gaze. For some reason, even though that look was like a trapped beast—cold and sharp enough to tear someone apart Wen Xing saw a sense of grievance in it.

His anger suddenly dissipated by half. Fine, it’s my own fault for being a smart-mouth. Teasing someone while they’re drunk… He suppressed his temper and said in a deep voice: “Are you sober now?”

Ning Wujie’s gaze fixed on that lip. Blood had soaked into the pale skin, like red plum blossoms blooming in the snow. Under the dim yellow candlelight, the Emperor’s originally ethereal features became seductive and lush because of that touch of red. Ning Wujie’s pale knuckles instinctively gripped the edge of the couch.

After a long while, he finally seemed to have regained his senses. He silently rolled off the couch and knelt heavily on both knees, saying in a low voice: “This subject has assaulted Your Majesty. Pray Your Majesty decree my punishment.”

Wen Xing looked at the youth kneeling ramrod straight. The drunkenness seemed to have faded slightly; the flush on his cheeks had vanished, exposing his face which was as grim as still water. Wen Xing felt a bit helpless. He didn’t understand what this kid was being so stubborn about all night first the open defiance, then the drinking. He would tentatively categorize everything that followed as the unintentional actions of a drunkard.

Thus, he questioned: “Why did you get drunk today?” From what he knew, Ning Wujie was supposed to be a teetotaler.

He waited a long time, but received only silence. Always so stubborn. Wen Xing felt helpless; he knew that if this man didn’t want to speak, forcing him was useless—it would likely only result in another: “I’d rather Your Majesty grant me death.”

His gaze followed the man’s arms resting at his sides and fell once more on that injured hand. “Lift your hand,” he commanded.

Ning Wujie hesitated, intending to lift his uninjured left hand. But as he moved, he heard the Emperor say: “The other one.”

Ning Wujie closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and lifted the other hand. Wen Xing frowned at the injury. “What were you doing?”

Ning Wujie looked away. “Interrogating a prisoner.”

Wen Xing didn’t believe it for a second. Interrogating a prisoner? Are you sure the one being interrogated wasn’t yourself? Knowing this stubborn man wouldn’t tell the truth, Wen Xing called out: “Li Dequan!”

The old eunuch, hearing the summons, tentatively opened a sliver of the door, as if afraid of seeing something he shouldn’t. However, peeking through the gap, he saw his Emperor and the little beauty one sitting, one kneeling with their clothes perfectly in order. The old eunuch muttered to himself: Is it that they haven’t started, or that it’s already over? Surely our Majesty isn’t that fast?

Receiving no immediate response, Wen Xing took out all his suppressed anger on the eunuch: “You old fossil, are you deaf?!”

Li Dequan jumped and hurriedly rolled into the room. But after only two steps, he heard his Sovereign say: “Go and summon Zhai Yuanqing!” The old eunuch performed a mid-run slide, turned around, and rolled back out.

Fifteen minutes later, Zhai Yuanqing arrived in a hurry with his medical bag. Wen Xing glanced at the person on the floor. “Look at his hand.”

Zhai Yuanqing complied and was about to check Ning Wujie’s injury when Ning Wujie said: “His Majesty is injured. See to His Majesty first.”

Zhai Yuanqing’s hand froze. He turned to look at the Emperor and indeed saw a gash at the corner of Wen Xing’s lower lip, where the blood had already scabbed. Zhai Yuanqing looked at the Emperor, then at the injury on Ning Wujie’s hand, and was secretly horrified. This… this… it was that intense?

The old eunuch saw it too, his aged eyes widening to their limit. Hiss… Surely the Emperor pushed the little beauty so hard he resorted to both biting and punching? And now the little beauty is kneeling to ask for forgiveness? Look at those tear-reddened eyes the proof of his pitiful grievance! As expected of our Majesty! Truly divinely powerful!

Zhai Yuanqing, his heart trembling, shakily took out an ointment and applied it to Wen Xing. The cream on the skin stung, making Wen Xing frown and lean back slightly to avoid the touch. “Fine. See to him.”

Zhai Yuanqing marveled again Our Sovereign still pities his beauty; he treats his own injury perfunctorily while keeping his eyes fixed on the beauty’s wound. He lifted Ning Wujie’s hand to examine the injury, and heard the Emperor ask from behind: “How was he injured?”

Zhai Yuanqing answered honestly: “It was smashed.” Then he wondered: Didn’t you force him to smash the bedframe? How hard must he have hit it? What do they call this? Pitying him below the bed, but hounding him to death upon it? Zhai Yuanqing felt that his Sovereign truly had two faces. He sensed that in the future, he would likely become a “tool doctor,” specializing in handling the Emperor’s late-night after-affairs.

He opened his bag. “Lord Ning’s injury must be stitched. Otherwise, a warrior frequently clenches his fists, and the tearing will worsen.”

Hearing this, Wen Xing looked coldly at Ning Wujie, his gaze full of interrogation. Ning Wujie refused to meet his eyes. Wen Xing let out a cold laugh in his heart. His gaze shifted as he recalled Ning Wujie’s words about hating him.

Heh. Hate me, do you? Wait and see; I’ll make you realize the consequences of defying an edict.

Zhai Yuanqing ordered more lamps to be lit, illuminating the small area like early morning, then carefully stitched Ning Wujie’s hand by the bright light. Throughout the process, Wen Xing made no move to let Ning Wujie rise for the treatment. This left Zhai Yuanqing puzzled. But the physician’s mind was focused on the procedure, and he could only attribute the reason to his Sovereign simply being “fond of games.”

Ning Wujie didn’t lift his eyelids once, remaining expressionless as Zhai Yuanqing stitched him up. Deep into the night, the candlelight flickered, and the bedchamber was silent enough to hear a pin drop. After an unknown amount of time, the physician cut the thread and bandaged the hand. “It is done. Lord Ning, this hand must not touch water recently, nor should you clench it forcefully, lest the stitches burst. I shall return regularly to change the dressing.”

After finishing his instructions, Zhai Yuanqing took his leave. Ning Wujie was about to rise and depart when he heard Wen Xing say: “Did I give you leave to go?”

Ning Wujie looked up in confusion. He saw the faint-hearted ruler curl one side of his lips, leaning back against the cushions with leisurely ease, resting his chin on his hand with a half-smile. “From now on, you shall reside in Funing Hall.”

Ning Wujie’s pupils trembled. “What?”

Li Dequan had a look of total understanding. Perfectly normal; once someone receives favor, they should be moved to a new palace. It’s just that this little beauty was moved directly into the Emperor’s bedchamber. Tsk tsk tsk. Incredible. It seems the Emperor is truly satisfied with him.

Ning Wujie grit his teeth and flatly refused: “I will not—”

“You have no room to refuse,” Wen Xing cut him off coldly. “Otherwise, I’ll kill you and make your brother take your place.” As if fearing Ning Wujie wouldn’t believe him, Wen Xing’s sharp gaze locked onto the youth, saying word by word: “I mean what I say.”

As expected, he once again saw the fire of rage in Ning Wujie’s eyes. But this time, it was joined by a great deal of tragic indignation. The youth’s hanging hand was clenched into a fist; the freshly wrapped bandage was already seeping with blood. He closed his eyes deeply, forcefully suppressing the hot liquid rising to his eyes.

Only then did he speak in an extremely low, heavy voice: “As you command.”