Transmigrated as the Emperor, but Slacking Off - Chapter 21.1

“Your subject Ning Zheng kowtows in trepidation. My son, Wujie, lost his mother at a young age and followed me to guard the border from his childhood. His nature is as stubborn as iron, and he is ignorant of the intricate machinations of the Imperial Court. Now that Your Majesty has entrusted him with the duty of reviewing memorials, I fear his dull-wittedness may delay the nation’s prosperity. Should there be any errors in his responses, I beg Your Majesty to allow this old soldier’s body to take the blame on his behalf…”

Ning Wujie paused, grit his teeth, and continued: “Considering his youth, I prostrate myself to beg Your Majesty to allow him to serve at the border to atone for his sins. The entire Ning clan would not be able to repay Your Majesty’s grace even with ten thousand deaths…”

Reaching this point, he set down the memorial and fixed his gaze directly on the faint-hearted ruler. Beneath half-closed eyelids, eyes like icy crystals shifted and looked over. Wen Xing said coolly, “The entire civil and military court couldn’t persuade me; what makes you think your father’s memorial will work?”

Ning Wujie lowered his eyes. The sliver of filial affection that had just risen in his heart was doused by the Emperor’s words. Without surprise, he set the memorial aside. “One only knows after trying.”

This time, besides asking for his return to the Northwest, his father also mentioned the current war situation. The vanguard of the Shuofeng Tribe had been pinned down by the Ningyuan Army’s ambushes, preventing an effective general offensive. This was good news. However, military supplies had only just set out and would take another month to arrive. Although his father didn’t urge him in the letter, Ning Wujie knew the border must be stretched thin. He was anxious as if consumed by fire, yet he was restrained by this ruler and had no way out.

Wen Xing retracted his gaze, mocking in his heart that this stubborn man was truly persistent he still hadn’t given up on the idea of returning to the Northwest. Had Wen Xing not been a “lazy” and “debauched” ruler, the memorial would have been quite touching; one could imagine how much the Marquis of Ningyuan worried about his youngest son from afar.

However, in history, Ning Wujie’s trip to reinforce the Northwest this time resulted in an ambush. Although he didn’t die, Wen Xing felt there was no need to let this guy take the risk. Moreover, if he “let the tiger back to the mountain,” what if Ning Wujie raised a rebel army early and caught him off guard? After all, a certain someone “hated” him most right now.

After weighing it over, Wen Xing felt it was safest to keep the man by his side. I don’t care if you’re happy or if you hate it, Wen Xing thought.

Yet, perhaps out of a rare moment of conscience, he suddenly felt like showing concern for this “forced” victim. He asked, “How is your case coming along?”

Ning Wujie looked at the Emperor with some surprise. Since when did this faint-hearted ruler take the initiative to inquire about serious matters?

He pondered for a moment. Knowing the Emperor wouldn’t want to hear dry reports, he began to tell it as a story: “Every night at the third quarter of the Zi hour (approx. 11:45 PM), the swill cart from the Imperial Stables leaves the palace gates. It travels non-stop to Tan Creek in the suburbs. A eunuch removes treasures stolen from the inner treasury hidden in a secret compartment of the water bucket and hides them in the hollow of an old willow tree by the river.”

“The ‘Bone-Buriers’ of Huanhai Tower then retrieve these priceless treasures after the eunuch leaves and escort them into the underground auction house of Huanhai Tower. For every treasure sold that day, Huanhai Tower takes a fifty percent cut.”

Wen Xing: “I thought the case of the inner treasury theft was already closed.”

Ning Wujie glanced at him and said cryptically, “Of that fifty percent profit, thirty percent eventually makes its way through various turns into the manor of a certain high-ranking noble.”

Wen Xing was curious. “Who?”

At the crucial point, Ning Wujie grew mysterious and refused to speak further. “Your Majesty will find out soon. Furthermore, I suspect that noble personage is unwilling to wait for death and intends to strike first.”

Wen Xing: … Hanging me in suspense again. Last time this kid told a story like this, it was to trick him into attending court. This time, surely he wouldn’t… Wen Xing was calculating what further demands he should make if the kid tried the same trick again.

Thinking of the single tear that fell when the other person bit him… he hadn’t seen it clearly then and didn’t know if he truly cried or if it was an illusion. In short, he quite wanted to see it again. He was like a fisherman sitting steady on a rock, waiting for the fish to take the bait.

However, a breath later, Ning Wujie simply calmly opened another memorial: “Zhang Yu, the Surveillance Commissioner of Huibei, has subverted justice, accepting bribes to release seven death-row inmates. Agitated citizens have gathered at the yamen to litigate…”

Wen Xing: … He stared at Ning Wujie with a haunting gaze, as if trying to pierce through him. Yet the man being stared at had no reaction, calmly reading the memorial on his own.

“Ning Wujie.”

Ning Wujie looked up. “What is Your Majesty’s business?”

Wen Xing grit his teeth, asking with his eyes: Do you have nothing else to say?

Ning Wujie lowered his eyes. “If Your Majesty has no need for me to read memorials, then I shall take my leave…” As he spoke, he prepared to rise.

Wen Xing suppressed his temper. “Sit down.” Ning Wujie paused and, rare for him, sat back down quite obediently. “Read,” Wen Xing said crossly. “Do not stop until I am asleep.”

“As you command.”

There was no visible emotion in Ning Wujie’s lowered eyes, but Wen Xing swore the man must be gloating right now. Digging a pit and not giving me a chance to fill it, you’ve even learned to tease me back, haven’t you? Wait, I’ll get my revenge.

Three days later. Early morning.

The thunderous sound of the Dengwen Drum (the Drum of Justice) pierced through the magnificent red walls of the palace and echoed through Funing Hall. Wen Xing was still in his dreams and frowned at being awakened by the drumming.

“…Li Dequan!” His voice was lazy, raspy, and filled with intense dissatisfaction.

The old eunuch hurried in. “Your Majesty.”

“Who is beating the drum?”

Li Dequan, having heard a report from an arriving attendant, lowered his head. “Your Majesty, it is the County Prince of Pingyang. He says he seeks justice for his grandson.”

Wen Xing: ? What random nobody? I don’t know him.

Seeing Wen Xing’s bewildered expression, Li Dequan felt a bit helpless. His Majesty had become quite forgetful since his illness. He reminded him, “The grandfather of that Wang Yian who attempted regicide last time.” There were many in the Luohe Wang clan who were dukes or ministers; for him to be a County Prince was the highest honor a noble of a different surname could achieve in this dynasty.

Wen Xing was startled. A regicide-seeker dares to claim grievance? A villain suing his victim first. “So noisy. Drive him away.”

The old eunuch was a bit troubled. “Your Majesty, it is a rule passed down from the ancestors. For anyone who beats the Dengwen Drum, the Emperor must receive the petition to hear the case. It cannot be blocked.”

Wen Xing opened his eyes. There’s such a rotten rule? Meaning even if he wanted to “slack off,” as long as some blind fool beat that drum, work would be added to his plate, and he must take it? For the countless time, Wen Xing looked down upon the profession of Emperor. Everyone is my boss!

He rolled over and tucked his head into the quilts, wrapping himself completely into a cocoon. He covered his ears can’t hear, can’t hear, can’t hear…

Thud—Thud—Thud—

The drumming was rhythmic and piercing. Every strike felt like a vibration in Wen Xing’s heart, making him restless. It was too early and too cold; the faint-hearted ruler was absolutely not getting out of bed. Wen Xing utilized his ultimate slacker technique, Calm the mind, calm the mind, calm the mind. Treat the drumming as background noise.

The Dengwen Drum continued without end, yet the Sovereign remained motionless on his couch. Li Dequan was in a bind. If this continued, by the next day, the entire capital would say their Majesty ignored grievances. But he didn’t dare urge the Emperor; after weighing it over, he had to find the little beauty for help. He made a sharp turn and rushed toward the side hall.

Ning Wujie had apparently risen long ago. He was fully dressed and washing his hands at the basin. Li Dequan looked up and saw Ning Wujie in the crimson-purple court robes of a third-rank military official. The official robes clung to his well-proportioned, lean frame; the fabric was ironed perfectly without a single wrinkle. A suanni (mythical lion) pattern sat on his shoulders, and a black leather belt with jade was cinched at his waist, radiating an aura as steady as a mountain.

Li Dequan “tsked” in his heart. On those old men, these purple robes looked baggy like withered branches, yet on Ning Wujie, they perfectly showcased the solemnity of official decorum. “Is Lord Ning going to court?”

Ning Wujie hung the used cloth neatly back on the rack and turned to look at him. “Has His Majesty not risen yet?” Seeing the eunuch nod, he held his official cap in the crook of his arm and walked out with ease. “Let’s go.”

Li Dequan followed Ning Wujie, his heart filled with confusion. The drum has only been beating for a short while; why is the little beauty already in his court robes?

Wen Xing was lingering in his quilts, gradually adapting to the rhythmic drumming. The drummer had quite the stamina. But it mattered not; his slacking skills were perfected to the point of being able to ignore the noise as background sound.

However, from behind him came that “cold god-like” voice: “Your Majesty, it is time to attend court and hear the matters.”

Wen Xing: ? Who wants to go to court? He turned his head and saw Ning Wujie in his court robes, and the corner of his eye twitched. “Get lost,” he said coolly.

“It is a rule established during the time of the Progenitor. For any grievance where the Dengwen Drum is struck, the Emperor must open the inner court for a personal hearing, with the three judicial offices (Sanfasi) attending.”

Wen Xing frowned. “How unreasonable. Anyone who beats a drum can force the Emperor and the three offices to work? Is this hammer not a bit too overpowered?”

Ning Wujie said flatly, “If the investigation proves there is no grievance, the drummer shall receive thirty strokes of the cane.”

Wen Xing realized. Thirty strokes could basically kill someone. No wonder he was hearing the drum for the first time since he transmigrated. Still, he shrunk back into his quilts. “Not going.”

Ning Wujie narrowed his eyes slightly. “If Your Majesty does not go, then that Wang Yian who poisoned you will truly become a victim of a wrongful death. From then on, the entire world will cry out in grievance for him and curse you for slaughtering the innocent. Can you swallow such an indignity?”

Wen Xing: … After weighing it for two seconds in the warm quilts. “I can.”

Ning Wujie’s brow twitched. “If this isn’t handled properly this time, the court and the public will know Your Majesty is weak and can be bullied. Anyone will be able to challenge imperial power, bringing you endless trouble.”

Wen Xing: … Seeing the Emperor fall silent, Ning Wujie caught onto the trick. This ruler doesn’t care about his reputation or even a villain suing first. He only hates trouble.

Beneath his lowered eyelashes, a trace of a smile Ning Wujie didn’t even notice himself flickered. He struck while the iron was hot: “A bit of trouble today can eliminate future annoyances. Does Your Majesty truly not wish to consider it?”