Transmigrated as the Emperor, but Slacking Off - Chapter 31.2

“Your servant has truly handed over every single question he knew to Your Highness! Your servant has absolutely zero concealment!” As he spoke, Wang Jiang crashed to his knees with a loud plop, knocking his forehead against the floor repeatedly.

Wang Fuwei’s sharp gaze scrutinized him, stating icily, “You surely don’t believe that just because you’ve attached yourself to the Emperor, he will simply let you off the hook, do you?”

Kneeling on the ground with his head buried low, Wang Jiang’s entire body went rigid, and cold sweat instantly erupted across his skin.

The Empress Dowager stated eerily, “Wang Xuanyi was a Prince personally titled by the late Emperor, yet he was still sentenced to execution under imperial custody. Do you truly believe that if the great tree of the Wang clan collapses, you will somehow be able to emerge entirely unscathed?”

“That household of yours is not even remotely clean.”

Wang Jiang’s pupils shrank, and he cried out in absolute terror, “Your servant would never dare! Your servant possesses absolutely zero duplicity toward the Empress Dowager!”

Looking down at the violently trembling Wang Jiang at the foot of the steps, Wang Fuwei dismissed him with a disdainful flick of her silken sleeve. “Forget it. Cheating on the spring examination is ultimately not the proper path anyway; This Palace was merely testing your loyalty.”

Cold sweat poured from Wang Jiang’s forehead. In his heart, he let out a miserable lament over his wretched fate. Back then, when he had secured the position of Chief official of the Mathematics discipline, he had actually celebrated for a considerable time. How thoroughly naive.

“It appears the Emperor does not truly place his trust in you either. That is hardly surprising; after all, your surname is Wang.”

“However, so long as you sit in that position of Chief official regardless of whether you hold true executive power anyone who enters officialdom through the mathematics discipline must formally call you ‘Teacher’.”

Wang Fuwei cast a freezing glance at him. “You ought to know exactly what that implies, correct?”

Wang Jiang knocked his head against the floor repeatedly. “Your servant understands.”

Wang Fuwei let out a cold sneer. “It is good that you know.”

“If you wish to demonstrate your loyalty, merely speaking words is completely useless.” Wang Fuwei lifted her eyelids, her phoenix-eyes glittering with a lethal, freezing light. “Perform one specific task for This Palace, and This Palace shall place her trust in you.”

Wang Jiang froze, lifting his head with a heart suspended in pure terror. “What are the Empress Dowager’s commands?”

He witnessed Wang Fuwei let out a soft, mocking chuckle: “It is simple…”

At dusk, inside the Qinzheng Hall of the detached palace.

Grand Tutor Fang Bingyuan was weeping old tears of profound emotion. Leading the entire assembly of imperial lecturers and palace eunuchs, his trembling frame knelt flat against the floor to welcome the personal arrival of the Emperor.

“We respectfully welcome Your Majesty’s sacred presence!” the crowd bellowed in unison.

With a thoroughly slumped, miserable expression, Wen Xing strode past the kneeling assembly, lazily embedding himself into his imperial chair.

“Rise.”

The foolish tyrant’s voice sounded completely drained of life.

Fang Bingyuan stood up, dabbing at the corners of his eyes.

A year. It has been nearly a whole year! he thought to himself with immense agitation. No matter how much these veteran ministers advised, even resorting to risking their lives through death-remonstrances, the Emperor had flatly refused to reinstate the daily classical lectures.

When he had mentioned this matter to Ning Wujie two days prior, he hadn’t harbored much hope. He had merely reasoned that since Ning Wujie possessed the capability to convince the Emperor to attend court, perhaps he could achieve success regarding the classical lectures as well.

The end result was that today, the youth had actually successfully dragged the Emperor here!

At this thought, he turned toward Ning Wujie, executing a deeply grateful bow. “Master Ning’s ability to convince the Emperor to return to the proper path is an absolute blessing for our dynasty!”

Granted, the Emperor was highly likely driven entirely by a sudden lustful whim to come here, but regardless of the reason, the man had physically manifested.

Loyal advice truly cannot compete against male beauty after all, he lamented in his heart with a thoroughly complex mix of emotions.

The two imperial lecturers quickly followed suit with their own praise: “Master Ning remains entirely unmoved by either favor or disgrace, daring to use direct, blunt remonstrance to shatter the monarch’s mental barrier. We are far inferior!”

This was bordering slightly on sycophancy. Ning Wujie remained entirely unfazed. After exchanging a few casual, diplomatic pleasantries with the ministers, he took his seat directly across from Wen Xing.

The two sat facing each other over a single lecture desk.

As a Grand Scholar, Fang Bingyuan took his seat at the highest platform, formally declaring the commencement of the daily lecture.

The primary lecturer stood in the center of the hall, holding a copy of The Great Learning high in his hands, his voice booming like a great bronze bell: “…What is meant by ‘making the thoughts sincere’ is the allowing no self-deception, as when we hate a bad odor, and as when we love what is beautiful. This is called self-enjoyment…”

Lacking even a single shred of proper posture, Wen Xing leaned his head backward against the rounded chair, his textbook sprawled wide to cover his face completely, resembling a literal corpse.

The chanting of the text was far too hypnotizing significantly more sleep-inducing than when Ning Wujie read romance novels to him.

The lesson had barely commenced, yet the foolish tyrant was already thoroughly nodding off.

Witnessing this, the primary lecturer found himself in a massive dilemma, casting a desperate, pleading gaze toward Ning Wujie.

Ning Wujie lifted his eyes to look at Wen Xing, his brows knitting instantly. “Your Majesty!”

Wen Xing extended a single finger to lift the book blanketing his face, his thoroughly displeased gaze slicing out from beneath the paper. “This Emperor is listening.”

Ning Wujie stated, “The daily classical lectures demand absolute solemnity. A millennium of literary lineage is entirely condensed within this single act of inquiry and lecture. Altering the morning lecture to an evening session is already a massive display of disrespect; I must implore Your Majesty to maintain a shred of dignity.”

Fang Bingyuan cast a deeply approving gaze toward Ning Wujie.

Master Ning is truly a child raised by the old Marquis Ning; exercising rigorous self-restraint to restore propriety, possessing flawless virtue like fine jade.

Casting another glance toward Wen Xing, who was sitting completely crooked and twisted, treating the matter with absolute playfulness, the old man let out a heavy sigh.

If only this student possessed even half of Ning Wujie’s cultivation, my old heart would be profoundly comforted.

Wen Xing narrowed his eyes, muttering a low complaint: “Little pedant.”

He set his textbook down, lazily shifting his buttocks backward a fraction, managing to sit slightly straighter than a moment ago.

Resembling a completely boneless serpent, he had already exerted his absolute maximum effort to coil himself straight using the back of the chair for support.

Witnessing his thoroughly boneless display, Ning Wujie knit his brows, preparing to voice further criticism. Yet, entirely out of nowhere, he felt something heavy ruthlessly grind against the very root of his thigh beneath the hanging desk-cloth.

Ning Wujie’s expression instantly froze.

This foolish tyrant is actively stepping on him with his foot!

Immediately after, he witnessed Wen Xing, who was slumped across the opposite side of the desk, directing a cunning gaze right toward him, one corner of his lips slowly curving into a thoroughly wicked smirk.

“Nngh—”

A muffled groan was ruthlessly swallowed back down as he clamped his teeth together.

Propping his left hand against his forehead, he buried his face deep into his palm to completely mask his expression. His right hand shot down beneath the desk-cloth, violently pinning the misbehaving ankle.

Yet, even with his ankle firmly pinned, that foot continued to rigidly flex its arch, using the tips of the toes to execute a ruthless grind, tapping and stepping with absolute chaos.

Ning Wujie endured to the point where the veins at his temples violently throbbed. He clamped his teeth together with immense force to ruthlessly suppress the muffled groans that were desperately on the verge of spilling out from his throat.

He took a sharp, deep breath, delivering a powerful shove to the person’s ankle.

Yet, the literal second he shoved it away, the other foot immediately stepped right back up, behaving with even more absolute lack of restraint.

Ning Wujie: “…”

Wave after wave of pure, trembling sensation violently assaulted him. His breathing gradually turned heavy and ragged, his entire ears flushing a deep crimson that rapidly bled from the root of his ears all the way down beneath his collar.

In the center of the hall, the lecturer clad in solemn court robes was actively chanting the sacred text of The Great Learning in a booming, serious cadence—

“…When the mind is not present, we look and do not see; we hear and do not hear; we eat and do not know the taste of what we eat…”

Yet, beneath the hanging desk-cloth was that foolish tyrant’s chaotic, misbehaving foot.

The sense of pure shame grew exponentially!

Ning Wujie cracked open his eyelids from beneath his palm, his gaze locking fiercely onto Wen Xing in a silent, lethal warning.

However, the foolish tyrant merely looked back at him with a wicked, demonic laugh, his actions growing increasingly unbridled instead.

The moment he pinned one down, the other foot would instantly seize the opportunity to step right back up.

Ning Wujie dared not release his left hand that was masking his face, petrified of exposing the expression he was fighting so agonizingly to suppress.

From Fang Bingyuan’s vantage point atop the elevated platform, he witnessed Ning Wujie hanging his head so low his face was practically buried entirely inside his palm, the exposed back of his neck flushed a vivid, burning red.

He asked in deep surprise, “Master Ning, do you happen to feel unwell anywhere?”

He heard the foolish tyrant let out a soft, mocking chuckle.

Ning Wujie closed his eyes deeply, taking several sharp breaths to barely steady his airflow before forcing his mouth open: “No—”

Yet, the moment the sound left his mouth, the foolish tyrant seized the opportunity to rigidly extend his leg, the very palm of that misbehaving foot grinding down with immense, ruthless force.

“Cough—!”

He rapidly disguised the sudden distortion of his voice with a sharp cough, barely managing to prevent the shameful sound from leaking out into the hall.

Following that, he could no longer endure it a single second longer. Completely deflated of all strength, he collapsed his head directly into the crook of his elbow, inhaling deep, ragged gasps of air.

Pfft—

Wen Xing followed suit, burying his forehead straight against the desk surface, his shoulders violently trembling with silent laughter.

Consequently, both individuals attending the lecture were now collapsed flat across the desk one’s chest rising and falling heavily as if performing intense deep breathing, while the other’s shoulders shook like a sieve from sheer amusement.

Fang Bingyuan: ?

“Your Majesty? Master Ning?”

Wen Xing lifted his face, which still carried the heavy remnants of laughter, stating, “Minister Ning feels physically unwell. Why don’t we bring an end to today’s session here, Teacher?”

Fang Bingyuan felt somewhat hesitant. However, witnessing Ning Wujie appearing to experience acute breathing difficulties with a thoroughly flushed neck, he couldn’t help but voice his concern: “Where exactly does Master Ning feel unwell? It is best to summon the imperial physician to conduct an examination.”

“This Emperor shall personally summon Minister Zhai over.” Wen Xing looked at Ning Wujie, the upward curve of his lips completely impossible to suppress.

The other appeared to have completely abandoned all resistance, dedicating 100% of his remaining focus toward ruthlessly suppressing his own ragged breathing.

Taking an absolute mile from the given inch, Wen Xing continued to rub and grind with the sole of his foot, stating in a thoroughly relaxed, leisurely cadence: “Minister Ning is highly likely merely experiencing a bout of ‘obstructed breathing’. You teachers will be of absolutely zero assistance remaining here anyway. Why don’t you leave him a shred of space and take your leave?”

Fang Bingyuan cast a deeply worried glance toward Ning Wujie, who remained buried face-down against the desk looking as though he was in immense agony, stating anxiously, “Is Master Ning’s illness severe?”

Ning Wujie merely shook his head.

The old man’s expression turned profoundly solemn. He gave the youth’s shoulder a comforting pat. “Master Ning, please take care. This old servant shall immediately summon the imperial physician on your behalf.”

The moment the old man finished speaking, he executed a formal bow toward the Emperor to excuse himself, subsequently leading the assembly of lecturers out of the hall.

“Let us go, let us go. Hurry and accompany this old man to summon the imperial physician.”

The moment he heard the frantic, retreating footsteps of the crowd fade away completely, Ning Wujie let out a long, deep inhale. Heaven knew what specific sensations he was ruthlessly forcing down, but he finally lifted his face from the crook of his arm, a pair of unbelievably crimson eyes glaring fiercely at Wen Xing.

Those eyes held a distinct layer of glistening moisture whether driven by extreme suppression or extreme shame, they appeared thoroughly drenched.

A streak of vivid crimson bled from the rims of his eyes all the way to the outer corners, resembling the most exquisite stroke of an artist’s brush.

The laughter on Wen Xing’s lips instantly froze as he stared blankly at that breathtakingly beautiful expression.

Seeing him freeze with his footwork finally grinding to a absolute halt, Ning Wujie ruthlessly forced his frantic heartbeat down. Standing up, he walked over step by step.

The youth approached, wrapped completely in a heavy aura of freezing chill.

That ice-cold, lethal gaze formed a profound contradiction against the vivid crimson of his eye-corners, yet it was monumentally soul-snatching.

The smile on Wen Xing’s lips dissolved entirely. He lifted his head to look at Ning Wujie, who had already arrived right before him. Before he could even open his mouth, he was violently yanked up from his chair by a sudden force, slammed ruthlessly flat against the surface of the lecture desk.

In the very next instant, the youth’s scalding-hot body heavily pinned himself down, securing him so thoroughly he was completely incapable of motion.

Wen Xing: !

Ning Wujie’s handsome face was mere inches away. Staring down at him with a deathly cold gaze, he demanded in an ominous, low whisper: “Your Majesty, are we still playing?”