Chapter 125: Half a Year

Chapter 125: Six Months Later

When Emperor Jiang Xun awoke the next day, Shen Que had already left to attend to official duties.

The Emperor lingered in bed for a moment, lost in thought. The warmth of the quilt still lingered faintly, with the imprint of another’s body still faintly visible.

Wang An dampened a cloth and carefully dabbed at the corners of Jiang Xun’s eyes. "Will Your Majesty rise now?"

Jiang Xun asked, "When did he leave?"

Wang An smiled nervously. "...About half an hour ago. I reminded Lord Shen last night, but he was still worried about Your Majesty and stayed a while longer."

He deftly shifted blame away from himself.

Jiang Xun chuckled softly. "Worried about me?"

Given how he’d treated Shen Que, it was impossible for Shen Que not to be concerned about him. Today was different—Shen Que was just putting on a show.

Today marked the final trial for Xue Jin.

Though the Emperor had issued an oral decree absolving him, Xue Jin wouldn’t truly be free until he walked out of prison. The Marquis Zhenbei’s faction was tense with anticipation, waiting for the verdict.

66 poked Su Zhu. "There’s a carriage scene coming up."

Jiang Xun replied, "I know."

This day had been a pivotal moment in his earlier timeline as well. Back then, Jiang Xun had long harbored resentment toward Xue Jin. Despite relenting under Shen Que’s mediation, he couldn’t resist causing trouble.

So, he attended the trial.

Not only did he attend, but he also brought Shen Que along. Inside the royal litter on the way, the Imperial Tutor’s brow furrowed in worry. Jiang Xun asked, "Senior Tutor Shen must know what it takes to sway me if you want Xue Jin acquitted, don’t you?"

He didn’t even know what he wanted from Shen Que—perhaps a soft plea or something else. But by then, they had already shared the imperial bed repeatedly. Shen Que immediately looked up, his eyes widening in disbelief.

Beyond the thin curtains lay the bustling streets of the capital.

The royal litter’s curtains were light and elegant, woven from the finest Shu silk. A breeze could easily part them, allowing passersby in teahouses and taverns to peer inside.

For Shen Que to act inside the litter would violate his dignity.

But for Xue Jin, Shen Que knelt.

Hiding his face behind the cover of the carriage, he reached for Jiang Xun’s sash. Instantly, anger flared within Jiang Xun. He seethed silently all the way to the tribunal, where, under the watchful eyes of everyone present, he sullenly released Xue Jin.

Now, this was the scene he needed to reenact.

Easier said than done. Jiang Xun checked the time. "Wang An, prepare the carriage. We’ll head to the Wenyuan Pavilion first."

At this hour, Shen Que should be there, buried in paperwork.

Thus, the Emperor’s carriage leisurely passed by the Wenyuan Pavilion. The Chief Eunuch Wang An entered with a troubled expression and whispered into Shen Que’s ear in full view of everyone.

His colleagues strained to listen.

Senior Tutor Shen’s position was awkward—neither fully a court official nor a mere consort. People watched him with malicious curiosity. Wang An feared Shen Que might lose composure and offend the Emperor.

But Shen Que remained calm. "Understood."

He immediately set aside the memorials and followed Wang An into the carriage.

The moment the curtain was lifted, he stopped short in shock.

The Emperor sat alone in the corner.

The sedan chair was over two meters wide, plenty of room for two, yet Jiang Xun occupied only a small space at the edge, peering out from behind the curtain. He held a piece of pastry in his hand but hadn’t taken a bite, just holding it, lost in thought.

It was as if he was going out of his way to avoid Shen Que.

Recalling how the Emperor had dismissed him the night before, Shen Que hesitated for a moment before asking tentatively, "Mind if I sit by you, Your Majesty?"

"..."

He had intentionally left space for Shen Que, fearing that sitting too close would make him uncomfortable—but Shen Que didn’t seem to care.

Jiang Xun continued staring out the window, muttering flatly, "Fine."

So Shen Que slid in next to him.

Wang An gave the order to lift the sedan chair. Since both of them had unconsciously chosen to sit on the same side, the weight distribution was uneven, and the bearers must’ve been cursing up a storm. Nevertheless, the sedan chair passed smoothly through the palace gates and entered the bustling streets.

System 66 nudged its host. "Host?"

Jiang Xun grunted half-heartedly, "Hmm."

He disliked it when Shen Que spoke of Xue Jin, and he loathed even more how Shen Que would harm himself to plead for Xue Jin’s sake. Yet the plot had to proceed, so he droned out the next line like a script: "Do you even know how to please me, Senior Tutor?"

Then he looked away sharply, unwilling to witness Shen Que’s expression—shock, disbelief, despair, begging on his knees.

But then—Shen Que grabbed his wrist.

Shen Que showed no shock, no disbelief, no despair, no readiness to sacrifice himself. Instead, he simply leaned closer, pressing his calf against Jiang Xun’s leg, the heat bleeding through their clothes. Then he took Jiang Xun’s hand, pressed it against the curve of his thigh, like a silent *go ahead*.

These legs had not yet been worn down from kneeling—they were still slender and beautiful, not the atrophied remnants of later years. The muscles were perfectly defined, warm and smooth as riverstone.

The Imperial Tutor cleared his throat and spoke formally, "Your Majesty, I do," using the same tone as when addressing the court.

Jiang Xun: "..."

"???"

66: "?!?!"

—What do you know? I don’t know anything!

—Host, you’ve done everything and said every line, so why the hell has the plot derailed again?!

Jiang Xun was first stunned, then jerked back like he’d been burned. He looked up at Shen Que, his eyes widening abruptly.

Anyone who had been brooding in their corner like a kicked puppy, only to have the very person responsible for their misery suddenly grab their hand and force his thigh into their grip, would be just as startled.

"..."

Jiang Xun’s eyes were naturally narrow and downturned, his eyelids perpetually half-lowered, lending him an air of detachment and world-weariness no matter his expression.

But now, those amber eyes went round, all that icy aloofness melted away, replaced by the vivid energy of youth. He stared blankly at Shen Que, the pastry tumbling to the floor with a *plop*, like a cat caught mid-lick.

Shen Que chuckled softly.

His laughter left Jiang Xun even more dumbfounded.

In his past life, Shen Que rarely smiled. The burdens he carried were too heavy—a nation teetering on the brink of ruin, a capricious and clueless Emperor, and the barbarians hungrily eyeing the borders.

Back then, their relationship had been terrible. Jiang Xun ruled with tyranny and incompetence, while Shen Que walked on eggshells. After so many years of interaction, Jiang Xun had never once seen Shen Que smile.

Shen Que’s impression remained that of a gaunt, bookish minister—the Qingyi Prime Minister of legend, who bore the nation’s woes upon his shoulders. His brows should always be deeply furrowed, yet now, he was smiling.

Shen Que was handsome. When his features relaxed, he truly looked like moonlight and a gentle breeze—utterly captivating.

This wasn’t a flattering smile—it was genuine delight, as if he had seen something that brought him joy.

…Something that brought him joy?

Jiang Xun’s eyes darted around, suspicious.

The carriage was cramped, and the curtains were still securely fastened. Shen Que’s gaze landed on nothing but the carriage wall… and Jiang Xun.

Jiang Xun frowned inwardly. *Could it be me?*

—Was the face he’d made when recoiling in hesitation really *that* amusing?

The thought flashed through his mind, and Jiang Xun felt a flicker of irritation. *Keep laughing—what’s the joke?*

So he turned his face away again, refusing to look at Shen Que.

Shen Que picked up the fallen pastry and placed it back on the table. Watching the Emperor’s awkward expression, he hesitated slightly but still ventured, “If this spot displeases you… would elsewhere suit?”

Jiang Xun: “?”

He turned his head again, frowning at Shen Que, almost glaring.

But the Imperial Tutor’s skill in reading moods was rudimentary at best, and against someone like Jiang Xun, who buried everything deep inside, his skills fell short. So he continued, “…Perhaps we should leave? My dignity matters little, but Your Majesty’s could suffer.”

Jiang Xun: “?”

*Leave? What does he mean? Suffer how?*

In their past life, Shen Que wouldn’t have dared to bargain with Jiang Xun, so Jiang Xun had no experience dealing with this. He maintained his cold, world-weary expression. “…Thank you, I don’t need it.”

The “thank you” slipped out of habit from his 21st-century life. Shocked, Jiang Xun had momentarily dropped his act and blurted it out.

Shen Que’s eyes sparkled with even greater amusement. He leaned forward to arrange the pastries prepared in the carriage and asked, “Care for some sweets, Your Majesty? The journey is long.”

Jiang Xun: “No. And don’t you—”

He wanted to say, *Don’t talk to me*, but it felt too polite, unbefitting a tyrant’s demeanor, so he forcibly changed it to, “Silence. I’ve no wish to hear your voice.”

Shen Que fell silent.

The carriage fell into heavy silence.

The atmosphere inside was strange. Outside, Wang An mopped his brow relentlessly, clueless about the spat unfolding inside. Fortunately, the journey wasn’t long, and soon, they pulled up to the courthouse gates.

Jiang Xun was the first to alight from the carriage.

He passed through the courtroom, heading for the high seat, shouldering past Xue Jin where he knelt.

In his previous life, Prince Xue suffered greatly in prison, where the jailers, trying to gauge the Emperor's intentions, deliberately tormented him, leaving him a bloody mess.

Jiang Xun, feeling guilty, specifically instructed Wang An to look after him. Thus, though Xue Jin appeared disheveled, he escaped bodily harm and remained unscathed.

Once the Emperor took his seat and the Imperial Tutor settled in, the judge's block slammed down, marking the start of the trial.

The outcome was already decided, and the trial was merely a formality. Jiang Xun paid little attention, instead staring transfixed as he gazed at Xue Jin.

So this was the future founding Emperor of Liang, celebrated for generations for restoring order to the realm.

He looked nothing like Jiang Xun.

Jiang Xun was frail and sickly, looking like a stiff breeze could finish him. Xue Jin, however, was handsome and robust, a son of a military house capable of drawing a seven-stone bow.

Though unjustly accused, Xue Jin dared not blame the Emperor. Instead, he knelt meekly below, shuffling like an obedient wife.

Given the trial's importance, Marquis Zhenbei also attended. The elderly man, over sixty and white-whiskered, trembled as he knelt and kowtowed to Jiang Xun when the verdict exonerated Xue Jin.

Coming from the 21st century, Jiang Xun was uncomfortable with such displays. He coughed lightly and said, "Please rise."

Seemingly casual, he inquired, "Prince Xue has endured much hardship. Having traveled all the way to the capital, do you have a place to stay?"

Marquis Zhenbei hurriedly replied, "Thanks to Your Majesty's concern, we are lodged at the Western Hostel."

Jiang Xun nodded.

He summarily overturned all charges against Xue Jin, offered some compensation, and then departed.

The sedan chair carried him back to the palace, returning Shen Que to the Wenyuan Pavilion. Yet that very afternoon, Jiang Xun left the palace again.

Still using the excuse of visiting the pleasure quarters, he donned a veiled hat and slipped into the Western Hostel. Handing palace-stamped silver to the guard, he requested to see Xue Jin by name.

Though Xue Jin was a noble prince in his fief, in the capital, he commanded little respect. Hearing the visitor bore a palace token, he immediately came out to greet him.

Jiang Xun dispensed with formalities, again adopting the identity of Mr. Xun. He then discussed military affairs with Xue Jin, focusing on the defensive positions of his territory.

Having never served in the military in either life, Jiang Xun's knowledge came solely from written records—some even compiled by Xue Jin himself in the future. These included methods to reform promotion systems to boost morale and improve weaponry to counter cavalry.

Historical texts offered few specifics on military tactics, so his insights were superficial. Yet for this era, they were remarkably advanced.

Xue Jin listened attentively, taking notes. Familiar with both Shen Xiu and Shen Que, he knew of Mr. Xun. But as he wrote, he gave a rueful laugh, "I’m honored by your guidance, sir, but with me stuck in the capital, returning to the army seems a distant hope."

Jiang Xun replied, "It won’t be long."

In his past life, he had kept Xue Jin in the capital for years, but now things would be different.

Because the battle that would devastate the empire was only six months away.

Xue Jin’s eyes lit up. "Truly?"

Jiang Xun answered, "Truly. At most three months, and the Emperor will release you to the northern borders."

Beneath his veiled hat, Jiang Xun lowered his gaze.

By now, he had connected with the three key players of Liang—Emperor Xue Jin, Chancellor Shen Que, and Censor Shen Xiu—all under the guise of Mr. Xun.

Six months remained for Jiang Xun to prepare for the coming storm.