Chapter 130: Awakening

Chapter 130 Regaining Consciousness

The carriage had barely stopped at the gates of Marquis Zhenbei's estate when Jiang Xun stepped out.

Xue Jin had no choice but to trail after him, calling out, "Hey, hey, wait! Let me show you the way—"

They passed through gardens adorned with rock formations and koi ponds until they reached the courtyard where Shen Que resided. Before Jiang Xun could even step inside, he caught the sound of muffled coughing.

The owner of the voice was clearly trying to suppress it, forcing it down into his throat until it could no longer be contained, escaping in broken, uneven gasps between his lips.

Jiang Xun paused at the garden’s edge, peering toward the doorway from its corner.

Through the thin, translucent green window paper, he could faintly make out Shen Que’s silhouette. The Imperial Tutor, normally rigidly upright, was slightly hunched over, his fist pressed against his chin as if battling the pain in his chest and abdomen.

Yet he still held a brush in his hand.

Jiang Xun saw the stacks of reports piled before him—correspondence from various border passes, updates on the movements of the Northern Di army, logistical preparations for supplies. They were piled so precariously high that when Shen Que bent over coughing, it seemed they might bury him entirely.

Jiang Xun asked softly, "How long has he been like this?"

Both Mr. Shen and Shen Xiu fell ill around the same time. It’s been over ten days now. But while Shen Xiu’s condition was severe enough to render him unconscious, Mr. Shen’s was milder at first. Lately, though, he’s been coughing up blood frequently."

He led Jiang Xun through the winding garden corridors until they halted outside Shen Que’s door.

Jiang Xun lingered ten paces back as Xue Jin advanced and rapped on the door. "Mr. Shen? It’s Xue Jin. May I come in?"

"...Xue Jin? Come in." Shen Que snapped back to his characteristic calm, smiling warmly at Xue Jin. "Since you’re back, how is Mr. Lu? Did you remind him to bathe and change, to replace his veiled hat and robes? His shoes and socks should also be thoroughly changed... *cough*..."

His raw throat gave out mid-sentence, and before he could finish, he covered his mouth, coughing violently.

Xue Jin hesitated. "Mr. Xun came straight here from the carriage—he didn’t have time to bathe or change."

The sickness couldn’t cling to him, so Jiang Xun hadn’t bothered with changing.

Shen Que’s coughing grew worse. Earlier, in front of Jiang Xun, he had maintained an elegant composure, but now sweat slicked his temples, his hair disheveled. He braced himself against the desk with one hand, his fingertips turning white from the strain—a picture of frailty.

Yet even in this state, Shen Que insisted, "Mr. Lu must have come in a hurry and may not have brought enough belongings, especially small items like shoes and socks. Supply him with the finest available."

His coughing was relentless, so Xue Jin reached out to steady him, whispering, "Don’t strain yourself, sir. Why are you so concerned about Mr. Lu? Shouldn’t you worry about yourself first? Is he a relative of yours? You didn’t fuss this much over Shen Xiu."

Shen Que froze for a moment before smiling weakly. "...Perhaps... perhaps it’s because, during this epidemic, having a physician is crucial."

As he spoke, he folded over, coughing anew.

Xue Jin wiped his mouth with a handkerchief. "Sir, you’re coughing up blood again. I’ll call Mr. Xun to examine you."

"No," Shen Que cut him off. "Have him bathe and change first. I’ll finish reviewing these documents—there’s no hurry. *Cough* Also, the green jade pendant at his waist must be boiled before he wears it again..."

Jiang Xun stood in the shadows behind the door, listening as Shen Que went on about minutiae—everything except his own condition. A sudden, scalding anger seized him, spreading through his lungs until even his movements grew restless.

In one abrupt movement, Jiang Xun lifted the hem of his robe and stepped over the threshold. His medicine chest collided with the doorframe, earning a sharp bang.

Shen Que looked up in surprise.

His furrowed brows relaxed slightly at the sight of Jiang Xun, but as his gaze swept over him, they knitted tightly again.

Shen Que’s voice dripped disapproval. "Mr. Lu, this epidemic is fierce—it cannot be taken lightly, nor should you be careless. After returning from the quarantine camp, you must change into fresh clothes first."

"......"

It was just like the tone Shen Que used to scold his students back in the Hongwen Academy.

Jiang Xun thought to himself, "Even in this state, he still has the energy to lecture me?"

He dropped the medicine box with a thud onto the desk, just to needle him: "If I change clothes before seeing you, wouldn’t I just get contaminated again and have to bathe once more? Isn’t that just a hassle?"

This time, Shen Que fell silent for a long moment.

The Imperial Tutor, normally so quick with words, opened his mouth but, looking at Jiang Xun, couldn’t get a word out.

Jiang Xun only got angrier. He could read what Shen Que wasn’t saying—something along the lines of: "This illness isn’t serious, it won’t kill me. Let me finish reviewing these documents first; treatment can wait till tomorrow."

Jiang Xun silently packed the medicine box, thinking, "Same damn stubbornness, life after life. This man cares only for the nation; everything else might as well be dead."

He could already guess what Shen Que was thinking: The Imperial Tutor, devoted to the country and its people, would rather endure illness than risk exposing an important physician—Mr. Xun—to further infection. He even pampered him with good food and comforts, fearing the doctor might fall ill or flee before the war.

Jiang Xun pulled out a pulse pillow from the medicine box and placed it on the desk. "Put your hand here, would you?"

His displeasure seeped into his tone, giving it a mocking edge. Shen Que hesitated, curling his fingers briefly before reluctantly extending his wrist, lowering his gaze as he murmured, "...If you please."

Jiang Xun made a show of pressing his fingers on Shen Que’s wrist, putting on a thoughtful act.

Shen Que was feverish.

His skin was warm, while Jiang Xun’s fingertips were cool. The Emperor was hidden under the veiled hat, revealing only a sliver of fingers pressed against Shen Que’s pulse.

Sensitive to temperature in his weakened state, Shen Que broke out in goosebumps at the cold touch.

For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to look.

System 66, now a seasoned little scout after scanning a whole camp, swiftly analyzed the data and concluded, "Not life-threatening. Tweak Shen Xiu’s old prescription, and it’ll work. Just make sure he rests and avoids work for now."

Jiang Xun thought, "Like that’s ever gonna happen."

Getting Shen Que to stop working—yeah, good luck with that.

Jiang Xun relayed System 66’s prescription to Xue Jin, instructing him to prepare the medicine. Then, his gaze swept over the towering stacks of documents. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, "If Mr. Shen trusts me, I could assist with some of the paperwork."

Immediately, he bit his tongue, realizing his mistake.

He had misspoken.

No matter how much Xue Jin trusted him, they were worlds apart in status.

What was Shen Que’s position? Grand Secretary of the Wenyuan Pavilion, the current Imperial Tutor. The documents he handled were of utmost importance, capable of swaying the tide of war. And what was Jiang Xun now? A commoner with no rank or title. For an ordinary man to offer to handle the Grand Secretary’s documents—what if he were a traitor or had ulterior motives? How would that end?

There was no way Shen Que would entrust the documents to him. He had overstepped.

Jiang Xun stood. "My apologies for the presumption. Didn’t mean anything by it."

With that, he turned to leave.

"Wait!" Shen Que, not caring about appearances, reached out and grasped Jiang Xun’s wrist. "Mr. Lu, with internal strife and external threats, we sorely need assistance. If you’re willing—"

A coughing fit interrupted him. Jiang Xun hesitated, then patted Shen Que’s back.

When he was young and coughed, his mother had soothed him the same way.

Shen Que paused briefly, then smiled and said, "It would be wonderful if you're willing to handle the official documents. Just for the first few days, I'll need to supervise from the side."

Jiang Xun murmured, "...Mhm."

Having an outsider handle documents naturally required Shen Que's supervision. Jiang Xun saw nothing odd in that.

But when he moved a chair beside Shen Que in the afternoon to work together, something seemed off.

Shen Que didn’t seem to be monitoring a suspicious person—he was acting more like a teacher guiding a student.

He meticulously listed the pros and cons, analyzing each point in detail for Jiang Xun.

Afraid of infecting Jiang Xun with the illness, Shen Que sat at a distance, yet his guidance was thorough. He dissected the logic within the documents, breaking them down and explaining everything to Jiang Xun as if teaching a prized student.

For a moment, Jiang Xun was lost in thought.

Here he was, in the bitter cold of the northern frontier, where withered lotuses and willows lay outside the window. Yet sitting beside Shen Que, he felt as though he’d returned to the Wen Yuan Pavilion, to that small corner desk. In his daze, he lifted his gaze, and almost saw the towering ginkgo tree outside the pavilion, its autumn leaves carpeting the ground in gold.

And so, Jiang Xun took on some of the paperwork.

Though he had spent time in the 21st century, official documents had nuances that took practice, which he lacked. But with Shen Que’s clear explanations, he soon picked up the patterns and adapted easily.

Meanwhile, the situation in the military camp gradually improved.

With 66 around, it was like having a massive database at their disposal. Jiang Xun made rounds every few days, his veiled hat in place as he moved through camp, recording data and adjusting prescriptions. At this time, bodies hadn’t built up resistance yet, so even simple prescriptions proved highly effective. Bit by bit, recoveries piled up.

Shen Xiu, however, remained ill, with no sign of waking.

66 had revised his prescription several times, but the effects were limited. Jiang Xun examined him daily, while 66 brainstormed frantically for new solutions.

One day, as Jiang Xun came to check on Shen Xiu as usual, he sat by the bedside, feigning a pulse check.

66 exclaimed, "Huh? I think his condition is actually quite stable."

In other words, he should be waking up soon.

On the bed, Shen Xiu was out cold, stiff as a corpse.

He had been drifting in and out of sleep for nearly half a month, his body wracked with pain, his eyelids unbearably heavy.

After a difficult struggle, his lashes fluttered before he finally managed to crack his eyes open. Harsh light seared his vision. He blinked, words dying on his lips.

He blinked again, and again, before squeezing his eyes shut once more.

—What the hell! What the hell! What the hell!

Who the hell was this veiled guy checking his pulse?!

Shen Xiu had been lying unconscious, stiff as a corpse, so Jiang Xun had let his guard down. The white gauze of his veiled hat had caught on the bedpost, lifting just enough to reveal a glimpse of the face beneath.

"..."

The blue robes, the white veil—that figure.

Shen Xiu recognized him—this was Mr. Xun.

His breath hitched.

Truth be told, Shen Xiu had imagined countless versions of Mr. Xun—perhaps a gaunt elderly scholar, or a refined and gentle middle-aged man. But this face? Never in his wildest dreams.

This face, identical to that of His Majesty the Emperor.

Jiang Xun's features were striking, with elegantly defined contours. During court sessions, he often frowned, which gave him a gloomy vibe. But now, shrouded in thin fabric, with sunlight streaming through the window lattice and casting a vivid orange-yellow hue on his profile—even the fine hairs on his skin were clearly visible—his demeanor appeared gentle and serene.

Shen Xiu: "..."

He shut his eyes and feigned death.

Only after Jiang Xun rose to rewrite the prescription and stepped out, and Shen Que sat by his bedside to check on him, did Shen Xiu finally open his eyes.

He grabbed Shen Que's hand and shot up in bed: "Uncle! Something terrible has happened! I need to talk to you—it’s serious!"