Chapter 137: Worry

Chapter 137: Worries

In his previous life, Jiang Xun had little interaction with Xue Jin. Most of the deeds of the Founding Emperor were learned by him from history books.

Xue Jin lost his father in his youth and endured a life of hardship. In middle age, he pacified the south, ascended the throne, and after another twenty years, expelled the Northern Di, reclaiming his homeland and ushering in a golden age.

In Jiang Xun's memory, the Founding Emperor of Liang was a grizzled, imposing, and steady middle-aged man.

But now, this Junior General was still far too young.

Xue Jin knelt, sniveling pathetically, tears nearly dripping onto Jiang Xun's sleeve.

Jiang Xun was at a loss and supported his arm. "Lord Xue, please rise. Don’t cry just yet."

Seeing an opportunity, Xue Jin refused to let it slip. He remained kneeling, hammering home his misery. "Your Majesty! Your Majesty! I’m truly not suited! Shen Xiu scolds me every day for my sloppy memorial reviews. If you insist on keeping me in the Wenyuan Pavilion, I’ll really be beaten to death by my father!"

Jiang Xun pressed his lips together. "Then what should be done?"

If the Founding Emperor Xue quit his post, where could Jiang Xun find a new one to take his place?

Seizing the moment, Xue Jin pressed on. "Your Majesty, I’m truly not suited. I’m just getting in the way in the Wenyuan Pavilion—better off without me! Look at Senior Tutor Shen, with his brilliant strategies and perfect foresight. Look at the entire cabinet, hardworking and sharp-witted. And then look at Shen Xiu, uh..."

He trailed off awkwardly before weakly adding, "In short, I think even if you take a break, there’s no problem whatsoever. There’s no need to find a new backbone."

—Even if one were needed, it shouldn’t be him!

Shen Xiu was displeased. "What about me? Go on, say it!"

Xue Jin glanced around and kept his head down, silent.

Shen Xiu was about to protest further when Shen Que rapped him sharply on the head, quieting his complaints.

The Imperial Tutor frowned. "Quiet down."

Shen Xiu grumbled. "Fine."

Jiang Xun understood Xue Jin’s meaning—the Junior General wanted to return to the northern frontier to lead troops and race horses, not be trapped in the imperial city. But after hesitating for a long time, he couldn’t devise a solution and finally said, "But the state cannot go a single day without..."

Before he could utter the word "ruler," Xue Jin frantically grabbed his sleeve. "Your Majesty! You are the Emperor! Even if you need to rest temporarily due to your blindness, you are still the Emperor!"

He was already breaking out in a cold sweat.

—Though he didn’t know what Jiang Xun was thinking, if the Emperor finished that sentence and Marquis Zhenbei heard it, Xue Jin would surely be torn to shreds by his father.

Shen Xiu also chimed in. "If Your Majesty’s eyes are unwell, Uncle can read to you. Besides, the eye ailment is only temporary."

He muttered, "I truly don’t understand why you insist on handing over power. My uncle, me, Marquis Zhenbei—the entire court—we all wish for you to remain Emperor."

Since ascending the throne, Jiang Xun had been gentle and benevolent. Shen Xiu had scolded him without consequence, and he had been generous with military rewards, winning widespread praise.

In his past life, Jiang Xun had been a foolish and tyrannical ruler, despised by Shen Xiu, while Xue Jin had stepped in to save the nation after the fall of the Central Plains, earning admiration. But now, with the great victory at Qingping Pass and Mr. Xun’s proven skill, Shen Xiu’s attitude was entirely different.

Jiang Xun fell silent.

He had never considered staying after the victory at Qingping Pass, nor had he thought about how to continue as Emperor. Hearing Shen Xiu’s words, he mulled it over briefly, his fingers instinctively clutching his robe.

His first reaction was fear.

During his years in the twentieth century, Jiang Xun had rehashed this era countless times, but each simulation cut off at Qingping Pass. He was familiar with all historical records before the battle and knew how to fix things—but beyond that?

After this, it should’ve been Xue Jin’s moment to shine.

But if Xue Jin does not ascend the throne and Jiang Xun continues to reign as Emperor, without the premise of a dynastic change, history would take a completely different turn. The history books would become unreliable—everything would be unknown.

And without past precedents to guide him, Jiang Xun asked himself: Could he really be a good emperor?

Would he be a good emperor?

If the empire of Great Wei were entrusted to him, would the nightmares from his past life repeat themselves?

He did not know.

Jiang Xun lowered his gaze, his lashes quivering slightly. His vision was too blurred to see clearly, with swirling colors distorting his vision, finally settling into the smoke and fire that had blotted out the sky on the day the imperial capital fell.

After all, in his past life, he had done so poorly.

Jiang Xun, the Deposed Emperor of Wei—a tyrant, reckless, foolish, and incompetent. Such was the final verdict of history.

Jiang Xun thought to himself that perhaps he was just a failing student who’d cheated by getting the answers. Relying on those answers, he had barely managed to pass once. But a failing student was still a failing student. Once the next exam came without answers, he’d be exposed for what he really was, and he would become a laughingstock.

Jiang Xun did not want to be exposed, nor did he want to become a laughingstock.

Shen Xiu and Xue Jin hadn’t noticed the Emperor’s unusual state, still trying to persuade Jiang Xun. But Shen Que suddenly spoke up, his tone cool: "His Majesty needs rest. You may leave now."

Shen Xiu and Xue Jin started in surprise, only then noticing that the Emperor was silent, his eyes downcast, his face pale, as if he were in great discomfort.

Shen Xiu asked, "Is Your Majesty feeling unwell?"

Jiang Xun managed a weak smile. Shen Xiu and Xue Jin meant well, and he did not want them to worry. He only shook his head. "I'm fine."

Shen Xiu opened his mouth to insist, but Shen Que's expression turned stern. "Gentlemen, please leave."

Aside from Jiang Xun, he outranked everyone present. Moreover, he was Shen Xiu's uncle and Xue Jin's teacher. At his command, the two exchanged a glance and immediately withdrew.

They closed the door behind them and left the courtyard, their footsteps gradually fading into the distance. The room fell into silence.

Jiang Xun's fingers, which had been gripping the edge of the table, slowly relaxed and returned to rest on his knees. He sat ramrod straight, like a model student, inexplicably well-behaved. Yet his gaze was vacant, fixed somewhere in the distance, lost in thought.

The Emperor was lost in thought.

Shen Que said casually, placing a hand on Jiang Xun’s shoulder, "What would Your Majesty like for dinner? The latest shipment of Zijiang fish from the Two Lakes has just arrived in the capital yesterday. Bashu bamboo mushrooms have also been delivered. Would you like to try some?"

Jiang Xun's body temperature was naturally low, and sitting for long periods made it even colder. But Shen Que's palm was warm, the warmth bleeding through the fabric of his robes, dispelling some of the chill.

Jiang Xun lowered his eyes. "Anything is fine. You choose."

Shen Que frowned. The Emperor’s appetite had always been poor, and he was never particular about taste. It seemed that even if someone served him plain congee and a couple of buns, he would eat them without complaint.

An emperor without culinary indulgences should have been a good thing, but Shen Que found it troubling.

Jiang Xun was too thin. He needed to gain some weight.

But outwardly, he showed no sign of concern. "Then I will tell the royal chefs to prepare a bowl of fish soup, simmered until thick."

Jiang Xun only murmured, "...Mm."

After dinner, night had nearly fallen. The ancients lacked entertainment, so Jiang Xun retired early. Shen Que accompanied him, lying down beside the Emperor on the bed.

The Imperial Tutor lay waiting for the Emperor to fall asleep.

Usually, Jiang Xun would be fast asleep within half an hour. Hearing his breathing gradually steady, Shen Que turned over and got out of bed, intending to go to another room.

The Imperial Tutor was swamped—he still had a pile of memorials to review that day.

But this time, the hem of his robe was lightly tugged.

The tug was so brief it felt like he’d imagined it. By the time Shen Que turned back, Jiang Xun had already let go and retreated under the covers.

The Emperor lay curled on his side, facing Shen Que. He curled up slightly, his eyes staring blankly into the darkness, looking extremely unsettled. His long hair was a mess, spilling over his shoulders and tangled under his arm.

Shen Que asked softly, "What’s wrong?"

Jiang Xun buried half his face in the quilt, muffling his voice. "It’s fine."

Shen Que sat down on the edge of the bed and tugged at the quilt, trying to free Jiang Xun's nose from the covers. "How is it fine?"

Jiang Xun only said, "Go do your work."

He knew Shen Que often got up at night to review memorials. Jiang Xun didn’t want to waste his time.

Shen Que replied, "None of it’s urgent anyway."

Compared to the memorials, the Emperor’s unusual behavior that day concerned him more.

Recalling Jiang Xun’s earlier reaction, Shen Que asked, "You don’t want me to go?"

"..."

Silence.

After a long silence, the lump under the quilt finally mumbled, "...Yeah."

So Shen Que lay back down, pulling over the portion of the quilt Jiang Xun had shared with him, facing the Emperor. "What’s the matter today?"

He’d been fine these past few days, but as soon as Shen Xiu and Xue Jin arrived, he clammed up completely.

Hesitantly, Shen Que reached out and soothingly stroked the quiet lump’s back. Seeing no resistance, he then cautiously pulled him closer, until he finally pulled him close, resting his chin atop the Emperor’s head.

Jiang Xun’s hair was fine and soft, nice to touch. They said people with hair like this were softhearted, and Jiang Xun was indeed like that.

He softened his voice further. "What’s wrong?"

Jiang Xun’s thoughts were all over the place. Closing his eyes just made the chaos worse, so he kept them open.

But his vision was already poor, and at night, all he saw were endless black. The night was dead quiet, not even a breeze. The only sound around was Shen Que’s breathing, so he grabbed onto him without thinking.

Shen Que stroked the top of his head. "If you won’t talk, want me to guess? Today, Shen Xiu and Xue Jin suggested you return to handle state affairs. Did that bother you?"

Of course, Shen Que didn’t like the idea of an Emperor who refused to rule. But for now, he chose to indulge him. "If you’re not ready yet, it’s fine. Just take it easy. Return to court when you feel better. I’ll handle things for now—the court won’t fall apart."

Jiang Xun hesitated. "...No."

It wasn’t that he was unwilling to govern. But Xue Jin was too inexperienced, and the political climate wasn’t suitable for abdication. Someone had to keep things running for a bit.

He was just a little afraid.

Afraid that during this period, something might go wrong again.

Jiang Xun knew deep down—if he had to go through that again, he’d break.

Shen Que held him close: "Hmm? Then what's the reason?"

Unable to see in the darkness, his other senses became heightened—like the warmth of Shen Que's body, the sound of his breathing, the rhythmic beating of his heart, or that burningly hot hand resting against Jiang Xun's back.

After a moment of hesitation, Jiang Xun hugged him back.

He buried his face against the Imperial Tutor's chest and muttered, "I'm not good enough."

Shen Que froze. Ever since that night at the hot spring, the Emperor had kept his distance, never reached out like this before. His hand paused briefly before gently stroking the Emperor's back again: "Why would you say that?"

Shen Que spoke softly, "No, you can do it. And if you can't, I'll help. I'll have your back."

In his arms, the Emperor's breathing halted.

Jiang Xun stiffened, repeating dazedly, "You'll have my back?"

"Yes, I'll have your back."

Shen Que sensed something unusual but didn't ask why Jiang Xun felt he couldn't manage. Instead, he simply promised, as if it were the most natural thing, that he would look out for Jiang Xun.

His voice carried absolute certainty, as though no matter what Jiang Xun did, he had the means to pull him from a nightmare—an anchor secured with an axe and nails at the cliff's edge, dragging him back to safety.

The man in his arms gradually relaxed.

"Yes..." Jiang Xun whispered almost inaudibly to himself, "You're still here."

He let out a long breath, as if someone had pulled him from a nightmare—a guide securing an anchor point on the edge of a cliff, dragging him back to safety.

Even in his past life, when all had turned against him, Shen Que never stopped advising him.

He was the famed capable minister of history, the Imperial Tutor of three reigns, the Chancellor mourned and remembered by countless generations. He had guided Liang through two decades of prosperity. With him here, Jiang Xun wouldn't repeat past mistakes.

Shen Que would keep him on track.

But just as Jiang Xun began to relax, a thought seemed to strike him, and his heart clenched again. His fingers unconsciously gripped Shen Que's collar, twisting the fabric until it nearly tore.

Then, abruptly, he let go and pulled back uncertainly, pressing his spine against the cold wall.

Shen Que reached out to pull him close again but met gentle resistance from the Emperor.

The resistance was faint, easily overpowered with one hand, yet Shen Que stopped and asked, puzzled, "Still upset? What's wrong?"

Silence.

Shen Que waited patiently, his gaze fixed on Jiang Xun in the dark. Though Jiang Xun couldn't see it, he could feel it.

The Emperor fidgeted.

After a long, tense silence, Shen Que finally heard the Emperor murmur, "But you should hate me."

If Shen Que hated him, wouldn't supporting Xue Jin make him happier?

To Jiang Xun, Shen Que ought to despise him. As his teacher, Shen Que had disliked him as a student. In his past life, forced into submission, the once-proud scholar became the Emperor's kept man, his pristine reputation forever tarnished by Jiang Xun, unable to escape the gossip of future generations.

Though nothing substantial had happened in this life, in the eyes of the court, Shen Que remained his kept man, his reputation tarnished by Jiang Xun. Hatred was only natural.

Shen Que let out a long sigh.

The Imperial Tutor appeared genuinely confused, thinking hard for a moment before suddenly grabbing Jiang Xun's hand and snapping impatiently, "When have I ever hated you?!"