Chapter 140: The Prison

Chapter 140: Confinement

Jiang Xun’s anxious heart finally calmed.

Shen Que pulled out a few more memorials, asking for Jiang Xun's opinions.

The contents of the memorials covered everything under the sun—from the allocation of funds to investigations of corruption, from flood control to overseas trade. Nothing was left untouched.

This was Jiang Xun's first time dealing with paperwork. Shen Que tested the Emperor’s limits on purpose, intentionally choosing a few particularly challenging ones that even the cabinet found troublesome. He was ready to cut things short at any moment, comforting and encouraging the Emperor as needed.

Yet, though Jiang Xun kept frowning and paused often to think, he still managed to answer smoothly. At times, he could lay out several options, breaking each one down clearly.

Shen Que carefully considered the responses and found little to criticize. In fact, some answers were on par with what he himself might have proposed.

This blew Shen Que away.

Setting aside the memorial in his hand, he threw out two more questions—both matters tied to endless cabinet squabbles. After a moment's thought, Jiang Xun answered them one by one.

In places the Emperor couldn’t see, the Imperial Tutor kept nodding, impressed.

An Emperor like this was a godsend to the nation.

What Shen Que didn’t know was that Jiang Xun had been top of his class in history back in the modern world. With centuries of additional knowledge at his disposal, he wasn’t breezing through it, but he had a general understanding.

After answering each memorial, Jiang Xun would pause and look toward the Imperial Tutor.

His vision was still blurry, his gaze unfocused, but he waited dutifully for Shen Que's evaluation.

Each time, Shen Que would smile and nod, saying, "Solid work."

Truly, solid work.

Gradually, Jiang Xun’s shoulders relaxed. From his initial stiffness and pursed lips, he got into the groove. By the time all the memorials had been read, the sun was already setting in the west.

Shen Que dabbed the ink dry.

He sorted and organized the documents in his hands, placing them neatly in order.

Next, he would distribute them to the various ministries in the Emperor’s name.

Once his tasks were complete, Shen Que took his leave, smiling. "I never knew you studied these matters, Your Majesty. Where did you acquire such knowledge?"

It was no less impressive than the wisdom of old-timers who’d survived the political grind.

Jiang Xun: "...I don’t want to say."

Shen Que replied, "Then we can discuss it whenever you’re willing to tell me."

He took his leave, intending to return the documents to the Wenyuan Pavilion. Just as he stepped out the door, Jiang Xun suddenly called, "Wait."

Shen Que looked over his shoulder. The Emperor still sat ramrod straight, lowering his eyes as he asked, "Teacher, what if my eyes never recover?"

66 had already provided a report—Jiang Xun knew his vision would soon improve. But he wanted to know: how’d Shen Que handle a blind Emperor?

Shen Que smiled. "Then I’ll just keep being your eyes. How does that sound?"

"...Mm."

After that, Shen Que shifted his office from the Wenyuan Pavilion to the loquat courtyard, setting it up in the study next to the bedroom. Whether Jiang Xun was eating, resting, or taking an afternoon nap, he could always hear the rustle of pages and scrape of the inkstone next door.

Jiang Xun couldn’t see clearly, so his other senses became exceptionally sharp. He knew Shen Que used pine-soot ink, filling the room with the scent of pine when grinding it, and could hear the wolf-hair brush sweeping across the rice paper as Shen Que lifted his wrist to write.

Time seemed to slow down in the small courtyard. Jiang Xun worked at sunrise and rested at dusk, while Shen Xiu came daily to loosen the soil around the loquat tree. Whenever this happened, Jiang Xun would also pick up a shovel and give a token few digs.

Neither Shen Que nor Shen Xiu expected him to be of much help—it was purely for the experience. Since Jiang Xun disliked outsiders in the courtyard, the three of them turned digging into a bonding activity. Every day, when Shen Que grew dizzy from reviewing petitions, he would come out and dig a few times. Eventually, all three became quite skilled, nearly matching the expertise of professional gardeners in the capital.

Shen Xiu marveled, "Uncle, we really ought to let the cabinet officials see this. If they knew I had you and His Majesty digging with shovels, their eyes would pop out."

Shen Que frowned. "You seem quite proud of dragging His Majesty into this."

Jiang Xun couldn’t see, and Shen Que worried he might get hurt.

Jiang Xun tapped the shovel slowly. "It’s fine. I like it."

Shen Que often flicked his nephew’s forehead, and Jiang Xun feared he might turn the future Censor into a fool, so he felt the need to protect him a little.

Shen Xiu grumbled quietly, "His Majesty’s much kinder."

He circled behind Jiang Xun and tended the garden even more diligently.

At first, they only cared for the loquat tree, but later Shen Xiu began to find the courtyard too barren and sparse. He decided to tear down and rebuild the garden. Jiang Xun didn’t want to dampen his enthusiasm, so he let him have his way.

When Jiang Xun had first bought the loquat courtyard the previous year, he had planted some flowers. But without long-term care, they had withered and were all uprooted by Shen Xiu, who replaced them with seasonal blooms. Forsythias, wisterias, and gardenias were planted in staggered arrangements across the yard. Now, in full bloom, the garden was a vibrant burst of colors.

Shen Xiu sighed regretfully. "What a shame His Majesty can’t see it—it’s so beautiful... Ow!"

Before he could finish, Shen Que flicked his forehead again.

The Imperial Tutor frowned. "Must you touch a nerve? Can’t you control your mouth?"

With any other emperor, Shen Xiu would likely have gotten a thrashing.

Shen Xiu grumbled, "It’s only thanks to His Majesty’s kindness that I dare come at all."

With any other emperor, he wouldn’t have bothered shoveling in the courtyard.

Jiang Xun felt for the little bump on Shen Xiu’s head, defending him. "It’s fine. I don’t mind."

Shen Que complained, "You’re too lenient with him."

In the past, Shen Que would have dragged Shen Xiu to kneel in the ancestral hall.

But now, emboldened by the Emperor’s favor, Shen Xiu shouldered his shovel and marched past Shen Que with his head held high.

Shen Que: "..."

He fixed his nephew with a silent stare, his expression warning, as if to say, "Mind your manners."

Shen Xiu played dumb.

Apart from these regular visitors, the imperial physician also came daily to examine the Emperor’s eyes.

Jiang Xun had initially disliked the intrusion—especially since he had 66 and knew exactly when his sight would return. But the Imperial Tutor’s voice dripped with worry. That night, as Jiang Xun curled into Shen Que’s arms as usual, Shen Que held him close and softened his tone, coaxing, "Your Majesty, please summon the imperial physician for an examination. I’m so worried—truly, so worried."

"..."

It was the first time Jiang Xun experienced the power of pillow talk, and he gave in reluctantly.

That day, when the imperial physician came as usual and lifted the Emperor’s eyelids, he exclaimed in surprise, "Your Majesty’s condition has improved today. With progress like this, your vision may yet return."

The cloudiness in Jiang Xun's eyes slowly cleared, and his amber irises became clear and beautiful. As the courtyard wisteria's final blossoms faded, his sight finally returned to normal.

Jiang Xun looked out the window and saw vibrant spring colors filling the courtyard.

The winter jasmine had barely faded when half of the wisteria tassels draped from the trellis. The loquat tree in the courtyard occupied the sunniest spot, growing strong and healthy, its golden fruits perfectly ripe and hanging among the branches.

Shen Xiu took a long pole and knocked down the loquats one by one.

He drew well water, washed the fruits clean, and placed them on a Ru kiln porcelain plate, presenting them for the Emperor to sample.

The celadon plate held the bright yellow fruits, with the loquat branches' green leaves still glistening with well water, making them look positively mouthwatering.

Yet merely looking at the fruit made Jiang Xun's teeth tingle. He hesitantly picked one up, examining it left and right for a long while, too apprehensive to take a bite.

In his past life, he had eaten this very fruit—from the same tree. It was during his first year on the throne when he had specifically ordered Wang An to bring them. The fruits had been bitter and astringent, so tart it made his teeth hurt. Just remembering that experience ruined his appetite.

But Shen Xiu was watching him with eager anticipation, clearly anticipating his reaction.

After a long hesitation, Jiang Xun couldn’t bear to disappoint the earnest young man. Steeling himself, he finally took a bite.

Shen Xiu: "Well? How is it? Is it good?"

The juice burst in his mouth, its sweetness lingering on his palate. Jiang Xun’s brows lifted slightly, and he froze in utter surprise.

Having found his first taste of loquat unbearably bitter, Jiang Xun had since despised the fruit, never eating them even in the 21st century. But these were plump, large, and sweet. He lowered his gaze to the fruit in his hand, utterly surprised.

Is this how loquats are supposed to taste?

Hesitantly, he took another bite.

Very sweet.

Shen Xiu: "Is it good? Is it good?"

Jiang Xun stared at the fruit, then sighed and slowly nodded with a grave expression.

Shen Xiu beamed. "I told you I’d make sure Your Majesty tasted sweet loquats."

The sudden burst of flavor reminded Jiang Xun of his childhood, sitting on the branches of the Chenglu Palace tree, gazing beyond the palace walls. Back then, he had seen these golden fruits and imagined they would taste just like this—refreshingly sweet and delightful.

So Jiang Xun ate many—one, two, then many more, until he finished the entire plate. He lounged on the recliner, too full to even think of dinner.

When Shen Que returned after reviewing memorials and found his nephew had fed the Emperor a whole plate of fruit, he forgot all his civil official decorum and immediately went for a shovel to scold the boy.

—The Emperor's just gotten over an illness. How could he eat like this?

Jiang Xun deftly intercepted him, allowing Shen Xiu to slip away.

Shen Que stopped, looking at him helplessly with clear disapproval.

Jiang Xun had no reply, then sighed and changed the subject. "My eyes have healed. Perhaps it’s time to return to the palace."

A nation's ruler couldn't remain outside the palace forever.

And so, when the final loquats ripened and fell, Jiang Xun departed for the palace.

With the assistance of Shen Que, he officially began handling state affairs.

So the court officials realized their Emperor was different now.

Previously, playing the role of an incompetent ruler, Jiang Xun had only dared to participate in politics under the guise of Mr. Xun. He didn’t review memorials, showed up to court randomly, and often skipped duties. But now, he appeared daily, clad in crimson court robes embroidered with gold, his face partially obscured by the twelve strands of his imperial crown, radiating noble grace and the demeanor of a wise sovereign.

Having suffered through Xue Jin's nonsense, the officials had been disheartened, merely hoping the Emperor wouldn’t be too outrageous. Yet, after Jiang Xun reviewed memorials for just two days, they suddenly came alive.

—Good heavens! Now these are documents written by someone with sense!

—Look at these comments! Look at the logic!

—What kind of garbage was Xue Jin putting out?!

Unlike other Emperors, Jiang Xun was from the future. He roughly knew the historical evaluations of each courtier, easily distinguishing loyal ministers from treacherous ones. However, with the situation still unstable, he just made small moves—demoting a few officials here and there—while biding his time for a more opportune moment.

Yet even these slight changes unsettled some.

The Emperor was still young, and most memorials passed through Shen Que’s hands first. Thus, the blame for these adjustments fell upon the Imperial Tutor.

One day, as Jiang Xun routinely reviewed memorials, he noticed one that was unusually thick—twice the usual size. When he opened it, he almost laughed out loud at the absurdity.

The memorial listed a ridiculous 120 charges against Shen Que and Shen Xiu, ranging from major offenses like disrupting court affairs and deceiving the sovereign, to minor ones like cheating in imperial examinations, and even trivial accusations such as flirting with women in public. Jiang Xun suspected the accuser had simply copied the entire legal code of Great Wei into the document.

Had the charges targeted Shen Xiu alone, it might have been somewhat plausible. But accusing Shen Que of flirting with women? This guy? Flirting with women? Seriously?

The Imperial Tutor was already in his thirties, unmarried and childless, a man clearly disinterested in women.

Moreover, Jiang Xun had personally tested this—Shen Que didn’t even know how to kiss, blushed at the slightest touch, and resorted to clinging and whispering pleas into his ear when offering counsel. How could such a man possibly flirt with women?

Jiang Xun found it absurd.

Shen Que needed to learn how to flirt with his Emperor before he could even think about harassing women.

He flipped through the memorial and saw it was submitted by some lowly fifth-rank official named Song Zhiping, holding a humble, powerless position. A nobody like him wouldn’t dare challenge the Imperial Tutor directly—clearly, he was a pawn pushed forward by some faction.

But Song Zhiping was an insignificant figure. This was supposed to be a time of chaos, with court turmoil claiming countless lives, leaving no trace in history. Jiang Xun couldn't tell which faction Song Zhiping belonged to.

Noticing the Emperor’s frown, Shen Que leaned over and took the memorial from his hands. As he read, his eyes actually widened—an expression Jiang Xun had never seen before.

Shen Que was visibly stunned by the accusation of flirting with women. After a pause, he finally said, “This is complete nonsense.”

Jiang Xun: “I know they're lying, but investigating it will be difficult.”

Shen Que replied, “Not necessarily.”

He sighed. “I have many enemies, and multiple factions in court oppose me. Your Majesty could play along with these accusations, imprison me, and observe which faction reacts most aggressively. Then, we can decide our next move.”

Jiang Xun: “Hmm…”

It would work, but Jiang Xun wasn't comfortable with it.

In his past life, even at the height of their conflict, he'd just kept Shen Que under palace arrest, ensuring he was well-treated. He had never thrown him into jail.

Now, with Shen Que volunteering for imprisonment, Jiang Xun couldn’t help but recall something else.

Once, while attending a comic convention with classmates, he'd accidentally come across fan comics featuring himself and Shen Que. Jiang Xun had only glimpsed the cover and the plot summary, but the images were so shocking they'd burned into his memory.

The story depicted the Imperial Tutor angering the Emperor, getting thrown in jail, hands chained behind his back, deprived of food and water, and subjected to relentless torment.

Completely oblivious to what the Emperor was thinking, Shen Que remained upright and composed, coolly laying out his plan. Meanwhile, Jiang Xun was only half-listening, his mind elsewhere. When Shen Que pressed for a decision, Jiang Xun snapped back to reality:

“…Ah, yes. Do as you say, Minister Shen.”