Chapter 363: If: Shen Que Travels Back to Jiang Xun’s Rebellious Period 2

Chapter 363 If: Shen Que Returns to Jiang Xun's Rebellious Phase 2

The memorials were overwhelming and complex, with characters he didn't fully know yet. Jiang Xun stumbled through reviewing them, repeatedly about to snap. Yet Shen Que sat beside him, his amused eyes never leaving the Emperor. Whenever Jiang Xun grew impatient, Shen Que would softly ask, "Would you like some tea?" "Would you like some pastries?" "Want to tease the parrot?"—calming Jiang Xun down before casually offering a few pointers.

Jiang Xun: "..."

The Emperor was fuming, but Shen Que spoke gently, his broken arm still in a sling, using his other hand to grind ink and brew tea for him. Jiang Xun had no choice but to grudgingly press on.

As he worked, Shen Que watched: "You've just become Emperor, yet you’re already at this level. Very good."

Jiang Xun nervously twisted the brush, uneasy: "R-Really?"

Shen Que: "Of course."

As he spoke, he slid the last stack toward the Emperor: "These need doing too." Before Jiang Xun could flare up, Shen Que added, "On our day off, there’s a lantern festival. I’ll take you out to see it."

Jiang Xun lit up immediately.

The Emperor, raised deep within the palace, had never seen festival lights and had always longed for them.

But his excitement lasted barely two seconds before he wilted again: "Can I go?"

An Emperor’s outing required ceremonial guards, internal approvals—in short, it was troublesome and would draw complaints about extravagance.

Shen Que: "We won’t go through them. We'll change clothes, and we’ll sneak out. I’ll take you."

Jiang Xun: "!"

Before he could even rejoice, Shen Que pushed the memorials forward: "Here, finish these first."

"..."

"Fine, fine, I’ll do it," Jiang Xun muttered, throwing himself into the documents again. After an afternoon of effort, he finally finished.

Shen Que picked them up one by one to review.

The Jiang Xun of this time was naturally incomparable to the Jiang Xun of later years—his replies were full of flaws, tinged with childish naivety.

Shen Que didn’t point them out directly but hinted subtly. Jiang Xun, competitive and proud, acted indifferent on the surface but secretly took note to avoid being looked down upon. After three or four rounds of this, he had already improved significantly.

On their day off, Shen Que kept his promise and took Jiang Xun out. He dressed the Emperor in commoner’s clothes and smuggled him out of the palace.

Jiang Xun, having rarely left the palace, was fascinated by everything—touching here, poking there. Shen Que didn’t interfere, occasionally buying things Jiang Xun liked. Only in particularly crowded places, to prevent the Emperor from getting lost, would he snag Jiang Xun's collar and pull him back to his side.

At first, Jiang Xun was bold and resentful of Shen Que dragging him around. But once, in a crowded stall, he almost got swept away by the crowd. When he finally broke free and stopped, looking around, he found no familiar faces—only an endless crowd of strangers. For someone who had never left the palace, this was terrifying. From then on, he obediently stayed close to Shen Que, not daring to wander.

Shen Que then offered his hand: "Want to hold it?"

"..."

Jiang Xun thought it too childish—he wasn't a child, why would he need someone to hold his hand? He was about to refuse, but when he glanced down at Shen Que’s hand, he hesitated.

This hand of Shen Que’s had always held only brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones.

Oh, and occasionally, a ruler.

When teaching at the academy, Shen Que had punished a few troublemakers—all scions of noble families, companions to the princes, with backgrounds far superior to Jiang Xun’s at the time, a disgraced prince. Yet Shen Que showed no mercy, the sound of the ruler striking flesh that still made Jiang Xun shudder to remember.

To this day, he remembered—the ruler was ebony, held in Shen Que’s fingers, his pale fingertips colder than jade against the dark wood.

But now, that hand was spread before him, lit by the warm glow of the lantern light.

Jiang Xun grabbed it confidently.

His fingertips were warm, and Jiang Xun held on tightly, thinking rather smugly, *"Being the emperor is great. Someone as aloof and dignified as Shen Que—someone I could never have reached before—now has to obediently let me hold his hand."*

On the other side, Shen Que let out a quiet sigh of relief as he clasped his beloved’s hand.

*Finally, he took it.*

In this life, he had been far more proactive than before, yet Jiang Xun had grown distant, treating him with polite distance. Up until now, there hadn’t even been a single moment of physical contact.

If things continued like this, how long until they regained the closeness of their past life?

Though the current emperor was still quite adorable, Shen Que preferred the version of Jiang Xun who would cuddle up into his arms and whine.

The Imperial Tutor sighed deeply, thinking to himself, *"The road ahead is long and full of obstacles."*

And so, between reviewing memorials and humoring the Young Emperor, Shen Que spent his days with Jiang Xun, entering the palace at dawn and leaving only after nightfall. On rest days, he took the Young Emperor out for outings, exploring and enjoying themselves. Life passed by peacefully and uneventfully for several months.

During this time, Jiang Xun released Xue Jin, giving him gold to placate him. Meanwhile, Shen Que set aside a day to return home and lecture his nephew.

In the Previous Dynasty, Shen Xiu had been unable to hold his tongue, slandering the emperor. Though Jiang Xun had dealt with the matter leniently, this time, with their relationship as ruler and subject finally improving, Shen Que had no intention of letting history repeat itself.

Shen Xiu, seething with resentment, had tried to escape over the wall the moment he saw his uncle approaching, only to be yanked down from the tree and forced to kneel in the ancestral hall, thoroughly covered in dirt.

"Uncle!" Shen Xiu sulked as he knelt on the cushion. "Do you even know what they’re saying in court? Our Shen family has upheld its honor for generations—how can the emperor act like this—"

Shen Que flicked his forehead. "Watch your words. No matter what rumors are circulating, it’s not your place to slander him."

Shen Xiu scowled. "But—ow!"

Shen Que smiled as he withdrew his hand. "If you can’t control your mouth, then you won’t leave the house. Starting today, you’re grounded."

—This was also for Shen Xiu’s own good. The palace’s punishment rods were no joke.

After instructing the servants to keep an eye on the young master, Shen Que ignored him after that.

He continued attending court daily, reviewing memorials, and coaxing the emperor. Aside from not sharing a bed, it was hardly different from the Previous Dynasty.

At this thought, Shen Que sighed softly.

Though it was always Jiang Xun who initiated things, snuggling up to him playfully, and though Shen Que was often left sore and struggling to get out of bed afterward, he had to admit—he liked it.

If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have allowed it in the first place.

This body had remained chaste for over thirty years. With Shen Que’s upbringing, he could neither bring himself to take advantage of maids nor resort to self-relief, just gritting his teeth through it each time.

But not knowing was easier. Once he had tasted it, resisting became far more difficult.

And Jiang Xun still loved clinging to him.

The emperor’s relationship with him grew closer by the day, and Jiang Xun became increasingly casual in his presence. When reviewing memorials, each had their own stack, but Jiang Xun would inevitably shift closer, pressing against him. When he encountered something he didn’t understand, he no longer pretended, simply shoving the document in front of Shen Que and demanding, "Teach me, Teacher!"

Shen Que sighed.

Alas, the emperor only ever rubbed against him—nothing more.

The Imperial Tutor couldn’t voice his frustration. But if the emperor wouldn’t make a move, how could he possibly say outright, *"Your Majesty, in truth, this subject wishes to be even closer to you"*? All he could do was play dumb.

The turning point came during the last day of rest in late spring.

As usual, Shen Que prepared to take the emperor out for an outing.

Every time they went out, Shen Que would personally select the emperor’s out-of-palace garments. Jiang Xun had recently shot up in height, his frame growing more elegant, and his appearance increasingly handsome. Shen Que always delighted in picking clothes for him.

This time, he chose a pale bluish-green outfit that resembled jade from a distance. Draped over Jiang Xun, it looked every bit the noble prince incognito, venturing out for a spring stroll.

In late spring, most flowers had already withered, except for the peach blossoms in full bloom outside the city at a temple. Shen Que decided to take the emperor there to admire them.

The first half of the trip went smoothly. Jiang Xun was in high spirits, and when Shen Que mentioned peach blossom wine, the emperor grew quite interested, saying he would have servants bring some as tribute upon their return to the palace so they could taste it together.

Shen Que, of course, agreed with a smile.

However, in the latter half of their visit, they overheard another group of people whispering beyond the temple walls—newly minted scholars who had just passed the imperial examinations.

Fresh from their success, the scholars were in high spirits, basking in praise and occasionally critiquing current affairs. Jiang Xun had intended to keep his distance, but suddenly, he caught them mentioning: "the emperor," "the Grand Tutor," "using beauty to curry favor," and "generations of noble reputation."

"The emperor" referred to Jiang Xun, and "the Grand Tutor" to Shen Que. The implication was that Shen Que had ingratiated himself with the emperor through improper means, engaging in disgraceful acts that tarnished the Shen family’s long-standing honorable reputation.

Shen Que’s eye twitched, and alarm bells rang in his mind, but Jiang Xun’s expression had already darkened—a clear sign of impending fury.

Since Shen Que’s arrival in this world, Jiang Xun had rarely shown such an expression.

Shen Que quickly intervened, "A-Xun, the peach blossoms ahead are lovely. Let’s go take a look."

"A-Xun" was how he addressed the emperor in private.

He tugged at Jiang Xun but failed to move him. To prevent disaster, Shen Que momentarily set aside propriety, throwing an arm around the emperor’s shoulders and half-dragging him away.

Yet, upon returning to court, Jiang Xun still erupted in anger.

Without consulting Shen Que, he directly ordered his Guards to investigate the scholars who had visited the temple that day and had them all imprisoned without explanation.

The incident sent the court into an uproar.

Shen Que knew this was bad.

The newly appointed scholars were seen as the realm’s brightest literary talents—fresh blood for the court. Moreover, among them were several who had ranked near the top of the second-tier list. There was no justification for arresting them outright. Soon, several senior ministers banded together to petition, demanding an explanation from the emperor.

These were elders who had served multiple reigns, and Shen Que couldn’t openly oppose them. At that moment, he truly couldn’t think of a solution.

Meanwhile, Jiang Xun was furious and naturally refused to provide any explanation.

If he disclosed the charges, it would only fan the flames of speculation about the rumors regarding his relationship with the Imperial Tutor, making the gossip worse. But if he remained silent, he couldn’t quell the public outcry.

The courtiers concluded that the emperor had relapsed into his old habits—unable to maintain the facade of a wise ruler for long before lapsing back into tyranny. Memorials flooded in, and a few audacious officials even condemned Jiang Xun as a despotic ruler who had disgraced heaven, earth, and his ancestors, threatening to dash their heads against the palace pillars in protest.

Jiang Xun sneered coldly, "Fine. I’ll have someone collect your corpses."

This only escalated the situation further.

Disgusted by their hypocrisy, Jiang Xun suspended court audiences altogether, secluding himself within the palace and refusing to emerge.

Now, not even Shen Que could see him.

The Grand Tutor sent two petitions, stating that he didn’t care about the rumors and that the scholars could be released for now to handle the matter later. But the emperor ignored them, pretending not to have seen them.

With a long sigh, Shen Que sneaked into the palace under cover of night.

The young master was in a huff and needed to be pacified.

He cursed the court officials ten thousand times in his heart and spotted the chief eunuch Wang An standing at the palace gate from afar, wearing a pained look.

Shen Que cupped his hands and asked, "Might I be permitted to see His Majesty?"

Wang An grimaced. "Lord Shen, please don’t make things difficult for me. The Emperor said he won’t see anyone—including you."

—Since Shen Que hadn’t sided with him, Jiang Xun was angry with him too.

Shen Que: "As you say."

After a moment’s thought, he gathered his robes and knelt down, saying to Wang An, "Please go inside and inform His Majesty that I’m kneeling at the gate, wearing only thin robes, and appear to be suffering from the cold."

Wang An bowed and withdrew.

After some elaboration, he soon returned holding a fox-fur mantle, his expression even more pained. "Lord Shen, His Majesty said you may kneel if you wish… but, uh, the night dew is heavy, so I’ve brought you a cloak."

As he spoke, he handed the garment to Shen Que.

Wang An didn’t dare say it outright, but both of them knew—without the Emperor’s tacit approval, who would dare offer a cloak to a "disloyal subject" kneeling at the palace gate?

Shen Que showed no hesitation either. He immediately took it, draped it about his shoulders gracefully, and after twenty minutes, spoke again. "Please go inside and inform His Majesty that I’ve been kneeling for a long time, appear pallid, and seem faint from lack of sustenance."

Wang An once again obeyed and left.

After another round of elaboration, he soon returned with a box of pastries. "Lord Shen, His Majesty said you may kneel if you wish… but, uh, I’ve brought you some pastries. If you’d like anything else, the imperial kitchen is ready to prepare it at any time."

—Without the Emperor’s order, who could command the imperial kitchen to be on standby?

Shen Que accepted the pastries with a smile. "No need, these will do just fine."

He ate the pastries while kneeling on the fur cloak, and after another twenty minutes, Shen Que said, "Please go in once more and tell His Majesty that I’m swaying unsteadily, looking as if I might collapse at any moment."

A few minutes later, Wang An emerged, his expression even more distressed.

Shen Que: "What did His Majesty say?"

Wang An replied cautiously, "His Majesty said… to tell you to get your ass inside."

Shen Que smirked. "Ah, good. I’ll go in right away."

With that, he lifted the hem of his robe, crossed the threshold, and headed into the palace.

But the Emperor wasn’t there.

Wang An whispered, "His Majesty went to the rear chambers to avoid you."

The rear chambers was the thermal baths.

Shen Que: "Very well. I'll trouble you no further, I’ll go in myself. If His Majesty blames you later, just say you couldn’t stop me and I forced my way in."

"Ah, understood…" Wang An hesitated for a moment before adding in a low voice, "Lord Shen, His Majesty has been drinking today."

Shen Que nodded in acknowledgment and made his way into the thermal baths.

Through the thick mist, he saw Jiang Xun.

The Emperor was languid in the waters, a flagon of wine and seven or eight cups strewn about him. His cheeks were flushed peach-blossom pink—whether from drink or the vapors, it was hard to tell.

Jiang Xun was brooding alone.

He was fuming, ostensibly because of the rumors spread by the newly appointed scholars, but Jiang Xun knew the truth—his unhappiness stemmed precisely from having his sore spot exposed.

He did indeed harbor thoughts toward Shen Que that went beyond the teacher-student relationship—forbidden desires.

These thoughts had existed for a very, very long time, so long that Jiang Xun couldn’t even recall when the seed had first been planted.

Back then, he was the most neglected prince in the imperial harem, while Shen Que was a renowned minister of the previous dynasty—one forgotten and invisible, the other illustrious and revered, one hidden in the dark, the other radiating refinement.

Jiang Xun would sit in the corner of the study hall and watch him, unable to comprehend the scholarly discourse Shen Que delivered, only able to gaze helplessly at his teacher—at the hands that held the ruler or brush, at the figure swathed in scholar's blue, at the gentle, smiling face.

That was another world, one far beyond his reach in his youth.

Now, this yearning from his youth lingered beside him every day, mere inches away—how could Jiang Xun not develop an obsession?

Sometimes, waking from dreams, he could even catch flashes of Shen Que’s face amidst hazy remnants of lust and illusion.

He couldn’t deceive himself.

He was nothing like the obedient emperor Shen Que believed him to be. He wanted to pull the brush from Shen Que’s fingers, force him to claw at the sheets, grip the waist beneath those blue robes, lift those long, elegant legs, and draw breathless whimpers from those beautiful lips.

But Jiang Xun knew how grave this would be for a courtier.

At best, it would leave behind salacious rumors in unofficial histories; at worst, it would ruin Shen Que’s reputation, tarnishing three generations of the Shen family’s honor and branding him forever as an imperial plaything.

Jiang Xun didn’t care about his own reputation, but he cared that Shen Que would hate him.

No one had ever treated him so well—he didn’t want Shen Que to despise him.

Yet even though he had done nothing, the scholars dared to gossip, and worse, they did so right by Shen Que’s ear, ensuring both of them heard every word.

What would become of their relationship after this?

Jiang Xun didn’t know.

So he lashed out again—imprisoning the scholars, bucking the whole court, ordering the threatening ministers to die, then vowing to bury them himself.

When the courtiers called him a tyrant, he embraced the role with abandon.

But even after all this, Jiang Xun still felt no relief.

A heavy stone weighed on his heart, with nowhere to vent his frustration, leaving him to steep here, drowning in wine.

Then, suddenly, a pair of legs appeared in his blurred vision.

They were lean and shapely, the calves tapering elegantly at the ankles, forming a graceful curve. Further up, the owner of those legs wasn’t dressed—just a towel clinging to his hips.

Jiang Xun frowned.

Who? Some palace maid angling for favor?

He was of age to select consorts and marry, but unwilling to be controlled, he had kept putting it off. Now, with this person intruding on his black mood, his temper flared hotter.

His voice turned dangerous. “Who let you in? Get out.”

The Emperor’s voice cut like ice, but instead of retreating, the stranger stepped closer—into the pool.

Jiang Xun’s frown deepened. “I said, who let you in? Get out. Are you deaf or stupid? Or do I need to have you dragged out after thirty strokes of the cane?”

All he got in reply was a soft sigh.

Shen Que feigned hurt: "Your Majesty is so cruel. I've only just finished kneeling for so long, and now you want to reward me with thirty strokes of the cane. With this delicate constitution of mine, after thirty strikes, I’ll never be able to accompany Your Majesty to admire the flowers again."

Jiang Xun abruptly stood up, water streaming down his body.

But he quickly realized something was wrong—he was stark naked. The spring water had concealed it before, but now that he was standing, everything was on display.

Jiang Xun had no choice but to plop back down.

His back pressed rigidly against the edge of the hot spring, his entire body tense as he watched Shen Que draw closer. He crossed his arms defensively, his voice stern but wavering: "What are you doing in here? I told you not to come in!"

Shen Que: "It's freezing out there. If I don’t take a bath soon, I’ll freeze to death."

As he spoke, he moved beside the emperor and sat down directly, his long legs pressing flush against Jiang Xun’s.

Jiang Xun: "!"

His face flushed: "This—this is completely inappropriate!"

"Ah," Shen Que mused nostalgically, "Never thought I'd live to hear Your Majesty say that."

Jiang Xun: "..."

The emperor, already three sheets to the wind, now felt as if he were in a dream: "You... you..."

Shen Que: "Will Your Majesty hear me out?"

Jiang Xun thought to himself—given the situation, whether he wanted to or not, he had no choice. He stiffened his expression: "Speak."

Shen Que: "Hearing what people say didn’t upset me. In fact, I was happy."

"...?"

Even with Jiang Xun’s sharp mind, this statement knocked him for a loop.

Shen Que: "I don’t care about what people say. I truly wish to be with Your Majesty, just as the rumors suggest."

—Having been through this song and dance before, he’d read countless stories and fanworks about himself, even considered writing some. Did he care about this?

All he cared about was whether he could win over his emperor.

Jiang Xun: "What? You... I..."

Their legs continued to brush against each other, intentionally or not, the heat between them growing rapidly. Under the dual influence of alcohol and the charged atmosphere, Jiang Xun instinctively shrank back, trying to hide his body’s reaction.

Deep down, he was still terrified of showing this part of himself to Shen Que.

Shen Que sighed: "Your Majesty isn't experienced, I understand. It’s alright—I can teach you."

Jiang Xun was in a haze.

Guided, he mindlessly reached out, lacing his fingers with Shen Que’s, then absentmindedly explored his waist and thighs before finally sealing their lips.

Those lips, which had once recited classics and sage teachings, now only released fragmented, breathless moans.

...

When he woke the next morning, Jiang Xun still felt like he was floating.

But Shen Que was sleeping right beside him. Sensing his movement, the Imperial Tutor woke up groggily and, just like every morning in modern times, leaned in to give him a morning kiss.

Shen Que: "Morning, Your Majesty."

Jiang Xun said flatly, "Morning."

Shen Que: "Do as I say and free those students."

Jiang Xun: "Oh, okay."

—Clearly, His Majesty's mind was still foggy, too sleep-fogged to put up resistance.

He obediently complied.

From then on, events unfolded just as they had in the Previous Dynasty.

There was never any suspicion or discord between them. Shen Que led the way, and Jiang Xun followed closely behind. They opened up maritime routes, built canals, encouraged agriculture, and developed commerce. Under their rule, the people lived in peace and prosperity, with favorable weather and bountiful harvests. Gradually, they ushered the dynasty into a flourishing golden age.

Jiang Xun was given the posthumous title of Emperor Wen, while Shen Que received the title of Loyalty of Wen. Ruler and advisor, perfectly in sync, were remembered together in history. As for the rumors circulating among the common folk, they were but minor footnotes to the magnificent lives of these two prodigies.

Jiang Xun had no children and named Xue Jin's nephew as the crown prince. The two men drew their last breaths nearly together and were buried in the same coffin.

When this life came to an end, Shen Que opened his eyes again—only to find himself in a hotel after an archaeological dig, with his emperor nestled in his arms, whining and burrowing deeper into the covers.

Shen Que ran fingers through Jiang Xun's hair and chuckled, "I had such a long, wonderful dream. Everything in it was so perfect."

They had never once misunderstood each other, smoothly walking hand in hand until their hair turned white.

Meanwhile, Jiang Xun, who had spent the previous night thoroughly reacquainting himself with his teacher to make up for two months of longing, was now in a pleasantly drowsy and satisfied state. He opened his eyes discontentedly and muttered, "What do you mean 'perfect in the dream'? What's wrong with now?"

—After all, he had fought through three lifetimes just to earn this peaceful life!

Shen Que smiled. "Now is perfect too."

In dreams or reality, whether in past lives or this one—as long as you're by my side, everything is good, so good.