Chapter 187: Whose Merit Is It Really, My Husband Is So Handsome

**Chapter 187: Whose Merit Is It? My Husband Is So Handsome**

"Who are you?" Zhan Yu's expression was peculiar—a blend of sorrow and joy, disbelief tangled with relief and longing. It was a complex emotion beyond words.

Nan Jinping tried to speak, but his cheeks were clamped tightly by Zhan Yu, making it difficult to produce anything more than muffled sounds.

"This is my husband, Nan Jinping," Bing Wengu said, applying pressure to Zhan Yu's wrist, causing him to feel pain.

The pain jolted Zhan Yu back to awareness. He stared at Nan Jinping, his expression unreadable, before slowly releasing his grip. Bing Wengu also let go.

Zhan Yu turned and returned to his throne, while Bing Wengu examined the marks left on Nan Jinping’s face.

The gazes of the entire court officials were nearly all fixed on Nan Jinping, yet Bing Wengu openly caressed his husband’s cheeks, making Nan Jinping flush crimson. He lacked Bing Wengu’s shamelessness.

Nan Jinping turned his reddened face and ears away, murmuring, "Everyone is watching."

Bing Wengu didn’t insist but said tenderly, "You’re red."

"It’s fine," Nan Jinping quickly replied.

Seated back on the throne, Zhan Yu narrowed his eyes at the scene before him, suddenly finding it grating.

"Bing Wengu, watch your behavior." When Zhan Yu learned that Bing Wengu had disobeyed his orders, he hadn’t addressed him by his full name in front of the court. When he discovered Bing Wengu had drugged Wu Chengze, he still referred to him as "Minister Bing" before the officials. But now, Zhan Yu called him by his full name.

The court officials exchanged bewildered looks. The Left Chancellor looked at Mei Chengwen, who was also staring back at him. Both assumed the other knew something, only to find equal confusion. They exchanged exasperated glances and turned away.

Zhan Fuxian, believing the Crown Prince, the heir apparent constantly at the Emperor’s side, must be privy to something, glared at the Crown Prince.

The Crown Prince, thinking Zhan Fuxian’s mother, Jieyu Mei, had once been the Emperor’s favorite and might have shared secrets with him, returned Zhan Fuxian’s gaze.

Yet both were equally clueless, neither understanding why the Emperor was suddenly acting this way.

Bing Wengu clasped his hands and said, "Your Majesty, Nan Jinping and I are legally married."

Naturally, we need not restrain ourselves.

Zhan Yu snorted. Now, everything about Bing Wengu grated on him.

"A gentleman understands propriety and must uphold decorum in public."

Bing Wengu replied, "I shall heed Your Majesty’s teachings. From now on, affectionate gestures with my husband will only take place at home."

His bold and blunt words made Nan Jinping flush deeply, while the ministers coughed awkwardly. Zhan Yu was so infuriated he nearly scoffed aloud.

"Mind your tongue. A gentleman should cultivate virtue," Zhan Yu admonished.

"My husband and I are properly married. Sharing a marital bed—"

"Enough!" Zhan Yu snapped. "This is not your concern right now. Keep your mouth shut."

Nan Jinping glanced worriedly at Bing Wengu, fearing his crude words had offended the Emperor.

After all, this Emperor seemed rather rigid.

Bing Wengu shook his head at Nan Jinping. "No need to worry."

"Nan Jinping..." Zhan Yu adopted a gentler tone, smiling warmly. "Tell me how you escaped from the Wusun royal court."

"As you command, Your Majesty." Nan Jinping steadied himself and began recounting, "I once heard my husband speak of Mo Zhenjiang..."

Zhan Yu interrupted Nan Jinping, saying, "Since you've gained fame among the people and once taught at the Imperial Academy, you are My subject. There's no need to address yourself like other titled spouses—simply refer to yourself as 'this subject.'"

"How can this be?" Mei Chengwen was the first to object. "The Fengzhou Prefect's spouse is a titled consort. The only reason he has the privilege to stand in the court and meet the Emperor is because he is the spouse of the Fengzhou Prefect. How can he overstep his status?"

Bing Wengu frowned, displeased by the remark.

"Academician Mei, you err," Bing said. "At this moment, Nan Jinping stands here not as my spouse, but because of his achievements. He assassinated the Wusun Kunmi and was pivotal in the battle to reclaim Wusun. His Majesty summoned him precisely for this reason—not because of whose spouse he is."

Nan Jinping glanced at Bing Wengu, touched. No matter the time or place, Bing Wengu's first instinct was always to defend him.

Zhan Yu's gaze toward Bing Wengu held approval, not disdain—for the first time since Nan Jinping entered the hall.

"Bing Wengu is right. Today, I summoned Nan Jinping to this hall not because of whose spouse he is, but because he killed the Wusun Kunmi."

"Sire, the Prefect of Fengzhou's tale is absurd. How could a dual-gendered person possibly slay the Kunmi? He is clearly trying to cover for his spouse—"

"Enough!" Zhan Yu snapped. "Academician Mei, after all these years in office, have you still not learned the principle of 'do not judge what you do not fully understand'?"

This wasn’t the first time Mei Chengwen had caused trouble for Nan Jinping and Bing Wengu. Previously, the Emperor had shown him leniency, but this time, the rebuke was merciless. Mei Chengwen scrutinized Nan Jinping carefully.

Even someone as dismissive as Mei Chengwen had to admit Nan Jinping was ethereally beautiful—pale skin, delicate features, eyes dark as ink, captivating at first glance.

Such delicate beauty was undeniably attractive to men, standing out even in Bianjing’s sea of beauties. No wonder Bing Wengu was besotted.

Suddenly, Mei Chengwen stiffened, struck by a realization. He glanced sharply at the Emperor.

Sure enough, the Emperor was staring intently at Nan Jinping, as if no one else existed.

Mei Chengwen smirked with dark amusement. Had he known the Fengzhou Prefect's husband possessed such allure, capable of stirring the Emperor's heart, he would have arranged their meeting long ago. Throughout history, emperors claiming ministers' partners was hardly rare. Why had he exhausted himself trying to eliminate the Fengzhou Prefect when this opportunity lay before him?

It seemed he no longer needed to act—the Emperor and the Fengzhou Prefect’s bond as ruler and subject was likely nearing its end.

Mei Chengwen's expression contorted unpleasantly.

"This subject acknowledges his mistake and will henceforth be cautious in speech and conduct."

Zhan Fuxian, puzzled, looked at Mei Chengwen, who signaled him to observe the Emperor. Zhan Fuxian then noticed the Emperor's unwavering gaze on Nan Jinping.

Understanding dawned on Zhan Fuxian, and a smirk of schadenfreude spread across his face.

"Nan Jinping, proceed. No one else is to interrupt," Zhan Yu said gently.

Nan Jinping glanced at Bing Wengu, who reassured him with a look, and so he resumed his story.

These were tales of merit—the more arduous the journey, the greater the glory. As a storyteller, Nan Jinping naturally wove a gripping, serpentine tale. Many military officials, initially indifferent, soon regarded him with awe.

Zhan Yu's admiration for Nan Jinping grew. "Nan Jinping, you have done exceptionally well this time, contributing greatly. I will ensure Bing Wengu is recorded for a major merit."

Throughout history, women and dual-gendered individuals who distinguished themselves in battle were often rewarded only with gold and silver, while titles were granted to male kin—if unmarried, to fathers or brothers; if married, to husbands.

There was even a princess of a previous dynasty, brilliant and courageous, who secured the throne for her brother. Yet, in the end, all credit went to her husband, even in historical records.

If even a royal princess faced such treatment, how much more so commoners?

This was the unspoken rule, and Zhan Yu’s words reflected it. The courtiers saw nothing amiss, merely lamenting privately that their own wives couldn’t earn them such honors.

But Bing Wengu interjected, "Your Majesty, the assassination of the Wusun Kunmi was Nan Jinping’s achievement alone. At the time, I was still in Xincheng, a hundred li away, unable to assist in the slightest. This merit has nothing to do with me—it belongs solely to Nan Jinping. If rewards are to be given, they should go to him alone."

"But he is your husband. His achievements are yours," the Left Chancellor countered. "Such merit demands official recognition. As a Shuang Er, he cannot serve in court, so naturally, it must be credited to you."

Bing Wengu knelt on one knee. “Nan Jinping’s contributions are invaluable and deserve to be remembered in history. We cannot erase them simply because he is a Shuang Er—a gender identity in this setting.”

Zhan Yu’s face was unreadable. “Bing Wengu, are you saying you refuse to accept Nan Jinping’s credit?”

“I may not be a saint,” Bing Wengu replied, “but I still have shame. I’d never sink so low as to steal the achievements of my own spouse.”

“Do you understand what it means to give up this credit?” Zhan Yu pressed.

A stunned silence fell over the court. Everyone waited for Bing Wengu’s answer. If it had been any of them, they would have accepted the honor gladly. But Bing Wengu seemed downright foolish to push it away.

As a Shuang Er, Nan Jinping couldn’t hold office anyway—bestowing the credit on him would be wasted. Better to take the credit yourself, which could help you rise in rank. A higher status naturally benefits your spouse. And if you felt guilty later, well, you could always shower him with silks, jewels, and gold hairpins.

Bing Wengu said firmly, “I understand, and I will never regret it.”

Zhan Yu studied Bing Wengu for a moment, his expression strange. After a long pause, he turned to Nan Jinping, who now looked teary-eyed.

Zhan Yu’s irritation returned. Was Bing Wengu doing this on purpose? He must’ve known that this would move Nan Jinping.

“Nan Jinping, what do you think?” Zhan Yu asked.

“The credit belongs to me,” Nan Jinping replied.

The reply shocked the court. No one expected such a response.

They’d expected him to refuse, pleading with His Majesty to grant the credit to Bing Wengu instead. Then the couple could play out some heartwarming display of mutual respect.

But Nan Jinping claimed it without hesitation.

“Governor Bing’s husband,” the Left Chancellor spoke, “do you even realize what this means? If the credit went to Bing Wengu, his rank could jump. For you, a Shuang Er, all you’d get is trinkets—no real value.”

Zhan Fuxian sneered, “Has the Left Chancellor forgotten that Governor Bing’s husband isn’t some illiterate rustic? He is the famous Master Wuwei, who compiled the dictionary and invented the phonetic script. How could such a learned scholar not know the laws of the court?”

Zhan Yu noticed the ministers’ disapproving expressions and glanced at Bing Wengu, who gazed adoringly at Nan Jinping, eyes full of affection. That moony look made Zhan Yu wonder if Bing Wengu had even heard Nan Jinping’s words.

Never mind, Zhan Yu thought. Bing Wengu had it bad. Maybe a priest could knock some sense into him later. For now, better to talk to Nan Jinping.

“Nan Jinping, have you truly considered this? Knowing how much is at stake, do you not fear damaging your marriage? Will you never regret it?”

“My husband always said,” Nan Jinping answered, “that if I wanted to soar like an eagle, he would give me wings. I just need to fly. If he can’t keep up, that’s his problem. Now I’m ready to spread my wings. Whether he can follow depends on him. If he can’t, then he doesn’t deserve me.”

He raised his head high and shot a defiant glance at Bing Wengu.

That look sent Bing Wengu’s heart racing, completely enchanted.

“My spouse is so beautiful,” Bing Wengu murmured unconsciously.

A stunned silence fell over the court. Even the emperor gave him a strange look. “Crown Prince, do you know any skilled priests? After court, introduce one to Bing Wengu. A man who spends too long on the battlefield might pick up some strange influences.”

The Crown Prince barely held back a laugh. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Nan Jinping blushed deeply, his earlier confidence shattered by Bing Wengu’s words. He wished the floor would open and swallow him whole.

“Bing Wengu,” the emperor asked again, “if I truly grant this credit solely to Nan Jinping, will you still not regret it?”

“No regrets,” Bing Wengu said. “I ask only that Your Majesty grant Nan Jinping fairness.”

“Fairness?” the Left Chancellor questioned. “Governor Bing, what do you mean? Merit should bring rank and title. Are you asking the emperor to grant your spouse an official position?”

“Since the Left Chancellor acknowledges that merit deserves reward, must Nan Jinping’s achievements be erased simply because he is a Shuang Er? How unfair is that? Are young women and Shuang Er not subjects of Dayong? Must they be denied fair recognition even for great deeds?” “If this spreads, won’t it chill the hearts of all young women and Shuang Er? In future crises where their efforts could turn the tide or change Dayong’s fate, would they still risk their lives knowing they’d face injustice?”

"They’re Dayong’s people—this is their duty."

"Since the Left Chancellor acknowledges they are Dayong’s people, he should also recognize this is what they’re entitled to."

"There’s never been a case of a Shuang Er holding office."

"Then we’ll make it happen now. Dayong can set this precedent, and Nan Jinping can be the one to do so."

"This is utterly absurd!"

"What’s absurd? If you ask me, it’s absurd that some among you even stand here." Bing Wengu’s razor-sharp tongue cut down everyone, friend or foe.

"Some brag about being scholars, but compared to Nan Jinping—In battle? They never took down the Wusun Kunmi. Culturally, they’ve achieved nothing. But Nan Jinping compiled the dictionary and created the writing system. They can’t touch her in either, yet they hold office. Why shouldn’t Nan Jinping?"

"Bing Wengu, you—"

"Your Majesty," Bing Wengu addressed Zhan Yu, "Nan Jinping’s knowledge stands on its own. Rather than take my word for it, let her take the imperial examinations. The results will prove her worth."

"You have such confidence in Nan Jinping’s knowledge?" Zhan Yu played dumb.

"She’s even better than me," Bing Wengu replied.

"Oh? Is that so?" Zhan Yu grew intrigued. "Bing Wengu, your smarts and tactics are second to none in this court. Yet you claim she surpasses you? Now I’m curious just how extraordinary her knowledge must be."

"Your Majesty, you can’t possibly—"

Zhan Yu cast a cold glance at the dissenting ministers. "What are you afraid of? That your knowledge might get shown up by a Shuang Er?"

"We just think this goes against tradition."

"If Nan Jinping fails, the disgrace is hers alone—where’s the problem? If she succeeds, then the disgrace is yours—a bunch of useless officials who keep telling me 'no' to everything, yet are outmatched in both civil and martial arts by a Shuang Er!"

As Zhan Yu’s anger flared, the ministers knelt in apology.

"By my decree, Nan Jinping will take the imperial examinations in secret. No one is to interfere."

"We obey Your Majesty’s command."

"As for Bing Wengu, Prefect of Fengzhou, we’ll balance his good and bad deeds before deciding any reward. He is to remain in Bianjing for now and not leave the capital."

"I obey Your Majesty’s command."