Delicate, Yet Shamelessly Freeloading [Quick Transmigration] Chapter 82

Chapter 82: The Snobbish Black Moonlight (31)

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Shui Que worked hard in his lessons, which lasted until December.


But thanks to his previous efforts, Nie Xiuyuan compromised and no longer insisted on making him copy books. Instead, he would test him on the material from the previous day before each formal lesson.


Sometimes, Duan Zhang would also test him.


As a result, whenever Duan Zhang was reviewing memorials in the Zichen Hall, he would occasionally make Shui Que recite from memory, multitasking by correcting Shui Que’s mistakes while working.


Even when memorials regarding the autumn floods in Qingzhou, which had caused the death of several horses, were urgently delivered to Duan Zhang, he had Shui Que look over them and used the occasion to test his studies.


Shui Que had learned everything from the river defense discussions to the “Water Classics” and while he couldn’t recall everything fluently, he could at least list a few key points.


Now, he was studying the “Essential Techniques of Agriculture.”


However, Shui Que still didn’t understand why Duan Zhang wanted him to learn these things.


As Prince Yuan, he had specialized officials managing his estates and fief. What did he need to learn this for?


He didn’t need to wake up at dawn every day like the male lead, rising early to attend court and climb the official ranks.


He could live off his royal brother’s gifts, the tax revenue from his fief, and his noble title’s allowances for several lifetimes without worrying about running out of money.


He barely made it through lessons until the tenth day of the twelfth month, the day of the Qian Ning Festival, the Emperor’s birthday. Finally, Shui Que had some breathing room.


A month before the festival, the Ministry of Music had organized rehearsals, and civil and military officials were scheduled to visit the Xiangguo Temple to pray for the Emperor’s health.


After the prayer banquet at the temple, the palace was alive with music, featuring phoenix flutes and luan pipes. The Emperor hosted a grand feast, inviting all the civil and military officials. There were over 108 dishes, including Eight Treasure Wild Duck, Buddha Hand Golden Rolls, Pot-Stewed Deer Tendons, and Chicken Shreds with Silver Ear Mushrooms…


Shui Que didn’t know how others felt about the meal, but he certainly ate so much that his cheeks turned pink and his stomach was full.


He had prayed for a sachet at the Xiangguo Temple, which was now hanging from Duan Zhang’s waist.


He went to check on Duan Zhang, but noticed that his brother hadn’t eaten much and seemed unwell. Shui Que, sitting close by, could see that Duan Zhang was clearly forcing himself to appear fine, though his eyes were deeply tired.


Shui Que knew that Duan Zhang had worked tirelessly to finish the accumulated memorials in advance for the five days of rest during the Qian Ning Festival. For several nights, the Zichen Hall had remained brightly lit.


He was worried.


After the banquet ended, the officials returned to the Eastern Palace, but Shui Que turned toward the Yangxin Palace.


It was time for his brother to rest.


The Zitan Palace was brightly lit, and the servants in Yangxin Palace knelt on the ground, afraid to breathe.


Shui Que was startled by the scene.


Inside the inner chambers, thick red curtains hung, and the sound of heavy coughing from the dragon couch seemed like it would bring up both his heart and lungs.


The servants in the inner palace greeted Shui Que and whispered, “Greetings, Your Highness.”


The coughing stopped for a moment but then intensified, growing louder.


Shui Que cautiously peeked into the inner chamber. “Imperial Brother….?”


“Xiao Yao.”


Duan Zhang was leaning against the dragon couch, pale, as the imperial doctor from the Hanlin Academy was checking his pulse.


It was the same doctor who had once treated Shui Que, Doctor Du from the Imperial Medical Bureau.


His tone was serious as he advised, “His Majesty must take care of his health. The strain from recent overwork has caused an old illness to flare up.”


The doctor wrote a prescription and had a senior eunuch send it to the Imperial Medicine Courtyard for the medicine to be prepared.


Seeing Shui Que arrive, Doctor Du stepped aside from the dragon couch. “Your Highness.”


Shui Que approached, holding Duan Zhang’s hand, his voice filled with worry. “Imperial Brother, are you in a lot of pain?”


Duan Zhang didn’t want his brother to see him in such a pitiful state, but he couldn’t control himself and turned to cough again. After clearing his throat, he gently reassured him, “It’s nothing, just an old ailment.”


He waved his hand, signaling the servants to leave the inner chamber.


Shui Que then realized that his imperial brother, who could easily ride a horse and pull a heavy bow to hit a target from a hundred paces, appeared invincible but had actually suffered from a long-term ailment.


When overworked, it caused him to cough up blood.


The imperial doctors were helpless against it.


But he was the Emperor, the supreme ruler of the land, with too many responsibilities to find time for proper rest.


Duan Zhang’s voice was hoarse as he gently caressed Shui Que’s cheek. “Xiao Yao, you need to study hard. I heard from Minister Nie that your studies have improved recently.”


Shui Que suddenly seemed to understand something. “Imperial Brother, you aren’t…?”


Wait, was he preparing for him to inherit the throne?


Was this a joke?


Duan Zhang lowered his gaze and nodded.


The imperial doctors had once estimated that, given his current workload, he might only have ten years left to live.

 

Every year, renowned traveling physicians were invited into the palace for consultations, yet their diagnoses were more or less the same.

 

Aside from the common people of the world, the one person Duan Zhang could never truly let go of was his younger brother.

 

What if, after he was gone, these people failed to treat Prince Yuan kindly? What would happen then?

 

After much consideration, Duan Zhang believed that passing the throne to his younger brother was the most reliable solution.

 

Who would dare to offend the Son of Heaven?

 

Although his brother might not have the capability to stand on his own within the next ten years, with the Wei family and the trusted aides Duan Zhang had promoted, perhaps things wouldn’t go awry.

 

Shui Que shook his head vigorously, “No, no!”

 

He clung tightly to Duan Zhang’s waist, gazing up at him pitifully, “I just want to be the youngest. I want Imperial Brother to take care of me. Matters like handling state affairs… I really can’t do it…”

 

No wonder the option to leave the world had never been restored—it turned out that Duan Zhang had designated him as the heir. If he were to leave the world, there would be no one left to inherit the throne of Darong. That’s why the consciousness of the little world had subconsciously marked him as a critical character.

 

If Duan Zhang continued thinking this way, Shui Que would never be able to leave the world.

 

That would mean attending court every day, rising before dawn, and reviewing memorials deep into the cold winter nights.

 

Such a life was absolutely unacceptable.

 

Besides, Imperial Brother treated him so well—he couldn’t bear for him to die young.

 

Shui Que buried his head against Duan Zhang, his voice muffled, “Mister Nie lied to you. I actually don’t know anything. I can’t even recite “Essential Skill to Benefit the People” properly. If Imperial Brother isn’t around, those people definitely won’t obey me…”

 

Duan Zhang gently patted his back, helplessly.

 

Shui Que asked in his mind: [77, do you have any ideas?]

 

System 77 clearly realized the problem as well.

 

[Host, don’t worry. 77 will immediately submit an emergency request to higher authorities to see if it’s possible to alter the emperor’s character data.]

 

There were only two options now: either Shui Que could persuade Duan Zhang to adopt a child from a collateral branch and raise him, or a miracle would occur, and Duan Zhang’s chronic illness would be cured so he could continue ruling the realm.

 

Of course, Shui Que leaned toward the latter.

 

His Imperial Brother was not only a good elder brother but also a good emperor—a wise ruler. No matter how you looked at it, he was far more suited to the throne than anyone else.

 

The next day, System 77 finally received a reply from the main world.

 

After an assessment by the relevant department, it was deemed permissible to extend Duan Zhang’s lifespan—but it would require using staff points in exchange.

 

The amount needed was equivalent to half of the “soft rice point” Shui Que had accumulated in this world.

 

Shui Que didn’t hesitate: [Redeem it.]

 

After all, most of the soft rice point he’d earned later on was thanks to Duan Zhang’s rewards anyway.

 

After Duan Zhang left court, he found Shui Que waiting for him inside the Zichen Hall, eyes wide with anticipation as he entered.

 

“What is it?” Duan Zhang asked, “You’ve finished your lessons for today?”

 

He tried to comfort Shui Que, “I’m already feeling much better today. Xiao Yao, you don’t need to worry about my health. What I wish for most is for you to live freely and happily.”

 

Shui Que quietly retorted, “That’s not true. If Imperial Brother’s health fails, Xiao Yao will never be happy again.”

 

Having traveled through so many worlds, he hadn’t necessarily improved in other areas, but he had certainly become more masterful at sweet talk.

 

Duan Zhang was visibly moved.

 

Seizing the moment, Shui Que straightened his posture and said solemnly, “Imperial Brother, do you believe me?”

 

“Hmm?” Duan Zhang replied, “Of course I trust Xiao Yao.”

 

They were brothers, tied by blood—how could Duan Zhang not believe him?

 

Shui Que pulled a small box from his robes and, without a hint of shame, began spinning a serious tale: “Actually, I’m a little immortal sent down to cure Imperial Brother’s illness.”

 

“This is a pill that can ward off all diseases,” Shui Que glanced up to observe Duan Zhang’s expression. “As long as you take it continuously for a month, your illness will be cured.”

 

Inside the small box were exactly thirty tiny pills.

 

Duan Zhang thought Shui Que was still childish, saying things like “little immortal.” Ignoring the objections of the chief eunuch, he picked up one of the little pills under Shui Que’s hopeful gaze and popped it into his mouth.

 

It melted instantly, but tasted no different than the sugar pills he used to eat as a child.

 

He became even more convinced that Shui Que had likely been tricked by some nameless fortune teller outside Xiangguo Temple. Still, not wanting to hurt Shui Que’s sincerity, Duan Zhang instructed the chief eunuch to keep the pills properly stored and later test them with silver needles.

 

Shui Que mumbled, “I’ll check every day to make sure Imperial Brother is taking them properly.”

 

Duan Zhang chuckled and simply treated it as playing along with a child—just a month of eating sugar pills.

 

…

 

Once the twelfth lunar month passed, the New Year arrived.

 

Miraculously, within just half a month, Duan Zhang noticed his health had begun to improve. He could now work over three hours a day handling state affairs without feeling the usual discomfort.

 

Perhaps Shui Que really was a little immortal sent from the heavens.

 

Duan Zhang’s gaze fell on his younger brother.

 

There he was, asleep on the scroll desk of Zichen Hall again…

 

Forget it. Perhaps being emperor really was too much to ask of Xiao Yao.

 

On the first day of the first lunar month, the grand New Year’s court assembly was held in Darong.

 

Duan Zhang sat high upon the throne in the Lida Hall.

 

The imperial chariot and ceremonial guards exuded majesty, and soldiers stood at each corner of the hall.

 

Civil and military officials alike wore ceremonial crowns and court robes, standing in neat rows below.

 

Shui Que stood at the very front of the officials—closest to Duan Zhang.

 

Because it was the New Year’s audience, the palace attendants had dressed him with extraordinary care: a deep red gauze outer robe adorned with the “five blessings presenting longevity” medallion pattern, paired with a crimson skirt. Worried he might get cold, they also draped a thick satin cloak over his shoulders.

 

His neck was bundled up, and both hands tucked into wide sleeves, revealing only a delicate, snowy-soft face.

 

Shui Que looked left and right and realized… he seemed to be the only one dressed in so many layers…

 

He was even standing at the innermost part of the grand hall. Some civil officials, standing all the way by the entrance, didn’t seem to be dressed that warmly either—just a brocade robe for insulation.

 

Shui Que tried to discreetly gesture for an attendant to come take his thick cloak, but the chief eunuch leaned in quietly to remind him, “Your Highness, best to keep it on—His Majesty is concerned.”

 

Shui Que glanced up and saw Duan Zhang indeed casting him a disapproving look.

 

Why was it like this?

 

He pursed his lips but ultimately remained the warmest person in the entire hall.

 

Envoys from various countries entered the hall in an orderly fashion to offer New Year’s greetings.

 

The eunuch announced in a loud voice:

 

“Kang Kingdom offers tribute—golden peaches, silver peaches…”

 

“Su Kingdom offers tribute—crimson agate and glass plates…”

 

Each tribute list was long, and after the envoys performed their rituals, the Emperor of Darong would bestow gifts in return.

 

Shui Que kept his hands tucked away, trying his best to look dignified, but he was terribly bored. He had started counting the beads on the twelve-hanging tassels of Duan Zhang’s imperial crown.

 

He stifled a yawn behind his sleeve, tears welling at the corners of his eyes.

 

When would it finally end?

 

He’d gotten up so early, hadn’t even eaten breakfast—just waiting for the imperial banquet at noon bestowed by Imperial Brother.

 

Suddenly, a sharp sensation ran down his spine—he felt a gaze that was impossible to ignore.

 

“Daxiang Kingdom offers tribute—Jade Flower Stallion, Zhaoye White…”

 

In the grand hall filled with treasures and rare curiosities, two tribute horses were led in—both muscular, powerful, and radiant with energy.

 

Shui Que turned to look among the envoys from Daxiang.

 

His breath caught in shock.

 

At the head of the delegation stood a tall Hu man with deep-set eagle eyes. He wore a golden crown, a fitted dark-purple robe, and a gold-banded belt.

 

That was… Wu Chun?

 

He looked vastly different from the shy, reserved Hu man Shui Que had met before.

 

Now his face was stern, his eagle eyes sharp and unwavering. As he saluted the emperor in a ritual similar to Darong’s, he knelt with his left foot bent and right knee to the ground. The tight robe accentuated his lean, muscular frame. He clasped his fists to his right shoulder in formal salute.

 

Shui Que had originally been worried that Wu Chun would recognize him in the Lisa Hall—and then he wouldn’t know how to explain things to his Imperial Brother afterward.

 

Fortunately, nothing happened. The other party simply followed proper etiquette—after presenting the tribute, he returned to the ranks of the Daxiang envoys.

 

After the morning court session ended, the emperor hosted an imperial banquet. On the way to the side hall, Shui Que overheard a few military officers talking about an unfamiliar name. Based on their conversation, he concluded that it was likely the new name Wu Chun had taken upon returning to Daxiang.

 

They said he was the most likely prince to inherit the throne of Daxiang. At present, the King of Daxiang was gravely ill. It should have been the perfect time to seize power, and yet, for some unknown reason, Wu Chun had traveled thousands of miles to pay homage at Darong’s court.

 

The discussion went back and forth, and the final conclusion they reached was that Darong’s national strength was so formidable that even Daxiang couldn’t help but want to align itself with it.

 

Only Qi Chaojin and Wei Yan had strange expressions on their faces, with a guarded look in their eyes.

 

The side hall was often used for banquets, adorned with jade railings and crimson courtyards, with painted beams and vermilion curtains.

 

The grand banquet was filled with guests, and the sound of clinking cups and cheerful conversation filled the air. A feast like this included hundreds of dishes, with palace attendants continuously entering in a line to replace the plates. In the center, there were dancers in fluttering robes, and performances of singing and fan dances, accompanied by silk strings and wind instruments. The liveliness often lasted well into the night.

 

The seating arrangement at the banquet was more relaxed than during the morning court session.

 

Wei Yan had switched seats and squeezed in next to Shui Que. “That Hu man—do you think he’s still thinking about you?”

 

He spoke with a sour and jealous tone, the kind that hinted at a bitterness he couldn’t quite hide.

 

Shui Que didn’t answer the question. Instead, he turned his head slightly and whispered, “Why has my uncle been staring at you this whole time? He looks so angry.”

 

Seeing how close Wei Yan and Shui Que were sitting, Marquis Anyuan blew his beard out in fury, eyes bulging wide, practically itching to leap across the table and yank Wei Yan’s ear right off.

 

Wei Yan ignored the dagger-sharp glare like it didn’t exist, shrugging casually. “Marquis Anyuan is getting old—comes with a few quirks.”

 

He and Shui Que weren’t related by blood, so what right did anyone have to come between them?

 

He even wanted to make things more official—and yet that old man still wasn’t happy about it.

 

Wei Yan cheerfully started serving food to Shui Que.

 

By now, he knew Shui Que’s tastes by heart.

 

After too much meat, the taste became cloying. Just then, a palace servant brought over wine and poured some of the fragrant liquor into a white jade goblet.

 

The cup was small. Shui Que tilted his head slightly and drank it all in one go.

 

However, the palace servant somehow stumbled, his steps faltering. His hand shook, and the clear wine splashed onto Shui Que’s wide sleeve.

 

The servant immediately dropped to his knees, trembling.

 

Shui Que didn’t want to cause a fuss during the festival. Besides, it was only a small stain. He comforted the servant: “It’s fine. You may go.”

 

He had long taken off the heavy satin cloak, and the more he ate, the hotter he felt. It was likely because the side hall was packed with people, with constant dancing and singing—hardly any airflow.

 

Wei Yan, still picking fish bones, noticed Shui Que’s movement and looked up to ask, “Where are you going?”

 

Shui Que hesitated and answered softly, “To relieve myself.”

 

And to get some fresh air while he was at it.

 

Wei Yan, clingy as ever, asked, “Want me to come with you?”

 

Who brings someone along to take a piss?

 

For some reason, Shui Que was reminded of those terrible things Wei Yan had said back in Changzhou. He truly couldn’t handle Wei Yan anymore.

 

“No need. Just eat your food.”

 

Wei Yan looked dejected. “Then hurry back, okay?”

 

Shui Que replied, “Don’t rush me.”

 

Wei Yan watched his figure disappear through the side door.

 

Shui Que went to the other side to wash his hands. Still feeling stiflingly hot, he unfastened his outer robe and carried it over his arm. He strolled around the imperial garden outside the side hall, watching the koi swim in the pond.

 

After a while, he still felt overheated and thought he might as well tell Duan Zhang he wasn’t feeling well and would leave the banquet early.

 

But as he rounded a corner, he crashed into a cool, firm chest.

 

His cheeks flushed a deep red, his eyes glittering, “Hmm?”

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Huge shoutout to @candycorns2 on Discord for commissioning this! The chapter will be posted regularly, show your support for Ciacia at Kofi.

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