The next morning, sitting in the car with Yin Wuzhi, Jiang Wu immediately noticed something was off.
Yin Wuzhi didn’t even glance at him, his face cold and puffed with anger.
Jiang Wu couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Yin Wuzhi’s slightly pouting lower lip and the way his mouth subconsciously turned downward.
Noticing Jiang Wu’s smirk, Yin Wuzhi’s expression darkened. Propping his elbow on the car window, he leaned away with a look of utter disdain.
When they arrived at school, Yin Wuzhi got out of the car immediately, grabbed his bag, and strode toward the classroom building.
Jiang Wu called after him, “Yin Wuzhi.”
Yin Wuzhi didn’t even turn around.
Left behind, Jiang Wu dragged himself upstairs at a snail’s pace, eventually collapsing onto his desk. Even when the teacher arrived, he didn’t bother unpacking his bag.
Yin Wuzhi ignored him completely.
At lunch, Yin Wuzhi went to the cafeteria with friends instead. When asked what was going on, he said seriously, “He needs to learn to grow up.”
Forced into “growing up,” Jiang Wu stayed at his desk, slowly eating the bento his mom had packed for him.
The whole day, Yin Wuzhi didn’t lift a finger to help him.
Jiang Wu became even more certain that the mysterious wanderer from yesterday had indeed been Yin Wuzhi.
After school, Jiang Wu approached him. “Want to get milk tea?”
This scumbag still had the nerve to try being friendly. Yin Wuzhi replied, “No.”
“I want some.”
“Buy it yourself.”
Jiang Wu: “.”
Squatting under a tree while waiting for his driver, Jiang Wu muttered gloomily, “Yin Wuzhi, I want milk tea. Yin Wuzhi, I want milk tea. Yin Wuzhi, milk tea.”
Yin Wuzhi realized that whenever Jiang Wu repeated something like this, he had an odd urge to give in. He even took two steps toward the milk tea shop before stopping himself, stepping back, and firmly saying, “It’s just across the street. Get it yourself.”
“Tired.”
“You’re not the emperor anymore.”
“Yin Wuzhi,” Jiang Wu whined dejectedly.
Yin Wuzhi glanced down at him and finally asked, “What do you want to drink?”
“Strawberry milk.”
“Stay put. Don’t move.”
Yin Wuzhi set his bag down in front of Jiang Wu and strode across the street. As he ordered, he thought it strange—Jiang Wu didn’t even like strawberry-flavored drinks.
When he returned, Jiang Wu was still crouched under the tree. Yin Wuzhi handed him the drink, which Jiang Wu took and began poking with the straw.
The drink’s seal had a pre-punched hole, making it easy for even someone as lazy as Jiang Wu to pierce it.
At that moment, the driver arrived.
Jiang Wu climbed into the car with the milk tea, glancing at Yin Wuzhi. Then he offered the drink to him. “Yin Wuzhi.”
“What?”
“Drink.”
Yin Wuzhi: “.”
Was this Jiang Wu’s way of wooing someone? He was the one who bought the milk tea, yet Jiang Wu acted as if offering a drink with a straw inserted was some grand favor.
What was worse, Yin Wuzhi felt an inexplicable sense of honor and emotion as he looked at the cup.
After a moment of silence, Yin Wuzhi said, “I don’t feel like drinking milk tea today.”
Jiang Wu pulled the cup back, lowering his voice to a whisper to avoid the driver overhearing. “Then when will you help me pursue the empress?”
Yin Wuzhi replied, “We’ll see.”
“Oh.” Jiang Wu cradled the drink and took a sip. His obedient, innocent demeanor didn’t resemble a scumbag at all.
Frowning, Yin Wuzhi moved closer and asked, “Tell me, did you ever betray him?”
Jiang Wu answered, “No.”
“Weren’t you…” Yin Wuzhi hesitated. “As emperor, weren’t you supposed to marry lots of wives?”
“No,” Jiang Wu said softly. “I only ever had the empress.”
…This guy had two faces.
Still, the fact that Jiang Wu wouldn’t admit the truth in front of him was its own form of affection, wasn’t it?
Wait, wasn’t lying proof of being a scumbag?
Pulling himself back to rationality, Yin Wuzhi crossed his arms and ignored him.
After getting out of the car, Yin Wuzhi headed straight for his house, but Jiang Wu called after him, “Yin Wuzhi.”
“What now?”
“Can I come over?”
Yin Wuzhi replied, “I don’t welcome you.”
Jiang Wu gave him a pitiful look.
You still have the audacity to look pitiful? Do you know how pitiful I feel? Yin Wuzhi shot him a similarly pitiful look.
After a silent standoff of mutual pity, Jiang Wu sighed dejectedly. “Yin Wuzhi.”
Yin Wuzhi finally gave in and brought him home.
As soon as he placed the person on the bed, Yin Wuzhi started doing his homework. Jiang Wu laid on the bed watching him and said, “It seems like you don’t want to help me anymore. Why is that?”
“I’m busy.”
“But I’ve recently noticed someone seems to like her. If I don’t act soon, she’s going to be snatched away.”
Yin Wuzhi quickly searched his memories.
He was good-looking, came from a well-off family, and had indeed received a love letter not long after the semester started. But he wasn’t like Jiang Wu, a scumbag juggling multiple admirers—he had rejected them all.
Who was the kind soul making the “Scumbag Emperor” feel a sense of crisis?
Yin Wuzhi raised an eyebrow, feeling strangely pleased.
Feigning indifference, he replied, “Really?”
“I even saw someone give her a love letter today.”
Today?
Yin Wuzhi thought carefully. No one had given him a love letter today.
“You saw it too.”
Yin Wuzhi quickly recalled the only person he’d seen receive a love letter today—it seemed to be the class’s cultural committee member, Qiu Wuxia.
Yin Wuzhi abruptly turned his head and asked, “Your empress is Qiu Wuxia?!”
Jiang Wu nodded. “Yes, Qiu Wuchen’s reincarnation. Haven’t you studied history?”
The room fell into a brief silence.
After a while, Yin Wuzhi put down his pen, walked over, crouched in front of Jiang Wu, and rested his arms on the bed, staring intently at him. “You… your empress is Qiu Wuchen?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Then, what about me…”
“You’re Yin Wuzhi, the legendary Emperor for the Ages,” Jiang Wu replied seriously. “I’m the tyrant who was sacrificed to the heavens.”
“I… killed you.”
A chill crept up Yin Wuzhi’s spine.
Jiang Wu continued, “But I don’t resent you one bit.”
Yin Wuzhi stared at him blankly.
“Besides, that was so, so long ago. Now, you’re just my childhood friend, Yin Wuzhi.” Jiang Wu reached out and poked his cheek. The teenage Yin Wuzhi had just entered adolescence, with a face still soft and chubby, far from the sharp features he would develop later.
Very poke-able.
And very gullible.
So silly.
When Yin Wuzhi finally processed this cruel revelation and looked at Jiang Wu again, the imperial aura he had projected earlier was completely gone. He still couldn’t fully believe it. “Did I really… kill you?”
“It was accidental,” Jiang Wu explained. “The historical records aren’t entirely true. There was a misunderstanding between us, so you don’t need to feel guilty.”
Jiang Wu lightly pursed his lips as he finished.
Yin Wuzhi brought over a glass of strawberry milk he had placed on the floor. “Thirsty? Have some of this.”
Jiang Wu took a sip, licked his lips, and said, “I still haven’t found anyone to do my homework today.”
“Same as before. I’ll do it for you.”
“I thought you hated me now,” Jiang Wu said.
“How could I?” Yin Wuzhi replied.
“But you were so mean to me this morning.”
“That wasn’t directed at you.”
“Then what was it about?”
“My mom watched a frustrating drama last night, and it gave me nightmares.”
“Oh.” Jiang Wu didn’t press further about the drama and instead asked, “Are you still going to help me pursue Qiu Wuxia?”
Yin Wuzhi frowned. “I don’t think you two are a good match.”
“Why not?”
“Because of your… genders—no, no.” Yin Wuzhi quickly corrected himself. “She looks too delicate to handle you. I don’t think you’re suited for each other in this life. Maybe in your next life, I’ll help you pursue her.”
Jiang Wu: “.”
Yin Wuzhi picked up the milk tea and walked off. “Alright, take a break. I’ll do your homework.”
Sitting back at the desk, he opened Jiang Wu’s notebook while deep in thought. Just as Jiang Wu said, historical records claimed Yin Wuzhi had killed him. So was the story of Jiang Wu’s empress being Yin Wuzhi really just historical fiction?
He finished the strawberry milk in frustration and begrudgingly searched his phone again.
That night, Jiang Wu stayed in Yin Wuzhi’s room. When Jiang Wu fell asleep, Yin Wuzhi stayed under the covers, obsessively searching for information about the Xia Dynasty.
Though some believed the story of Yin Wuzhi being Jiang Wu’s empress was a fabrication, many argued it was genuine history.
Having been infuriated by Jiang Wu the previous night, Yin Wuzhi had lost sleep. Now, he stayed up again until the early hours of the morning, finally passing out with his phone still glowing on the bed.
The light made Jiang Wu squint as he woke up. Groggily, he noticed the phone’s screen and realized Yin Wuzhi hadn’t slept.
He picked up the phone, unlocked it by holding it to Yin Wuzhi’s face, and checked what he had been searching.
Jiang Wu didn’t browse the internet much—mostly out of laziness. As a high schooler with his own life in chaos, he had little interest in others’ affairs.
But he knew the internet could provide many answers.
The search history was filled with Xia Dynasty queries. Skimming through them, Jiang Wu realized the world had discovered two completely different sets of historical relics, and it seemed Yin Wuzhi had learned about their connection through the newer discoveries.
Jiang Wu put the phone down and quietly watched him in the dim light for a while.
How silly, he thought. If you wanted to know, you could’ve just asked me.
Why spend so long torturing yourself over it?
Ah, the overthinking of youth.
The next morning, Yin Wuzhi woke up with dark circles under his eyes, groggily getting up to prepare for school. Seeing his disheveled state, Jiang Wu immediately felt sympathy.
There’s nothing more painful than a bad night’s sleep.
“Yin Wuzhi.”
Still dazed, Yin Wuzhi rubbed his eyes and responded sluggishly, “Mm?”
“I checked your phone last night,” Jiang Wu said. “Did you figure out that you’re my empress?”
“Mm.” Yin Wuzhi hung his head low, then suddenly looked up, his face lighting up with renewed energy. “Didn’t you say yesterday that Qiu Wuchen was your empress?”
“Yes,” Jiang Wu admitted calmly. “In one timeline, I did marry her as my empress. But in another timeline, I married you.”
Yin Wuzhi blinked slowly. “?”
Jiang Wu continued, “Both timelines are real. I did, indeed, have two empresses. I—”
“Wait a second.” Yin Wuzhi scratched his head in a daze. “I need to wash my face.”
What did he mean by both timelines are real?
Yin Wuzhi was completely lost.
Jiang Wu had two empresses: one was truly him, and the other was truly Qiu Wuchen.
After splashing cold water on his face, Yin Wuzhi returned and said, “You… you really swing both ways.”
“It’s actually like this,” Jiang Wu began explaining, his tone unhurried even in such a moment, so much so that Yin Wuzhi felt like crawling inside Jiang Wu to figure him out. “In my first life, I did marry Qiu Wuchen. Later, I was reborn and went back to the time I was emperor. That’s when I married you. And now, in my third life…”
“So,” Yin Wuzhi said with difficulty, “in your third life, you’ve ultimately decided to choose your first empress?”
“No,” Jiang Wu replied, his lips twitching slightly in amusement. But still groggy from just waking up, he didn’t bother to smile outright. His expression remained gentle. “I was lying to you yesterday. My true empress has always been only you.”
Yin Wuzhi didn’t know which part to believe anymore.
Seeing Yin Wuzhi’s doubtful expression, Jiang Wu explained, “My marriage to Qiu Wuchen was in name only. What we have is real. I don’t like her. I only like you.”
First thing in the morning, and Yin Wuzhi was already dizzy and confused from all the lies.
“Say, say that again.”
“I don’t like anyone else,” Jiang Wu said. “I only like you, Yin Wuzhi. You don’t need to overthink or test me with your alternate account. From the start, it’s only ever been you, Yin Wuzhi.”
Apart from feeling lightheaded, Yin Wuzhi’s face began to heat up.
He rubbed his ear self-consciously, thinking that Jiang Wu’s actions were starting to resemble a famous saying: refusing to open a window, but when the roof is ripped off, agreeing to open the window instead.
When he first discovered he was Jiang Wu’s empress, he’d been unhappy. But when Jiang Wu mentioned having another empress, Yin Wuzhi had wilted. And now, Jiang Wu hit him with, You’ve always been my one true empress…
“Yin Wuzhi, come here.”
Frowning, Yin Wuzhi moved closer cautiously.
Jiang Wu might look fresh and youthful, but he was actually an old fox. Yin Wuzhi remained on guard.
If Jiang Wu wanted to do something… intimate between spouses… he wouldn’t agree.
But… if it were just a kiss…
Unconsciously licking his lips, Yin Wuzhi silently sat down on the bed.
Jiang Wu reached out, his slender, pale fingers brushing against the dark circles under Yin Wuzhi’s eyes. “You didn’t sleep well.”
The lazy… no, the millennia-old sloth, had personally touched his face.
Yin Wuzhi lowered his lashes. “Mm. It’s your fault.”
“Sorry,” Jiang Wu said. “I didn’t know it would keep you up for two nights straight.”
Yin Wuzhi sighed dramatically.
“Why don’t you sleep a bit more?”
Yin Wuzhi’s lashes trembled. Of course. Now that Jiang Wu had confessed, he must’ve realized Yin Wuzhi had feelings for him and was eager to lure him into bed.
Despite being taller and broader than Jiang Wu, Yin Wuzhi hunched slightly as he sat, his voice low. “Enticing a minor is against the law.”
Already lying back down, Jiang Wu didn’t quite catch that. “What?”
Yin Wuzhi glanced at him.
The reclined sloth had messy hair, a soft face, and clear eyes that seemed almost lifeless. His entire demeanor screamed at your mercy.
Yin Wuzhi’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He avoided Jiang Wu’s gaze, slowly lying down and subtly shifting his waist backward to put some distance between them. “We still have class today.”
“But you look so pale.”
Jiang Wu sounded worried, but Yin Wuzhi detected a hint of coaxing in his tone. He stayed on guard while replying, “We’ll be late.”
Jiang Wu leaned closer, whispering, “Let’s take the day off.”
To satisfy his own desires, he was even coaxing him into skipping class? This was far from high school behavior.
Yin Wuzhi’s eyes darted to Jiang Wu’s slightly red lips. “That doesn’t seem right.”
“You’re a good student; it’s fine if you take a day off.” Jiang Wu added, “Help me take one too.”
What a scoundrel, Yin Wuzhi thought. He even wants to use my good student status for this. Fine, let’s see what this millennia-old sloth is planning.
With a trace of reluctant anticipation, Yin Wuzhi left the room to call their teacher and report sick leave for both of them.
When he returned, Jiang Wu was still sprawled on the bed. Yin Wuzhi stared at him, his mind filled with historical fanfiction scenarios involving ZhiWu.
Yin Wuzhi took a deep breath, quietly locked the door, and returned to the bed.
He sat on the edge with his back to Jiang Wu, his palms slightly sweaty.
Would Jiang Wu really… do that with him? It was so bold. He even asked for leave specifically.
And this was his house.
How… how thrilling.
Yin Wuzhi picked up a teacup from the nightstand, drained it in one gulp, and asked, “Jiang Wu, do you want some water?”
No response.
“Jiang Wu,” he called again, still facing away. “Are you thirsty?”
Still no response.
Yin Wuzhi turned around slowly.
The millennia-old sloth had curled up under half the blanket and fallen into a deep sleep.
