Jiang Wu was placed back onto the imperial carriage.
Having been forced to maintain such a posture for so long, a faint aura of gloom clung to him. Yin Wuzhi noticed his head drooping to one side once freed, and he reached over to remove the heavy imperial crown from his head.
The imperial carriage carried Jiang Wu back to the Taiji Hall.
Yin Wuzhi then placed him onto the dragon bed and removed the heavy dragon robe.
Now that the cumbersome garment was finally off, Pessimist seemed to recover a bit of spirit. He let out a faint sigh and relaxed, lying down completely.
“How does His Majesty feel today?”
“Not good.”
“Not good?” Yin Wuzhi replied, “Does His Majesty wish for me to wake you up like before?”
“No.” Pessimist simply didn’t want to attend court, but since it was unavoidable, he said, “This is fine.”
“Then what part does His Majesty find uncomfortable?”
Pessimist recalled the feeling of being hung up. At first, he didn’t realize what Yin Wuzhi was planning until he was placed on the dragon throne and something behind his hat got caught, rendering his head immobile. That’s when he realized what Yin Wuzhi had done.
“It was uncomfortable.”
“Uncomfortable.” Yin Wuzhi repeated ambiguously, then asked, “Is it more difficult to accept having everyone discover you being lazy and rushing into the palace, or today’s discomfort?”
It was certainly the former.
Pessimist’s secret laziness had been thoroughly exposed and exploited. But it didn’t really matter. Most people dislike lazy individuals, and surely Yin Wuzhi would soon grow more and more tired of him.
No one would want to be constantly threatened by a lazy good-for-nothing.
Jiang Wu thought for a moment, then said dejectedly, “Let’s just leave it at that.”
Since he couldn’t fight back, he might as well lie down and accept it. After all, it wasn’t his problem to deal with.
Yin Wuzhi left the dragon bed and ordered someone to prepare paper and ink to record the day’s affairs in court.
Pessimist lazed for a while before calling out, “Yin Wuzhi.”
Without pausing, Yin Wuzhi replied, “What is Your Majesty’s command?”
“Sunshine.”
After thinking it through, Pessimist realized he wasn’t actually lazy; he had simply been brainwashed into believing that by humans. When he was a wandering soul, he had enjoyed simulating life, albeit intermittently, but he was still willing to move.
Now, bound by this body, every movement required a great deal of effort, making him appear lazy.
“Later.”
Pessimist didn’t care for that, saying, “I want it now.”
Yin Wuzhi was unsympathetic, “Go by yourself.”
Pessimist didn’t want to move and softly called out, “Yin Wuzhi, Yin Wuzhi, Yin Wuzhi.”
“Wait a moment.” Yin Wuzhi’s voice was restrained, his writing hand speeding up as he frowned and said, “Let me finish writing.”
So Yin Wuzhi was handling official business. Pessimist decided not to disturb him.
Jiang Wu said, “Sixteen.”
As soon as he spoke, a sound echoed, and the wolf hair brush fell to the ground.
Sixteen appeared almost instantly, nearly colliding with Yin Wuzhi, who blocked him expressionlessly and said to Jiang Wu, “He is a secret guard. He shouldn’t show himself often. Do you want everyone to know you have a secret guard?”
“If I don’t want it, will that stop them from knowing?”
“…In any case, don’t bother others with such things again. Secret guards are people too, not just tools for Your Majesty to command.”
Jiang Wu understood.
Yin Wuzhi had started to become displeased with him.
A lazy emperor abusing his power, bossing people around, incapable of doing anything on his own while constantly troubling others. Yin Wuzhi, as a man of justice, could not stand by idly. Helping the weak was his duty.
Pessimist’s recent efforts were not in vain. He believed that soon enough, he would walk the path of history’s righteous rulers.
He asked Sixteen, “What do you think?”
Sixteen knelt down, and perhaps because he rarely spoke, his voice was hoarse, “This subordinate is indeed His Majesty’s tool.”
Yin Wuzhi interjected, “I said you’re not, and you’re not.”
Sixteen, suddenly given an identity against his will, said nothing.
Pessimist ignored Yin Wuzhi’s remark, “Since that’s the case, hurry up and follow orders.”
Sixteen rose to comply, but Yin Wuzhi bent down, grabbed Jiang Wu, and coldly said, “A human should act like a human.”
It was unclear if this statement was directed at Sixteen or Pessimist.
But neither of them cared.
Jiang Wu glanced at Yin Wuzhi’s grim face. Truly, the young man was righteous and unyielding, willing to endure his own hardships to protect the innocent.
Yin Wuzhi forcibly carried him to the sunlight.
Though winter had not yet arrived, the sunlight was no longer harsh. A breeze filled the air with the subtle fragrance of osmanthus flowers. Pessimist lazily stretched out his limbs and half-closed his eyes in relaxation.
Yin Wuzhi squatted beside him and said, “Don’t trouble Sixteen in the future. He has his own duties.”
“His duty is to obey orders.”
“Not orders like these,” Yin Wuzhi responded gloomily, instructing someone to move the table out and picking up his pen again beside him. “In the future, matters like this can… be left to me.”
His emotions were too complex, causing his writing to become somewhat harsh.
Upon hearing this, Jiang Wu’s opinion of him improved slightly.
Yin Wuzhi, though merely a fragile shizi, was attempting to protect someone even weaker than himself.
Despite enduring daily torment, he still chose to carry this burden for the sake of saving unrelated people, sacrificing himself.
It’s a pity he’s human… but maybe it’s not. Even if Yin Wuzhi were like him, a wandering soul, they would still just be passing strangers.
A Pessimist has no need for friends.
Yin Wuzhi continued writing furiously, occasionally glancing at Jiang Wu.
Was there really any meaning to a life spent merely eating and sleeping every day?
“Your Majesty, would you like to go out and have some fun?”
“No.”
“Watch acrobatics, listen to opera, there are storytellers from the north and south. Has Your Majesty ever strolled outside the palace?”
Jiang Wu, with no memory of the past, didn’t answer.
When Qi Hanmiao entered to deliver pastries, Yin Wuzhi asked, “Has His Majesty ever gone outside the palace?”
“He has, but only for official matters, not for pleasure.” Realizing what was implied, Qi Hanmiao cautiously added, “Does the prince want to take His Majesty out for fun?”
“I wouldn’t dare.” Yin Wuzhi continued writing attentively.
The emperor couldn’t leave the palace casually. If anything happened, those responsible would be held accountable. Even going out required notifying the Ministry of Rites for arrangements, security details, and other preparations—a massive undertaking.
Jiang Wu placed a piece of pastry in his mouth, letting it slowly melt before swallowing.
Yin Wuzhi quickly finished his records and handed them to Jiang Wu. The latter said, “I have something to discuss with you, Beloved Minister Yin.”
Finally, some serious business?
Yin Wuzhi pulled a chair closer, focused. “Please speak, Your Majesty.”
“I want to change the morning court session to an afternoon session.”
“…Why?” Yin Wuzhi asked in a monotone.
“No reason.”
“The morning court has been a tradition in Xia Kingdom since Emperor Ming established it nearly 200 years ago. It cannot be changed on a whim due to personal preference.”
“I don’t care,” Jiang Wu said, determined. “I want it changed, and no one can stop me.”
“Fine, change it. You’re in charge,” Yin Wuzhi stood abruptly, frustrated, and moved away.
He had been trying hard to hide Jiang Wu’s laziness from the court, but the incapable emperor insisted on exposing himself. If he wanted to ruin his reputation, so be it. Everyone would know what kind of ruler he really was, and there would be no need to preserve his image anymore.
“You can draft the imperial edict, Beloved Minister Yin.”
The lazy emperor still feared for his life, it seemed, pushing the responsibility onto him so that if things went wrong, he’d take the fall.
Yin Wuzhi sneered, “If Your Majesty wants my life, feel free to take it. There’s no need for such scheming to force me into a corner.”
Jiang Wu turned to look at him.
Yin Wuzhi stood by the pillar, arms crossed, his sharp, handsome face filled with defiance. Even wearing the wide robes Jiang Wu had prepared for him, he looked like an unsheathed sword—fierce and unstoppable.
Noticing Jiang Wu’s gaze, Yin Wuzhi shot him a glare, then awkwardly dropped his arms.
Jiang Wu’s eyes were too pure, devoid of any desires. Yet, their emptiness only made people wonder what could be drawn onto this blank slate.
Why was he staring at him like that?
Was he pleading?
No. He mustn’t agree to this.
It was a centuries-old tradition. Every emperor wanted to be known for diligence and benevolence. Changing the time of the court session would undermine the throne’s authority. How would the people see their ruler? How could Xia Kingdom stand tall?
“Without a valid reason, this is absolutely impossible.”
“A reason,” Jiang Wu said, “you come up with one.”
“…”
“How about it?”
“…Fine.” Yin Wuzhi turned away, pressing his slightly warm forehead against the cold pillar.
“I’ll leave it to you, then.”
“But I’ll need to gather information first.” Still facing the pillar, Yin Wuzhi said, “I’ll have to understand how the people and officials manage their time, what their needs are for rising early. Everyone’s been living like this for centuries. Changing it suddenly will take time.”
“Alright.” Jiang Wu asked after a while, “How likely do you think this will be implemented?”
“…It will be extremely difficult.” Once the heat in his face subsided, Yin Wuzhi turned to face Jiang Wu. Seeing the disappointment on his face, Yin Wuzhi pursed his lips and comforted him, “But people are inherently lazy. They’re busy because life pushes them. If Xia Kingdom lays a good foundation and takes care of the people, maybe afternoon sessions wouldn’t be a problem.”
Jiang Wu, feeling down, thought to himself: I just want to sleep in a little longer. Why does it have to involve the people’s livelihood?
“The same things will happen, just at a different time. What difference does it make?”
“But there’s only so much daylight.” Yin Wuzhi considered for a moment. “Though in winter, the days are shorter. Maybe we could start with winter.”
Jiang Wu looked at him.
Yin Wuzhi averted his gaze, “Let’s discuss it later.”
In the afternoon, a maid arrived from the Great Empress Dowager’s palace, saying that the thousand-year-old osmanthus tree in the imperial garden had bloomed, filling the palace with its fragrance. An osmanthus banquet was being planned, and the Great Empress Dowager had requested the emperor’s presence.
The Pessimist didn’t quite understand the significance of this osmanthus banquet. The osmanthus flowers had already been blooming for over half a month, with a large portion of them having fallen to the ground. Holding a banquet to admire the flowers now? Admire the tree trunks instead?
He directly said, “I’m not going.”
The Pessimist didn’t want to communicate with unnecessary people or attend unnecessary banquets. There would be so many people, most of whom he didn’t even know, all forced to engage in awkward conversations and smiles. Just thinking about it was exhausting.
Besides, even if he went, he wouldn’t bother to interact with anyone, so why ruin everyone’s mood?
The maid, of course, didn’t know what he was thinking. The banquet, in reality, was meant to help the emperor select a concubine, and if he didn’t go, all the Great Empress Dowager’s efforts would be in vain.
She cautiously tried to persuade Jiang Wu, “The Great Empress Dowager said that, no matter what, Your Majesty must attend.”
“I’m busy.”
“Well…” The maid hesitated. Lately, the emperor had truly changed. Before ascending the throne, he was famous for being kind and easy to get along with. No one who sought him out was ever turned away.
Especially when it came to instructions from the Great Empress Dowager. The maid instinctively mentioned her again, “The Great Empress Dowager said…”
Suddenly, a pair of cold, emotionless eyes locked onto her.
The maid held her breath.
Jiang Wu spoke slowly, enunciating each word, “I’m. Not. Going.”
Although he wasn’t angry, he was scarier than many who were.
The maid dared not meet his gaze. “Yes, I will report back at once.”
She hurriedly left Taiji Hall, only to bump into Yin Wuzhi, who was coming out of the imperial study. She quickly knelt to apologize.
Recognizing her as someone from the Great Empress Dowager’s palace, Yin Wuzhi bent down to help her up and asked, “What’s got you so flustered?”
The maid glanced at him, then lowered her head and softly explained what had just happened. She added, “The Dingnan Wangfei will also be attending the banquet, and the Empress Dowager has instructed that Your Highness must attend as well.”
“Hmm.” Yin Wuzhi was about to walk past her but then heard her say, “Your Highness, could you perhaps persuade the emperor?”
“?”
“The Great Empress Dowager said it’s essential that His Majesty attends.” The maid, looking anxious, continued, “Before, the emperor wasn’t like this. No matter how busy he was, if asked repeatedly, he would always agree. The Great Empress Dowager was especially fond of his obedience and kindness. But now, with this sudden change in temperament… I’m worried he’ll upset the Great Empress Dowager.”
Jiang Wu’s Royal Mother had no strong background, and he had ascended to the throne thanks to luck and his ability to charm. People like the Great Empress Dowager and Empress Dowager Wen cherished him as if he were a precious gem, showering him with affection.
Yin Wuzhi hadn’t expected even a small maid to be so concerned for him.
After realizing she had said too much, the maid apologized repeatedly before hastily leaving.
Yin Wuzhi returned to Taiji Hall and casually poured himself a cup of water. “Your Majesty, please move to the imperial study to review memorials.”
Jiang Wu, still sulking, replied, “Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Will Your Majesty be going to the osmanthus banquet or to the study?”
“The study.”
“Tomorrow is the osmanthus banquet, and my Royal Mother will be attending. I’m afraid I won’t be able to accompany Your Majesty in the study.”
That suited the Pessimist just fine. Without Yin Wuzhi around, he’d have plenty of time to waste.
Jiang Wu said, “I’ll wait for you in the study.”
Liar.
Yin Wuzhi glanced at the Pessimist lying lazily in the rocking chair, then leaned down, placing his arms on either side of the chair’s armrests, looking down at him. “Either you go to the study now, or we both go to the osmanthus banquet tomorrow.”
Pessimist hated nothing more than being told to do something immediately, especially if it involved work. He needed time to prepare, like a mountain crashing down on him without warning, leaving him breathless.
He preferred a gentler approach, like being told in advance when something would happen so he could have some time to mourn the fact and prepare mentally.
Yin Wuzhi’s words felt like a threat to Pessimist.
Pessimist was puzzled. When had Yin Wuzhi become so bold? Did he think he could control his life now?
He decided to retaliate with a threat of his own.
“Yin Wuzhi,” Pessimist raised his eyelids slightly, his expression indifferent, “Do you want to kiss me again?”
