The palace attendants scrambled to pull Ning Rushen, who was gurgling and bubbling, out of the water, pressing the accumulated water out of him.
Laid flat on the ground, Ning Rushen had yet to awaken. His wet hair and court attire clung tightly to him, his complexion pale as jade, lips tinged with an unhealthy red.
"Yes, Your Majesty," De Quan directed the attendants, casting a glance around, "First, take Lord Ning over to... the pavilion there."
A section of pale wrist dangled from the sleeve. As it passed by Li Wuting, suddenly, the emperor spoke, "Wait."
Ning Rushen was placed on a couch, his wet clothes already changed.
The imperial physician, under Li Wuting's intense gaze, trembled as he took the pulse, then administered acupuncture. Pondering why the emperor was also here, he heard Li Wuting inquire, "How is he?"
Li Wuting pursed his lips, "Check his head as well."
"Yes." The physician dared not ask more, only obediently checked Ning Rushen's head as commanded. After a while, he reported, "Lord Ning might have previously suffered a head injury, risking latent issues. However, this fainting spell was merely due to excessive drinking and the chill from drowning..."
The physician wisely fell silent.
Li Wuting indifferently commanded, "Everyone, leave."
His word "everyone" left no room for the palace attendants to stay; they all followed the physician out.
De Quan, unsure of the emperor's mood, speculated, "Shall I wait outside?"
"Yes." De Quan bowed deeply, retreating.
Before leaving, De Quan stole another glance at the person lying quietly on the couch—recalling today's inquiry in the imperial study, the sudden imperial decree, and that subtly deep "Wait" by the lakeside at night.
The more De Quan thought, the more alarmed he became, utterly unable to fathom the emperor's thoughts.
What exactly were the emperor's feelings towards Lord Ning?
Soon, all attendants had exited.
In the side hall, only Li Wuting and Ning Rushen remained.
A thin blanket covered Ning Rushen, his snow-colored undergarment nearly blending with his skin tone. His face turned towards Li Wuting, long eyelashes vulnerably drooping.
Li Wuting stood before the couch, eyes downcast in contemplation, "What are you plotting this time..."
The person on the couch unconsciously furrowed his brows.
Li Wuting leaned over, lifting the face, "Did you really damage your brain?"
The person in a deep slumber did not awaken, yet his lips moved slightly, barely forming a word: "Pfft."
Li Wuting, "..."
He released his hand, pulling the blanket over that half-exposed face, and turned to leave the side hall.
...
Ning Rushen did not know how long he had been unconscious.
Upon waking, only one thought crossed his mind: I'm split open.
His head throbbed painfully, his throat ached, and he couldn't stop coughing, coughing until he saw stars. Only after a young eunuch handed him a cup of water did Ning Rushen manage to catch his breath after a few gulps.
Looking around, he found himself lying on an unfamiliar couch.
The room was luxuriously decorated, even heated from below.
YOU ARE READING
This Official is so Weak
Historical FictionIn the fifteenth year of the Chenghua Dynasty, the usurper Ning Chen finally died. The youngest left minister since the founding of the dynasty, his power extended over all the realm, and his methods were as ruthless as his heart. He formed a party...
