Imperial Tutor

System 55 sneakily floated into the lobby of the Central Management Bureau.

It peered through the crack in the door. After confirming that there was not a single system in the lobby, it squeezed the crack open a bit more and floated in.

Seeing System 55 come in looking utterly dejected, the Main Brain sighed, "System 55, you should know your score this time, right?"

System 55 tried its best to shrink itself, attempting to curl into a halo of light.

It knew QAQ.

A stark 59 points was displayed on the Main Brain's screen, glaringly bright red.

The Main Brain sighed, "The first fail, System 55."

To actually manage to fail a vacation mission, System 55 was truly the first of its kind.

The little system was crestfallen, and the light on its screen dimmed. The Main Brain softened its voice, "...Don't be too sad, System 55. This mission had its peculiarities. Perhaps I shouldn't have turned it into a vacation mission. The key question now is, did you gain anything from it?"

System 55 said listlessly, "Perhaps Xiao Shao is a very good emperor."

Because he was a very good emperor, he couldn't bear to see any honest and upright official thrown into prison, and he was unwilling to let a single unjust or false case remain in the world, which was why he did such things.

System 55 curled its lips, thinking to itself, 'Although he's very fierce and didn't properly follow the mission, I don't blame him.'

As a emperor, Xiao Shao did well enough; he did right by everyone.

—Except for System 55.

The little system looked like it was about to cry. The Main Brain pondered for a moment, "Since a wise emperor didn't work out, how about this: I'll arrange a very terrible emperor for you?"

System 55: "Ah?"

Main Brain: "Extremely terrible, very terrible, the exceptionally terrible kind."

It retrieved the data, and a name appeared on the screen: "Jiang Xun."

Emperor Ai of Wei, Jiang Xun, the ruler who brought about the fall of Great Wei. History books recorded him as an incompetent and tyrannical ruler who indulged in games and pleasure, once ignoring state affairs for decades. He favored petty sycophants and distanced himself from virtuous ministers, leading to the devastation of the divine land's people. By the time the iron hooves of the Northern Di trampled through the Shanhai Pass and attacked the royal capital, he became the Deposed Emperor of Wei, was imprisoned in the palace, and finally died from burning charcoal.

In short, he was an absolute incompetent ruler and tyrant.

The Main Brain flipped through the novel. "Jiang Xun should have died long ago, but through a strange combination of circumstances, his soul got stuck in a space-time rift and he was reborn in later generations with his memories. You can go bind him and have him come back to do the mission. If the mission is successful, I won't pursue his matters in this lifetime."

System 55 instantly became happy: "In other words, my host is the scumbag himself?"

Main Brain: "Yes, and the scumbag himself who has already perfectly completed the plot."

The! Scumbag! Him! Self! Ah!

And the scumbag himself who had completed the plot!

Main Brain: "He doesn't need to do anything; he just needs to redo what he did in his past life."

System 55: "!"

Yay!

A person's character is always consistent. It wouldn't even need to restrain the host; it just needed the host to choose according to his own wishes, and the mission could be completed!

The system clenched its fists, its fighting spirit reigniting: "Please send me his information, I'll go bind him right away!"

With such a perfect host, it couldn't let other systems beat it to the punch!

Data flashed across the screen. The Main Brain said, "It's already been transmitted to you. His body is exceptionally weak due to crossing through space. In at most three years, he will die of exhaustion. You can use this as a bargaining chip to negotiate with him, System 55. Good luck."

Before its voice even faded, System 55 had already transformed into a white shadow and rushed out of the Management Bureau's gates.

Jiangcheng No. 1 High School, Senior Three Class 7.

The afternoon was hot and stuffy. Cicadas chirped weakly in the treetops, and the fan in the classroom buzzed as it spun. The history teacher, with the newly distributed test papers tucked under his arm, unscrewed his mineral water bottle and tapped the desk with his pointer: "For the first sub-question of the second major essay question, which student will stand up and talk about it?"

The old man's gaze scanned the room. When no one met his eyes, he called out a name, "Jiang Xun... Hey, the pronunciation of your name happens to be similar to the Deposed Emperor Jiang Xun. Stand up and answer this question."

In the corner, a tall and thin boy stood up. He wore a school uniform and glasses, with his fragmented bangs tucked behind his ears. His temperament was very clean, the type that girls in the class would like, but his skin, unexposed to the sun year-round, had a sickly pallor. The corners of his eyes drooped, making him look unfathomably gloomy when he wasn't smiling.

Hearing the teacher call his name, Jiang Xun pulled back his chair and stood up. He shook open his test paper and lowered his eyes to look at the first sub-question of the major essay question.

The question was: "How do you evaluate the Deposed Emperor of Wei, Jiang Xun?"

He said flatly, "Jiang Xun, the Deposed Emperor of Wei, is the main culprit behind the fall of the Wei Dynasty. During his reign, he favored treacherous officials, lived a life of extreme luxury, and exacted exorbitant taxes, causing widespread public resentment and rebellion. This directly led to the decline of the Wei Dynasty's national strength and gave the Northern Di an opportunity to exploit."

His expression was flat, and his articulation was clear and precise.

"That's absolutely right, Student Jiang, please sit down," the history teacher nodded. "The Deposed Emperor of Wei, Jiang Xun, is a emperor with an extremely poor historical evaluation. Mainstream academia considers him a ruler with almost no redeeming qualities. History books record that during his reign of more than ten years, he turned a flourishing dynasty into one nearing its end, to the point of foreign invasion and the sinking of the divine land for nearly fifty years."

"During these fifty-odd years, several tragic massacres occurred. The common people wandered displaced, treated as cheaply as pigs and sheep. The capital at that time could be described as 'white bones exposed in the wild, with no rooster crowing for a thousand miles.' The once bustling upper capital was reduced to scorched earth... Eh, Student Jiang, Student Jiang, are you alright? Is your asthma acting up?"

In the corner, Jiang Xun gripped the edge of his test paper with his fingers, his eyes tightly closed, his face as pale as a ghost.

The history teacher walked past the students and felt his forehead, his hand coming away covered in cold sweat. "Are you feeling unwell, Student Jiang? Do you want to go to the infirmary?"

Jiang Xun was the famous invalid of Class 7. He coughed up blood from time to time. In the first month of school, he was sent to emergency care due to an asthma attack. Once, halfway through the flag-raising ceremony while the principal was still speaking on the rostrum, he had pitched forward stiffly. Although no specific illness was diagnosed later, he became the class's key protected animal.

"I'm fine, Teacher Li." Jiang Xun twitched the corners of his mouth. "I just feel a little nauseous. I want to go to the restroom."

Teacher Li hurriedly stepped aside: "Go on, go on."

Jiang Xun had a weak body but excellent grades, especially in history. He scored full marks on multiple-choice questions every time, and he could get full marks on the essay questions nine times out of ten. He was a good student highly favored by the history teacher.

Jiang Xun bypassed Teacher Li, exited the classroom through the back door, and then fumbled his way to the restroom sink, grabbed onto it, and began to vomit.

This was not a physical discomfort, but a psychological nausea that couldn't be stopped for a while. After vomiting until his vision darkened and sour water rose in his stomach, Jiang Xun turned on the faucet and washed his face with clear water.

Then, he raised his head and looked into the mirror.

There was a thin layer of mist on the school's mirror, making things unclear. A large crack down the center passed right through the bridge of his nose, as if splitting him in half. The person in the mirror had jet-black hair and jet-black eyelashes, distinctly separated, with water droplets trembling on them. His face lacked any color; his face was pale, and his lips were also pale, like a black-and-white portrait from the last century.

Jiang Xun stared at the person in the mirror for a moment, then suddenly smiled.

He silently curled his lips, his expression so sickly that it was terrifying. Fortunately, no one came to the restroom during class, otherwise they would probably think they'd run into a ghost.

After flushing away the sink full of vomit, Jiang Xun stood up and returned to his seat.

The first major question had already been covered, and the second was discussing the historical changes in South Asia. With the college entrance examination approaching, the students were busy with their studies. No one paused to take another look at "Jiang Xun's life," but instead hurriedly threw themselves into their new studies.

Jiang Xun closed his eyes.

The so-called "white bones exposed in the wild, with no rooster crowing for a thousand miles" were merely words on a test paper to the other students. But to Jiang Xun, they were scenes that truly existed, lingering in his mind, refusing to fade.

—He had seen them.

The so-called sinking of the divine land, the trampling of iron hooves, the wandering in destitution—he had seen them all, one by one.

Having vomited so much, Jiang Xun dug a piece of chocolate out of his bag and held it in his mouth to replenish his blood sugar. What he bought was dark chocolate with a purity of over ninety percent, bitter and astringent. When his dizziness subsided, Jiang Xun turned over his test paper, took the cap off his pen, kept up with the teacher, and began writing and marking on the questions.

Halfway through marking, a white light abruptly appeared before his eyes. Jiang Xun frowned. Before he could distinguish whether it was a hallucination caused by low blood sugar, he heard a cheerful voice.

"Hello~ This is the Abused Protagonist Novel NPC Roleplaying System, and I am your exclusive System 55. Are you worried about your body? Are you troubled by asthma, coughing blood, and low blood sugar? Bind with me with one click, complete exclusive missions, and reach the pinnacle of life!"

This voice rang directly in his ears. Jiang Xun's pen paused, leaving a dot on the test paper.

Pausing for only a moment, he lowered his head and continued writing, his handwriting neat. "What mission?"

Jiang Xun accepted the concept of a "system" quite well. He had been reborn after death, so he knew that supernatural forces existed in the world. Now that there was a screen calling itself a system, he didn't find it strange.

System 55: "If I give you a chance to return to Great Wei, would you be willing?"

Hearing this, Jiang Xun's pen dragged across the test paper, leaving a long mark.

System 55: "However, we need to agree on a few things. You must complete the mission I give you, achieving at least, um... 85 points!"

The result of telling a host the bottom line was 50 points was a failing grade. System 55 had learned its lesson; it decided to raise the bottom line!

85 points! It had to be 85 points!

Jiang Xun lost his composure for a moment. His fingertips pinched the gel pen, and his fragmented bangs fell down, concealing his expression. "What mission?"

System 55: "It will be almost identical to your actions in your past life. For the most part, you just need to follow what you did in your previous life."

"For the most part?"

"Yes, for the parts outside of the plot, you can freely improvise."

"What happens if I don't complete the mission?"

System 55 was instantly on alert.

He hadn't even started the mission yet, so why was he asking about not completing it?

If he didn't complete the mission... then nothing would happen QAQ.

Unlike infinite flow systems or scumbag reform systems that possessed certain punishment rights, System 55 signed a contract with the host. If the contract wasn't fulfilled, at most, the host would just return to where they came from.

But since Jiang Xun asked this, it replied, "Without me, you will die in two years."

Jiang Xun's body was weak and frail. If there was no external intervention, he would die in less than two years.

Saying that, System 55 observed Jiang Xun's expression.

...There was no expression QAQ.

Jiang Xun was as cold and detached as an outsider. He continued to hold his pen and listen to the class, copying the answers on the blackboard with neat and clear handwriting. It was as if even dying tomorrow wouldn't stir the slightest emotion in him.

In that moment, a flash of inspiration struck System 55, and it spouted nonsense: "All your actions will no longer have any meaning. Your country and your people will repeat the tragic scenes of the past, until a new cycle of reincarnation begins."

This time, it saw Jiang Xun inhale very softly.

System 55 poked him. "So, how about it? Do you want to sign a contract with me?"

Jiang Xun closed his eyes. "...Yes."

A white light flashed, and a contract appeared before his eyes. The moment he pressed his fingerprint onto it, the fluorescent lights and fan in the classroom twisted and deformed, and the chirping of the cicadas outside the window could no longer be heard.

He opened his eyes and saw a flickering candlelight. Wisps of white smoke rose from a Boshan censer. He was lying on a large red sandalwood bed with hollowed-out carvings. Gauze curtains hung in front of him. Outside the multiple layers of gauze curtains, a palace servant hurried over, knelt on one knee, bowed in salute, and called out, "Your Majesty, it's time to wake up."

"Your Majesty, it's time for your meal." Wang An called out softly. He took a face towel from a palace maid and carefully dabbed it against the Son of Heaven's cheek. "Lord Shen has been kneeling at the door for three shichen. Would you like to see him?"

Jiang Xun: "...Lord Shen?"

It had been so long since he last heard this name that he was actually a little dazed.

The Imperial Tutor, Shen Que.

Jiang Xun's venerable teacher who had imparted knowledge to him. Later, when he hugged burning charcoal in the palace, it was Shen Que who collected his corpse.

By then, Shen Que's legs had already been broken. He sat in a wheelchair year-round, unable to walk. Whenever it rained or snowed, his knees ached terribly. In later generations, Jiang Xun had read a poem he wrote, mocking himself as "a half-dead withered tree encountering the arrival of frost, years of old illness and bitter pain penetrating the marrow."

These years, he had deliberately avoided coming into contact with anything related to Great Wei, especially regarding Shen Que. He only learned this poem when studying Chinese literature appreciation. It was said that after the frost, his knee pain was unceasing, leaving him without even the strength to get out of bed.

Wang An said, "Yes, Lord Shen has been kneeling outside the palace gates. He has been kneeling since noon until now, not drinking a single drop of water."

He carefully observed the emperor's expression. "Do you want to see him?"

Jiang Xun: "...I'll see him."