Chapter 13

Su Huaijing finally removes his hand from his neck, and Rong Tang releases a sigh of relief under his breath.

Then he saw him pointing to the black medicine jar next to the food box. “What’s that?”

Rong Tang: “Ah, it’s a medicine salve. I can’t see it, so I want you to apply it for me.” After speaking, he blinks and glances at the youth above him. “Can you?”

Su Huaijing doesn’t say yes or no; he only stares at him for a while. He seemed to sigh softly before taking the medicine jar over, opening it, and scooping out a little onto his fingertips. He lifts Rong Tang’s chin with one hand, turns his face to the side, and applies the medicine for him.

His movements are still tender, but they didn’t contain the same calm, murderous intent as before. He simply helped him spread the salve slowly and earnestly: “How can you hurt yourself when saving others? Tangtang, you shouldn’t go out.”

“But how can I see you if I don’t go out?” Rong Tang retorts matter-of-factly.

Su Huaijing’s movements pause, and he doesn’t say anything. After applying the medicine, he relaxed, got up from the couch to wash his hands, and changed places with Rong Tang at the same time.

The peach blossom cake is dense, delicate, and still tastes good after being left overnight. Rong Tang sampled a piece and watches with interest as Su Huaijing sits at one side, roasting a tangerine for him.

There shouldn’t be any fire in the study, but if someone can even move a beauty couch into a place for reading sage books, Su Huaijing feels that everything is superfluous. Moreover, Rong Tang’s body is cold and can’t be without a heat source for a day. It’s raining today, so even if he came by carriage, he’s still shrouded in cold air.

Su Huaijing turned the tangerine over and asked, “Did you seek me out today just to give me peach blossom cake?”

Rong Tang nods. “Mainly to deliver peach blossom cake.”

Su Huaijing could hear the variance of one word. He raised his eyes and threw a glance at Rong Tang. “Say it.”

Rong Tang is a little hesitant. He discerns that the main villain is no longer as furious, but is still a little angry. He wants Su Huaijing to vent his displeasure, but he’s rather worried that once he does so, he will no longer be alive.

This hesitation is displayed on his face as bewildered concern. Su Huaijing eyed him, then lowered his head and picked up the roasted tangerine. He peeled it open onto a tray and stretched out his hand: “Tangtang, help me wipe my hands.”

“Ah?” Rong Tang was stunned, but Su Huaijing didn’t move. He instantly reacted and hastily answered, “Ai-ai-ai, at once!”

The original plot states that Su Huaijing’s has exquisite features inherited from the late empress. However, it wasn’t known what method was used, as it seems that he has change his facial structure. It’s vastly different from when he was younger. Therefore, even if he stood before Emperor Renshou in the future, the other party wouldn’t recognise that he is actually his nephew.

Some of the villain’s fans were very dejected, saying that they’d never seen what Su Huaijing truly looked like from beginning to end. However, Rong Tang felt that right now, he’s already extremely and exceedingly good-looking.

The seventeen-year-old youth is at the prime of his development. He has elegant features, a gorgeous face, and a noble disposition. Even his fingers are very beautiful.

They are long, slender, and well-groomed, bearing only subtle calluses on the fingertips and on the web between the index finger and thumb. These marks are less pronounced than those of a martial artist, resembling instead the gentle imprints left by a scholar who wields a brush.

But Rong Tang is well aware that Su Huaijing’s martial arts aren’t poor and are even rather skilled. In his previous life, he was a little curious as to why such a person who is evidently very adept at swordsmanship actually bore no traces of martial arts training on his hands. So much so that, when he moves in and out of the imperial court, everyone merely assumes he is a frail scholar.

Rong Tang lowered his head and carefully wiped the tangerine juice from Su Huaijing’s fingertips. He couldn’t suppress his curiosity and said, “Su Huaijing, you don’t have many calluses on your hands.”

Su Huaijing said, “Tangtang also doesn’t have many calluses on your hands.”

Compared to Su Huaijing, the hands of the original owner are the flawless embodiment of the proverb “ten fingers don’t touch yangchun water”*. There’s virtually no evidence of wear or use.

(*TN: A Chinese idiom used to describe someone who is well-educated, refined, or not involved in manual labor. It implies that the person’s hands remain soft and unsullied, as they do not have to toil in the fields or perform hard physical work.)

Rong Tang was stumped for a moment. He lowers his head and turns his hands over. In fact, at the end of his previous life, there were many scars on his hands.

Knife cuts, burn wounds, and needle stabs.

The tip of his finger had been pierced by a silver needle. The back of his hand had been scalded with hot soup. The end of the cleaver clearly hadn’t been pointing at him, but he moronically went and blocked it.

Rong Tang looked away and smiled gently. “My physical strength isn’t good, so my mother doesn’t permit me to go to school.”

It would be hard for there to be any traces on his hands since he doesn’t write, perform martial arts, or do any housework.

Rong Tang folds the handkerchief and takes a piece of roasted tangerine from the small plate to eat.

It is sweet, hot, and not astringent at all. He couldn’t help but give Su Huaijing a thumbs-up.

Su Huaijing smiles, retracts his hand, and continues to help him roast other things. He narrows his eyes to say, “My uncle won’t let me go to school either.”

Rong Tang knew that he was answering his own question. Rong Tang also knew that the answer to the question isn’t this, but when Su Huaijing said it like so, he felt his heart ache a little.

He frowned and bowed down to drape the goose feather quilt on his body, then asked carefully, “Do you want to go to school? I can get you registered as a student. You are so smart, you’ll definitely become the number one scholar.”

Su Huaijing appeared to be startled. He glanced up at Rong Tang for a moment, then shook his head and smiled: “I won’t go to school; I’ll accompany you at home.”

The spring rain continues, imparting moisture and the rich fragrance of crushed flowers. Rong Tang was addled, and his head went blank for a while.

He understands Su Huaijing’s exceptional intelligence, and it is clear that Su Huaijing doesn’t need to struggle through school, obtain academic honours, and navigate the complexities of the court to achieve his plan for revenge. Su Huaijing has access to numerous efficient shortcuts. Rong Tang’s proposal to marry him is primarily for his protection, and secondly, it is a way to proactively offer him one of these shortcuts.

The title of Duke Ningxuan Shizi Fei* is sufficient for him to assimilate into the circle of influential officials. Rong Tang firmly believes that once Su Huaijing enters this realm, he will establish himself securely.

(*TN: prince’s wife or consort)

But he can’t deny that he’s a little moved by what this main villain has just said.

“He’s really skilled.” Rong Tang silently told the system.

System: [He’s even more skilled at destroying the world.]

Rong Tang’s spirit immediately sank. He warms his hands at the fire and finally answers Su Huaijing’s question.

“My mother has invited someone to choose a date, and someone will come to measure you for your wedding clothes tomorrow. I want to ask you: do you have any thoughts about the wedding? Do you have any relatives or friends coming? Do we invite Li Changfu?”

Su Huaijing: “Don’t you hate him?”

“I hate him.” Rong Tang is very honest: “But the Minister of War is not a big or small official, it’s still passable. I heard that some people will criticise if there is no one attending from the wife’s family when they get married. Those didis of mine aren’t easy to deal with, and I’m afraid they will bully you. So I just wanted to say that if you don’t particularly mind, I can invite him to my house for a drink.”

Rong Tang pauses, then adds solemnly, “But there’s no way I’m going to kowtow to him. He shouldn’t even consider it.”

Su Huaijing laughs softly, raising his gaze to look into Rong Tang’s eyes, which now holds a hint of the familiar expression from the past: “I’ll listen to Tangtang gege.”

Rong Tang also laughs when he sees this and prattles on for a while before bringing up the main matters: “By the way, the date is set for the eighteenth next month. It just happens that my yimu and yifu* will have returned from the Taishan Ceremony, and they may come to participate.”

(TN: yimu = maternal aunt, yifu = maternal aunt’s husband)

Su Huaijing’s fingers bend subtly, but Rong Tang pretends not to notice. He seems a little panicked: “The-the Emperor… and the Empress are coming too?”

Rong Tang sighs inaudibly. He really wants him to stop acting, but he himself is also acting, so he has no choice. He leans over to hold his hand, and squeezes it: “My yifu may not come, but my yimu said that she insists on coming to see me get married. Don’t be afraid. I’ll hold your hand when the time comes.”

Su Huaijing’s long eyelashes lower, and he looks at the hand that is holding his own. There is also heat this time, but it is burning like a furnace. He flips his hand to hold his back.

Then he heard Rong Tang say somewhat worriedly: “Actually, the eighth day of the lunar month is also an auspicious day, but my mother said that my yifu and yimu will be leaving for the Taishan Ceremony on the tenth. It would be inclined to clash if we held the wedding before the national sacrifice, so I moved it back.”

This time, Su Huaijing finally noted the keyword. “Taishan Ceremony?”

Rong Tang heaved a sigh of relief, telling himself inwardly that at least it had pretty much drawn his attention.

The Taishan Ceremony is a ceremony where the Emperor goes to the ancestral temple every year to offer sacrifices and pray for the prosperity of the country. It is scheduled for the fifteenth of the third month of the lunar calendar.

Emperor Renshou is an extremely superstitious emperor. It is apparent from the fortune-telling that he performs for each of his sons. This year happens to be the ninth year since his ascension to the throne. In ancient times, the number nine is significantly venerated, so it’s inconceivable that Emperor Renshou won’t go all out and have something special planned. It once again underscores that his alignment with heaven’s will is what brings prosperity to the country.

The reason why Rong Tang specifically mentions this is because he has other notions about the so-called [Case of the Remnant Rebels].

Chen Feiyi doesn’t need to die in order to do the Second Prince a favour.

Although it is a bit risky, Su Huaijing will definitely have anticipated it, as long as he mentions a little of it. This is the tacit understanding that Rong Tang discovered throughout his mutual retaliation with him in his previous two lives.

As such, he said, “Mmm, this year’s Taishan Ceremony will be very grand. His Majesty will bring the Second Prince along to the ancestral temple, and my father will be escorting the sacred chariot there.” He counts with his fingers, “When they set off on the tenth, they should travel via Mengshan County and rest there for a day. They will perform sacrifices on the fifteenth and return on the seventeenth, just in time for our marriage on the eighteenth.”

He earnestly counted the days, as if he utterly doesn’t realise that he is revealing something that commoners and even ordinary officials will never know.

In fact, even the Ministry of Rites doesn’t dare commit to this matter now. They’ve made several plans, and Emperor Renshou has not yet decided which itinerary to choose.

The reason why Rong Tang is certain is because he’d gone along in his previous life and almost got jostled out of his wits along the way.

Moreover, he brings it up early because, based on his previous two lives, Earl Wukang will lead his troops to capture Chen Feiyi in another day’s time. Once he’s captured, he will be imprisoned for a period of time. It won’t be until the Taishan Ceremony that the “Remnant Rebels” are to used as a blood sacrifice to heaven.

Rong Tang is worried that if he doesn’t offer Su Huaijing another possibility earlier, he will feel that the timing is too tight.

After Rong Tang finishes speaking, he observes that Su Huaijing’s head is lowered and he is deep in thought, thus he knows that he’s paid attention. He ate another piece of orange, lay down, and buries his face in the pillow, leaving only his forehead and eyes exposed. “I want to nap for a while. Help me watch the fire.”

Su Huaijing regained his senses, smiled, and nodded. After Rong Tang fell asleep, he asked Shuang Fu to come in and watch over him while he opened an umbrella and made his way to the backyard.

Xingfeng is already waiting there.

Su Huaijing closed his umbrella, and water drops fell behind him onto the ground like scattered flowers. He carries the scent of roasted tangerines and medicine. When he lightly presses his fingertips together, it seems still to detect the cool feeling of the handkerchief from earlier.

He told Xingfeng about the plan, had him settle the arrangements, and also had Bixin stay in Earl Wukang’s Manor for a few more days. Then he personally went to the apothecary to start up the stove and refine the Peach Blossom Facade.

If Li Panyan stays for a few more days, she can continue to be given the medicine. Before exiting, he pauses for a moment at the medicine cabinet and grabs some prescriptions for nurturing the body.

Xingfeng followed him in. After watching him bustle about for a while, his eyebrows twitched slightly. He frowned and said, “Master, there’s something odd about this young prince. This subordinate doesn’t think that he should remain.”

Even if the Master doesn’t mind whether what he said to Ningxuan Wang Fei was true or false, the fact that he actually went to Chen Feiyi’s lair yesterday is enough for people to suspect him.

Liuyun has been investigating for two days. How did a rich young master who never leaves home manage it?

After Xingfeng finished speaking, the apothecary became silent. Cold sweat trickled down his sideburns. Su Huaijing sits on the small stool and slowly fans the air at the stove.

After a long time, Xingfeng withdrew. The apothecary became devoid of human sounds, leaving only the “gurgling” of the medicine soup.

Su Huaijing murmurs, “But the peach blossom cake is delicious.”

Su Huaijing thought he could simply clear his mind. It’s fine as long as Rong Tang remembers to coax him every time he returns.

He doesn’t need to kill him; he can even find a way to cure him. Even if he deceives him, it’s fine as long as he is willing to caress his wrist.

Su Huaijing’s gaze shifts to his wrist bones. He can still discern a faint sensation—a frigid touch, smoother and softer than fingertips.

It comes across as a gentle reminder that this little creature is teetering on the edge of life, and its eyes can shut forever at any moment.