Chapter 70

On the fifteenth of the seventh month, during the Ghost Festival*, it had been a month since the Jiangnan floods.

(*TN: The Ghost Festival, also known as the Hungry Ghost Festival, is when the gates of Hell open, allowing the souls of the deceased to visit the land of the living. Sacrifices are offered to appease these wandering spirits, especially those without living relatives to honour them, hence the term “hungry” ghosts.)

Occasionally, Rong Tang would accompany Su Huaijing or Ke Hongxue on evening strolls around Suzhou city.

The shadow of the disaster still lingered, but life was gradually returning to normal for the ordinary people.

The soft tones of the Wu dialect filled the air, shops along the street were bustling with activity, and the painted boats on Lotus Lake were illuminated with warm yellow lights.

As they wandered leisurely through the streets, they encountered Lu Jiaxi, hurrying along. The sixteen- or seventeen-year-old youth had lost all the baby fat from his face, leaving only the maturity gained from his experiences in Jiangnan.

Yet, Ke Hongxue would always stop him, buy two pancakes or a stick of sugar figures from a nearby stall, and hand them to Lu Jiaxi.

Young Master Lu, feeling embarrassed to accept such a snack for coaxing children, hesitated. But Tutor Ke simply smiled and pointed to Mu Jingxu, whom he had dragged along for a break: “What’s this? When your Senior Mu first joined the court, he was so exhausted he didn’t even know how to sleep. Wasn’t I the one by his side feeding him porridge and candy?”

Lu Jiaxi blinked in disbelief, while Mu Jingxu remained stern and unmoved, only casting a glance at Ke Hongxue with his cold, peach-blossom eyes, which for once showed a hint of rare irritation.

Ke Hongxue smiled slyly, like a fox. Even when glared at, he showed no fear. Instead, he sidled up with a grin, calling out to his senior repeatedly, teasingly.

Mu Jingxu paid him no mind and instead turned to Lu Jiaxi: “No matter how busy you are with official duties, don’t forget to eat.”

Lu Jiaxi might still dare to be playful with Ke Hongxue, but Mu Jingxu’s words were like an imperial edict to him. Hearing this, he didn’t care whether Tutor Ke was handing him sesame-seed pancakes, wontons, or sugar-painted candy figures; he accepted them all without hesitation, smiling naively at the men who could easily be his xiong zhangs.

Su Huaijing seldom joined in their teasing of young Excellency Lu. He would usually stand aside, holding Rong Tang’s hand, and whenever he spotted something tasty or fun at the vendors’ stalls, he would eagerly show it to Rong Tang before happily buying it all in one go.

If Ke Hongxue still hadn’t let Lu Jiaxi go by then, Su Huaijing would offer a subtle reminder: “I heard the epidemic quarantine area in the west of the city is running low on medicinal supplies. Where are you heading this time, young Excellency Lu?”

Lu Jiaxi would immediately recall his urgent task, slap his forehead, and rush off without delay, not daring to waste another second.

Su Huaijing knew more about the resettlement of flood victims and the repair of dikes in Suzhou than the officials in charge. Sometimes, Rong Tang would wake up in the middle of the night and see the candles in Su Huaijing’s room burning from dusk until dawn, worrying that he might collapse from overwork.

But Su Huaijing didn’t care at all. In front of Rong Tang, he always gave the appearance that he was doing nothing and giving all his energy to his sweetheart, as if he were working so hard in an unknown place just to squeeze out more free time to spend with Rong Tang.

During the Ghost Festival, the sky over Suzhou was filled with fluttering paper money, and the scent of burnt ash lingered in the air. Pedestrians returned home early, and the shops were all locked up. Every few steps along the street, one would come across piles of burned yellow joss paper, some still faintly glowing red, indicating that offerings had just been made.

Rong Tang left the house, casually purchasing two large stacks of joss paper and gold ingots. He considered buying a few pairs of paper effigies of the golden boy and jade girl* from the shop, as well as cars, horses, and mansions, but in the end, he refrained.

(*TN: To be burned as offerings to the dead, to serve as attendants in the underworld.)

It would seem odd to be overly elaborate, so he only selected some standard funeral offerings, paid the bill, and asked Shuang Fu to take them back. Meanwhile, he leisurely made his way to the state government office to pick up Huaijing.

Su Huaijing wasn’t an official in the true sense and rarely visited the state government office. It just so happened that the disaster relief funds had arrived a few days ago, Lu Junxian had been escorted back to the capital, and Jiang Shanxing was still in Hangzhou, unable to return. Sheng Chengming, left alone, was at a loss for how to handle the massive task of disaster relief for all of Suzhou Prefecture. With no other option, he had taken to paying daily morning visits to Rong Tang’s residence, greeting him with a forced smile while dragging Su Huaijing out of Lin Estate.

Rong Tang didn’t mind either way, and Sheng Chengming kept a smile on his face, both of them in normal spirits. Only Su Huaijing, who would get dragged out by the Second Prince each morning and then sent off by Rong Tang, would turn back every few steps with a forlorn expression, gazing at Rong Tang in such a pitiful way that it left him feeling uneasy.

There was no helping it, so Rong Tang made it a habit to pick up Su Huaijing from the Suzhou government office every evening, and they would walk back together.

The customs and culture of Suzhou city gradually seeped into their minds during these brief twilight walks home, day after day.

When Rong Tang arrived at the state government office, the guards at the gate, long familiar with him, quickly greeted him with smiles and were ready to escort him inside.

Rong Tang waved them off, indicating there was no need for any fuss. After waiting at the door for a short while, several officials in their uniforms exited the building, still engaged in loud discussions about the latest policies in Suzhou.

At the centre of the group was Su Huaijing, the only one not dressed in official garb. Yet, after each person finished speaking, they would inevitably glance at him, as if seeking his approval or rebuttal but clearly hoping for some kind of response.

Su Huaijing lifted his head slightly, and the current speaker, suddenly encouraged, became even more animated, speaking passionately. When he finally paused and looked at Su Huaijing with bright, expectant eyes, the latter quickly quickened his pace, jogging over to Rong Tang’s side. With a soft, gentle tone, he asked, “Have you been waiting long?”

Rong Tang gave him a knowing look. Su Huaijing hesitated for a moment, then smiled helplessly. Turning back to the officials, he offered his thoughts on the recent discussion before smiling again and saying, “My lords, my husband is here to take me home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The setting sun glowed like molten gold, and fireworks mingled with the scattered hues of the evening sky. After Su Huaijing finished speaking, without waiting for a response from the others, he turned, took Rong Tang’s hand, and together they walked towards Lin Estate.

Rong Tang was momentarily stunned, his ears flushing slightly. He looked at Su Huaijing with a mix of frustration and embarrassment. After holding back for a moment, he finally asked, “Why do you have to emphasise to them every time that I am your husband?”

Su Huaijing, more surprised than Rong Tang, asked, “I’m just stating the truth. How is that emphasising?”

Rong Tang: “…”

In the kingdom of Dayu, men could marry, and their male spouses could serve as court officials—a rule established a hundred years ago. However, in practice, it had become increasingly rare for men to stand in court as male spouses.

After Emperor Renshou ascended the throne, there were even officials who submitted a memorial in court, arguing that a man who marries as a male spouse loses his masculinity. If he were to stand in court and discuss affairs with other officials, he might be seen as weak and soft-hearted; moreover, as a male spouse attracted to men, spending all day away from home and interacting with male officials might cause domestic disharmony. They recommended abolishing the practice of allowing male spouses to serve as court officials.

Although this proposal was fiercely rebuked in court by a group of officials led by Ke Wenrui, it remained a ticking time bomb. It was brought up from time to time, and there was no guarantee that Emperor Renshou wouldn’t eventually adopt it.

Though Rong Tang found the idea absurd, he couldn’t deny that, over time, an invisible chain of contempt might form within the court. He worried that if Su Huaijing kept declaring their marital relationship to Sheng Chengming’s subordinates, they might start showing him disrespect.

Su Huaijing saw through his concerns and smiled slightly. “His Majesty would never change the rules of the ancestral system. He’s too concerned about how history will judge him a hundred years from now. You don’t need to worry about me, Tangtang. As for others’ respect, that has nothing to do with status. Even if I were a commoner living in a dilapidated temple, I’d still find a way to command their respect. That’s never been difficult.”

He paused, then added with a smile, “What’s truly difficult is getting Tangtang to open your heart to me.”

The main villain’s smile was faint, as if he were speaking casually, but Rong Tang immediately felt the warmth in the hand they were holding, making him want to pull away.

The long summer was drawing to a close, and with the Ghost Festival passing, autumn was fast approaching. A slight cool breeze was in the air, and Rong Tang remained silent for a long time.

He still couldn’t convince himself, so he had to let it go.

“Let’s go back,” he said. “The kitchen made snow pear and white fungus soup today.”

Su Huaijing’s eyes darkened slightly, but he still smiled, pretending not to feel the slightest disappointment.

Dinner was served in Rong Tang’s courtyard. Ke Hongxue had made it a habit to mooch meals here, and now he swaggered over whenever he had the time.

When Rong Tang returned to the courtyard, Ke Hongxue was already seated at the dining table, peeling nuts for Mu Jingxu to stave off hunger. Seeing Rong Tang, he grinned and said, “Prince, you’ve finally returned. I was about to starve to death.”

Rong Tang rolled his eyes at him. “If you’re hungry, why not eat in your own courtyard?”

“That’s not an option.” Ke Hongxue’s peach blossom eyes curved into a soft smile. “Today is the Ghost Festival, and the whole family should dine together.”

Su Huaijing paused for a moment upon hearing this. He looked up and noticed Mu Jingxu frowning at Ke Hongxue. Their eyes met briefly before they both looked away.

Rong Tang, baffled by Tutor Ke’s nonsense, frowned and said, “The Ghost Festival isn’t the Mid-Autumn Festival. Since when is it about family reunions? And who said we’re family?”

Ke Hongxue responded, “We’ve shared the same hardships. We’ve struggled together in this disaster-stricken city for so long; doesn’t that count?”

Rong Tang mercilessly exposed him: “Is your ‘struggle’ listening to music and drinking in Suzhou every day?”

“I’ve spent quite a bit of money on you,” Ke Hongxue lamented. “That’s my lifeblood.”

“……”

Rong Tang found himself at a loss for words; Tutor Ke always had an endless supply of fallacies.

The four of them were dining in the open-air room, with the door ajar. Shuang Fu had just cleared the weeds in the corner of the courtyard, leaving a patch of open space. Ke Hongxue noticed and asked, “What’s that for?”

Rong Tang glanced over lazily and replied casually, “I bought some paper money for the Ghost Festival. We’ll be worshiping our ancestors later.”

Ke Hongxue nodded in understanding. “Is it for the late Elder Rong?”

Rong Tang was momentarily stunned, almost failing to respond. After a brief pause, he feigned nonchalance and said, “Yes, some are for my grandfather, and I also bought some for Huaijing’s parents.”

Su Huaijing and Mu Jingxu both froze, their eyes inadvertently meeting. Su Huaijing then turned to Rong Tang and asked, “You bought them for me?”

Rong Tang’s heart fluttered with a touch of panic, but he kept his composure. “You mentioned that your parents and siblings passed away long ago. I figured there’s probably no one but you to remember them. Since you’ve been busy lately, I took the liberty of preparing it for you.”

He paused, forcing a light smile. “We can’t have everyone else’s ancestors being honoured in the underworld while your parents are left alone, enviously watching, right?”

Su Huaijing paused briefly, then smiled warmly. “Thank you for your hard work, Tangtang.”

Rong Tang exhaled softly, relieved. “It’s only right.”

After dinner, Ke Hongxue noticed the two large stacks of paper money that Shuang Fu had brought out and shamelessly asked Rong Tang, “Prince, could you spare some for me?”

Rong Tang eyed him skeptically, and Ke Hongxue smiled. “To be honest, my senior was from a poor family and was later fostered by a wealthy household. The head of the family treated him well, but sadly, the entire family met with a tragic end, leaving no descendants to honour them. Hearing you just now made me think of those other ghosts in the underworld celebrating while they remain pitifully forgotten. It didn’t sit well with me.”

Rong Tang wasn’t entirely convinced but had bought more paper money than needed, so he handed some to Ke Hongxue.

The moonlight was cold, a full moon hung high, and the night of the Ghost Festival felt especially bleak. Three piles of yellow paper money burned brightly. Su Huaijing added sheets to the fire one by one, almost casually, as he asked, “Excellency Mu, what was the surname of the family you stayed with?”

Rong Tang felt a twinge of suspicion at the question; Su Huaijing was never one for idle curiosity.

But Mu Jingxu’s answer was even more surprising: “Same as yours—Su.”

Rong Tang was slightly taken aback, glancing at Su Huaijing as a wave of strange emotions surged within him.

Su Huaijing lowered his gaze, not looking up. With his clean, pale hands, he burned the paper money and ingots one by one, then asked again, “Did you have any siblings?”

“I did.”

“How many?”

“Two geges, four didis, and four meimeis,” Mu Jingxu answered slowly.

Rong Tang stood beside the pile of paper money meant for the late Elder Rong, his eyes drifting down to Su Huaijing.

The firelight cast shifting shadows across his face, obscuring his emotions. It was impossible to read his expression clearly, but Rong Tang couldn’t shake the feeling that beneath it lay a dark sea, churning with turbulent waves.

Su Huaijing smiled softly. “What a coincidence. I happen to have six geges and four jiejies in my family.”

“I’m the seventh among the boys. Da ge shares the same mother as me. Er ge was raised outside the estate from a young age. San ge…… he’s a liar,” Su Huaijing said.

Mu Jingxu’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly, and a flicker of broken emotion crossed his otherwise stoic expression. He lowered his gaze, mechanically feeding paper into the flames. “Is that so? Then he was truly an unworthy xiong zhang.”

He responded to Su Huaijing’s words, but noticed that the latter’s face darkened, clearly displeased. After a moment of silence, Su Huaijing asked again, “And you, Excellency Mu?”

Mu Jingxu replied, “My eldest xiong is dignified, my xiao mei is cute and sassy, and my youngest di is clever. Just an ordinary family.”

“Your eldest xiong is dignified, your xiao mei is cute and sassy, and your youngest di is clever……” Su Huaijing repeated in a low voice, a soft smile playing on his lips. Whether it was sarcasm or something else, it was hard to tell.

The more Rong Tang listened, the more bewildered he became. It felt as if his mind was tangled in a knot of threads, with the ends slipping away just as he was about to grasp them.

When the paper money had burned down to ashes, Mu Jingxu glanced at the soot on his hands and asked, “Young Master Su, could you take me to the washroom?”

Rong Tang instinctively wanted to follow, but Ke Hongxue pulled him back.

He frowned and turned around, only to see Ke Hongxue’s rare serious expression, his face clouded with a sombre look.

In the blink of an eye, Mu Jingxu and Su Huaijing had already left. Feeling irritated, Rong Tang shook off Ke Hongxue’s hand and was about to follow when he heard Ke Hongxue call softly, “Rong Tang.”

Rong Tang turned around.

Ke Hongxue’s smile was tinged with melancholy as he gazed at Mu Jingxu’s retreating figure and spoke softly, “You know, I once believed that my senior was destined to be the most romantic soul in this world.”

He had tasted the biting winds of the northern steppes and trekked through the treacherous valleys of Lingnan; he had beheld the jewels from sunken ships in the Jinfen River of the Yu capital and witnessed the tea estates swallowed by floods in Huizhou.

He was a wanderer of the world, a poet by nature, a scion of noble lineage, and a man of passionate talents.

He could lead armies into battle and compose verses with ease. His fan was his constant companion; he drank wine with every meal, spoke with a smile, and his peach blossom eyes always sparkled with a vibrant light.

He was the most romantic and passionate rogue, whose mere presence made noblewomen blush; he was also the most unruly and mischievous prince within the Yu capital’s palace, showered with honours yet forever yearning for the freedom of the wind.

And he died in the twenty-fifth year of Yuanxing.

He obtained the freedom he had sought, yet step by step, he found himself walking back into the very cage he had once dreamed of escaping.

……

Rong Tang stood frozen, and in that moment, all the conclusions suddenly traced back to their origins.

–

The washroom was left unlit, with clear water standing in the vat. Mu Jingxu bent down, scooping a ladleful of water to wash his hands. Instinctively, he scooped another and turned to offer it to Su Huaijing.

But Su Huaijing remained still, his figure concealed in the darkness, tall and imposing like an ancient pine.

They stood in silence for a long time, moonlight slipping through the window. Mu Jingxu’s voice, tinged with a slight hoarseness, broke the stillness: “Xiao Qi*, you’ve grown up.”

(*TN: qi = seven, as in his previous position as the “seventh” prince.)

At that, the “pine” trembled slightly. A faint smile appeared on Su Huaijing’s lips, yet his eyes reddened instantly.

He stayed silent for what felt like an eternity before finally speaking, “Xiong zhang, where’s my rabbit?”

You promised to take me to the hunting grounds to catch rabbits when you returned.

The author has something to say:

Susu in the capital: Have a well-thought out plan, maintain one’s composure, strategise from afar, and win the battle thousands of miles away. Susu in Jiangnan: Sob, sob sob, sob sob sob…… My wife is dying soon, sob sob, I found my gege, sob sob. (You are actually made of water, right?) (Doubt.jpg) The Guide to Catching Rabbits in the Hunting Grounds Chapter 2, a dream Huaijing had when he was a child.