Departing from Suzhou in late August, they passed through Huizhou and Hangzhou, traveling slowly and leisurely throughout Jiangnan, before heading northeast.
Along the way, Rong Tang asked Mu Jingxu about what would happen to his duties at the Imperial Court of Justice, given that he hadn’t returned to the capital for so long. At that time, Ke Hongxue, who was playing poker and snacking on candied fruit in their carriage, heard the question and smiled nonchalantly, saying, “I asked my father to donate another five hundred thousand taels to the national treasury, just to buy Senior a long vacation.”
Rong Tang: “…” 6*.
(*TN: In case you forgot, “6” in Chinese internet slang means “awesome.”)
It’s my mistake for forgetting you’re someone who plays with money. My apologies.
The journey to Jiangnan took half a month, and the return trip took more than a month. By the time their grand convoy entered the gates of Yu capital, it was already the middle of the tenth month, and charcoal was once again being lit inside the carriage to provide warmth.
Rong Tang tends to become lethargic in winter, feeling lazy and unwilling to move, often dozing off for almost half the day.
During the initial days of the temperature drop, Shuang Fu and Shuang Shou were very anxious, fearing that their young master might suffer as he had in previous years—fainting for days whenever the seasons changed. Although their convoy had a traveling doctor, they were still short of certain medicinal ingredients and supplies. If Rong Tang were to fall ill, his recovery would be troublesome. This was precisely why the Wang Fei had sent letters urging them to return to the capital.
However, after enduring a few days of fluctuating temperatures, once it stabilised and dropped consistently, Shuang Fu noticed that his young master was surprisingly in good spirits, even though he had wrapped himself in heavy cotton clothes.
Su Huaijing took excellent care of him. Apart from feeling a bit sleepy, Rong Tang didn’t look as weak as before, when his frail appearance suggested he might be on the brink of death.
After a few occurrences, Ke Hongxue simply moved him to his own carriage, which was as luxurious as the one from Duke Ningxuan’s estate. The interior was furnished with soft red couches, and a silver charcoal brazier burned warmly. Not even the biting northern wind could reach Lil’ Bro Mu.
During mealtimes, people in the convoy occasionally gossiped, remarking on the immense wealth on both sides, lamenting that it seemed they were not meant to enjoy such riches.
Shuang Fu quietly noted who had spoken, and at the next city, he immediately went to the local security office to change the armed escorts, giving the dismissed ones some travel money to leave.
He couldn’t stand hearing anyone curse his young master, even a little.
Fortunately, despite the slow pace, the journey was safe and sound. On a typical autumn afternoon, Rong Tang once again heard the Mandarin accents of the residents of Dayu capital.
When they left, people sat on small stools on both sides of the road selling eggplants and cucumbers. Upon their return, the vendors were the same, but the goods in their baskets had changed to pumpkins and carrots.
The seasonal vegetables were a reminder that more than half a year had slipped away.
Rong Tang sat in the carriage and opened the window. His gaze fell on the neatly arranged baskets, and for a moment, he seemed lost in thought, unsure of what he was pondering.
Su Huaijing poured him a cup of hot tea. Rong Tang lowered the curtain and accepted it, holding it in his hands.
Su Huaijing asked, “What were you thinking about just now, Tangtang?”
Rong Tang lowered his eyes, staring at the steam rising from the teacup: “I’m feeling a bit greedy.”
Su Huaijing was momentarily taken aback. He could tell Rong Tang was being evasive, but he wasn’t sure why. Su Huaijing had glanced outside earlier and hadn’t seen anything noteworthy.
However, Rong Tang didn’t seem keen on answering. After drinking half a cup of tea, he returned to his usual state. Curling up on the small couch in the carriage, he wrapped himself snugly in a blanket and said softly, “I’m going to take a nap. Wake me up when we reach home.”
Su Huaijing loved hearing the word “home” from Rong Tang’s lips. He smiled and agreed.
Upon entering the capital, it was time to part ways with Ke and Mu. Prince Ningxuan’s carriage turned west toward Yong’an Lane, while Ke Hongxue headed north, back to the Imperial Court of Justice.
Rong Tang closed his eyes, and a mechanical beeping sounded in his mind. The system cautiously asked him, “[Host, what were you thinking about just now?]”
Rong Tang replied with amusement, “Why are you just like Su Huaijing?”
The system, feeling slightly indignant, held back from retorting and quietly processed for a moment before tentatively asking, “[Do you not want to die anymore?]”
“……”
Rong Tang didn’t respond for a long time. With his eyes closed, his hearing became exceptionally acute.
The bustling sounds of Yu capital filled his ears—the clamour of the crowd and the steady rolling of carriage wheels. Beside him, Su Huaijing sat quietly, leafing through an ancient book he had bought in Jiangnan.
During the Lantern Festival that year, Rong Tang had dragged his ailing body from Duke Ningxuan’s Palace to the Imperial Palace. For the first time, he truly felt that the characters in the book had come to life, no longer mere brief words on a page.
Now, having traveled from Yu capital to Jiangnan and back again, after half a year, he once more stepped foot in this vibrant city. Seeing the vendors’ baskets now filled with different kinds of fruits and vegetables, Rong Tang recalled a stark reality:
It seemed he had less than three years left.
In the ninth year of Qingzheng, the grand drama had started to unfold; in the tenth year, the political landscape of the court and harem underwent dramatic changes; by the eleventh year, Sheng Chengli took centre stage in the battle for succession, while Su Huaijing stepped into the Yu court; in the twelfth year, Su Huaijing ‘usurped the throne,’ causing the plot line to collapse……
A quarter of this endlessly repeating timeline had already passed, yet, suddenly, Rong Tang no longer wanted to die.
After a journey to Jiangnan and seeing old friends and acquaintances, he suddenly…… didn’t want to die.
He whispered softly to the system, “Who wants to die?”
Who wouldn’t want to live peacefully and healthily? Otherwise, why had he struggled within the time loop for so many years?
[……] The system remained silent, lingering in that three-dimensional space, gazing at the little pixelated figure on the carriage, curled up into a ball.
It didn’t want the host to die either……
But what could be done?
–
After resting for three days in Yong’an Lane, Rong Tang’s fatigue and weariness from the long journey had almost faded, and they finally returned to Duke Ningxuan’s Palace.
Having been away for half a year, the palace remained as opulent as ever, standing proudly in the most affluent district of the capital. Officials in court robes came and went past the front gates, craning their necks as they noticed Duke Ningxuan’s carriage.
Rong Tang had no interest in exchanging pleasantries, but Su Huaijing quietly noted each face that he saw.
They disembarked from the carriage at the entrance, where the palace gates swung open to welcome the young master. The gatekeeper quickly ran inside to announce the return of the heir.
Rong Tang raised an eyebrow, turned his head, and said to Su Huaijing, “This is the second time in my life I’ve been treated with such importance in the palace.”
Su Huaijing took his hand. Rong Tang’s hands and feet were always cold in winter, like a piece of fine jade that needed to be carefully warmed. Su Huaijing held them gently, warming him bit by bit.
Su Huaijing asked, “When was the first time?”
Rong Tang replied without hesitation, “When I married you.”
Su Huaijing was momentarily taken aback, then smiled and tightened his grip on Rong Tang’s hand: “Tangtang deserves this.”
Rong Tang, as the heir to Duke Ningxuan, was entitled to all the attention he received—especially over something as simple as an announcement from the gatekeeper.
However, Rong Tang felt a vague sense of foreboding and joked, “I hope this isn’t a Hongmen Feast*.”
(*TN: A meeting contrived as a trap. This refers to a historical feast held at Hongmen by Xiang Yu, powerful warlord, for his rival Liu Bang, at which an attempt was made on Liu’s life. Liu Bang later became the founding emperor of the Han Dynasty.)
Su Huaijing was slightly startled, his brows furrowing subconsciously. There was no specific reason—he just didn’t want to see Tangtang looking so wary, especially in his own home.
Su Huaijing couldn’t help but recall Rong Tang telling him he had never been foolish. What kind of environment forces a highly esteemed heir to feign madness, damaging his own reputation just to survive?
The more Su Huaijing thought about it, the colder his gaze became, and a hint of anger slipped out uncontrollably. If not for the fact that the Wang Fei truly missed Rong Tang, he wouldn’t have wanted to come back this time.
Suppressing his turbulent emotions, Su Huaijing said gently, “Let’s not worry about that. After we eat with Mother, we can return to our courtyard. How does that sound?”
Rong Tang, lost in his own thoughts, nodded absentmindedly. Seeing this, Su Huaijing’s eyes darkened further.
Wang Xiuyu had prepared a feast and many gifts, but as soon as she saw Rong Tang, she burst into tears, clutching his arm, repeatedly lamenting, “You’ve lost weight, you’ve lost weight……”
Rong Tang’s eyes also grew warm. It had been over half a year since he last stayed at Duke Ningxuan’s Palace. Seeing Wang Xiuyu now, he realised he missed his mother.
Su Huaijing watched for a moment, then quietly stepped outside, leaving space for the mother and son to talk.
Duke Ningxuan was a unique figure in the Dayu court. Su Huaijing stood outside the Wang Fei’s courtyard, watching the flow of people in the back garden. Occasionally, a few court officials passed by, his gaze dark and unreadable.
“Huaijing.”
A voice called from behind, clear and soft, with a hint of a coquettishness even the speaker was unaware of.
The darkness in Su Huaijing’s eyes was instantly replaced by a bright smile. He turned around and naturally took Rong Tang’s hand, gently rubbing it to warm him up: “Why not spend a little more time with Mother?”
Rong Tang glanced towards the garden, pulling his gaze away from the people Su Huaijing had been watching earlier: “Mother asked me to come get you.”
The smile in Su Huaijing’s eyes deepened. Sometimes, he felt insatiable—Tangtang was beside him, yet he wanted all his attention. Other times, he felt easily content. When Rong Tang came to him of his own accord, stayed by his side, Su Huaijing could suppress all the thoughts he shouldn’t share with anyone else.
Some thoughts were good, some bad. Some were about Rong Tang, others about court politics.
But no matter what they were, no matter how many schemes weighed on him, they all faded when Tangtang came to him and called his name.
“Let’s go back and spend more time with Mother,” he said.
Rong Tang tilted his head, subtly observing Su Huaijing’s expression. After confirming there was nothing unusual, he nodded and walked back to the courtyard with him.
In the past few months, the events in the capital had grown increasingly significant, signalling the beginning of the drama in the ninth year of Qingzheng.
Even with the butterfly effect’s mysterious unpredictability, the established plot line written in the novel would inevitably unfold, sooner or later.
For instance, Duke Ningxuan’s Palace was about to welcome a new young master.
In the autumn of the ninth year of Qingzheng’s reign, the Second Prince’s mother, Concubine Yi, was found to be pregnant by the imperial physician.
Furthermore, the protagonist of “The Emperor’s Journey” would soon be old enough to leave the palace and establish his own residence after the New Year.
Sometimes it’s hard to say if this was the author’s twisted humour or the characters’ inherent flaws.
The mansion bestowed upon Sheng Chengli by Emperor Renshou was located on Xuanwu Avenue, directly opposite Princess Duanyi’s palace.
—A mansion overgrown with weeds, with a dilapidated gate and no inhabitants, once honoured as the Xian Mansion.
The place where Major General Wei Zhun grew up, the home of Su Huaijing’s maternal grandfather.
And now, Emperor Renshou had given it to his least favoured son.
Rong Tang couldn’t help but wonder: How could Sheng Chengli be worthy?
