Chapter 77

Tanghua Courtyard had been unoccupied for half a year, yet it remained lively and well-kept.

Servants stayed behind to maintain the courtyard, and Wang Xiuyu ensured regular inspections. As Rong Tang and Su Huaijing led Doctor Lin back, they encountered a servant setting up a fruit plate and stove in the study, preparing to welcome the master’s return.

A teapot simmered on the stove, ripe persimmons laid nearby. Rong Tang settled on the couch and casually extended his hand, inviting Doctor Lin to check his pulse.

Smiling, he said, “The prescription you gave me this time is excellent. I’ve been feeling much better after taking it.”

“Your Highness is truly blessed,” Doctor Lin replied politely, setting out his tools before sitting down to feel Rong Tang’s pulse.

The tangerines from the southern estates were ripening, and Duke Ningxuan’s Palace had received several large baskets. Su Huaijing poured tea from the teapot, then replaced it with an iron mesh and began roasting tangerines for Rong Tang.

He slowly moved his wrist, but his gaze repeatedly drifted towards Doctor Lin, subtly observing his expression.

Su Huaijing had confidence in his own medical skills, but when it came to Rong Tang’s health, he preferred not to trust them entirely.

Doctor Lin quietly diagnosed Rong Tang’s pulse, his brows knitting slightly, before asking how the trip south had gone, and whether Rong Tang had suffered any flare-ups.

Rong Tang had barely said, “Same as always,” when Su Huaijing cast him a reproachful glance and said, “During the heavy rains, his body was in such pain that he couldn’t sleep for nights on end.”

Rong Tang blinked, caught off guard, and nervously pinched his palm.

The main villain is way too strict!

[Haven’t you had too many past infractions?] the system chimed in sarcastically.

Rong Tang retorted, “What infractions?”

[Once at the flower-picking festival, once in Jiangnan. If the main villain doesn’t lock you up this time, he’s breaking character.] the system quipped.

Rong Tang sighed, “Would being honest really help? Isn’t this body just hanging on because of the mission?”

The original owner was supposed to die on New Year’s Eve in the ninth year of Qingzheng. Every day since had only been borrowed time, meant to let Rong Tang complete his task.

He said this casually, expecting the usual back-and-forth with the system. But this time, after a brief silence, the system’s voice was quieter: [Why not try? You never know.]

Rong Tang was stunned, momentarily unsure how to respond. Meanwhile, Doctor Lin had finished his diagnosis and was writing a new prescription. He advised, “Your Highness is indeed improving, but with winter already here in the capital, you must be more cautious. Avoid catching cold or stressing yourself unnecessarily, and above all, don’t hide your symptoms.”

Doctor Lin had been caring for Rong Tang since childhood, treating his frail body. The old man had spent countless sleepless nights reading medical books, searching for a cure.

Rong Tang, feeling mildly scolded, quickly straightened up and obediently replied, “Got it.”

Doctor Lin chuckled at his compliance, and Rong Tang took the opportunity to ask about Madam Qian’s condition.

In his past two lives, Rong Tang hadn’t paid much attention to the child Madam Qian bore. His focus had always been on Sheng Chengli, with only a passing glance at the main villain’s movements in previous lives. He lacked the energy to worry about Duke Ningxuan’s domestic intrigues.

Besides, the Wang Fei had always prohibited the servants from discussing such sordid matters in front of the heir to spare him the aggravation.

Therefore, Rong Tang only learned that Madam Qian became pregnant this autumn. Rong Mingyu valued this pregnancy highly, frequently staying at Madam Qian’s courtyard and sending her the best food and supplies, far exceeding what a concubine should receive.

Even the red charcoal that Rong Tang used every winter was halved and sent to Madam Qian because she claimed that her pregnancy made her especially cold during the winter.

By the time Rong Tang found out, winter had already passed. It wasn’t until one day when a maid was removing the brazier and casually mentioned, “The charcoal that the Wang Fei sent from the south is actually better than what the household usually purchases,” that Rong Tang realised the reason he still had enough charcoal to use that winter was that Wang Xiuyu had been using her own dowry to make up for it.

Yet, the Wang Fei never mentioned a word to him. Even during today’s meal at the courtyard, she didn’t say anything about Madam Qian’s pregnancy.

Rong Tang knew she was protecting him, afraid that he would get angry or upset, but it only made him feel even more bitter.

At that point, Madam Qian was nearing her due date. After learning about it, Rong Tang immediately got dressed and went to Rong Mingyu’s study. He respectfully bowed and greeted his father, then feigned confusion, asking, “Is the household on the verge of bankruptcy?”

Rong Mingyu’s expression darkened, and he was about to lash out when Rong Tang continued, “If we’re not going bankrupt, then why did Mother have to use her dowry to provide for the charcoal in my courtyard? Father, you work hard in the court, and household matters shouldn’t trouble you. But if money is truly tight, I have some assets from my maternal grandfather that could be sold to support the family. There’s no need to touch Mother’s dowry, as it would damage the reputation of the palace if word got out. But if our financial situation is indeed this dire, then, forgive my bluntness, perhaps it would be better if Madam Qian didn’t give birth. If we cannot afford to raise the child, wouldn’t that create a needless sin? Even zumu, upon hearing of this, would surely be distressed.”

He rarely spoke directly to Duke Ningxuan. Rong Mingyu often focused on reprimanding Rong Zheng or testing Rong Yuan on their studies, while turning a blind eye to his eldest son, Rong Tang. Rong Tang was quite happy to be left alone, as the formalities of father-son etiquette during their meetings would have driven him mad.

However, when it came to Wang Xiuyu, even if he wanted to ignore it, his conscience wouldn’t allow him to rest peacefully.

After Rong Tang finished speaking, Rong Mingyu stared at him for a long time, as if seeing his son for the first time. Rong Tang stood his ground, meeting his gaze without flinching, until Rong Mingyu finally said, “I understand. I’ll double the money your mother spent and return it to her.”

“Thank you, Father,” Rong Tang said, turning to leave.

Rong Mingyu, who had remained seated at his desk the entire time, then called out in a deep voice, “Respecting your parents and loving your siblings are lessons even a three-year-old child understands. Cursing your unborn didi like that is truly rebellious. I know you’ve been uneducated and foolish for many years, so I won’t hold it against you. When you return, copy the Disciples’ Rules ten times and deliver it to my study by dusk tomorrow.”

Rong Tang could have argued more and turned his father’s words back at him, but since he had just secured compensation for Wang Xiuyu, he didn’t want to risk further angering his father and having the Wang Fei suffer the consequences. He swallowed his pride and returned to his courtyard, where he dutifully copied the Disciples’ Rules ten times to present to Rong Mingyu.

He knew that Duke Ningxuan was a “smiling tiger” — outwardly appearing as Emperor Renshou’s most loyal minister, but in reality, a man of deep scheming. Such a person, obsessed with reputation and appearances, would never let rumours or weaknesses slip to others.

So when Rong Tang heard the servant’s words in the courtyard, he felt no emotional stirrings. Those were not things that Rong Mingyu would ever say aloud. Even if he harboured such thoughts, he would never let them be known, especially not through a concubine, let alone allow such words to spread via a mere servant.

Wang Xiuyu was Empress Wang’s biological meimei. No matter how much he despised the fact that Rong Tang held the title of Prince Ningxuan, he would never openly declare that the title would pass to someone else after Rong Tang’s death.

That would be suicidal.

Thus, Rong Tang wasn’t worried that the servant would spread those words to Duke Ningxuan. No matter how the story unfolded, he wouldn’t be on the losing end. His only concern was that Wang Xiuyu might suffer further indignities because of Madam Qian’s pregnancy.

What’s more, he suspected that the true cause of Wang Xiuyu’s death in the previous two lifetimes wasn’t exhaustion. Otherwise, how could it be that her health just happened to decline precisely when Madam Qian became pregnant with this child?

However, Dr. Lin couldn’t provide any answers. Indeed, Madam Qian had invited him to the courtyard several times to check her pulse, but everything seemed normal. At most, the foetus was a bit unstable in the early stages and required more careful monitoring.

Rong Tang frowned slightly, unable for the moment to piece together all the information he had.

So he asked one more question: “How has my mother’s health been recently?”

Dr. Lin’s expression froze slightly, and Rong Tang’s heart chilled. Unconsciously, he tightened his grip: “Doctor, please speak plainly.”

Dr. Lin glanced at him, then at Su Huaijing, and said, “It’s nothing serious, really. It’s just that the Wang Fei had some trouble sleeping in the fall—heart palpitations and nightmares. I prescribed a few calming tonics, which helped. But it’s still best if she doesn’t overwork herself, to avoid harming her health. It would be wise for Your Highness to persuade her to take it easy when possible.”

Rong Tang pressed his lips together and nodded, then asked, “There’s nothing else?”

Dr. Lin looked puzzled: “No, nothing else.”

Rong Tang still harboured some doubts, but Su Huaijing squeezed his hand, then peeled a roasted tangerine and handed it to him. In a soft, soothing voice, he said, “Tangtang, don’t worry. While we’re staying here, we can visit more often to help ease Mother’s burdens.”

Rong Tang glanced at him and, realising this was all he could do, nodded.

Su Huaijing stood and walked with Dr. Lin to the door.

As they reached the gate of the courtyard, Dr. Lin, medical case in hand, hesitated and stopped, his expression becoming serious.

Su Huaijing noticed and felt a sudden unease. He spoke softly, “Doctor, is there something else you want to say?”

“The Prince’s health has indeed improved greatly. His pulse is much steadier than it was around the New Year. But—” He paused and glanced at Su Huaijing, hesitating to continue.

Su Huaijing urged him gently: “Please, go ahead.”

“The foundation is weak,” Dr. Lin sighed. “What’s weak can’t be strengthened easily. The Prince’s condition can only improve with slow, careful attention. As for how far his health will recover, that’s something no one can predict.”

Su Huaijing had been prepared for this outcome long ago, but hearing the same diagnosis again from another doctor still filled him with disappointment.

The camellias in Tanghua Courtyard had long since lost their flowers, leaving only the glossy green leaves. A gust of northern wind swept through, bringing down some loose leaves, while the sound of Rong Tang’s soft coughing echoed faintly from within the courtyard. Su Huaijing felt, inexplicably, that the day had darkened.

He thanked Dr. Lin and saw him out. As the doctor left, Su Huaijing suddenly remembered something, and quickly called out, “When the Prince was in Jiangnan, did any other doctors treat him?”

Su Huaijing was slightly taken aback. “Yes, there was. Why do you ask?”

Dr. Lin’s brow furrowed with concern. “Could you bring that doctor back to the capital?”

Su Huaijing, now feeling a growing sense of unease, shook his head. “No, I couldn’t.”

Dr. Lin’s face fell, and a look of regret appeared in his eyes. “That’s unfortunate. I had hoped to discuss the case with him.”

“Why?” Su Huaijing asked.

“I reviewed the prescription and noticed that the doctor used Ganoderma in the Prince’s treatment. I was considering whether a gentler alternative could be used in its place,” Dr. Lin explained.

Su Huaijing: “What do you mean?”

“The Prince’s health was probably quite depleted when he was in Jiangnan, which is why Ganoderma was necessary to quickly sustain him. But now that his condition has improved significantly, it would be better to switch to more gentle herbs like Codonopsis and Atractylodes. These would not only have a slower, more gradual effect but also prevent the Prince from becoming dependent on Ganoderma. If something unexpected were to happen in the future, there might be no way to save him if he’s overly reliant on such potent medicine.”

As he finished, Dr. Lin seemed to realise he might have spoken out of turn and quickly added: “Of course, that other doctor is far more skilled than I am. Over all these years, I’ve never been able to regulate the Prince’s body to this extent. He likely had other reasons for prescribing as he did, so I shouldn’t speculate too much.”

Su Huaijing was stunned for a moment, then a spark of realisation lit up in his eyes. He cupped his hands in a formal salute, saying, “Thank you, Doctor.”

Dr. Lin: “?”

The older man was a bit perplexed, not quite understanding why the Shizi Fei seemed suddenly brighter. He could only nod, then turned and walked out of the courtyard.

The north wind continued to blow in the yard, but the brazier kept the room warm and cozy. Su Huaijing, after seeing the doctor off, hadn’t yet returned, when the study door was gently pushed open from the inside.

The noble young prince leaned halfway out from behind the curtain, one hand still tucked inside his sleeve. He blinked curiously, asking, “Huaijing, aren’t you coming back?”

His soft voice carried on the northern wind. Su Huaijing looked up and smiled. “I’m coming.”

Rong Tang, with a hint of playfulness, said: “Hurry, I can’t roast tangerines properly, and I’m craving them.”

Su Huaijing smiled and stepped into the study.

There was no other reason than concern for him.

Because it was Tangtang, he wanted to give him all the rare and precious herbs in the world—things that others might never obtain in their lifetime—without hesitation, as if they were free.

But that was a mistake.

As a doctor, he knew that every medicine carries some degree of toxicity.

Yet, after that torrential downpour, when he first felt Rong Tang’s weak, insubstantial pulse, he had been struck by panic.

Later, he was simply afraid that suddenly switching to less potent medicine might harm Rong Tang’s health.

He was a doctor, but also a loved one—torn between reason and emotion.

Su Huaijing had never imagined that one day, even he would allow emotion to cloud his judgment.

In the warm light of the winter afternoon, Rong Tang stood at the door, his bright eyes fixed on him. A smile crept up from the corners of Su Huaijing’s lips: “Let me help you roast them.”

So delicate—he can’t even roast a tangerine.

The author has something to say:

Isn’t it because you’ve spoiled him too much? (▽ヘ▽#)