Ke Hongxue tried to haggle, but it was in vain.
The two large geese ended up selling for a staggering price of two hundred taels of gold. If Dayu had a market supervision bureau, Su Huaijing and himself would both be arrested and locked up!
Rong Tang sat in the restaurant, waiting for the kitchen to prepare the goose. While counting the silver notes with satisfaction, he mused with great interest.
Ke Hongxue felt wronged and unjustly bled dry. He wanted to act petulantly with his senior, but Mu Jingxu ignored him and instead casually chatted with Lu Jiaxi about the latest rumours in the capital.
Meanwhile, the young couple across from them had already started planning what to do with the two hundred taels of gold and whether they should invest in a few more properties.
Outside the window, the lively festivities of the Spring Festival in the capital were in full swing. His Excellency, the most distinguished Third-rank Scholar of Dayu in the past decade, sat in the upper pavilion of the restaurant. He picked up his wine cup, took a small sip, shook his head with a smile, pretending he had given the children their New Year’s lucky money.
The official Spring Festival holiday was supposed to last until the sixth day of the first lunar month, but now it was drawing to a close.
There was no shortage of visitors at the Ke residence, but it wasn’t until the fifth day of the new year that Ke Hongxue found time to knock on the door of the Imperial Court of Justice to bring his senior out for a breath of fresh air.
By chance, they bumped into Lu Jiaxi. Even after becoming an official, young Excellency Lu could hardly avoid running errands for the womenfolk in his family on his days off. When Ke Hongxue spotted him, Lu Jiaxi was standing in front of a rouge shop, listening to the shopkeeper talk about the most popular face powder and rouge, while jostling with the noble ladies of the capital for a box of rouge.
Ke Hongxue, pitying him, had his servant replace Lu Jiaxi and pick out some rouge, cosmetics, and snacks that ladies liked, so that Lu Jiaxi wouldn’t return home empty-handed.
The three of them then wandered around the city, and by chance, they spotted Rong Tang and Su Huaijing.
It was fate, Ke Hongxue thought.
The restaurant had been randomly chosen, located in a somewhat less bustling area, but the kitchen was willing to prepare ingredients brought in by the guests.
Among the geese Su Huaijing had caught, one lucky goose found its way into a stew pot.
Rong Tang was thoroughly pleased with the meal, finishing two bowls of white rice before reclining in his chair to digest. He listened as Ke Hongxue casually chatted away on various topics.
Third-rank Scholar Ke could converse with anyone. His mind was always filled with countless stories, and each could be adjusted depending on the audience, until it hit just the right note.
They discussed the latest play from Purple Jade Troupe, and Ke Hongxue even gave Lu Jiaxi tips on how to pick out rouge. Then, as if offhandedly, he remarked: “On the first day of the new year, the crowd fighting for the first incense stick* at Tuolan Temple stretched from the top of the mountain to the base.”
(*TN: Based on the belief that the one who is the first to offer incense will be especially blessed.)
Rong Tang, who had been eyeing the wine jug on the table with interest, was momentarily startled by this.
Su Huaijing casually asked, “Has Master Huimian been found?”
Ke Hongxue smiled. “The temple attendants said Master Huimian left the temple last winter to wander and give alms. Jiangnan was hit by floods recently, so he might have gone there. It’s uncertain when he’ll return.”
Su Huaijing understood the underlying meaning of his words but asked, “What about the ‘evil spirits’ affecting the Fifth Prince?”
“You’d have to ask Excellency Lu about that,” Ke Hongxue smiled, deftly passing the question along.
Lu Jiaxi, struggling with a prawn, looked momentarily bewildered, blinking as he came to his senses. He answered awkwardly, “Senior, I wouldn’t know anything about the Board of Astronomy.”
He was, in fact, puzzled—Ke Hongxue usually knew all the court news. Why ask him?
Ke Hongxue’s peach blossom eyes crinkled as he smiled like a fox. “Wasn’t it all about finding a residence for the Fifth Prince?”
“Yes,” Lu Jiaxi replied, still confused.
Ke Hongxue continued, “The chosen residence was the former Duke of Xian’s mansion, which was about to be renovated, but it burned down?”
“Indeed,” Lu Jiaxi responded. “Everyone knows that.”
“True, everyone knows,” Ke Hongxue refilled his wine cup. “But what happened next?”
Lu Jiaxi hadn’t grasped his meaning, and Rong Tang, sitting across the table, glanced at Mu Jingxu with a strange expression.
Ke Hongxue elaborated, “With the mansion burned down, where will the Fifth Prince’s residence be? He’ll be sixteen after New Year, and by tradition, he should leave the palace and establish his household. Yet now the Board of Astronomy claims he has ‘evil spirits that could harm the Emperor’s star,’ and the eminent monk Huimian has disappeared……”
He paused and asked, “Has the matter of the Fifth Prince leaving the palace been shelved? At his age, staying in the palace would violate the ancestral rules.”
Only now did Lu Jiaxi understand. He thought for a moment before saying uncertainly, “The Imperial Counsellor visited the imperial mausoleum before the New Year.”
Rong Tang immediately understood.
Su Huaijing asked, “What does that mean?”
Lu Jiaxi answered, “I don’t know for sure, but I heard that the Fifth Prince requested to guard the imperial mausoleum to rid himself of the evil spirits, thus avoiding disturbing His Majesty.”
As soon as he finished, the table fell silent.
After a long pause, Ke Hongxue chuckled softly, raising his wine cup and saying to Mu Jingxu, “Senior, it seems your little disciple doesn’t need your guidance anymore.”
It was only then that Rong Tang snapped out of his usual lazy, indifferent state.
He remembered the snowfall from a year ago. He and Su Huaijing had gone to Ke Hongxue’s residence to warm themselves by the fire and drink tea when they first heard this rumour about the so-called “evil spirits.” He had felt a strange unease at the time.
Why hadn’t the mainframe punished him?
If Yuerong had fallen and drowned, Rong Tang would have felt searing pain all the way across Song Garden.
But in the past year, Sheng Chengli had broken his leg, Ke and Mu had stopped aiding the protagonist, the Duke Xian’s mansion had burned down……
Each of these events weakened the male protagonist’s position. Why hadn’t the mainframe punished him?
Was it because these events hadn’t actually affected Sheng Chengli, or was it because the mainframe was losing control over him?
Rong Tang couldn’t make sense of it, but both possibilities seemed plausible.
He frowned slightly, and Su Huaijing asked, “What’s wrong?”
Rong Tang hesitated before asking, “Did you see Sheng Chengli at the palace banquet?”
As soon as the name was mentioned, Su Huaijing’s mood soured, but he paused and asked patiently, “What does Tangtang want to say?”
“His leg…” Rong Tang continued, “Is it really broken?”
Su Huaijing nodded. “It’s broken.”
When he entered, he glanced again and noticed that Sheng Chengli was limping.
Rong Tang, however, felt not the slightest bit of joy from this information.
The imperial mausoleum was an important setting in the original storyline, and naturally, it also served to aid Sheng Chengli.
Within the mausoleum resided an elderly eunuch, who had served Emperor Mingzong in his younger years. Bent over and expressionless, he seemed to anyone who looked his way like nothing more than an old eunuch, keeping watch over the emperor’s tomb, spending his days in the company of coffins and ancient lanterns, awaiting the day the earth would cover his neck as he was buried alongside the dead.
But in the world of novels, such hermits were often hidden masters.
Although this figure appeared to be just an old eunuch, his martial skills were exceptional. In the original plot, the male protagonist met him when he was sent to guard the tombs as punishment and, in doing so, learned life-saving martial arts.
In this lifetime, however, Sheng Chengli had voluntarily chosen to visit the mausoleum, though Rong Tang was unclear whether his purpose was to seek out this master.
What he did know was that Emperor Renshou had not actually delivered an ultimatum to Sheng Chengli; this move by the male protagonist was more a strategic retreat to advance.
This shrewdness was beginning to align with Sheng Chengli, the one who orchestrated Yuerong’s death in Song Garden. Yet, it was not quite the same as the Fifth Prince, who sent a table of dishes over in Shaohua Palace.
Rong Tang remained silent for a moment, before Su Huaijing squeezed his hand and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Rong Tang shook his head, “Just a bit tired.”
A shadow flickered in Su Huaijing’s eyes, and he asked, “Shall we go home?”
Rong Tang was about to nod but then thought better of it. “Let’s go back to Yong’an Lane. Have Shuang Fu inform Mother that we’ll stay there until the Lantern Festival before returning.”
On the seventh day of the new year, officials of the Dayu were due back in court. Su Huaijing had been temporarily appointed as Imperial Censor during the emperor’s banquet. Once all the necessary paperwork was in order, he would formally take office after the Lantern Festival.
Meanwhile, Rong Tang took a moment to glance at the system space, where thick black fog churned on one side, and dark storm clouds rolled on the other.
There were a few things he couldn’t make sense of.
First, what did these two warring clouds in this space of consciousness represent, and what would happen to him once their battle concluded? Second, how could the system’s mainframe—or what he understood as Heavenly Way—be so biased and still claim the authority to decide the fate of a minor world? Third, did Sheng Chengli possess outside help, or had he regained memories of his past two lives? And if so, how much of those memories had returned?
His mind was a tangled mess. Before leaving, Rong Tang turned his head to glance at Ke and Mu, who stood side by side. A deep furrow creased his brow, and a deeper suspicion arose.
Had they truly given up on Sheng Chengli?
The best-case scenario was that the system’s mainframe had lost control over Rong Tang and had failed to punish him, but if that wasn’t the case……
His leg would one day be healed by the master, and the burning of Duke Xian’s mansion would only serve to hasten Sheng Chengli’s journey to the mausoleum.
So why hadn’t Ke Hongxue and Mu Jingxu’s betrayal resulted in any repercussions for Rong Tang?
And what about Mu Jingxu’s death in the previous two lifetimes…?
Rong Tang hadn’t given it much thought before, but now he couldn’t avoid it.
If Ke Hongxue had long suspected Mu Jingxu and Su Huaijing’s identities, why hadn’t he unified their camps sooner? And why had he waited until Mu Jingxu’s death to reveal this irreversible, potentially devastating truth to Su Huaijing?
What’s more, had Mu Jingxu known about this “frankness” before his death? Had he agreed to it?
Wouldn’t he have suspected that his death would hasten Su Huaijing’s descent into darkness?
Mysteries piled up one after another, and Rong Tang pursed his lips, feeling as though he were walking on insubstantial clouds, with nothing firm beneath his feet.
“Tangtang.” The sun shone brightly over the long street, its light reflecting off the snow on the eaves. Su Huaijing held his hand, his voice as gentle and indulgent as ever: “Don’t let your mind wander while you walk.”
He didn’t ask what Rong Tang was thinking, but squinted up at the sky and said, “The sun is especially good today.”
The sunlight was indeed warm. Don’t think about the future, or the past, or the present sun will feel wronged.
Rong Tang paused, glancing up at the halo of light overhead, and for a moment, the mysteries trembled.
He had an inexplicable sense.
This wasn’t the kind of vortex that drags a person into darkness. It was the deepest part of night before dawn.
The night concealed everything, making all traces disappear.
But wait a little longer, and the sun would rise over the eastern mountains, banishing all shadows.
