Chapter 104

The effectiveness of coaxing was vividly demonstrated in Rong Tang’s state at the end. He slumped against the edge of the tub, barely able to lift his arms, and gasping for air like a fish out of water, his mouth opening wide as if on the verge of suffocation.

Su Huaijing leaned over him with a lazy, unhurried demeanour, using a wooden ladle to pour warm water over Rong Tang’s back, ensuring he wouldn’t catch a chill.

The sound of water trickling was soothing, gentle. It took Rong Tang a long time to recover, his vision slowly clearing from the dazed blur that had obscured the world around him.

Su Huaijing lifted his arm and tilted his neck upward. The water followed the delicate lines of his collarbone, streaming over his chest and rolling down to his waist, leaving dark, meandering trails against his pale, radiant skin.

Rong Tang passively allowed himself to be handled, but as clarity returned, the memory of his own actions hit him. His ears flushed red, and his gaze darted away briefly. Summoning his pride, he glared at Su Huaijing, ready to voice his reproach… only to hear the man calmly declare, “Tangtang was the one who provoked me first.”

As he spoke, Su Huaijing continued to pour water over him, his movements meticulous, almost tender, as if tending to a rare and cherished flower. His tone was light, his expression serene, as he asked softly, “Does Tangtang gege plan to play the-villain-who-cries-victim?”

The imposing air Rong Tang had been trying to muster instantly deflated, leaving him speechless.

He thought about it carefully and realised he truly had no grounds to refute Su Huaijing’s accusation.

After all, he was the one who had recklessly baited him, even going so far as to invite him to bathe together.

The fact that Su Huaijing had refrained from actually stripping and joining him in the tub was, perhaps, a testament to his deeply ingrained sense of restraint and decorum. A reminder not to be impulsive or overstep boundaries.

Ultimately, Rong Tang had brought this upon himself.

He was the instigator.

The young prince blinked, momentarily dumbfounded, before resigning himself. He slumped over the edge of the tub, sinking into a state of quiet surrender.

He couldn’t outargue Su Huaijing, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t frustrated.

Watching this, Su Huaijing’s lips curved in a faint smile. The flow of water shifted back to Rong Tang’s shoulders and spine as he gently reminded him, “Didn’t you specifically ask me to stay behind? What was it you wanted to say?”

By now, Su Huaijing’s mood had lightened considerably. Whatever jealousy or irritation he might have harboured earlier had been swept away by the memory of Rong Tang’s bold, voluntary kiss.

So when he saw Tangtang huddling in the tub like a quail, seemingly wanting to vanish into the water, Su Huaijing magnanimously offered him an out.

Rong Tang froze for a moment, his dazed mind finally emerging from its oxygen-deprived stupor and resuming its usual sharpness.

He raised his head, meeting Su Huaijing’s gaze. After a brief hesitation, he asked, “Why did you suddenly hate Sheng Chengli so much today?”

The explanation Su Huaijing had given him earlier had been evasive, skirting around the heart of the matter. Even if Rong Tang had initially been too distracted to notice, by now he could see the inconsistencies.

It was no secret that Su Huaijing disliked Sheng Chengli, but that dislike had never escalated to the point of murderous intent before.

It wasn’t until Rong Tang had mentioned the dream that Su Huaijing’s discontent had transformed into outright hostility, even spawning thoughts of eliminating Sheng Chengli entirely.

At that time, Rong Tang had managed to redirect and suppress those impulses, persuading Su Huaijing to leave the matter to him instead.

But today, something was different. Could Su Huaijing really have decided to kill Sheng Chengli after merely catching sight of him in the courtyard?

And more intriguingly, his questions were laced with a peculiar edge of curiosity.

It was as though, despite reaching the limits of his endurance, Su Huaijing still felt compelled to seek Rong Tang’s consent before acting—an uncharacteristic restraint, waiting for approval before executing his thoughts.

But this, too, seemed out of place.

Sheng Chengli, still unformed and insignificant, posed no immediate threat. He had yet to fall within Su Huaijing’s web of vengeance, let alone inspire caution or defense.

The fact that Su Huaijing harboured murderous intent yet refrained from acting…

Rong Tang couldn’t help but suspect that, deep down, Su Huaijing understood he couldn’t afford to act.

Even if his understanding wasn’t fully conscious, there was a sense of an almost instinctive awareness… that killing Sheng Chengli would lead to irreversible consequences.

The question Su Huaijing posed to Rong Tang served two purposes: first, it sought his approval, and second, it evaluated the potential fallout.

If the ‘irreversible’ consequences were manageable, like a mantis sacrificing a limb, Su Huaijing might have proceeded without hesitation.

But when he asked if Rong Tang was threatening him, it was because the answer Rong Tang gave was one Su Huaijing was unwilling to hear—an answer that made him hesitate.

He hesitated because he didn’t want to bear the weight of those consequences.

Rong Tang’s heart softened, yet his thoughts kept circling back. Why would Su Huaijing ask such a question? It was unlikely that simply seeing Sheng Chengli once would provoke such loathing—a loathing so intense it demanded eradication.

“Did you meet someone today?” Rong Tang asked.

Su Huaijing paused briefly, a faint smile curving his lips. “Why do you ask?”

That reaction alone confirmed Rong Tang’s guess.

Someone had crossed Su Huaijing’s path. Someone had said something that turned his mild distaste for Sheng Chengli into outright hostility.

Who was it? And what was said?

Rong Tang’s brows furrowed slightly, but before he could answer his own question, Su Huaijing preempted him: “I met someone and heard something nonsensical.”

Rong Tang’s lips tightened as he looked at the impeccable smile on Su Huaijing’s face. After a moment of hesitation, he asked softly, “Was it Qin Pengxuan?”

His voice was barely above a whisper, tinged with an unconscious mix of panic and comfort. It was an attempt to steady himself, even though he already suspected the truth.

In Su Huaijing’s eyes, such a reaction all but confirmed his suspicions.

He blinked slowly, wiping away a stray drop of water from the corner of Rong Tang’s eye, and asked with a smile, “What are you afraid of, Tangtang?”

“I’m not afraid,” Rong Tang denied flatly.

“Is that so?” Su Huaijing murmured, his tone light. “Your guess is correct. Today, Wukang’s Young Lord came to the Imperial Censorate to find me. He asked me a peculiar question.”

Rong Tang immediately tensed. “What question?”

Su Huaijing’s smile deepened. “He asked if I had any birthmarks on my body.”

The mugwort water had long cooled, and Rong Tang began to feel the chill seep in.

Su Huaijing handed him a towel, guiding him to step out of the tub and warm himself by the fire in the inner chamber. He replaced the tub with fresh, warm water, urging Rong Tang to soak again.

Throughout this, Rong Tang’s expression remained composed, though he refrained from asking further questions.

Yet a deep ache had taken root in his heart.

He had already felt sorrow seeing Su Huaijing at Fengyue House. But hearing Su Huaijing recount such an incident so casually left him with an even greater sense of desolation.

Perhaps history itself had gone awry, forcing a man destined for greatness to endure such trials.

Rong Tang swallowed the words he wanted to ask, afraid that anything he said might expose truths that would deepen Su Huaijing’s suspicions.

But Su Huaijing turned to him with a smile and asked, “Why doesn’t Tangtang ask me how I responded?”

Soaking in the warm water, droplets clinging to his face, Rong Tang looked up at him.

Su Huaijing met his gaze, his expression earnest, as if etching each word into Rong Tang’s mind. “I told him I have no birthmarks on my body.”

Rong Tang froze, lips parting slightly in stunned disbelief, his clear eyes reflecting his astonishment.

Su Huaijing chuckled. “If Tangtang doesn’t believe me, shall I strip and show you?”

Rong Tang: “…”

Whatever worries had been plaguing him dissipated instantly under Su Huaijing’s irreverent attitude. Rong Tang rolled his eyes and sank deeper into the water, allowing it to wash away the dark brown traces of mugwort that lingered on his neck. Yet his gaze kept flitting toward Su Huaijing, as if seeking a clearer answer.

Su Huaijing spoke again. “Tangtang, do you remember the wanli grass found on the drowned palace maid in Song Garden?”

Rong Tang looked puzzled. “What does that have to do with Yuerong?”

“There are many types of hallucinogenic substances in this world, each with distinct effects,” Su Huaijing explained calmly. “I can’t fathom why Qin Pengxuan would think I had a birthmark, let alone take the matter seriously enough to question me. My guess is that he may have been under the influence of such substances, mistaking someone else for me, or even fabricating an image of me in a hallucination. Illusions are not reality, after all; discrepancies are inevitable, and the mark he envisioned could never exist on my body.”

Su Huaijing maintained an even tone, methodically rinsing away the traces of mugwort water from Rong Tang’s skin as he spoke. But Rong Tang’s heart grew heavier with every word.

He lowered his head, staring at his reflection in the water for a long time, until he had no choice but to acknowledge a painful truth.

Su Huaijing knew.

Though he couldn’t possibly grasp the whole picture, he had undoubtedly noticed inexplicable anomalies in the world around him.

Rong Tang, Sheng Chengli, Qin Pengxuan…

Each of them bore traces of something beyond the comprehension of ordinary people.

And if one traced these anomalies to their source, the most plausible explanations lay in the interplay of past lives, dreams, and reality.

Rong Tang had once hinted at the latter. For someone like Su Huaijing, drawing the connection to the former was a natural progression.

There was no need for Su Huaijing to fabricate Qin Pengxuan’s question. If not for that inquiry, the thought might never have crossed his mind.

Only…

Rong Tang rose, took the towel, dried himself thoroughly, changed into his undergarments, and headed into the inner chamber.

It was already late. Su Huaijing used the remaining water to clean himself off.

Rong Tang nestled into the bed, gazing up at the ceiling. A myriad of excuses Su Huaijing could have used to deflect or mislead him flashed through his mind.

Li Panyan had mentioned it. Li Changfu had said something similar. Su Huaijing could even fabricate a story about being spied on while bathing at the Li Mansion…

But he hadn’t. Instead, he was forthright and candid, admitting the possibility of an illusion.

More than that, he might even understand the source of such illusions.

Even if these events hadn’t occurred in this lifetime, Su Huaijing had pieced it together.

So, he’d told Rong Tang to calm his guilt, reassure him… and made it clear that nothing untoward had ever transpired between him and Qin Pengxuan.

Whether in a forgotten past life or the current one, there had never been any inappropriate entanglements between them.

Rong Tang sighed softly, and in that moment, everything clicked. He understood why Su Huaijing had been so intent on killing Sheng Chengli today.

Su Huaijing had guessed how he would meet his end.

“Being too clever isn’t always a blessing.”

Extreme wisdom often leads to harm. Su Huaijing had been bound by this truth his entire life.

The sound of running water outside the screen came to a halt. Su Huaijing stepped into the chamber, intending to tuck Rong Tang’s blanket and bid him goodnight. However, Rong Tang shifted further into the bed and said, “Sleep here.”

Su Huaijing paused briefly. Rong Tang looked at him earnestly and said, “I’m cold. Stay and keep me warm.”

The winter was almost over, and now he was feeling cold…

Su Huaijing chuckled lightly. He stepped out to extinguish the outer lanterns, blew out a few candles in the chamber, and returned.

The room darkened abruptly. Removing his shoes and socks, Su Huaijing climbed into bed, slipping under the covers. In a low voice, he asked, “Tangtang, how far can you coax me?”

He was genuinely curious.

Knowing full well that he harboured feelings and desires for him, Rong Tang still dared to say these things. Was it boundless trust in him, or simply an underestimation of his restraint?

Rong Tang curled his lips, reading Su Huaijing’s thoughts, and replied softly, “This is as far as it goes. You know my health isn’t good.”

”…You’re threatening me again,” Su Huaijing chuckled softly.

His warmth spread through the bed. Rong Tang instinctively edged closer to him, nudging the blanket toward Su Huaijing’s side. Without hesitation, Su Huaijing pulled him into his embrace.

The warmth enveloped Rong Tang, making him freeze for a moment before drowsiness started to set in.

Clinging to the last thread of clarity, Rong Tang whispered, “You really can’t kill him.”

He deliberately avoided mentioning Sheng Chengli by name, wary of provoking Su Huaijing further.

The room fell silent. After a long pause, Su Huaijing sighed helplessly. “I’ll listen to you.”

Relief washed over Rong Tang. Moments later, he heard Su Huaijing ask, “Tangtang, am I truly not in your dreams?”

On the day of the first snowfall, Su Huaijing had posed the same question. Back then, Rong Tang had replied, “You’re in my reality.” Now, after a brief pause, he nodded. “You are.”

Su Huaijing pressed, “What am I like?”

Rong Tang remained silent, recalling those two lifetimes that unspooled like old film reels. Finally, he whispered, “You are you.”

You are salvation itself.

You are the one I gravitate toward even when I’m helpless, even when defiance feels impossible.

You are the quiet refuge beyond high-pressure missions and intricate schemes.

You are the crossroads where paths repeatedly converge and part—a tree under which there’s always a pot of sake, shared beneath moonlight or the glow of dusk.

Rong Tang concluded softly, “You are irreplaceable.”