Chapter 107

Rong Tang had been amazed by Su Huaijing more than once.

It wasn’t just his knowledge, words, or deeds, but his character… and even more so, his transformation.

He stood frozen for a long time, listening to Su Huaijing speak, yet his thoughts drifted to the ending that hadn’t been written in the original text, only filled in by the system:

The emperor, devoid of love for his people; the monarch consumed by hatred; Dayu plunged into chaos and war; the people reduced to misery; the timeline crumbling into oblivion.

Such stories, when displayed in light symbols and pixels, seem distant, difficult to grasp as real. But when one steps into the narrative, becomes a speck of dust in the wheel of history, and witnesses futures and pasts unwritten in the original story, it’s impossible not to feel moved… or hopeful.

Rong Tang thought, Su Huaijing has truly changed.

From the flower-picking festival and the question, “If you abandon the people, can the people still betray you?”

To the seven stormy days in Jiangnan, where he pored over ancient texts and scoured granaries, saving every life he could reach.

From his arguments about kingship, people, education, and production during the carriage ride before the New Year’s Eve banquet, to the present, in the gentle dust of spring, where the first inklings of equality glimmer within the thousand-year-old bonds of tradition.

As a beneficiary of the feudal monarchy, as someone privileged by gender inequality, and even as a main villain driven by vengeance, Su Huaijing’s growth and transformation were stunning.

Rong Tang stood beneath the camphor tree, gazing at Su Huaijing’s face as the dappled light filtered through the swaying branches. His thoughts flickered to another moment, fleeting as a shadow.

It was an autumn day, overcast with gathering clouds. A storm loomed over the capital.

In front of Earl Wukang’s manor, the silent long street had swelled with a crowd of commoners. Horses with proud heads galloped from the palace as the Third and Fifth Princes arrived to oversee the confiscation of the property, flanked by the assistant minister of the Imperial Court of Justice, who held a roster and annotated names.

One after another, people were escorted out by the Imperial Guards. Ke Hongxue stood protectively beside Mu Jingxu, shielding him from panicked servants and concubines.

This marked Sheng Chengli’s formal entry into the power struggle, a scene Rong Tang could not ignore.

The sixteen-year-old protagonist was coming into his own. The gloom and low self-esteem born of years in the cold palace had left his eyes, and under the overcast sky, he seemed no different from the other princes favoured by imperial grace.

Rong Tang, prone to frailty, felt his body ache faintly with the changing weather. He lingered on the fringes of the crowd, watching briefly before deciding to leave.

But just then, Qin Pengxuan was shoved forward.

The once-indulgent noble, now stripped of dignity and grace, stumbled awkwardly under the guards’ push.

Rong Tang had little interest in him, casting only a cursory glance before turning away… until he noticed Qin Pengxuan’s expression change. His hand trembled, pointing weakly towards the crowd before dropping. His lips moved as if to speak, but no sound emerged.

Intrigued, Rong Tang followed the direction of his gesture and saw him. Su Huaijing was hidden amongst the crowd.

It was their first meeting.

The capital’s sky was dim, heavy with ink-like clouds. In front of the grand estate, the scene was part desolation, part fervour.

Rong Tang, standing on the crowd’s edge, saw a youth both strikingly beautiful and chillingly cold.

Cold and damp, like a spectre emerging from the depths of a dark pool. Even the faint smile on his lips did little to ease the eerie unease of his presence.

Without need for the system’s prompt, Rong Tang knew who he was.

Their meeting perfectly matched the original text’s description of Su Huaijing: a venomous serpent lurking in the shadows.

Yet something felt amiss.

He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, only that his already-aching body was overcome with a sudden, unbearable pain, his heart gripped as if in a vice. His breaths came short and ragged, as though death was moments away.

Unexplained and never to recur.

When he next saw Su Huaijing, the damp shadows were gone. All that remained was a handsome face and the clarity of moonlight in his bearing.

So Rong Tang reasoned that the fleeting glimpse before the earl’s manor must have been an illusion. Su Huaijing was never that dark and brooding.

He was always meant to be as he was now—bathed in the warmth of spring sunlight, a bright and determined young man pursuing his vision of equality and prosperity.

Rong Tang found himself lost in thought, staring. Su Huaijing smiled and asked again, “Well?”

The soft, lilting tone was the hook he always used when playfully coaxing Rong Tang.

Rong Tang hesitated, considering his response.

He understood what Su Huaijing was asking for. Pleading for. More desire to live. A few more years to witness the grandeur of an age with him.

Rong Tang wanted to agree.

He thought perhaps he could.

If Heavenly Way was truly impartial, if such a Su Huaijing ascended to the throne without the small world collapsing—

Then what of Rong Tang?

Was he bound to the protagonist or to the world itself?

He once believed his tether was solely to Sheng Chengli. But the system’s two competing clouds, his stable health after abandoning missions, and even the protagonist’s repeated setbacks made him question.

What if… his connection had always been to this world?

And if so, what would his ultimate fate be?

Su Huaijing broke his silence. “Tangtang?”

Perhaps the clamour was too loud, or perhaps the spring light too entrancing.

Rong Tang looked into his eyes, dazed for a moment, and nodded almost involuntarily.

“I’ll try,” he said.

To live a little longer, to see him fulfil his dreams.

Su Huaijing’s eyes lit up, and he immediately brightened with joy. He opened his mouth, ready to speak, when Rong Tang quickly added, “But nothing in life is absolute, and some things don’t necessarily come with hard work. You… shouldn’t set your hopes too high.”

Su Huaijing was momentarily taken aback. It was hard to pin down what he felt—some combination of confusion and heartache. The flicker of joy he’d just experienced was immediately dampened by Rong Tang’s words.

Rong Tang, the one with the frail health, was now the one advising others not to have too much hope.

Su Huaijing sighed silently, then chuckled softly. “Alright.”

He paused before adding, “But Tangtang, you know as well as I do. There’s nothing absolute in this world. There’s always room for a turning point.”

Rong Tang glanced at the two opposing clouds in the spatial system. Even as he warned himself not to entertain wishful thinking, he couldn’t help but hope for a reversal of fortune.

They waited for a while. Finally, Ke Hongxue finished chatting with the students from Linyuan Academy. With a casual nod, he escorted Mu Jingxu out of the crowd. Lu Jiaxi quickly followed behind his two senior schoolmates.

As the crowd thinned, Ke Hongxue lowered his arm, unfolded a folding fan, and lazily waved it a few times. With a smile, he asked, “Excellency Su, now that you’ve been promoted, isn’t it time you treated us to a meal?”

Su Huaijing replied, “Where do you want to go?”

“Liujin Parlour,” Ke Hongxue suggested. “And after dinner, we can catch the afternoon show at Purple Jade Troupe. It’s just starting then.”

Ke Hongxue’s air of effortless charm and libertine behaviour was on full display.

Fortunately, neither the Imperial Censorate nor the Imperial Court of Justice had pressing matters that needed Su Huaijing or Mu Jingxu’s immediate attention. Together with young Excellency Lu, they made their way from the examination grounds to Shuiling Street, leisurely strolling from Liujin Parlour to Purple Jade Troupe… stealing a moment of serenity amidst a busy life.

The theatre was abuzz with tea and melon seeds in the audience, and stories of life unfolded in opera on stage.

Su Huaijing had barely settled in his seat when he leaned over and whispered to Rong Tang that he needed to step out for a moment. After exchanging a look with Mu Jingxu, the two left together.

Lu Jiaxi enjoyed the performance, and Ke Hongxue appreciated it with a connoisseur’s eye. Rong Tang glanced briefly in the direction Su Huaijing had left, then withdrew his gaze and busied himself peeling melon seeds while listening to the melodious singing on stage.

Then, the candlelight around them suddenly dimmed. The curtains on the stage drew partially closed, and mischievous laughter erupted from the audience. Those seated in the front row craned their necks for a better look.

“What’s going on?” Lu Jiaxi asked, puzzled.

Rong Tang turned his head and caught sight of the programme list written on the side of the stage. A wave of panic seized him.

But Ke Hongxue calmly sipped his tea and, in his usual unhurried tone, said, “Just one of Purple Jade Troupe’s specialties. Watch and see.”

Rong Tang felt like he was sitting on pins and needles. He kept glancing toward the exit, even considering searching for Su Huaijing, but just as he thought of leaving, an ambiguous, flirtatious moan sounded from the stage.

Rong Tang: “…”

The system, belatedly catching on, asked: [Host, isn’t this the storybook you read last year?]

Rong Tang: “…” Stop. Just stop.

He truly had no idea that Dayu’s customs were this… liberal!

How on earth had a risqué storybook been adapted into an opera and performed on stage? Fortunately, Su Huaijing wasn’t here. Otherwise, Rong Tang wouldn’t know how to explain this.

Lu Jiaxi’s face was flushed red, and his gaze darted away. Rong Tang, meanwhile, didn’t dare to look anywhere, especially as the occasional cheers and shouts of encouragement rang out from the audience.

Feeling entirely out of place, Rong Tang turned to look at Ke Hongxue, curious about how the man managed to sip tea and watch the performance so composedly, without the faintest hint of embarrassment.

But when Rong Tang shifted his gaze, he noticed Ke Hongxue’s indifferent expression was merely a façade. While he appeared to be enjoying the show, his gaze would occasionally flicker toward the doorway, as though waiting for someone to return.

At that moment, Rong Tang suddenly realised something. Ke Hongxue, who always seemed at ease and in control, was actually the one who was perpetually left behind.

He had been chasing all this time, yet never managed to catch up.

–

In a private room in the front yard of Purple Jade Troupe, a servant showed the guests in before withdrawing.

Su Huaijing sat down, poured a cup of tea for Mu Jingxu, and gestured for him to take a seat.

“Do you have something to discuss with me?” Mu Jingxu asked.

Su Huaijing smiled. “Xiong zhang, earlier today, outside the examination grounds, I told Tangtang something.”

Mu Jingxu looked at him, waiting.

“I said that you once wanted to establish schools for women, and I also mentioned that one day, women in Dayu might have the opportunity to enter officialdom.”

Mu Jingxu hesitated briefly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. But soon, his expression softened, and he smiled faintly, with a hint of relief. “Xiao Qi, you’ve grown.”

Su Huaijing offered no comment but continued, “However, as I was saying this, I suddenly remembered something you said before—that when you supported Sheng Chengli, you told Ke Hongxue it was to choose a wise ruler for the realm.”

Mu Jingxu’s expression subtly tensed, but he remained silent.

Su Huaijing pressed on, his tone calm but probing. “Was that really just an excuse?”

There was a faint smile on his face, yet an undercurrent of doubt lingered. “If it wasn’t just a pretext… if you poisoned Sheng Chengli, then who is the ‘wise ruler’ you truly wish to support? Or rather, why are you supporting someone else at all?”

“In terms of status and qualifications, no one in this vast imperial family surpasses you. You walked back to the capital from Lingnan and stood before the imperial throne. How could you lack the ability to restore order and take the throne yourself?”

It wasn’t blind faith in his xiong zhang that led Su Huaijing to this conclusion. He simply understood that, had their imperial father passed away and his da ge perished in battle, the rightful ruler of the land should have been the man sitting before him… had he not chosen to go south to Jiangnan.

Su Huaijing could once read most people like an open book. But then Rong Tang appeared, and suddenly, nothing seemed as clear.

Even after Rong Tang had shared everything with him, Su Huaijing realised his xiong zhang had never been entirely forthcoming.

While he didn’t expect complete transparency, he felt that this particular secret, which seemed to weigh heavily on Mu Jingxu, was something he ought to know.

Mu Jingxu remained silent for a long while. Just as Su Huaijing thought he wouldn’t answer, he finally spoke softly.

“Have you ever been to the northern frontier?”

Su Huaijing was momentarily startled before answering, “No.”

“To the north of the frontier lies the Dasui Kingdom. The Emperor of Dasui and his Empress were childless for many years. But ten years ago, following a great war, a crown prince appeared in the Dasui palace.”

The afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky as Mu Jingxu continued, “I once caught a glimpse of that child from afar. His features… resembled someone I once knew very well.”

Su Huaijing’s eyes widened in shock, almost believing he had misheard.

Mu Jingxu lowered his head, gazing at the tea leaves floating up and down in the teacup. His voice was soft and faint: “I don’t know if what I’ve done is right. I don’t even know if it’s worth it, or if I should have done it. I have no idea whether he’s willing to return, or if doing this is akin to what the rebels did back then, risking handing the country over to others.”

“But I thought, as long as he’s willing to come back, I should help clear the obstacles in his path. It’s only right… to fulfil the responsibilities of a san shu*. Don’t you think?” Mu Jingxu asked.

(*TN: third paternal uncle)

These words had been buried in his heart for years, unspoken to anyone. Now, having said them aloud, he finally felt a sense of relief.

“Ah Xue always complained that I wasn’t honest with him, that I didn’t open up to him. But Xiao Qi, do you know? I’ve watched loyal followers die for me. I’ve gone to the northern frontier to touch the bones of da ge and Major General Wei. I’ve broken my own bones; sent loyal ministers to prison with my own hands, and severed my uncle’s tendons. Do you know how someone like me, who started with nothing, reached this point?”

“I’ve got countless blood on my hands: mine, my friends’, my family’s, my enemies’… I’ve lost track. How could I justify dragging someone else down with me?”

Lil’ Bro Mu was as cold and unfeeling as always. Even now, his voice betrayed little emotion.

“When I first entered the academy, the students all said I was as unfeeling as wood. But do you know what Ke Hanying said?”

Su Huaijing was momentarily speechless, shaking his head in a daze.

Mu Jingxu managed a faint, unfamiliar smile. “He said I wasn’t unfeeling, but like the icy snow of a mountain. Pure and proud. He said that only someone equally pure and kind would be worthy of my company.”

Mu Jingxu was silent for a long time before gently shaking his head. “But I’m not. He is.”

Ke Hanying is the icy snow on the mountain. The radiant springtime of the human world.

And I am just a walking skeleton.

Were it not for a relative in a distant foreign land, I should have long since buried myself with the soldiers who followed me south.

Jingxu, Jingxu. A name that speaks of good times.

But in this lifetime, I’ll never again bask in good times. I am destined to keep company with the rats in a dark prison, until my white bones are buried under the earth, blanketed by snow, and these decades of existence are hastily brought to an end.

The author has something to say:

Don’t panic – for now, at least, these four are headed for a happy ending! Don’t worry! I’m the author, I’ve got them!