Chapter 112

Rong Tang paused, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

While waiting for the next round of dishes, Lu Jiaxi chatted casually about the arrangements for the Longevity Festival.

Su Huaijing, catching the shift in Rong Tang’s expression, felt a fleeting sense of unease. Seemingly nonchalant, he squeezed Rong Tang’s wrist and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Rong Tang instinctively shook his head. “Nothing.”

But he quickly hesitated, unable to hold back. “Dasui is sending their crown prince? Has it been confirmed?”

Su Huaijing’s heart sank slightly. He made a calculated guess and replied gently, “If the Ministry of Rites has received the message, it’s likely settled. But the festival is still months away, and unforeseen changes could arise.”

Switching his tone, he asked directly, “What is it that worries you, Tangtang?”

Rong Tang opened his mouth but didn’t respond immediately.

In this world’s setting, Dayu is the most powerful nation. It was prosperous, culturally advanced, and far superior to its neighbouring states.

Dasui, however, is not a “small country.”

Situated along Dayu’s northern border in an unforgivingly cold region, Dasui’s people are hardy and its territory vast. Yet its harsh climate leads to prolonged food shortages, short life expectancies, and frequent border skirmishes over resources… occurring almost annually.

Ten years ago, the deaths of the former crown prince and General Wei were triggered by Dasui’s newly crowned monarch.

Given Rong Tang’s place in this world, he should naturally harbour resentment toward Dasui. But the young crown prince…

By his calculations, the boy was barely ten years old. How much could he truly understand? Surely, he shouldn’t be entangled in the political fallout from a war that predated him by a decade.

Rong Tang dwelled on this for a while. Su Huaijing, waiting patiently, showed occasional flickers of suppressed irritation which betrayed his darkening mood.

By the time the meal ended, much of the freshly served food had found its way into Lu Jiaxi’s stomach. As they left the Liujin Parlour and wandered down Shuiling Street, the summer night breeze offered some respite.

Rong Tang seemed to have resolved his thoughts. Turning to Su Huaijing, he said, “If possible, send envoys to the border to receive them.”

The weight in Su Huaijing’s heart finally lifted, landing with a dull thud.

A faint, enigmatic smile appeared on his lips as he replied without hesitation, “Alright.”

Rong Tang was taken aback, glancing at Su Huaijing in surprise. His ready agreement was unexpected.

In some respects, had Dasui not instigated the earlier conflict, the crown prince’s death wouldn’t have led to the irreversible chain of events that followed. For Su Huaijing to so readily agree to what might seem like a whimsical request was indeed puzzling.

Noticing Rong Tang’s astonished gaze, Su Huaijing chuckled softly and said matter-of-factly, “The crown prince of Dasui is very important to me. I need to meet him.”

Rong Tang froze, blindsided by this revelation. “How important?” he asked.

The bustling street, illuminated by brilliant lanterns, glimmered as if it were still daylight in Dayu’s wealthiest city.

Su Huaijing’s voice dropped. “He might be my kin.”

Rong Tang stopped in his tracks, staring at Su Huaijing in shock.

He rarely masked his emotions around Su Huaijing, so it wasn’t hard for the latter to discern the situation from his expression.

Su Huaijing smiled faintly, though his eyes remained cold, and asked softly, “There’s been a complication, hasn’t there?”

Rong Tang hesitated, uncertain whether to nod.

After a long silence, he resumed walking and offered a vague yet system-compliant answer. “It’s rare for a crown prince to visit a foreign country.”

Especially when those countries, while evenly matched in some respects, have a history of enmity.

Dasui’s significance in the original story had been overshadowed by its focus on Sheng Chengli and the Princess of Yue. The crown prince of Dasui had died en route to the Longevity Festival, before the story even reached its climax.

He’d perished on foreign soil. Dasui’s monarch had sent an envoy to demand justice from Dayu’s Emperor Renshou, along with a demand for ten border cities in compensation.

A crown prince’s life in exchange for ten cities. It was hardly excessive.

Yet as the protagonist of the story, Sheng Chengli ensured his future territory wouldn’t fall into enemy hands. Following his advice, Dasui not only failed to gain the cities but ended up compensating Dayu with hundreds of fine horses and silver.

Dasui’s internal strife had cast its young prince as a sacrificial pawn. His death on Dayu’s border was perhaps the greatest service he could render to his nation.

Politics and diplomacy are cruel games. To rulers, the lives of citizens (not to mention the children) are mere trifles. Rong Tang felt a deep sense of disgust but could do nothing to change it.

This was meant to be the protagonist’s moment of triumph. Even if he wanted to save the young crown prince, the main system would never permit such interference.

It wasn’t his concern.

Thousands of Dayu’s warriors had fallen under Dasui’s iron hooves. The current turmoil was merely the result of Dasui’s own internal conflict. It had nothing to do with Rong Tang.

This was how the system rationalised it to him.

But now Su Huaijing had said the boy might be his relative.

Rong Tang stood in stunned silence, his thoughts spinning. But it was not just because of this revelation.

He tried to detach himself, viewing the story from an utterly rational perspective.

At eight, he lost both parents and believed he was alone in the world.

At eighteen, a distant, unseen relative perished abroad in a power struggle.

At nineteen, he learned only after attending the funeral that the deceased had been his xiong zhang.

…

Every step toward Su Huaijing’s eventual corruption was meticulously foreshadowed.

Rong Tang dared not imagine how many more of Su Huaijing’s kin might be scattered across the world, only to be revealed posthumously.

In his daze, the lights of Yu capital blurred together, forming an all-consuming blaze.

It wasn’t the fire at the Duke Xian’s mansion, but another fire. It was one buried deep in Rong Tang’s heart, the mere recollection of which would give him nightmares.

The thousand-year-old bell of the Buddhist temple crashed to the ground, ringing a single chime that had no place in the dead of night. Thousands of ancient Buddha statues were bathed in red by the flames, their faces contorted as if in pain, yet still gazing down upon the world with compassion.

A thousand-year-old temple was reduced to ashes in a single day. Black clouds lingered over the summit of Tuolan Temple for seven days, as though the gods and Buddhas themselves had come to chant sutras, mourning the temple and the human world.

Sheng Chengli couldn’t find Huimian. He returned to the capital, and in the two months since then, the crisp autumn air and dry conditions had ignited a fire in the temple.

Yet even now, the eminent monk Huimian was nowhere to be found. Not even a single burnt corpse was left in the smouldering ruins.

In the past, Rong Tang neither thought about nor dared to wonder what had caused the fire. But now, he couldn’t stop himself. Who had set the blaze?

The oppressive heat of midsummer didn’t stop Rong Tang from breaking out in a cold sweat.

Young Master Lu stood cheerfully outside a jewellery shop along the bustling street, choosing gifts for his mother and sisters. Every so often, he pulled his two senior classmates aside to ask for their advice.

All around, the streets were tranquil and peaceful. It was the kind of prosperity one might expect to see in a painting.

The Dao is ruthless, and Heavenly Way is unkind, treating all things as mere straw dogs.

But this phrase was originally meant to convey impartiality… that Heavenly Way treated everyone equally.

And yet, while it looked down upon millions of people with equal detachment, why…

Why single out Su Huaijing?

Why subject him to hellish despair, only to lift him up slightly, then mercilessly cast him down again? Lift him up a little more, and then throw him into an even deeper abyss?

Was Su Huaijing some irredeemable sinner?

In that moment, Rong Tang felt utterly bewildered. The look in his eyes as he gazed at Su Huaijing was one of innocent confusion, like a child taking faltering steps in an unfamiliar world.

This expression struck a deep chord in Su Huaijing’s heart. He couldn’t bear it.

He didn’t know what Rong Tang was thinking about, but instinctively, he felt it had something to do with him.

Without hesitating, Su Huaijing embraced Rong Tang right there on the street, his voice low and soothing: “I’m here. I’m here, Tangtang. Don’t be afraid.”

His words overlapped, clumsy yet tender, as he tried to comfort him.

Rong Tang’s vision blurred. It was not because he wanted to cry, but because the world itself seemed indecipherable.

He rested quietly in Su Huaijing’s arms for a moment, then steadied himself and gently pushed him away. “I’m fine,” he said.

He continued, “If he’s one of your relatives, try to keep him in Dayu. Dasui isn’t a good place to end up.”

Even if he escaped this time, there was no guarantee he would avoid another carefully orchestrated assassination attempt.

Su Huaijing didn’t press for details. He simply nodded, trusting Rong Tang unconditionally. “Alright.”

Rong Tang glanced ahead and saw Mu Jingxu being forced by Lu Jiaxi to try on a jade hairpin. He said, “Find a better doctor for Excellency Mu. Once this matter is settled, persuade him to resign.”

“Alright,” Su Huaijing replied.

Rong Tang lowered his gaze, his mind racing. Was there anything else he needed to say? After a long pause, he added, seemingly out of nowhere, “When you have time, let’s visit Tuolan Temple to offer incense.”

In his previous lives, he had never encountered Huimian. Yet in this life, they had crossed paths. And this time, Huimian had claimed they were fated and gifted him a Buddha statue.

Who could say what the connection was… or if it had anything to do with Su Huaijing?

Heavenly Way did not feel just. The thought bordered on blasphemous as Rong Tang looked up at the sky.

Nebulae veiled the heavens, the moonlight shone like a silver ribbon, and the mortal world thrived below. The harmony between heaven and earth felt so serene it resembled an illusion.

Would the line of this world be destroyed if Su Huaijing ascended the throne? Or would Heavenly Way collapse if Sheng Chengli failed to do so?

But what was the point of a Heavenly Way like this?

After countless lifetimes and so many years, this was the first time Rong Tang truly felt he might be considered cruel.

Su Huaijing studied his expression, a dull ache spreading through his chest. A faint yet chilling hostility flickered in his eyes.

He wanted to make Tangtang happy, but he couldn’t seem to find a way to distract him.

Finally, after some thought, he said, “Did you know? Madam Qian had a miscarriage six months ago.”