Warning: mentions of torture, gore.
The Son of Heaven’s birthday was a cause for celebration across the land.
It also marked the tenth year of the New Dynasty’s calendar, and Emperor Renshou placed great importance on the occasion. One need only look at a single brick in the Ministry of Rites to see it. Young Excellency Lu had been working tirelessly for months.
Multiple banquet halls were set up in the palace. The main hall was reserved for the imperial family, first-rank officials, and foreign envoys. Rong Tang had no interest in joining the commotion, and Mu Jingxu and Su Huaijing’s ranks were not high enough for an invitation. Instead, they sat in a side hall, enjoying a rare moment of ease.
Every word and action at the banquet was observed by the eunuchs. Some guests smiled sincerely, while others wore masks.
Rong Tang glanced at Mu Jingxu’s freshly changed white robes and the cloak Ke Hongxue had brought into the palace. Suddenly, he had no appetite.
Yet he still had to put on a show with the other officials by expressing gratitude for the emperor’s kindness and celebrating the dynasty’s prosperity. It was tedious.
Guests were seated according to strict hierarchy. Rong Tang sat before a bowl of soup, took a couple of token sips, then set it down. His gaze swept the hall until it paused on a particular figure. He glanced at Su Huaijing, silently asking for confirmation.
Su Huaijing followed his gaze and saw Qin Pengxuan rising to his feet, seemingly about to excuse himself.
He observed for a few seconds before nodding at Rong Tang.
The decree granting Sheng Chengming a fief had been issued two days prior. After the Longevity Festival, he would depart for his new domain.
Rumour had it that the newly promoted Concubine Yi and Senior Official Zhang had fiercely opposed the decision, even arguing with Sheng Chengming in private.
But the Second Prince was resolute. He refused to remain in the capital and wade through its murky waters. His Majesty, moved by his filial devotion and sense of propriety, granted him the title of “Rui” to signify imperial favour.
Rong Tang watched Qin Pengxuan leave the side hall. For the first time in three lifetimes, he found the so-called useless heir somewhat agreeable.
In the original novel, Earl Wukang’s rebellion took place in autumn, though not during the Longevity Festival celebrations.
But in this life, circumstances had shifted. Two days ago, Su Huaijing received word that Earl Wukang had already placed spies within the palace and planned to assassinate Sheng Xuyan after the banquet.
Success was uncertain, but Rong Tang found himself tempted to lend a hand… whether for Su Huaijing, for Mu Jingxu, or simply to vent his long-held frustrations.
Or perhaps for the innocent lives lost in the previous dynasty. Those who should have lived.
The banquet stretched from dawn until dusk. As they departed, Rong Tang cast a glance back at the glittering palace, still alight like an unending dream.
The princes emerged from Shaohua Hall, with Sheng Chengming leading the way. His cheeks were tinged red. Clearly, he had been drinking heavily.
Amidst the sea of eunuchs and maids, one figure trailed behind, steps unsteady, soon left far behind by his brothers.
Rong Tang withdrew his gaze indifferently. Walking beside Su Huaijing, he followed the tide of departing officials, blending into the sea of high crowns and court robes, as if he had nothing whatsoever to do with the Fifth Prince of Dayu.
Su Huaijing glanced back briefly before taking Rong Tang’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.
Rong Tang understood and responded with a faint smile.
Earl Wukang’s rebellion marked a critical turning point in the novel, shifting the focus from early palace intrigue to later political manoeuvring. For the male protagonist, Sheng Chengli, it was an opportunity sent from the heavens.
But in this life, for Rong Tang, it was merely an amusing spectacle.
He had no desire to clean up the capital’s filth, nor did he need to scheme for Sheng Chengli’s benefit as he had in his past lives.
Earl Wukang was doomed to fail. Sheng Chengli had returned from the imperial mausoleum before the Longevity Festival. He would undoubtedly have his own plans.
But none of it truly concerned Rong Tang or Su Huaijing. What interested Rong Tang more was the imperial physicians’ diagnosis after tonight.
Surely, Sheng Xuyan wouldn’t get through this birthday entirely unscathed?
With that thought, Rong Tang left the palace in silence. The capital remained vibrant. There was no curfew during the Longevity Festival, and the streets were ablaze with lanterns. Fireworks erupted above the city walls, scattering fragments of starlight across the night sky.
Seated in the carriage, Rong Tang asked, “When do you think the news will break?”
Su Huaijing replied, “Three days from now, after the Longevity Festival, before the foreign envoys depart.”
Rong Tang raised an eyebrow. “Why then?”
Su Huaijing placed a tray of candied fruit before him, wordlessly urging him to eat something after skipping the banquet. “An assassination attempt on the emperor’s birthday is an ill omen—it implies his rule is illegitimate. Sheng Xuyan would never allow such a stain on such an important day.”
Rong Tang bit into a piece of candied fruit. “Then why not wait until after the envoys have left?”
Su Huaijing replied, “If a minister rebels on the emperor’s birthday, it’s treason. Punishable by the execution of nine generations. It would also stir unrest among the people.
“But if His Majesty, in his generosity, invites foreign princes, princesses, and envoys to celebrate the Longevity Festival, only to be targeted by assassins during the banquet, then it becomes a matter of national security. The perpetrators can be framed as enemies of the state, stirring diplomatic tensions. That would give him justification to detain the foreign delegations and demand reparations.”
The carriage slowed suddenly. Su Huaijing paused, then continued, “After all, it would be difficult for Earl Wukang to bypass palace security alone. If he acts during the banquet, it would be perfectly reasonable to suspect outside involvement.”
Rong Tang hesitated before asking, “Did you do anything?”
Su Huaijing’s lips curled into a rare, genuine smile. “Tangtang, are you asking if I helped Earl Wukang?”
Rong Tang nodded.
Su Huaijing replied, “Any overt actions would be too easily traced. I don’t take such risks.”
At most, he had passed along some half-truths, misleading Earl Wukang into believing tonight was the perfect opportunity. The palace was bustling with guests, the guards overwhelmed. The ideal moment to strike at Emperor Renshou.
Nothing beyond that.
But Rong Tang knew Su Huaijing too well.
With his temperament, there was no way he had truly refrained from adding fuel to the fire.
The scars on Mu Jingxu’s back remained vivid in his memory. The bloodstained white robes, washed clean and left to dry, still hung in the courtyard. More than once, Rong Tang had caught Su Huaijing staring at them in silence.
How could he possibly have done nothing?
Seeing his concerns, Su Huaijing smiled, gently holding Rong Tang’s hand. His voice was soft and even, his tone calm and unhurried as he said, “Tangtang, do you know that some wounds, if not treated properly, may seem no different from ordinary ones at first and even heal quickly? But over time, they fester little by little, rotting from the inside until they reach the bone marrow. And then, one day, they erupt. By then, it’s too late, and death comes within days.”
Rong Tang was momentarily stunned and almost blurted out: Tetanus.
Su Huaijing continued, “Earl Wukang’s rebellion has nothing to do with me, and I had no part in treating His Majesty’s injuries. Whether it’s today or sometime in the future, His Majesty was bound to meet his end. But I keep thinking. If he were to die just like that, merely overthrown by a usurper, murdered by his own son, or betrayed and poisoned by a concubine…”
The main villain gave a faint smile, his expression oddly innocent as he murmured, “It wouldn’t be enough.”
No, the emperor had to experience it all: being cast down from his throne, abandoned by those closest to him, betrayed by his own flesh and blood, turned against by his ministers… And only then, step by step, would he be made to suffer in body as well.
Whipped, his fingers crushed, his face burned, his tendons cut, his limbs severed, his eyes gouged out, his body reduced to a living husk…
Then, he would be thrown among venomous creatures… in a pitch-dark dungeon, at a bustling marketplace, or atop the city walls where banners fluttered high. Day after day, he would be forced to endure despair, able to hear the people’s voices yet never see their faces. Their murmurs, their scorn… until he was reduced to nothing more than a wretched animal, left to die under the open sky.
Otherwise, how could he avenge his father and da ge’s deaths? Otherwise, how could he repay his san ge for the shattered bones and crisscrossing scars on his back?
Su Huaijing’s smile remained warm and gentle, devoid of any trace of darkness.
He only sought justice for his family. He wasn’t some irredeemable villain.
No one in this world could punish Sheng Xuyan. No law existed that could be applied to a reigning emperor. So, he would take matters into his own hands. It was only natural, only reasonable. No one had the right to object.
Rong Tang gazed into his eyes for a long moment before softly adding, “And his crimes must be made public.”
Su Huaijing was slightly taken aback, looking at him in surprise. Rong Tang continued, “The history he distorted. It must be set right.”
The frail and sickly Shizi, despite two years of recovery, still looked far paler than an ordinary man. Yet in the midst of the bustling night, with people and carriages moving along the long streets, his eyes shone with a clarity so piercing, it was almost mesmerising.
Su Huaijing’s heart stirred. He lowered his head slightly, about to kiss him. But just then, the carriage, which had been moving at a slow pace, came to an abrupt halt. The horse neighed loudly as Shuang Fu pulled the reins with a sharp “Whoa—” A commotion stirred in the crowd.
Rong Tang, caught off guard, lurched forward from the momentum and tumbled straight into Su Huaijing’s chest.
It didn’t hurt, but at that moment, the main villain—who had remained utterly composed even when speaking of his father’s murderer—suddenly darkened. His expression turned ice-cold.
The curtain was abruptly lifted from the outside, and an unexpected figure nimbly leaped into the carriage. The boy instantly put on a pitiful expression and pleaded, “Xiao ge, please help me! Drive away, quickly! My wicked uncles want to marry me off at ten-years-old to gain family benefits. I beg you, take me with you! If you don’t, they’ll sell me to a sixty-year-old da jiejie as her little husband—wuwuwu!“
Shuang Fu, who had been driving the carriage, blinked in surprise. Then, realizing what was happening, he immediately turned the horse’s head and steered them swiftly away from the street.
Su Huaijing’s already cold expression turned even frostier.
Rong Tang, his face still buried in Su Huaijing’s chest, suddenly felt too embarrassed to lift his head.
Su Huaijing said, “Shuang Shou would never be fooled.”
Rong Tang: “…”
Su Huaijing: “Shuang Shou is still a didi.”
Rong Tang mumbled in protest, “…Stop talking.”
A loyal servant follows his master. The main villain was implying that he was an idiot.
So unfair…
Rong Tang took a long moment to recover, rubbing his aching forehead before finally straightening up in his seat. His gaze fell upon the unexpected intruder in their carriage.
The boy, who looked to be around ten years old, was thin but fair and strikingly beautiful. His eyes were a perfect pair of phoenix eyes. He still wasn’t fully matured, yet already hinting at an almost unnatural allure. Once he grew older, he would undoubtedly become a walking disaster.
He wore an ordinary commoner’s outfit from Dayu, but it was clear he wasn’t used to it. The right lapel was tucked the wrong way, the left sleeve was a little too short and awkwardly twisted into his inner clothing. His head was devoid of any accessories, with long black hair cascading freely. His beauty carried an almost androgynous charm.
His large, watery eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he timidly looked around the carriage. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, hands resting on his knees, he gazed up at them like an abandoned puppy—helpless, pitiful… and oddly familiar.
—Yet, apart from his eyes, not a single feature resembled Su Huaijing.
Rong Tang stared at him blankly for a while before tilting his head and repeating, in a soft, almost eerie voice, “Wicked uncles…?”
Su Huaijing: “…”
