Rong Tang had not been entirely unprepared for the system’s eventual departure.
Maybe it had completed its mission and moved on to assist the next host, or perhaps it had been recalled by the mainframe for failing to carry out its duties.
Anything was possible. The system growing weaker by the day, its periods of dormancy stretching longer and longer. These were the clearest signs. Still, Rong Tang hadn’t expected it to happen then, not on New Year’s Eve, not the very day after Sheng Chengli’s eye was gouged out.
He only noticed something was wrong when Su Huaijing began making lewd jokes with reckless abandon.
In the moment, he’d been too caught up to register it. But once his thoughts cleared and the system failed to pop up with its usual sarcastic commentary, suspicion began to creep in.
From the moment Sheng Chengli’s eyeball was unboxed, the system had gone completely silent. He had no idea why.
His silly little system couldn’t even establish contact with the mainframe. Rong Tang genuinely didn’t know where it might have gone. Even if, by some miracle, it made it back to the main system space, what kind of fate awaited a system that couldn’t even get its host to complete a mission?
Time passed. Winter garments made way for spring robes. Willow fluff once again floated through the skies above Yu capital, and Sheng Chengxing had begun preparations for the next flower-picking festival.
Sometimes, Rong Tang would sit in the courtyard reading a storybook, letting his gaze drift toward the ever-shifting clouds above.
Light filtered through treetops and clouds, scattering softly over the world. Every now and then, he’d call out to the system, or retreat into that faceless system space and zone out alone.
Then Su Huaijing would come home. They’d have dinner, walk together through the streets and alleys of the capital, watching willows sprout tender green shoots, and pear blossoms drift across the courtyard.
Zhang Baoshan’s case inevitably impacted Sheng Chengxing. Xia Jingyi had lost his most trusted aide, and Sheng Chengli naturally became the prime target of the Third Prince’s faction.
But he never appeared in public, so no one could touch him.
As for how Su Huaijing managed to slash Sheng Chengli and take one of his eyes—he never explained, and Rong Tang didn’t press for answers.
On the day of Jingzhe, the Awakening of Insects, Rong Tang and Su Huaijing went to dine with the Eldest Princess and Wang Xiuyu at a villa in the outskirts.
The Eldest Princess’s habits had changed. She now dined in the evenings as well. The villa still bore no name. Su Huaijing joked half-heartedly that the repairs on her mansion on Xuanwu Avenue were finished, and asked when she planned to move back in.
The Eldest Princess shot him a cool glance, set down her chopsticks, folded her napkin, and quietly asked, “The white tiger in the Imperial Beast Garden has come of age. When do you plan to return the beast to the mountains?”
Su Huaijing only smiled, offering no further comment. Duanyi and Wang Xiuyu continued living at the villa.
After dinner, Su Huaijing accompanied Duanyi to the study, while Rong Tang stayed behind to chat with Wang Xiuyu. She looked much healthier than she had in the Duke Ningxuan’s palace. She still managed the household, but without a husband’s indifference or a side consort’s pettiness to endure, her relationship with the Eldest Princess had grown surprisingly cordial.
Yet, there was hesitation in her expression, as if she had resolved something but couldn’t quite take the final step. Trapped behind a door she wasn’t sure she could open.
Rong Tang poured her a cup of tea and asked gently, “Is there something you wanted to talk to me about, Mother?”
Wang Xiuyu hesitated, then tentatively asked, “If I were to separate from the Duke… would it affect you and Huaijing?”
Rong Tang paused, momentarily surprised, then felt a wave of tenderness sweep over him.
He had always known his mother loved him, but he hadn’t expected that her love would extend to include Su Huaijing. It was enough to make her hesitate in seeking her own freedom.
It wouldn’t affect him at all. His reputation had long been ordinary at best. The label of “dimwitted Shizi” had followed him for years without ever truly harming him. Even if Wang Xiuyu and Rong Mingyu officially separated, it wouldn’t change the fact that Rong Tang was the legitimate son of the Duke Ningxuan and the Empress’s nephew.
His position was unshakable. No one cared if an invalid’s parents got along or not.
Wang Xiuyu’s concern likely stemmed from Su Huaijing’s current position in court. His rank was beneath Rong Mingyu’s, and he had to face him in official matters. If she offended Rong Mingyu, would it cause trouble for Su Huaijing?
Rong Tang didn’t answer right away. Instead, he asked softly, “Have you thought it through, Mother?”
There were things Wang Xiuyu couldn’t say outright, but after a brief pause, she probably understood that being sent away from the estate after the birth of a side consort’s child had dealt her a wound that hadn’t healed.
After a moment of struggle, she said, “The palace is complicated and demanding. I’ve grown used to the peace and quiet here. When I returned for the Spring Festival, just one month was already exhausting.”
Rong Tang smiled. “Then why not divorce him?”
The question clearly caught Wang Xiuyu off guard. Her eyes widened in shock. “Divorce?”
Rong Tang’s voice was gentle. “You’ve been with father for over twenty years, always dutiful and measured. For you to even consider leaving his side… you must be at your limit. Why bother clinging to that last shred of face or sentiment? A clean break would be far better.”
Wang Xiuyu looked at him in stunned silence, clearly not expecting such words from her son.
After a long pause, she asked, “You’re advising me to divorce your father without even asking what happened?”
Rong Tang countered, “Isn’t it enough that you’re tired?”
She nodded.
“Then that’s reason enough,” he said.
“Do whatever you feel is right, Mother. Don’t worry about me and Huaijing. We left the estate long ago. There’s no need to shoulder any more burdens.”
Wang Xiuyu stood frozen for a moment, then murmured, “So that’s why?”
“Not entirely,” Rong Tang replied.
Wang Xiuyu looked at him, her eyes filled with confusion.
Rong Tang lowered his voice. “I have a lingering fear that one day, father will cross a line he can’t come back from. If I’m no longer here when that happens, and you get caught in the fallout… I won’t be able to rest in peace.”
The words shook her. She immediately grabbed his hand, silencing him from saying more. After a long moment, she said with difficulty, “Let me think on it.”
Rong Tang didn’t press. But in that moment, something flickered in his gaze.
—Wang Xiuyu had not denied it.
He hadn’t exactly been subtle. And Wang Xiuyu was no fool. One quick thought and she’d understand. What could be considered “irreversible” for a man of Rong Mingyu’s status, someone just beneath the emperor himself? Only crimes worthy of capital punishment, etched at the very top of the judicial code.
Crimes that made your head roll.
And yet, when Rong Tang spoke those words, she didn’t deny them. The only thing she stopped was him, for speaking of his own death.
This was the eleventh year of Qingzheng. A year when many old friends, companions, and allies would not make it through.
Wang Xiuyu, Mu Jingxu, Li Changfu…
He had once thought Wang Xiuyu’s death was caused by the Qian family. But thinking back on it now… Rong Mingyu wasn’t beyond suspicion either. After all, Wang Xiuyu had never guarded herself against him.
As Rong Tang considered the possibility, a flash of cold light passed through his eyes. His long-idle mind began to work again, quietly turning over the question: what leverage did Rong Mingyu have that could bring him down in one strike… without hurting innocents in the process?
Mother and son sat in silence. After a while, Wang Xiuyu gently tugged his hand and changed the subject.
“How are things with Huaijing?”
Rong Tang was momentarily caught off guard, pulled from his dark thoughts. He answered truthfully, “Very good.”
Wang Xiuyu looked at him, as though something was on her mind, but didn’t speak immediately.
Rong Tang frowned slightly. “What is it, Mother?”
Wang Xiuyu hesitated, then asked, “Has Huaijing ever said he wanted children?”
He blinked, stunned for a moment, then chuckled and shook his head. “Never.”
But Wang Xiuyu still looked uneasy. In a low voice, she said, “Huaijing only married you because life at your uncle’s house had become unbearable. He needed a place of refuge. But now he’s entered the court, and I’ve heard people say he’s becoming quite favoured. Excellency Su, the Censorate’s Deputy Censor-in-Chief, is on the rise. His Majesty seems to be keeping him close…”
She paused mid-sentence. Rong Tang didn’t interrupt, just watched her quietly.
Wang Xiuyu went on. “He’s young, healthy… If he ever decides he wants children—”
Rong Tang heard the shift in tone and immediately cut her off. “Mother, are you trying to say that would be understandable?”
A flicker of unease passed through him. He feared she might have been influenced by this era’s ideals—that it was somehow natural for a man to want heirs, or to be emotionally fickle.
His brow furrowed. Wang Xiuyu paused, then quickly refuted, “Of course not. What I meant was, back then you said he was the one you loved. That you’d adored him since you were young, admired him for years, and married him against all odds. That’s youthful affection, I understand. But if he ever does change his mind, if he ever wants children… don’t you dare wrong yourself.”
Rong Tang blinked. “And what do you want me to do about it?”
Wang Xiuyu said plainly, “Divorce him.”
Young Prince Rong burst out laughing, dimples showing. “Point taken.”
Wang Xiuyu let out a soft breath of relief. But Rong Tang added with a faint smile, “Still, it won’t happen.”
“In Huaijing’s eyes, I’ll always come first. There’s no way he’d grow distant just because he wants a child.”
Yuanyuan often came over to play with Rong Tang, reading storybooks and fooling around with toys. Su Huaijing would get jealous every time, sending someone to fetch Ke Hongxue, demanding why he hadn’t taken his nephew home yet. Why was the kid always clinging to his husband at Tangjing Residence?
Never mind that, in terms of blood ties, Yuanyuan was clearly closest to him.
No wonder the child didn’t get along with his seventh uncle.
How could a man who once swore he’d die beside Rong Tang betray him now for the sake of an heir?
After so many past deceptions, Rong Tang had learned to see through which words were empty, and which came from the heart.
Still, Wang Xiuyu couldn’t rest easy. Whether due to her own experiences or a clear understanding of how fickle people could be, she gently reminded him again, “It never hurts to be cautious.”
Rong Tang didn’t argue. Instead, he teased, “I know. But if Huaijing ever does decide he wants to marry someone else and have children, I won’t divorce him.”
Wang Xiuyu frowned, genuinely worried that her son might end up trapped in a loveless marriage with his first love.
Rong Tang smiled. “I’ll be the one to cast him off.”
“…!”
Expression unchanging, he added, “I’ll make him return the house, the carriages… everything. Then I’ll hire the best legal team, drag him to court, and make sure he doesn’t walk away with a single coin. I’ll use the compensation to live peacefully and take care of you in your old age.”
He said it with such confidence, dimples showing as he grinned. Wang Xiuyu blinked, then rolled her eyes at him. “You’re a grown man, and still talk such nonsense.”
“Who says it’s nonsense? I’m the most serious man in the world. What’s wrong with wanting to look after you?”
She couldn’t help but laugh, lines around her eyes softening. They chatted a while longer. As dusk fell, she insisted he return to the city to avoid being stopped by the patrols enforcing curfew.
Rong Tang bid farewell and climbed into the carriage. Just as he settled in, Su Huaijing followed him up, unfastening his belt with one hand and leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek, voice low and teasing.
“So… Tangtang fell for me when you were just a boy? Admired me for years?”
Rong Tang was still distracted, trying to swat away the hand that was already misbehaving. But hearing that, his whole body stiffened.
He’d been so self-assured bluffing to Wang Xiuyu. But hearing those same words echoed back by the very person in question, well, anyone would be embarrassed.
He swallowed and tried to sound stern. “You were eavesdropping?”
“I listened fair and square. You just didn’t notice me.” Su Huaijing offered a shameless defense.
Rong Tang glared. “How much did you hear?”
“All of it.” Su Huaijing pressed closer, slipping his hand under his robes. The carriage jolted along the uneven countryside road, and Rong Tang flinched slightly at the impact.
Su Huaijing placed a soft cushion behind him, then leaned in, whispering against his ear, “I heard Tangtang say you were going to cast me off.”
His voice was slow, soft… like a clinging dodder vine, gentle yet insidious, curling its way around nerves and flesh, consuming everything.
Rong Tang retreated until his back hit the carriage wall.
The door was pulled shut. Slivers of moonlight filtered through the gaps in the wood, while incense continued to burn steadily in the burner, its fragrance holy and serene.
Su Huaijing took his time kissing him, undoing the tie in his hair. His fingers brushed a few pressure points before tying the hair elsewhere. Then, with a chuckle, he asked softly:
“How dare you, hm?”
“You said something you shouldn’t have, Tangtang,” he murmured, eyes full of mischief. “There must be consequences.”
