Chapter 138

They called it punishment. But in the end, who was really punished was up for debate.

The journey from the other manor to Tangjing Residence took over an hour. The roads near the outskirts of the capital were a bit rough, but once the carriage entered Yu capital, the streets smoothed out. Rong Tang was utterly drained, and by that time, both his and Su Huaijing’s clothes were a complete mess. Another scent now lingered in the air, overtaking the delicate sandalwood. The carriage was filled with the traces of their indulgence under a moonlit sky, where even the stars bore silent witness.

He held back, held back as much as he could. But in the end, he still couldn’t bear to truly hurt him.

Not long after Su Huaijing, moved by a moment of kindness, undid the sash, the young prince finally let go of the tension that had gripped him. His eyes fluttered shut, and he curled up in the seat, fast asleep with his feet still shamelessly resting on the main villain’s lap, utterly unconcerned with whether Su Huaijing lived or died.

Su Huaijing’s expression shifted more than once before settling into a helpless sigh. He quietly opened the window, letting the early spring wind blow in to clear the air… and his mind.

He deliberately ignored his body’s reaction. Pulling the blanket snugly over Rong Tang, he leaned against the carriage wall and began to think.

There was much to consider: court politics, harem intrigue, the affairs of the common people…

But the first thing that surfaced in Su Huaijing’s mind was Rong Tang’s recent odd behaviour.

Tangtang had insisted nothing was wrong, but he was never one to speak plainly. The truth had to be pried from him, layer by layer, often yielding only a few elusive, half-coherent phrases.

Su Huaijing understood that Rong Tang had his own burdens and reasons. He never held it against him. But when these things began to visibly weigh on Rong Tang, he could no longer remain passive.

He had long suspected that Rong Tang had access to some hidden channel… a way of communicating with another world. In Su Huaijing’s mind, it was something like “Heaven.”

The stillness that sometimes filled the air, the sudden shifts in the wind. They all seemed to lend credence to that theory.

But this was different from the matter with Sheng Chengli. Sheng Chengli was real… flesh and blood. Based on Rong Tang’s reactions and some cryptic comments, Su Huaijing could guess that there had been a history between them, somewhere out of his view.

But this “communication” was entirely conjecture. Rong Tang had never revealed a thing. Not even Su Huaijing dared to say with certainty that the guess was valid.

And yet, there were no other explanations that felt closer to the truth.

So… if it really were the case, what would it mean?

Perhaps the other side had sent him some sort of mission, which would explain the increasing frequency of communication and the need to repeatedly confirm the details.

But then, how to explain the hollow emptiness Tangtang seemed to feel afterward?

Was it that the task was too cruel? Or that it went against his wishes?

If neither were true… then could there be a second possibility?

He’d lost contact.

Maybe he was trying repeatedly because he couldn’t get through. And that was why he looked so lost every time.

Su Huaijing privately believed this was the more likely scenario.

But if that were true, what did it mean that whoever or whatever he had been in touch with suddenly couldn’t be reached?

His gaze sharpened as he looked out the window at the long avenue, where the crowds had mostly dispersed and only the occasional patrol of imperial guards passed by. A faint unease stirred in his chest.

It didn’t feel like a good sign.

If the contact was cut unilaterally, either someone had abandoned him. Or something had gone wrong.

Given how persistent Rong Tang had been, refusing to give up, the person or entity on the other end must have been very important to him. He would never want anything bad to happen to them.

Su Huaijing closed his eyes slightly and tapped the air with his fingers, random and aimless.

His mind had calmed. But for the first time in a long while, he felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness.

With Sheng Chengli, with Sheng Xuyan, at least there had been a target. He could always figure out a countermeasure.

But with something this intangible, something he couldn’t even confirm was real. What could he possibly do to ease Tangtang’s burden?

Su Huaijing looked out the window again. This year, the Waking of Insects fell on the fifteenth of the second month. A round moon hung in the sky, shedding soft light across the land. He stared at it and murmured, almost to himself, “Would you… be willing to contact me?”

There was no subject. He wasn’t even sure who he was asking. The words had just slipped out of his mouth, unthinking. He hadn’t expected an answer. He simply let his eyes fall shut, intending to drift into a shallow sleep and revisit the problem another time.

But then, strangely, the wind outside seemed to still for just a second.

Su Huaijing’s eyes snapped open.

Hovering in the carriage was a small, cloud-like orb of light. White. A bit bigger than a fist. If held between two hands, it would fit perfectly for tossing back and forth like a toy.

Its edges looked soft… like a cat’s fur… floating in the air. It seemed like it would feel good to the touch.

Su Huaijing stared at it in silence, brows faintly furrowing. Without a sound, he shifted closer to Rong Tang and gently tucked the blanket more securely around him, leaving only half of his face visible for breathing.

The movement seemed to startle the light. Su Huaijing saw its edges stiffen for a moment, as if it had turned around. Or perhaps not at all. Despite being just a sphere of white light, with no discernible front or back, it somehow gave the impression that it had been looking at Rong Tang… and was now looking at him.

The difference was in the feeling it gave off.

The former gaze had carried a strange, inexplicable sadness. The one now… was wary. And surprised.

They stared at each other in silence for a long time.

Then, the orb of light spoke. Tentatively, hesitantly:

“You… can see me?”

If Rong Tang were awake at this moment, he would be shocked beyond belief.

The system voice he always heard could imitate human emotions, but never the human voice itself. So what he heard was always mechanical: disdain, indifference, arguments, tantrums, sarcasm, silent sulking. No matter how immature the emotion, once filtered through that rigid tone, it all ended up sounding calm and flat.

But now, inside the carriage, the voice that rang out had the tone of a young child.

Like a human child of three or four… soft, tender, with a hint of a lisp as if just learning to speak. The kind that tugs on your heartstrings. Even the words of suspicion came out sounding adorably cautious.

Su Huaijing was stunned.

The youngest child he’d ever interacted with was Yuanyuan. But Yuanyuan was far too unruly to be called a proper child, and the two of them didn’t get along. The main villain had washed his hands of child-rearing without a hint of guilt, leaving everything to Ke Hongxue and Mu Jingxu.

But this orb of light was something he’d thought he needed to stay on guard against, something that might at any moment take Tangtang away. It suddenly began speaking in such a soft, sticky voice…

For a moment, Su Huaijing had no idea what to say.

The system was clearly running out of patience. It was never a particularly even-tempered thing to begin with. When Su Huaijing took too long to reply, it turned its head back around and resumed watching its beloved cabbage.

That’s when Su Huaijing confirmed. It did have a front and a back. Even if he couldn’t see its eyes, it clearly wasn’t looking at him anymore.

After a moment of thought, Su Huaijing said, “I can see you.”

“Hmph! I figured as much!” the system huffed, giving a dramatic twitch as if shooting him a glare before turning away again.

Just as Su Huaijing was about to ask it something, he heard it grumble, half-choked with indignation: “You’re really not human!”

Su Huaijing: “…?”

System: “Who treats Tangtang the way you do? Happy—you go to bed. Unhappy—you still go to bed. Jealous? Sleep. Sad? Still sleep! What is this, huh? Still not weaned? Can’t sleep unless you’re in Tangtang’s bed?!”

Su Huaijing: “…………?”

The main villain had never, in his entire life, been scolded like this. Especially not by a voice that sounded like a three-year-old. He was left speechless, almost choking on air.

But the system wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.

“Tangtang treats you so well, and you just keep bullying him. You know his body’s weak. First time doing it, and you went for six whole hours. Even with the massage after, that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a beast.”

Su Huaijing: “…”

Fantastic. He’d just been called a beast by someone who wasn’t Tangtang. And that someone apparently knew exactly how they did it. Worse yet, that someone looked and sounded like a little kid.

How utterly absurd.

System: “And don’t even get me started on the eavesdropping. Doing it is bad enough. What’s with the smug attitude? You think just because Tangtang won’t scold you, you can tie him up? You know why it’s called a hair ribbon, right? You know where it’s supposed to go, don’t you? Want me to tie you up and see how you like it?!”

It was like getting hit by a verbal machine gun. Su Huaijing couldn’t find a single opening to speak.

And honestly, he wasn’t sure what would even be appropriate to say. He had no shame arguing with Yuanyuan, but now he was facing some vague ball of light… faceless, nameless, constantly bringing up Tangtang like some doting family member. He didn’t dare speak lightly.

He stayed silent for a long while. Just as he opened his mouth, the other voice spoke again… lower, more sullen this time.

“Be good to Tangtang. He’s had a really hard life.”

Its voice dropped further, heavy with emotion.

Su Huaijing watched as the little glowing orb drifted down, hovering near Tangtang’s cheek. It paused a finger’s length away, as if it longed to come closer but didn’t dare. It just floated there quietly, watching him.

The carriage jolted slightly. The blanket shifted. Maybe Tangtang was uncomfortable, or maybe he sensed something. His hand reached out from under the covers.

The lightball hesitated for two seconds, then floated over without hesitation, nestling itself into Tangtang’s palm and gently nuzzling in. It radiated pure dependence, as if it had done this countless times before and knew just what to do.

Even asleep, Tangtang’s fingers stirred, subconsciously brushing along the light’s soft edges.

Su Huaijing realised this wasn’t the time to speak. This strange little creature wouldn’t hurt Tangtang. So he just sat there, watching them silently.

Eventually, the light slipped free from Tangtang’s hand and floated back up. It turned to Su Huaijing and spoke again, this time with a strong nasal tone… like it was holding back tears.

“There’s a lot Tangtang can’t say. So stop asking so many questions. Just trust him, and do what he says.” It paused, sounding a little steadier. “Tangtang likes spicy food. He doesn’t like sweets. He only eats them because you like them. He was supposed to live in a wonderful, healthy world. With loving family and friends. A place where happiness came easy, without effort. He doesn’t complain because he knows it won’t help, and he trusts you because he thinks you’re a good person. So don’t hurt him.”

“And about what Tangtang’s mother said about heirs. If you so much as think about it, I swear I’ll float into your room in the middle of the night and chop off your… your bits. That way you can stop bullying him altogether.”

Then, after that vicious declaration, it started nagging again:

“And stop snooping when he’s reading. Peeking isn’t civilised. Tangtang’s shy. Don’t keep teasing him either. Getting him all flustered like that isn’t civilised. If he wants to drink, let him drink. He didn’t marry you just to be controlled. What’s with banning spicy food, banning wine, banning opera. Are you a tyrant or something?”

Under the drifting moonlight, the glowing orb just kept talking. It didn’t care whether Su Huaijing was listening. It just wanted to say its piece. And once it was done, it hesitated, clearly nervous, then said in a small, unsure voice:

“If Tangtang still wants to see me, tell him… don’t go to bed too early on the fifteenth next month. Tell him to wait for me. But if… if he doesn’t want to see me anymore…”

It went quiet for a long, long time.

When it spoke again, its voice was muffled, tinged with barely held-back tears.

“Then I won’t come out.”

Su Huaijing: “…”

Such a pitiful little kid.

He asked gently, “Who are you? What should I tell Tangtang about you?”

System: “…Tongtong.”

“As in tong, for ruling?”

“Mm.” the system replied.

Su Huaijing nodded.

The carriage was nearly at Yong’an Lane. A thick cloud slid over the moon, casting a shadow. The little glowing orb in the carriage started to dim, its shape growing fuzzy and indistinct.

Just as it leaned in, once more trying to nuzzle Tangtang’s face, Su Huaijing couldn’t hold back anymore and reached out.

“Sorry—just one question…”

“Are you Tangtang’s child?”

The author has something to say:

Let it stick. Let it stick! Don’t say anything!! (Screaming hoarsely!)