Chapter 144

It was the fifteenth of the fourth month. The little idiot system flew down once again to snuggle up to its host.

Rong Tang did a quick calculation. Its manifestation time only lasted about two ke, roughly half an hour.

He was tempted to ask whether all that fussing over such a short visit was tiring, but in the end, he said nothing. Instead, he smiled and asked, “Did you manage to catch the mainframe and give it a taste of its own medicine?”

In its childish, overconfident tone, the system declared, “Almost! I’ve already scouted all of Yu capital, and I can feel the barrier getting thinner the farther out I go. Once I find a gap, I’ll drag that idiotic mainframe over here and let you beat it to a pulp!”

Rong Tang couldn’t help but laugh, coaxing it gently. “Wow! You’re amazing, Daddy Tong. Thank you,  Daddy Tong!”

“Hehe…” The system blushed and grinned, then scanned the room as though surveying its territory. “Where are the electric lamps I gave you?”

Rong Tang: “…” You cried so hard when you gave them away, and now you’re pretending otherwise?

But what could he do? This was his own little idiot. No matter how much it bluffed or distorted the truth, he could only indulge it.

He patted its little head and replied, “They were too precious, so I’ve put them all away. Just left two out for everyday use.”

The system huffed proudly, grumbling like a buzzing mosquito, “That’s nothing. If they stop working, I’ll just give you more.”

Rong Tang didn’t call its bluff, simply smiled warmly and said, “Thank you, Precious Tong-o.”

The system nestled against the back of his neck, nuzzling affectionately. As its light dimmed, it gradually faded away, leaving Rong Tang alone in the room. A pot of tea sat lukewarm on the table. Outside, the courtyard lay bathed in moonlight under a full moon.

The tea had cooled. The room was empty. In that moment, he found himself oddly similar to Huimian—

Watching people come and go, again and again. Watching the waxing and waning of the moon, over and over.

There was a knock at the wooden door. Su Huaijing stood outside and called, “Tangtang, fancy some supper?”

In an instant, the early summer breeze swept into the courtyard, pausing the drifting clouds. Rong Tang rose and opened the door with a smile. “Alright.”

He had lived through the upheaval of the eleventh year of Qingzheng twice now, and no longer had the heart to involve himself in its chaos.

Whenever he tried to think, his mind would only spiral into those absurd, convoluted tales. In the end, he could only turn to copying Buddhist scriptures to find some measure of peace.

Sheng Chengli had sought him out three times—twice during flower-picking festivals, and once at Tangjing Residence.

The first time, Rong Tang had been so enraged that he fainted on the spot. The following two times, Sheng Chengli had dropped repeated hints and suggestions, all of which Rong Tang coldly ignored, pretending not to understand and deflecting them with a smile.

He wasn’t sure whether Sheng Chengli knew about his rebirth. In both their past lives, the system had imposed limitations; Rong Tang had never once revealed he was a transmigrator. So their bloodless skirmishes were, strictly speaking, mutual tests.

Only when both parties sought answers did such tests carry any weight.

Rong Tang mused: If the soul and body existed on the same temporal plane, then this version of Sheng Chengli, whether from his first life or second, would not yet know Su Huaijing’s true identity as a son of the late emperor.

In the autumn of the twelfth year, a great fire at Tuolan Temple had triggered a massive purge in court. Within two months, the dynasty had changed hands.

Only then did the court officials learn that the loyal and upright Deputy Censor-in Chief, who had stood beside them for years, was in fact the seventh prince of the late emperor.

Yet now, the Dayu Dynasty remained peaceful on the surface. On the day of the Dragon Boat Festival, Rong Tang had even accompanied his zumu to a so-called “family banquet” in the palace.

The officials raced dragon boats on the imperial lake while the noble ladies and children paid their respects to the Empress.

Duanyi went to visit the Empress Dowager, while Rong Tang followed Wang Xiuyu to Fengqi Palace.

The usually solemn and austere palace now held a touch of warmth. All the wooden table corners were wrapped in thick cloth, and the inner hall had been filled with children’s toys.

It was clear how devoted the Empress was to the Eighth Prince.

His Highness was not yet a year old, babbling and charming, crawling around the palace each day.

Rong Tang did not join the other womenfolk but instead sat in a side hall, quietly drinking tea.

A nanny passed by the doorway carrying the Eighth Prince. He glanced over lazily and caught a glimpse of the child’s pure, untainted eyes.

The tea he was drinking had a faint bitterness. Rong Tang frowned, set down his cup, and idly played with a strand of prayer beads, his gaze falling on the smooth, pearl-white bodhi seeds.

The banquet didn’t begin until later in the evening. The court officials and princes gathered in Shaohua Hall to meet the Emperor, while the noblewomen were received by the Empress in Yuxiu Hall.

Rong Tang’s status was somewhat awkward. Although he held a hereditary title, he had never formally joined the ranks of officials.

He was expected to attend the banquet at Shaohua Hall, but unwilling to face Sheng Chengli or Sheng Xuyan, he slipped away and accompanied his mother instead.

The Empress glanced at her younger sister several times, smiling with satisfaction and praising her for raising such a good son.

Perhaps it was because she now had a child of her own. The empress, usually full of stately majesty, now seemed a little softer, gentler. More like a mother.

Rong Tang watched her, a knot forming in his heart, though he didn’t know how or whether to warn her.

Halfway through the feast, a palace maid came in a hurry and whispered something in the Empress’s ear. The usually composed woman spilled a few drops of wine as her hand trembled. She took a moment to gather herself, then rose and left. Everyone stood to see her off.

Wang Xiuyu frowned slightly, watching her elder sister’s retreating figure with an unreadable expression.

The Dragon Boat banquet ended sooner than Rong Tang had expected. The Empress’s abrupt departure from Yuxiu Hall and the Emperor’s obvious displeasure in Shaohua Hall cast a chill over the occasion. As the guests exited the palace, none dared to breathe too loudly, as if a man-eating beast was chasing them from behind.

Rong Tang lingered for a while. Eventually, Su Huaijing boarded the carriage and instructed Shuang Fu to drive. His expression was clouded.

Rong Tang looked at him in puzzlement. Their eyes met for a few seconds.

And then Su Huaijing kissed him, sudden and overwhelming.

Just as things began to spiral out of control and Rong Tang seriously wondered whether he should start keeping balm in the carriage, the wheels rolled over two more streets and came to a halt.

A voice spoke softly from outside the window: “Is this a good time?”

It was Mu Jingxu.

Rong Tang was jolted back to reality. He bit down hard on Su Huaijing, shoved him aside, and scrambled to straighten his clothes.

But the carriage was already a mess.

Su Huaijing gave himself a cursory tidy-up and opened the door, blood still trickling from his lips.

Mu Jingxu paused, clearly unsure whether the carriage was still an option. It was Ke Hongxue, trailing behind, who glanced once and broke the silence. “Curfew’s starting soon.”

Mu Jingxu snapped out of it, composed himself, and climbed in.

Rong Tang’s cheeks were faintly flushed, though whether from embarrassment or annoyance, even he wasn’t sure. He sat on the edge of the seat and studiously ignored Su Huaijing.

That was, until Ke Hongxue teased, half-laughing, “We all know you’re upset, but why take it out on the Prince?”

Rong Tang blinked, then looked at the three of them in confusion.

He could tell Su Huaijing hadn’t been venting, so where was the anger coming from?

Scanning the subtle shifts in their expressions, he slowly regained his composure and asked in a low voice, “What did Sheng Chengli do?”

The question sent another chill through the carriage.

Ke Hongxue looked at him with a complicated gaze, perhaps sympathy or pity. He shook his head. “No wonder Excellency Su was so furious.”

Then he asked, “How were you so sure it was Sheng Chengli?”

“…”

Rong Tang turned silently to Su Huaijing and muttered, “Why are you so childish?”

As fierce as he could be in private, he was utterly quiet now.

Rong Tang sighed, fished a candied fruit from a drawer, and offered it to Su Huaijing. “Ah—”

Su Huaijing stared at him for a moment before obediently opening his mouth and letting the sweet settle on his tongue.

Ke Hongxue clicked his tongue and turned away. This really wasn’t his place. Just a domestic squabble between a young couple.

Rong Tang gently soothed Su Huaijing, then asked again, “So what happened?”

Ke Hongxue asked in return, “Did you notice anything strange about the Empress tonight?”

Rong Tang froze. Something stirred in his memory, and his heart skipped a beat. “Does it have to do with Concubine Shu?”

Everyone looked stunned.

Su Huaijing crushed the candied fruit between his teeth like it was a bone, making creaking sounds.

Mu Jingxu glanced at them but ultimately held his tongue.

Only the unflinching Third-rank Scholar looked thoughtfully at Rong Tang for a few seconds, then smiled and asked, “Prince, do you have eyes and ears within the palace, or are you simply blessed with uncanny foresight?”

Rong Tang said nothing. Ke Hongxue explained, “At the banquet, Sheng Chengxing got drunk and spoke recklessly, boasting that none of the dancers present could compare to the grace and voice of Yangzhou’s Yingniang.”

There is a courtesan quarter in Yangzhou, where the title of “Yingniang” is passed down from one generation to the next.

Twenty years ago, the courtesan who had once enjoyed a brief affair with Sheng Xuyan (and who later became Sheng Chengli’s mother) was Yingniang of her time.

It had once been nothing more than a romantic anecdote, the sort of tale that could be bandied about at banquets without issue.

But once those identities shift, once a love affair becomes a tale of an emperor and a disgraced consort, and that consort’s son now enjoys imperial favour… any seemingly idle remark may trigger a political storm.

As soon as Sheng Chengxing uttered those words, the hall fell into a hush. Sheng Chengli sat upright in his seat, as if he hadn’t heard a thing.

Moments later, even the musicians sensed something was amiss. One by one, they knelt, trembling.

The Emperor of Renshou cast a glance at Marshal Xia, then fixed his gaze on Sheng Chengxing and said coldly, “It seems your brain’s been muddled by wine, women, and wealth!”

He swept his sleeves and left. The entire hall was stunned.

Ke Hongxue remarked, “Sheng Chengxing keeps company with poets and scholars every day. He’s known for holding his drink. Who knows whether those words were a trap laid by someone else, or if he spoke them on purpose.”

Rong Tang furrowed his brows, shook his head and said with certainty, “It was a set-up.”

Ke Hongxue chuckled. “His Highness the Fifth Prince, perhaps?”

Rong Tang hesitated but didn’t confirm it outright.

Su Huaijing stopped chewing the candied fruit as though gnawing on a bone, took Rong Tang’s hand in his, and asked, “Why is it that at the mention of the Empress, you think of Concubine Shu?”

Rong Tang replied softly, “Because of Yuerong.”

Or rather, because of the sachet retrieved from the lake after she drowned.

In the original timeline, Yuerong died on New Year’s Eve in the tenth year of the Qingzheng reign. Her death led to the eventual case for Concubine Shu’s exoneration.

That happened in the autumn of the same year. Following the incident of Earl Wukang, Concubine Yi was first demoted for the Second Prince’s alleged collusion with rebels, then sentenced to death by the Emperor once her involvement in the deaths of both Concubine Shu and the Crown Prince came to light.

But now, Concubine Yi still lived. Concubine Shu remained unvindicated. Sheng Chengli had already lost three months. There was no time left to waste.

In the reversal of this long-standing injustice, every imperial consort had been caught up in the fallout. First the Empress, then Concubine Hui, and finally Concubine Yi.

With the exception of Sheng Chengli, who had always lacked any real backing in the palace, all the princes had suffered from their father’s wrath by association.

Concubine Shu was Sheng Chengli’s trump card, his means of staying alive, and his path to winning the Emperor’s heart in one decisive move. The bolder his actions, the greater the reward.

Now was not the ideal moment to make such a move, but it was still a timely one that could bring him immense benefits.

He could begin cultivating his own faction. The Emperor might even personally instruct him in the art of kingship…

Anything was possible. Sheng Chengli was fast-tracking his ascent, laying the groundwork to dominate. His ambition was crystal clear. Rong Tang saw it at a glance.

He laid out the pros and cons to the others, glossing over the parts he wasn’t at liberty to say, but delivering the overall picture in full.

Ke Hongxue stared at him for a while, then suddenly laughed and turned to Su Huaijing. “With such a strategist at home, why have you kept him hidden in a tent all this time?”

“…”

This was the sort of comment that could be taken either way, whether referring to a military tent or a red-silk bedchamber, he didn’t say. The ambiguity invited speculation.

As the carriage turned a corner, Tutor Ke was promptly “invited” to disembark.

The Ke family carriage had been trailing just behind. As it drew up, Ke Hongxue clung shamelessly to the door, asking, “Senior, are you truly going to leave me alone with an empty bed tonight?”

Mu Jingxu gave him a sidelong glance, clearly disinclined to respond. But Ke kept chattering on.

“Enough,” Mu Jingxu said coldly.

Ke Hongxue fell silent at once, blinking his peach-blossom eyes at him with puppy-like hopefulness.

Mu Jingxu had no choice but to step down.

Back in the carriage, only two people remained. Su Huaijing spat out the last candied fruit pit and sat silently in the corner like a sullen little mushroom in the dark.

Rong Tang sighed, reached out to latch the window, then poked his head out and instructed Shuang Fu to take a detour through Shuiling Street to buy some snacks before returning.

The round trip would take at least half an hour. Just enough to return before curfew.

Su Huaijing watched him with a cool gaze, then reached out and locked the carriage door.

“Tangtang, what are you playing at?”

Rong Tang asked, “What are you upset about?”

“I’m not upset,” Su Huaijing replied at once.

Rong Tang raised a brow, prompting Su Huaijing to contradict himself: “Strictly speaking… I’m jealous.”

“I keep wondering. Just how close were you two, for you to know him so thoroughly?”

Rong Tang gave a helpless smile. “Are you saying I don’t understand you well enough?”

To his surprise, Su Huaijing responded with perfect sincerity, a hint of confusion in his eyes: “Isn’t it only natural that you understand me? We’re husband and wife.”

Rong Tang: “…”

How was he losing even to this sulking, gloomy version of the main villain?

Utterly exasperated, he straddled Su Huaijing’s lap and, catching the other’s startled gaze, gently licked the wound at the corner of his mouth. His voice was soft and coaxing, and the offer he made was impossible to resist.

“I was never close to him. Everything I know is distasteful and unpleasant. You are what brings me joy.”

Su Huaijing’s eyes still held some confusion. But beneath it, something deeper was already giving way to disbelief.

Rong Tang chuckled and licked the wound again, drawing a bead of blood and taking it into his mouth.

The immortal sat astride his devotee, drank his blood like a sacred offering, and then bestowed a reward in return.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to try this position? You’ve still got half an hour.”

“No more getting jealous once we’re done.”

“You really are a little vinegar jar, aren’t you?” Rong Tang teased with a bright smile—doing the most bewitching thing in the world with the purest expression.

…

“I like you, Huaijing.” Rong Tang nudged their noses together and murmured, “Only you.”