Chapter 145

Rong Tang reckoned he never quite learned his lesson. If the system were still lodged in his head, it would probably scold him ten times a day.

But the system was long gone, unseen and unheard. And so Tangtang began recklessly tempting fate all over again.

The next morning, he woke to sunlight spilling across the courtyard and sat in quiet contemplation, wondering how he had ended up pushing back his bottom line, step by step, until he’d almost died in that carriage.

Outdoors. On top. Initiating. Every point on that list was frankly terrifying, and Su Huaijing had been nothing short of feral.

Rong Tang thought to himself, It’s not as if I’ve ever starved him of affection. How on earth did he come to be this ferocious?

While getting dressed, he even noticed overlapping finger marks on his waist.

—The main villain had clearly abandoned all reason, insatiably taking again and again. Just an hour’s delay, and Rong Tang felt they might have actually died right there on the hushed streets of Yu capital, only to be carted back to the local authorities by the patrolling imperial guards.

The young prince stood beneath the eaves, letting the early summer breeze ruffle his sleeves. In a daze, a flicker of regret passed through him. He began a deep and solemn self-reflection.

Once he’d completed his round of repentance, he returned to the study. His body ached slightly, but his mood wasn’t too poor. He hadn’t any intention of copying sutras today. Instead, he scanned the bookshelf in search of a newly purchased storybook.

Turning around, he happened to catch sight of a brocade box resting on the duobaoge*. Inside lay a painting Huimian had once gifted him.

(*TN: 多宝格, literally translated as “many-treasure cabinet”, is a traditional Chinese display cabinet or shelf.)

After a moment’s thought, Rong Tang put down the book and opened the box.

Sunlight filtered through the wooden lattice windows. Cicadas sang beneath the trees. The moment was quiet, unhurried—everything steeped in the tranquillity of early summer.

A slender youth stood before the duobaoge and unrolled the scroll. Light fell upon the austere image of a Buddha, and Rong Tang noticed a single flower stamen blooming from the lotus pedestal in the ink painting.

He stared at the lotus platform for a long while without moving.

He was certain that it had once been just a closed bud, never showing even a hint of green or blush at its tip.

Now, this sudden bloom of colour had appeared from nowhere, bringing the entire monochrome scroll to life.

Rong Tang observed it for a while, then returned the image of the Buddha to its box.

Outside, summer deepened. Ivy crept up the courtyard walls.

—

After the Dragon Boat Festival, Sheng Chengxing paid the price for his unguarded tongue.

First, Concubine Hui was berated by Emperor Renshou within the palace for her arrogance and jealousy. Then, Marshal Xia’s grandson, also Sheng Chengxing’s cousin, was impeached and demoted. The Third Prince’s faction took a significant blow.

Fortunately for him, he still had a younger brother said to be “favoured by Heaven”. With the Sixth Prince now attending court and participating in governance, he had become, in a way, both Sheng Chengxing’s rival and his unexpected support. Thus, the Third Prince was able to hold on… for the time being.

Rong Tang moved between Tangjing Residence and the Mu household, occasionally visiting his zumu and Wang Xiuyu in the suburbs of the capital. And so the days passed, one after another.

Ke Hongxue took every opportunity to coax information out of him. Business-minded as ever, he thought that if Rong Tang was this “uncannily insightful”, he might as well be put to better use.

Though the matters were mostly trivial, they often led to retaliation from Su Huaijing not long after they were brought up.

Still, Ke Hongxue remained undeterred.

Standing beneath the clear summer sky of the capital, watching Yuanyuan catch crickets in the courtyard, Ke Hongxue asked, “What do you surmise Sheng Chengxing will suffer this time?”

Rong Tang cast him a glance, his gaze drifting past to Mu Jingxu behind the study window, hard at work.

Ke Hongxue immediately grinned. “Why are you looking at my senior?”

Rong Tang shook his head and replied mildly, “I just realised, you’ve never once addressed Sheng Chengxing properly as His Highness.”

Ke Hongxue blinked in surprise. Before he could respond, Rong Tang answered his earlier question: “He’s still a prince. Everyone in the capital knows he’s always been a bit of a libertine. This incident, if no one pushes it further, won’t lead to an impeachment, and no one’s going to seriously drag Concubine Shu into it. At worst, it’s a brief moment of imperial displeasure.”

“You think no one will push it further?” Ke Hongxue asked.

Rong Tang shook his head. “If a game is set in motion, it must be played to the end.”

He went on, “The Empress left the banquet because the Eighth Prince had a sudden high fever. The reason even a child prince was drawn into this scheme was twofold. First, to use the Empress as a tool to draw out the poison used back then; and second, because someone clearly wished to harm the boy.”

“The Third Prince’s careless words at the table angered the emperor and implicated Concubine Hui. Given her proud and combative nature, she’ll never swallow this insult quietly. She’ll stir up the entire harem in protest, and in doing so, she may say something she ought not to.”

“And at that moment, someone will raise the matter of Concubine Shu and the First Prince’s deaths having hidden truths behind them. The Emperor, frustrated, and the Empress, worn down, will be caught off guard. Concubine Yi—or rather, Lady Yi*—will likely take the opportunity to strike back, catching Concubine Hui unawares.”

(*TN: the original text states the title as “答应 (Dāyìng) which is a low-ranking consort title in the imperial harem. I translated it as “Lady Yi” in contrast to the higher ranking “Concubine” title.)

Ke Hongxue raised a brow and added, “The mastermind behind the scenes is Concubine Yi herself. So naturally, she knows best how to plant evidence and orchestrate a downfall. With one move, she can crush the Concubine Hui who has always overshadowed her, reclaim imperial favour, and, if the Eighth Prince should meet with an accident, she might even find a way to take her son back under her own care.”

Rong Tang nodded, sipping his tea.

Ke Hongxue chuckled. “All this would require meticulous planning. A single slip of the tongue before the emperor wouldn’t snowball into such disaster, but if plotted well, all three consorts and their respective sons could be caught in the net. First, let Concubine Hui escalate the situation. Then, leak the poison incident from the Empress’s palace to sow doubt in the emperor’s mind and divide him from the Empress. Finally, turn the blame on Concubine Hui and force her to prove her innocence and find the real culprit.”

“Without lifting a finger, the Fifth Prince can redress the injustice suffered by his mother, discredit rival princes, and paint himself as a pitiable, wronged child. I must say, our Fifth Prince’s depth of thought is quite terrifying.”

Ke Hongxue smiled faintly, clearly having accepted that Sheng Chengli was more than capable of executing such a plan.

Still, he asked, “Will you intervene, Prince?”

Yuanyuan had just caught a cricket and was excitedly dropping it into a bamboo tube, about to dash off to find the neighbour’s son for a match.

Rong Tang gave a gentle reminder to be careful, then shook his head. “I don’t intend to.”

Ke Hongxue looked surprised. “Why not?”

You’ve already predicted every step—why not set a trap and render it all pointless?

Rong Tang replied casually, “His Majesty will suffer from this web of schemes too. Physically and mentally.”

He remembered it well: in both previous lives, once the truth about Concubine Shu was brought to light, Emperor Renshou fell gravely ill.

Although it was the cusp of autumn and winter, a time when people were more prone to falling ill than in summer, Rong Tang believed that with the presence of Sheng Chengli, the so-called “child of fortune”, this storyline would inevitably be triggered in this lifetime. It would grant Sheng Chengli the opportunity to earn even greater trust from the Emperor during his illness.

He spoke with honesty and composure. Ke Hongxue glanced at him a few times but said no more.

A summer breeze stirred the eaves and verandas. A young gentleman sat by the window, brush in hand, his posture elegant.

Ke Hongxue’s smile faded. In a low voice, he said, “Having seen a flower bloom in wild abandon, any mud that tries to cling to it just seems laughably pathetic.”

He simply felt that Sheng Chengxing was unworthy.

Rong Tang let out a quiet chuckle at his words. He sat in the courtyard for a while longer, gauged the time by the sky, then returned to Yong’an Lane.

Everything he had said to Ke Hongxue was true… only, some deeper intentions had been deliberately withheld.

Seated in the carriage, Rong Tang listened to the bustle of the long street beyond. In his mind, two masses of cloud, symbolic of opposing forces, clashed in a silent struggle. A trace of hostility gradually surfaced between his brows.

The pixelated figure was nearly engulfed by grey fog, its blackened section torn open to reveal a faint, shifting outline of Yu capital beneath the haze.

Rong Tang thought: why should he try to stop Sheng Chengli?

Su Huaijing had his reasons. The classic antagonism between the main villain and the male protagonist, a necessary conflict to drive the plot forward, a trial the protagonist had to endure in order to grow.

But what about him? Why should he interfere?

Not only did he feel no inclination to obstruct him, he was almost eager to see Sheng Chengli follow the trajectory of the storyline to its end, to the day his wings had fully unfurled. If he could, Rong Tang would even give him a helping hand.

He wanted to see for himself the ending he had missed in the last two lifetimes. He wanted to understand how this flawed and chaotic world planned to “restore order.”

But what order was there to speak of? The entire system was just a murky pond, stirred into a mess. Rotten from top to bottom.

And what Rong Tang truly wanted, was to see how this bizarre world’s equally bizarre “fated son of heaven” would once again be thoroughly defeated by Su Huaijing.

Rong Tang opened his eyes. He sat silently in the carriage, no one around to glimpse the cold detachment in his gaze… or the illusion behind him of lotus blossoms, blooming blood-red.

—

One day in the late of the fifth month, a carriage pulled into Yong’an Lane and delivered a basket of lychees to Tangjing Residence.

Sheng Chengming hadn’t gone to Longxi or Shu, much less Jiangnan. His final fiefdom was assigned in Lingnan—a barren land thousands of miles from the capital, though rich in fruit and melons.

The lychees were in season. Sheng Chengming had sent someone to the capital with tribute, specifically instructing them to set aside a basket for Rong Tang.

Though not as fine in appearance as the tribute offerings, the fruit was nonetheless rare and precious.

Rong Tang reclined on a small couch in the courtyard, enjoying the cool breeze. Su Huaijing sat nearby, peeling lychees for him. One by one, he stripped the skins and removed the stones, placing the plump flesh into a clear, polished jade bowl for Rong Tang to pick from at leisure.

Rong Tang asked, “Has Prince Rui* received some news?”

(*TN: just to remind readers that “Rui” is the title that was bestowed upon Sheng Chengli by the emperor in Chapter 122.)

From the fifth to the end of the fifth month, more than twenty days had passed. It was enough time for Sheng Chengli to execute his plans. It wouldn’t take more than a few days after the incident for Concubine Yi to be sentenced and executed. Rong Tang suspected Sheng Chengming wanted to plead with Su Huaijing to save his mother.

To his surprise, Su Huaijing merely shook his head and said softly, “He only wanted me to ensure her body remained intact, that she be given a decent burial.”

Rong Tang raised an eyebrow. “You’ve extended your reach into the palace?”

Su Huaijing countered, “What did you think, Tangtang? How else do you suppose I managed to send Sheng Chengming to Jiangnan within a matter of days?”

Rong Tang was momentarily speechless, once again reminded of how formidable the man beside him truly was.

Back then, Su Huaijing hadn’t even entered officialdom, and yet he’d already begun influencing the Emperor’s decisions.

Rong Tang bit into a lychee, his gaze drifting to the dappled light and shadows beneath the trees. He murmured, “It’s been two years.”

At once, Su Huaijing grew alert. He seized Rong Tang’s hand, his tone low and steady: “Tangtang.”

Rong Tang blinked out of his thoughts and suddenly smiled, light-hearted again. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t about to bring up how long it’s been. I just think you’re a bit much sometimes.”

Say the wrong thing, and he might not live to see the end… he’d be shagged to death long before that. He wasn’t about to be that foolish.

Su Huaijing’s face darkened further. “So now Tangtang dislikes me?”

Rong Tang shot him a look. “Don’t throw a tantrum. That routine doesn’t work on me.”

Su Huaijing: “…”

He might state that he wasn’t interested, but by nightfall he’d be worn down until there was nothing he could do about it, reduced to a breathless mess, and still have to murmur reassurances between gasps: “I don’t dislike you—”

Rong Tang caught the lust in Su Huaijing’s gaze and quietly swallowed the rest of his sentence: but you really are relentless.