Chapter 146

The day after Concubine Yi’s death, a young servant arrived at Yong’an Lane with a message: Wang Fei had invited the young master to return to Duke Ningxuan’s Palace for a meal.

Rong Tang paused for a moment, then immediately grasped Wang Xiuyu’s intent.

There had been no shortage of feasts like the Hongmen Feast. Rong Mingyu had once extended an invitation to Rong Tang, it was only natural for him to be repaid in kind.

It had been a long time since Rong Tang last returned home. This time, the flourishing vitality of summer masked the quiet desolation lying beneath the surface.

The residence remained as resplendent as ever, yet it gave the impression of a once-mighty tree, rotted at its core, its roots long since devoured by ants.

From the Waking of Insects to the Great Heat, Wang Xiuyu had deliberated for four months… long enough to make the most rational choice.

Rong Tang had no intention of interfering, but when necessary, he would stand behind her without hesitation.

He arrived early. Wang Fei was in the kitchen, the scent of cooking curling into the air, clinging even to her pearl hairpin. The woman who was usually poised and dignified now appeared stripped of the strength honed by years of experience. What remained was gentleness and quiet resolve.

Upon seeing him, Wang Xiuyu offered a soft smile. “It’s smoky in here. Why did you come in?”

Rong Tang saw she was preparing squirrel-shaped mandarin fish. Oil splattered along the rim of the pan, and his brows furrowed instinctively. “Mother, it’s been ages since you last cooked. What if the oil splashes on you?”

Wang Xiuyu paused briefly. “Your father likes this dish.”

Rong Tang blinked, surprised. For a moment, he thought he might have misunderstood. But then Wang Xiuyu continued, “Over twenty years of marriage… if this is the last meal I ever make for him, I suppose it’s a fitting end.”

The midsummer cicadas shrieked outside. The kitchen was stiflingly hot. Beads of sweat dotted the brow of the woman he had always remembered as composed and refined. Immersed in mundane chores, her expression was, nonetheless, one of serene calm.

Rong Tang asked quietly, “Have you decided, Mother?”

Wang Xiuyu was silent for a moment before she nodded. Her voice was barely audible. “I have.”

With those three light words, Rong Tang said no more. He simply stood by her side and helped her finish preparing the Jiangnan delicacy. Then they each returned to their rooms to wash and change.

The summer sun lingered. Dinner was served. Outside the courtyard, half the sky glowed with hues of purple and orange, the horizon not yet swallowed by night.

Duke Ningxuan took his seat and, upon seeing Rong Tang, immediately asked, “Why isn’t Huaijing here?”

“He’s been busy at the Censorate lately,” Rong Tang replied. “He rarely returns before dark.”

Rong Mingyu studied him closely for several seconds, seemingly assessing the truth behind his words. Then, as though in passing, he said, “If you’re not used to living elsewhere, you might as well move back. It’d be easier for me to bring Huaijing along to the occasional court function.”

Rong Tang scoffed inwardly, but outwardly, his expression remained neutral.

Was it truly about bringing Su Huaijing along, or was he hoping to leverage the man’s position as Deputy Censor-in-Chief to secure his own advancement?

It wasn’t worth exposing him. The meal had a different purpose altogether.

The three of them sat around the table. After questioning Rong Tang, Rong Mingyu turned to Wang Xiuyu, first asking whether she and Duanyi had settled comfortably into the secondary residence, then mentioning that the Eldest Princess’s palace had been fully renovated. If his mother didn’t wish to return to her old quarters, she ought to move into the main residence and enjoy her twilight years. He urged Wang Fei to help persuade Duanyi.

Wang Xiuyu did not agree. Instead, her response was calm, almost indifferent: “Is Fourth Son in good health?”

Back then, she had left the residence because Rong Ying fabricated a divination, claiming the new child’s fate clashed with that of the household’s matriarch. On those grounds, Rong Mingyu had “asked” her to leave. And now, he spoke of inviting his mother back… conveniently forgetting that the person most deserving of being reinstated was in fact his own wife.

Rong Mingyu froze for a moment, as though caught off-guard by such a barbed remark from Wang Xiuyu—something he hadn’t experienced in years.

He reached for the squirrel mandarin fish, took a bite, and immediately spat it out into a napkin. “The cook’s terrible. Replace her.”

Rong Tang’s expression turned cold in an instant.

Before Wang Xiuyu could respond, he had already looked up and asked, “Father, what exactly didn’t suit your palate?”

Rong Mingyu gave him a strange look.

To him, the legitimate heir born of his proper wife was little more than a political ornament. Something he could display to suggest harmony at home.

With a sickly son like Rong Tang, he could ingratiate himself with the Empress on one hand and demonstrate loyalty to the Emperor on the other. After all, if the Ningxuan estate passed to Rong Tang, it would surely end with him, leaving no heir.

To Rong Mingyu, Rong Tang was practically invisible. It was only after Su Huaijing married into the family and began gaining political traction that he remembered he had a legitimate son at all—one who, though dull and frail, at least brought him a capable ally through marriage.

Their interactions were few and far between. So he had never seen Rong Tang like this—cold, composed, and quietly formidable.

For a fleeting moment, Rong Mingyu had the illusion he was speaking not to his own son, but to a noble figure from the inner palace: languid in bearing, aristocratic to the bone, and exuding an effortless presence no amount of imitation could replicate.

He instinctively disliked being challenged in this way.

With a scowl, he slammed his chopsticks onto the table and said sternly, “Stand up.”

Rong Tang met his gaze, neither humble nor defiant. “Is Father planning to defy tradition and scold his son before a meal, disregarding both propriety and decorum?”

The words were heavy, far too harsh to be exchanged between father and son. At his remark, the maids and servants in the hall all looked shocked. Shuang Fu even stepped forward, ready to shield Rong Tang should punishment follow.

But perhaps because it was so uncharacteristic, Rong Mingyu didn’t explode in anger. He simply stared at Rong Tang for a long while, then glanced thoughtfully at the squirrel mandarin fish… as if finally piecing things together.

He turned to Wang Xiuyu. “Did you make this?”

Wang Xiuyu gestured for the maid to clear the dish. Her tone was cool. “It doesn’t matter who cooked it. Since Your Grace dislikes it, there’s no need to keep it. But is that any reason to take it out on Tang’er?”

Rong Mingyu’s outstretched hand, poised to stop the dish from being removed, froze mid-air. Her words had silenced him.

He composed himself, softened his voice… not so much to appease, but to preserve his dignity. Every word and gesture was cloaked in a pretence of magnanimity and paternal indulgence.

“Madam is not skilled in the kitchen. We have cooks in the residence. There’s no need for you to toil and make yourself so unkempt. I was wrong. Please, don’t take offence.”

From the depths of his chest, Rong Tang felt only a wave of bitter, absurd nausea.

When a couple reaches this point, it’s hard to imagine how they managed to stay together for over twenty years.

Wang Xiuyu casually responded with a vague sound—just enough to let him save face. Rong Mingyu’s expression eased a little, and he placed a piece of chicken into her bowl, as though to coax her.

Rong Tang gave a silent, derisive snort, looked away, and began calculating how long it would be before he and his mother could take their leave.

That piece of chicken remained untouched until the end of the meal, when it was finally cleared away with the leftovers.

Rong Mingyu’s brow furrowed. He looked as though he were about to explode but ultimately restrained himself. Before he could speak, Wang Xiuyu said calmly, “The fourth young master has always been frail. He came down with a terrible fever at the end of last year, and now that his birth mother has passed away as well, he’s truly pitiful. It’s unlikely he’ll recover within three to five years. I shan’t return to the main residence, lest I inadvertently provoke something and chill the deceased’s spirit. As his stepmother, I would be filled with guilt.”

Rong Mingyu looked mildly surprised at her words. “Madam is thoughtful and magnanimous. As your husband, I am deeply reassured.” He paused, then added, “Still, this is bound to cause you some grievance.”

Rong Tang had to bite back the urge to curse at him. He took refuge in his tea, downing cup after cup to fill the emptiness in his belly.

Wang Xiuyu replied gently, “It’s not a matter of grievance. It’s only right that I help ease Your Grace’s burdens.”

Rong Mingyu’s expression softened completely. He decided that the defiance he had encountered earlier from mother and son alike was merely the result of immature ignorance. Hardly an unpardonable offence.

He took Wang Xiuyu’s hands in his, patting them lightly in a gesture of comfort. But before the moment could settle, she shifted the conversation.

“It’s just that, with Mother and I now living outside the residence, all household matters such as food, clothing, and upkeep fall to Tang’er. Huaijing still needs to maintain appearances and often hosts court officials for banquets. Tang’er, on the other hand, requires medicine year-round. The expenses are rather…”

Both father and son froze for a moment. Rong Tang’s expression remained composed, but inside, a storm was raging.

He looked at Wang Xiuyu as though only now realising what this dinner, this Hongmen banquet, had truly been about.

Rong Mingyu, seasoned as he was in officialdom, only faltered briefly before catching the implication in her words. He feigned remorse. “I’ve been remiss. I’ll have someone send over silver tomorrow.”

Wang Xiuyu inclined her head. “Thank you, Your Grace.” Then, as if an afterthought, she added, “I still have some dowry left. Matters of coin really oughtn’t trouble Your Grace. I could simply sell some things myself. But… the dowry is locked away in the main residence, and as I’m staying outside now, it wouldn’t do to return frequently—might cause unnecessary unrest in the household. Besides, the jewellery all bears the Wang family’s crest. If word got out, it could draw criticism and tarnish Your Grace’s name.”

Rong Mingyu’s brows knitted slightly as he weighed the pros and cons.

After all, both daughters of the Wang family had married off with great fanfare. Their dowries had caused a stir across the capital.

He glanced at Rong Tang, then at Wang Xiuyu, and after careful consideration, said, “You’re quite right. I’ve been preoccupied with my duties and neglected the matters of the household. If not for you, there might have been real chaos these past years. I wouldn’t have remembered at all had you not mentioned it.”

He continued, “Now that you’re tending to Mother in the suburbs and Tang’er is also living outside the residence, there are no members of your family left within the household. The dowry ought to be returned to you to prevent future accounting entanglements. If you’re willing, stay at the residence for the night. Tomorrow, you can settle the accounts with your sister-in-law, take the dowry to the villa, and bring it back if you return to the residence in future. How does that sound?”

Wang Xiuyu frowned slightly, looking a touch hesitant. “Wouldn’t that trouble Your Grace too much?”

Duke Ningxuan replied, “You and I are husband and wife. What trouble could there be?”

Wang Xiuyu, who was undeniably beautiful, and whose looks the original Rong Tang had inherited in large part, lowered her gaze and smiled with a delicate sweetness. Dimples bloomed on her cheeks, softening her usual authority and leaving only the charm of a young maiden.

She gave a graceful curtsey. “Thank you, Your Grace, for your kind understanding.”

Duke Ningxuan’s heart stirred. He was just about to rise and assist her when she continued, voice still warm and courteous, “Your Grace’s thoughtfulness moves me greatly. In that case, there’s no need to send silver to the residence. The annual income from several of the shops in my dowry should cover our household expenses for half a year. I’ll simply transfer that portion to Tang’er. The rest can come from his own estates and shops. Let it be his way of honouring his zumu.”

Rong Mingyu’s face darkened. “How could I allow my wife and child to foot the bill? Do you think I’d forget once the money runs out, is that it?”

Wang Xiuyu’s lips pressed together. A faint blush tinged her cheeks, the very picture of a woman caught out, shy in the face of having been seen through.

At the sight, Rong Mingyu quickly summoned the steward and instructed him to bring over a few land deeds, which he handed directly to Rong Tang. “From now on, collect the annual income from these estates and shops yourself. Be sure to care well for your mother and zumu.”

Rong Tang: “…?”

He hadn’t even spoken yet when Wang Xiuyu said, “Thank you, Your Grace. I am truly moved. I should be attending to Your Grace, but I’ve just returned from the suburbs and am rather fatigued. I’ll return to my courtyard to rest. You should retire early too. Don’t wear yourself out.”

Rong Mingyu found his hands suddenly empty as the box of land deeds was taken by Rong Tang. Wang Xiuyu had already withdrawn her hands, and the two of them exited the dining room, leaving him in a brief daze.

As he walked along the gravel path outside the courtyard, Rong Tang watched Wang Xiuyu repeatedly wiping her wrist with a damp handkerchief. Her expression was cold and steady, like someone who had just committed murder without a hint of remorse.

He looked down at the box in his hands and suddenly let out a soft laugh.

Wang Xiuyu glanced at him. “What are you laughing at?”

Rong Tang said sincerely, “Mother, your methods are brilliant.”

Wang Xiuyu replied evenly, “My surname is Wang, after all.”

Her elder sister was the Empress. How could she possibly be a soft persimmon?

The separation was inevitable. But before that, she would be sure to claim all that was rightfully hers.

In that moment, Rong Tang was filled with admiration for his mother. His smile was especially sincere.

But as they parted ways at the crossroads, the smile froze on his face. A chill crept down his spine.

Which begged the question…

How on earth had such a clever woman been fooled by a few slick lines into proposing marriage at the Li residence?

The author has something to say:

Tangtang thinks he’s a cunning little fox, but in truth he’s just a pampered little bunny adored by everyone. Tsk tsk tsk~~~