Rong Tang had spent a long time pondering how Su Huaijing would go about achieving his goal.
The original novel was told from the male protagonist’s perspective. All the readers knew was that by the end, the plot had completely derailed, veering off the author’s planned outline. And the main villain, who should have been defeated, ended up firmly seated on the throne.
In the first lifetime, Rong Tang had died early and never witnessed it for himself. In the second, however, he experienced it all firsthand. It was how Su Huaijing advanced step by step, gradually eroding much of the court’s power, and finally forced the Emperor to personally stamp the imperial jade seal onto the edict of abdication.
Yet, at the time, they had stood on opposing sides. Rong Tang could only guess at Su Huaijing’s plans and actions. He had a rough idea of the overall direction but couldn’t help feeling curious. He wanted to see for himself how Su Huaijing had orchestrated it all, step by meticulous step.
But when the main villain finally laid everything bare to him… openly, honestly, and without reserve, Rong Tang would rather guess. He never once made the effort to walk behind Su Huaijing, to look at those unhidden secret missives or listen in on strategies not yet deployed.
Su Huaijing was helpless. “If you’re so curious, Tangtang,” he asked, “why not just come and see for yourself?”
Rong Tang shook his head and replied plainly, “Too much effort.”
No matter how closely two people are aligned, no matter how well their souls resonate, it’s impossible to agree on everything or be in sync at every turn.
Rather than study Su Huaijing’s plans, have his instincts kick in, start analysing, and inevitably end up disagreeing, Rong Tang would much rather stay out of it.
That way, playing blindfolded alongside Su Huaijing, every unexpected move the latter made could astonish him, and every perfectly fitting step might come as a pleasant surprise.
As for those plans Su Huaijing might be wavering over…
If anything was troubling him, he’d bring it up with Rong Tang himself. Young Master Rong didn’t see the need to go looking for it, to make himself anxious. These days, he felt rather Zen about the whole thing.
Mu Jingxu’s request for leave was swiftly approved. Emperor Renshou even instructed the Imperial Household Department to personally deliver rare jewels and precious herbs to his residence, urging him to take good care of his health.
More alarming to the court than the sudden collapse of a typically diligent junior official from the Imperial Court of Justice was the sight of Emperor Renshou coughing up blood on the dragon throne.
Panic swept through court and country alike. Ministers with daughters serving as concubines or consorts in the palace scrambled to get messages past the gates, desperate for some kind of clarity to calm their uneasy hearts.
Under an imperial system, the health of the emperor had a direct bearing on the fate of the nation. It was not something they could afford to ignore.
When Rong Tang heard that Mu Jingxu’s leave had been approved, he felt largely at ease. But then another thought struck him, and he asked Su Huaijing, “Was that your doing as well?”
Su Huaijing was peeling a pomelo for him at the time and looked up with a smile. “What are you talking about, Tangtang?”
Naturally, the pomelo had been sent to the capital by Sheng Chengming from his fiefdom—large, sweet, longer-lasting than other fruits, and tastier than anything grown in the capital.
Rong Tang looked at the small bowl of pomelo segments, peeled clean with not a single fibrous strand in sight. Then he glanced at Su Huaijing’s pale, elegant hands—hands that should have held a brush or a sword, or held sway over life and death. After a brief moment of thought, he graciously chose to overlook the feigned ignorance and replied, “The blood Emperor Renshou coughed up during court.”
Su Huaijing gave a soft chuckle. As he peeled the last piece and set it in the bowl, he calmly rinsed his hands and said, “When a man is troubled and sleepless day and night, and then suffers a sudden shock, spitting blood can be the body’s way of self-preservation.”
Rong Tang frowned. For some reason, he felt there was a hidden meaning in those words. He looked over, only to see Su Huaijing drying his hands with a clean cloth. Those phoenix eyes glanced over with a faint smile as he said mildly, “Much like the time you coughed up blood at the flower-picking festival, Tangtang gege.”
Rong Tang: “…”
He immediately gave in, fully aware he was in the wrong. The hand that had been on its way to deliver pomelo to his own mouth swerved in mid-air.
Expressionless, he said, “Ah—”
Su Huaijing laughed. “Tangtang, what’s this supposed to be? Offering Buddha flowers borrowed from someone else*, or just trying to placate me because you feel guilty?”
(*TN: A Chinese proverb, referring to doing a good deed or giving a gift using someone else’s resources.)
Rong Tang shoved the fruit into Su Huaijing’s mouth with lightning speed and snapped, “Just shut up, will you.”
The sweet, citrusy fragrance spread across his tongue. Su Huaijing lowered his gaze, smiling softly, and let the matter drop.
The skies were high and clear, the clouds drifting gently.
Mu Jingxu and the others decided to head south after the Mid-Autumn Festival. Ke Hongxue resigned from his post at the Imperial College, planning to take his senior and grandfather to Jiangnan once the festival had passed.
After Wang Xiuyu had moved all her dowry and assets out of the Ningxuan Palace, she chose a day to return and speak with Rong Mingyu about dissolving their marriage.
Duke Ningxuan was furious. Not only did he refuse, he even ordered that the Wang Fei be confined to her own courtyard for reflection. At that critical moment, the Eldest Princess appeared. With great solemnity, she seated herself at the head of the hall, dismissed all the servants, and shut the doors so the couple could talk it out in her presence.
No one in Ningxuan Palace slept well that night. The next morning, Wang Xiuyu took the letter of separation to the authorities for official notarisation.
The people of Dayu were open-minded; it wasn’t unusual for ordinary couples to part ways amicably. But among nobility, where political marriages were tangled in interests and power, amicable separations were almost unheard of, no matter how estranged or resentful the couple might be.
So naturally, the capital buzzed with gossip. Even the Emperor and Empress summoned the pair for private audiences, seeking to understand what had happened.
While the rumours raged, Rong Tang spent his days in a small courtyard on Yong’an Lane, copying Buddhist scriptures and flipping through storybooks. On the Buddha statue, the golden lotus bloomed a little more with each passing day.
The servants in the residence barely dared to breathe in his presence. They kept their eyes lowered, terrified of displeasing the young master who now stood at the centre of public gossip.
To their surprise, Rong Tang was amused by their anxious expressions. With a chuckle, he asked, “My parents’ divorce has nothing to do with me. What has it got to do with any of you? Why the long faces?”
Shuang Fu looked pained. “Young Master…”
Rong Tang replied gently, “I’m fine. Instead of worrying all day, you’d do better to think about how we’re going to move out all the treasures from the residence if the palace decides not to let me back in.”
At those words, Shuang Fu and Shuang Shou went from nervous to focused. Without a word, they rushed off to Ningxuan Palace, and by nightfall, they returned to Yong’an Lane with several flatbed carts in tow.
The aunties at the alley’s entrance, still chatting after dinner, looked up and were so stunned they dropped their melon seeds in disbelief.
Seeing this, Shuang Shou couldn’t help swallowing hard. In a daze, he felt as though he were once again lifting basket after basket of red eggs.
Once the dust had settled, Duke Ningxuan and his wife formally divorced. However, Rong Tang retained his title as heir. Apart from the dowry Wang Xiuyu had taken with her beforehand, Emperor Renshou ordered Rong Mingyu to deposit money for Wang Xiuyu at the silver exchange every month to cover her living expenses for the rest of her life.
When Rong Tang heard this, he raised an eyebrow and remarked, “Rather generous of him.”
Su Huaijing chuckled. “Mother’s maiden family is the Wang clan: the current Empress’s natal family. Even if a concubine-born younger sister of the Empress married poorly and sought redress, His Majesty would be obliged to show some leniency. Let alone when the Empress and Mother are full sisters, born of the same mother.”
Rong Tang curled his lip, clearly disinterested in hearing Sheng Xuyan’s name. He gave a lazy grunt in reply, then nestled into the beauty couch in the study and promptly fell asleep.
Su Huaijing smiled helplessly. There was nothing he could do with him. He naturally slowed his movements and went about his work in peace, surrounded by the chirping of birds outside the window and Rong Tang’s quiet breathing.
This winter looked set to arrive early… likely a harsh one. Charcoal had already been purchased in the summer, and they would probably need it by the ninth month. Otherwise, Rong Tang’s health might not endure the cold.
After finishing his paperwork, Su Huaijing let his thoughts wander. The sky outside was growing dim. On the desk, candles flickered and incense wafted gently in the air. He laid down his brush and looked over at Rong Tang, fast asleep on the couch.
For a fleeting moment, Su Huaijing found himself wishing time would simply stop.
Mid-Autumn had passed; winter would soon follow. Tomorrow, after court, he would visit the Shudao Pavilion first and instruct Xingfeng to split the cattle and sheep delivered this year, then send half to Yong’an Lane to nourish Tangtang.
…
After Emperor Renshou coughed blood, court was suspended for three days. Thereafter, everything resumed as usual. The officials came and went daily, discussing matters of state.
Only those most trusted by the Emperor could discern that he was steadily deteriorating. His energy waned with each passing day, his complexion gradually worsening.
Su Huaijing and Rong Tang continued with their lives as before. Now that Wang Xiuyu had gone south to Jiangnan, they could not even be bothered to return to Ningxuan Palace, preferring instead to visit zumu from time to time at the countryside estate. Life was tranquil and content.
That day, after court, Su Huaijing descended the steps of the Hall of Supreme Harmony, heading toward the Censorate. Behind him came the sound of footsteps. They were light, clean, and utterly devoid of the heavy aura most carried.
He furrowed his brows slightly, saying nothing and not turning around. Only when the figure drew alongside and called softly, “Excellency Su, please wait,” did Su Huaijing halt, feigning surprise as though only now noticing the speaker. With impeccable decorum, he bowed and said, “Your Highness, the Fifth Prince.”
Sheng Chengli looked at his slightly bowed frame and the modest tilt of his head, expression unreadable. After a pause, he returned the gesture. “There’s no need for formality, Excellency Su.”
Su Huaijing straightened and said, “Your Highness walks so lightly, I didn’t hear a sound along the way. Were it not for the Imperial Physician’s diagnosis, who would believe you’d once limped?”
“I was fortunate to meet an excellent physician,” Sheng Chengli replied, ignoring the veiled sarcasm. With a wave of his hand, he gestured for them to walk and talk.
Dawn had just begun to break over the palace walls. A northern wind was creeping into the capital.
Casually, Sheng Chengli asked, “Did you have a hand in Excellency Mu’s posting to the south?”
Su Huaijing countered, “Does Your Highness find Excellency Mu’s transfer suspicious?”
Sheng Chengli gave a soft chuckle. “Not exactly. It’s just… Excellency Mu is my teacher. He’d just invited me to join him at the Imperial Court of Justice, and then suddenly fell gravely ill. Now Imperial Father suspects me. It’s all a little too convenient. I simply wish to understand what’s going on.”
Su Huaijing replied, “Excellency Mu and I are merely colleagues. If Your Highness believes there’s more to it, then I fear you’re asking the wrong man. Besides—”
He paused, then smiled. “If he is your teacher, there’s naturally the bond of instruction between you. But now that he is ill, rather than worrying about the severity of his condition, Your Highness is instead preoccupied with whether there’s foul play involved. Isn’t that somewhat neglecting your duty as a student?”
He raised his eyes to meet Sheng Chengli’s gaze. His phoenix eyes were clear and unguarded, seemingly free of calculation or enmity. Just a calm voice speaking words that cut to the bone.
Sheng Chengli held his gaze for a long while before lowering his head and laughing softly. “The student wishes to treat the teacher with a son’s devotion… but the teacher refuses to treat me with a father’s love or to share all he knows. What then?”
Su Huaijing repeated quietly, “A son’s devotion?”
He gave a low laugh and looked at Sheng Chengli with a flicker of ambiguity in his gaze. “Your Highness is an imperial heir—already halfway to the position of Crown Prince. If you treat me with a son’s devotion, then it would be fitting for me to return with a father’s love. The only question is… this filial sentiment of yours—is it meant to serve the father… or to slay him?”
The author has something to say:
Trivia, Sheng Wu has two real teachers, one is san ge, and the other is Tangtang 🙂
Tension!