Chapter 165

On the surface, Duke Ningxuan, Rong Mingyu, appeared to enjoy imperial favour and even undertook covert visits on behalf of Emperor Renshou. But in truth, he had long since vanished beneath some nameless patch of earth.

So when the palace guards arrived at Tangjing Residence to take Rong Tang away, the young prince wasn’t the least bit surprised.

In fact, he’d taken his time buying a packet of candied fruits in advance and had left them in the bedroom he shared with Su Huaijing.

Shuang Fu, both flustered and alarmed, called out nervously, “Young Master…”

“I’ll go alone,” Rong Tang said evenly. He instructed Shuang Fu to wrap the medicinal herbs he’d prepared over the past few days in oiled paper, then boarded the palace carriage on his own.

When Shuang Fu insisted on following, Rong Tang lifted the curtain and said solemnly, “If you come with me, I’ll have you thrown out of the estate. You’ll never see me again in this lifetime.”

Shuang Fu froze. His eyes turned red in an instant, and he stood rooted to the spot, not daring to take another step.

But then Rong Tang’s expression softened, his tone becoming light and casual. “I’ll be back in a few days. Have something nice waiting for me.”

Shuang Fu was clearly still panicking, but seeing that the carriage was about to depart, he followed instinctively for a few paces before blurting out, “Then I’ll get some rabbits for you! You can have spicy rabbit heads when you’re back!”

Rong Tang paused, then couldn’t help but chuckle.

Such a familiar scene. When his san ge left, he’d said he’d catch rabbits for Xiao Qi. Now, as he himself was leaving, Shuang Fu had promised to make rabbit heads for him.

In some strange way, it almost felt like fate.

Smiling, Rong Tang nodded, lowered the curtain, and sat quietly in the carriage, pretending to nap.

Since coming to Dayu, he’d ridden in countless carriages and dozed off in many. But now, with neither the faint scent of sandalwood nor Su Huaijing’s warm embrace beside him, he found that he didn’t particularly want to sleep.

He kept his eyes shut for a long time but couldn’t summon the slightest drowsiness, so he gave up altogether.

Opening his eyes, he regretted not pocketing a handful of those candied fruits instead of leaving them all to Su Huaijing.

He wouldn’t say he was furious… but to claim he didn’t mind at all… Rong Tang was no benevolent saint brimming with compassion.

Sheng Chengli was a venomous snake, one that could bite at any time. No matter how slow-witted or straightforward he pretended to be, it didn’t change the fact that he was the kind of man who’d burn bridges the moment they’d served their purpose.

Rong Tang wasn’t worried about not making it out of the palace. The matter was far too public, with every court official watching. Sheng Chengli had no way of producing Rong Mingyu to verify his claim, so he wouldn’t dare to simply kill Rong Tang off. He needed someone to absorb the imperial clan’s anger and outrage.

So Rong Tang had to live.

But once the threat to his life was off the table, he began to feel thoroughly irritated.

The main villain had become too confident and had been keeping everything from him. Even dealing with someone as dangerous as Sheng Chengli, Su Huaijing hadn’t breathed a word.

Young Prince Rong couldn’t help but feel a flicker of spite: would Su Huaijing regret it, or be angry, once he found out that Sheng Chengli had dragged him into the palace?

Yet that faint flicker of petty vengeance vanished the moment he was ushered into an unused palace hall and casually glanced at the eunuch left to serve him.

What followed was not fear, but a surprise so sharp it nearly made him laugh.

Everyone saw him turn cold in an instant. Before they could even register how a prisoner could radiate such presence, they instinctively obeyed his command and withdrew.

“You stay,” Rong Tang said coldly, his voice giving nothing away.

A few bold young eunuchs glanced back, sympathy and fear mingling in their eyes.

He may have been a prisoner, but he was undoubtedly the best-treated one.

The chamber had been scrubbed spotless and appointed to the standard of a noble’s residence. A pot of fine tea was already waiting on the square table.

This spring’s pre-rain Longjing. The flavour mellow and lingering.

Rong Tang poured himself a cup. His fingertips were pale; it was hard to say whether it was from anger.

He’d thought he wasn’t angry at all.

Su Huaijing hiding things from him—fine. Sheng Chengli arresting him—also fine.

Su Huaijing had his plans, Sheng Chengli was always going to renege. It all fit their characters. No point being shocked or furious.

But if, before all that, there’d been manipulation. He couldn’t abide it.

Not at all.

Not to the point where, even if he’d only met the person before him once years ago, in that little courtyard in the capital with Shen Feiyi, he still couldn’t bring himself to pretend nothing had happened.

Rong Tang hesitated. Should he feign ignorance, or confront the man and demand an explanation?

Eventually, the tea in his cup ran dry. The “little eunuch” stood silently, head bowed, with not the faintest hint of anxiety or fear.

Rong Tang chose the latter.

He set down his teacup, raised his ever-smiling eyes, and asked with cool indifference, “Did Su Huaijing send you to watch over me in the palace? Or have you been stationed here all along, waiting to assist him?”

He paused, voice low. “Liuyun?”

He didn’t want to swallow his doubts. Su Huaijing was his partner. In bed and in life. If there was even a sliver of suspicion, he needed it clarified. If there were accounts to settle later, at least he’d know the full story.

Liuyun froze for a moment. Then, with his usual impassivity, he knelt and said respectfully, “Master.”

Rong Tang: “…?”

Rong Tang stared in stunned silence.

—

Emperor Renshou had suffered a stroke, the Crown Prince’s parentage was now in doubt, and Sheng Chengli who was acting-regent but physically weakened by bloodletting, could barely keep the court in order.

Su Huaijing had long lost track of how many evenings he’d missed dinner while buried in matters at the Censorate. When he finally returned to Yong’an Lane that day, guilt tugged at him.

Tangtang was always the most enthusiastic at mealtimes, but recently, because of him, he’d had to go hungry too often… waiting long into the evening for Su Huaijing to return so they could dine together.

Su Huaijing couldn’t help feeling remorseful.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, calculating how many moves remained in this game of chess… and where he might take Tangtang for a proper holiday once the dust had settled.

The thought alone lifted his spirits. A faint smile tugged unconsciously at the corners of his lips as he made his way back into the residence. But the moment he stepped through the gates, he caught sight of Shuang Fu sitting on the steps in tears, his eyes swollen like two walnuts.

Su Huaijing froze for a second before the realisation hit. A chill surged from the soles of his feet, spreading swiftly until it engulfed him.

He strode over to Shuang Fu, his voice taut with a strain and urgency unlike any before. His usual commanding presence was still there, but now it felt like a thin veneer. An effort to mask the fear gnawing at him from within.

“Where’s Tangtang?”

Shuang Fu blinked at him, dazed for a moment before he finally snapped out of it. His eyes welled up and he burst into louder sobs: “S-Sir, Young Master… he was taken by the palace guards—wuwuwu…”

Su Huaijing’s vision darkened in an instant. What followed was a cold, seething fury, the kind that thirsted to flay someone alive.

He had spent so long pretending to be a well-adjusted man, but it turned out that the moment Tangtang was gone, he reverted to the devil that had once clawed his way out of hell.

His throat worked once, and then he turned on his heel and climbed back into the carriage.

Shuang Shou, glancing anxiously at his elder brother, said nothing and followed at once.

Su Huaijing’s voice rang out: “To the palace.”

He’d woven this net tightly, strand upon strand, all in the name of caution and maximum gain.

But if the opposing player refused to abide by the rules, if the game required sacrificing a piece to bring things to a swifter close, then so be it.

Sheng Chengli wanted to be Emperor?

Well, a throne before a memorial tablet could be arranged.

—

Rong Tang and Liuyun had only crossed paths a handful of times.

Xingfeng might still appear under any number of disguises, but Liuyun… Liuyun had always been a shadow that moved through the night.

In Rong Tang’s first life, their acquaintance began when Liuyun drugged him.

In the second, he had occasional exchanges with Su Huaijing, but Liuyun, his shadow guard, was never seen.

In this life, though he had once briefly encountered Liuyun at Shen Feiyi’s courtyard and expressed gratitude for saving his life, even promising future repayment, Liuyun had never taken the initiative to appear again. Over time, that unspoken “debt of gratitude” faded into the background.

And so it was that when Rong Tang directly addressed the link between Liuyun and Su Huaijing, Liuyun hesitated for a beat. But then he knelt, and called him “Master”—and Rong Tang was thoroughly stunned.

In Rong Tang’s understanding, this man was hopelessly single-minded. Every decision he made followed a single principle: so long as it would not harm Su Huaijing, and so long as it served his benefit, it was permissible.

He had long since determined that Su Huaijing was his master, and he, in turn, was Su Huaijing’s loyal blade. Willing to die for him without hesitation.

And yet here he was now, kneeling before Rong Tang, calling him “Master”.

That flicker of anger from earlier had largely dissipated. Rong Tang was momentarily speechless, then composed himself and asked, “Why are you calling me that?”

“The Master instructed me to.”

Rong Tang, newly addressed as such: “…”

He paused. There was little point quibbling over semantics with someone like this. Someone whose entire being revolved around serving his master.

Instead, Rong Tang’s tone cooled slightly. “So? Did your master foresee I would be summoned to the imperial palace today?”

Liuyun, still kneeling, gave no change in expression. A flicker of uncertainty crossed his eyes but was quickly buried. He shook his head honestly. “Master only ordered me to stay by your side. Should anything happen, I am to protect you at all costs.”

Being summoned to the palace, it seemed, counted as ‘something happening’.

Young Prince Rong felt a little sheepish. He had, after all, just been stewing in his own assumptions about Su Huaijing.

He gave a slight cough. “You may rise.”

Liuyun obeyed without a word.

The air turned awkward. Had Xingfeng been here, Rong Tang might have exchanged a few words. But with Liuyun…

It wasn’t as though he could casually ask, “So why did you try to kill me back then?”

Rong Tang searched his mind for a new topic. “How did you manage to slip into the palace?”

“Shen Feiyi,” Liuyun replied. “He’s in charge of palace security now.”

A move Su Huaijing had arranged before Emperor Renshou’s health failed—clearly it had borne fruit.

“And how did you know something would go wrong for me in the palace?”

Only then did Liuyun show a flicker of surprise. “The Crown Prince of Dayu is Duke Ningxuan’s child. You are Duke Ningxuan’s heir. How could entering the palace be without danger?”

Rong Tang was silent for two seconds. “You’re sharper than Su Huaijing.”

Not that Su Huaijing hadn’t considered it, but clearly no one had anticipated that Sheng Chengli would act so brazenly as to summon him outright.

Rong Tang’s comment had been offhanded, but Liuyun paused, then replied quietly, “I simply care more about his life than he does.”

Rong Tang looked up. A shadow of something too complex to name passed through Liuyun’s eyes. “I am the Master’s shadow guard. I am his second life.”

“So, for both our sakes—for his, and for mine—I must eliminate those who threaten him, and protect anyone who might cause him pain.”

Rong Tang was silent for a long moment. A eunuch’s voice called from outside the hall: His Highness the Fifth Prince had requested to speak with the Shizi of Duke Ningxuan. He rose from his seat, cast Liuyun one more glance.

The man stood in eunuch’s robes, head bowed and shoulders slightly hunched, the picture of humble servitude played to perfection.

The door opened. A senior eunuch greeted him with the usual obsequious smile. Rong Tang blinked slowly… and in that moment, Liuyun’s earlier words clicked into place.

And for reasons even he couldn’t quite explain, as they walked the path towards the Hall of Political Affairs, Rong Tang deliberately slowed his steps and asked, his voice pitched low so only the two of them could hear:

“Was it you who killed me?”