Chapter 99

After the sixth day of the Lunar New Year, Mu Jingxu and Ke Hongxue were due to begin their posts at the Imperial Court of Justice and the Imperial College, respectively.

Thus, Su Huaijing’s birthday banquet didn’t commence until dusk, under the light of the rising moon. The long-awaited pork knuckle that Rong Tang had been craving since the previous year was finally served. Ke Hongxue had also had a wealth of rare ingredients delivered from home ahead of time. The cook displayed her skills with flair as Rong Tang toasted himself by the fire, enjoying the hotpot, gazing at the early spring snow in the courtyard, and listening to the soft crackle of charcoal indoors.

A bowl of rich soup, a few bites of rice, and beside you the dear family and close friends you cherish. In moments like these, the world and its ordinary affairs suddenly seem to offer something worth holding onto for a traveler.

Rong Tang drank a few cups of wine, his gaze lingering on the bright glow of the candle flame as he reached out to grasp it.

Su Huaijing asked, “What does Tangtang want?”

Rong Tang shook his head. “Nothing at all.”

The present is already enough. If you could capture the flame in your hand, would that mean time itself could stand still?

Such wistful thoughts came and went. Rong Tang didn’t tell Su Huaijing what was on his mind. Instead, he let his eyes curve in a smile once more, saying, “Huaijing, happy birthday.”

With sincerity and delight, he wished his main villain, his Boyboy, his dear husband, and his boyfriend every happiness and blessing in the world, along with a boundless future.

Rong Tang thought back to the time, years before, when he’d first read that novel. Surely, it was this kind of Su Huaijing that he’d liked.

A prodigy, the cherished son of heaven, who even when trapped in the mud still yearned for the light and ultimately grew into a dazzling adult.

How could he have ever liked a flashy protagonist like Sheng Chengli? And how could he have died twice trying to help him?

Rong Tang shook his head with a wry smile and said, “Huaijing, I’ll head to bed. You carry on chatting with gege.”

He said this openly, not hiding it from anyone. Ke Hongxue’s sharp gaze lifted briefly to him, but he saw no odd expressions on the faces around him. Ke Hongxue raised an eyebrow, faintly intrigued.

Once Rong Tang left, Ke Hongxue deliberately asked, “Who is this gege?”

Mu Jingxu’s hand paused over his teacup, his gaze darkening for a moment, though he gave no reply.

Su Huaijing smiled and said, “Excellency Mu and I took to each other straight away, so I recognised him as my sworn brother. Tangtang just followed me in calling him gege. What’s wrong with that?”

Ke Hongxue touched the rim of his wine cup with his lips, took a light sip, raised his almond-shaped eyes with a faint, cryptic smile, and murmured, “Really? Congratulations, then.”

Su Huaijing deftly shifted the conversation to another topic, not lingering on the term of address.

But in so doing, he confirmed another fact: it was not Ke Hongxue who had told Rong Tang about his and Mu Jingxu’s identities.

Tangtang had told him another little lie.

Su Huaijing’s eyes curved in a smile, though it didn’t quite reach their depths.

As winter turned to spring, the capital of Yu was lavish and bustling. After the Lantern Festival, Su Huaijing was due to begin his post at the Imperial Censorate. Rong Tang, who had spent much of the winter in Yong’an Lane, finally saw the first pale green shoots budding on the willows by the pond.

He felt a little thrill of joy, and instinctively turned to look for Su Huaijing to share it, only to remember in that moment that he’d already left the residence.

When Su Huaijing was preparing to join the court, the people he was most concerned with were Sheng Chengming and Ke Hongxue, not Rong Tang himself, though he was the one involved.

These past days, nearly every day held another banquet, each taking Su Huaijing out to meet with current court officials, exchanging views on politics and knowledge. When he became a fellow official in the future, he’d be better positioned than others to establish his footing.

Sheng Chengming introduced him to the rich and powerful, and Ke Hongxue took Su Huaijing to meet the civil servants.

Rong Tang went there once and was inspired by the wine, sex and wealth at those banquets.

Seeing him leaving the banquet, Su Huaijing also left, but he was the main character of the banquet, so Rong Tang pushed him back. He found another private room, lit a charcoal fire for heating, and read a book while holding the hand stove. Then, he waited for Su Huaijing to finish the banquet and come find him.

Rong Tang had no idea what they were discussing, but by the time Su Huaijing came over, he’d barely managed to turn three or four pages of his book.

Stunned, he glanced at the water clock and asked, “Aren’t you continuing?”

“We’ll get together again another day.” Su Huaijing walked over with a smile. Not a trace of the wine from the banquet had touched his clothes. Draping a fox-fur cloak over Rong Tang’s shoulders, he asked warmly, “Shall we go home?”

As they left the restaurant, they passed Jinfen River. With the Lantern Festival approaching, lotus lanterns were already drifting along the water.

Seeing this, Rong Tang bought two lanterns from an old man selling them at the riverside, one for Su Huaijing and one for himself.

The main villain asked him what he’d written on his lantern. Rong Tang held it close to his chest, giving him a wary look. “No peeking!”

“…How unfair.” Su Huaijing laughed softly, though there wasn’t a hint of annoyance in his voice. Taking up a brush, he also wrote his wish on a lantern and let it float downstream. “Then I won’t tell you mine either, Tangtang.”

Rong Tang hadn’t been especially curious about what Su Huaijing would write. After all, the character’s motivation was laid out in his profile: revenge, overthrowing Emperor Renshou.

But of course, such a goal couldn’t be spelled out so plainly on a river lantern. In truth, Rong Tang had no idea what other wishes Su Huaijing might have.

The system observed this and sneered: [Obviously, it has something to do with you.]

Rong Tang faltered, realising there might be some truth in that. His gaze drifted, and he stole a glance in the direction of the river.

Seeing this, Su Huaijing took his hand as they walked toward the carriage, smiling. “Does Tangtang want to know?”

Rong Tang hesitated. “Will you tell me?”

Su Huaijing calmly shook his head. “One for one. You tell me what you wrote, and I’ll tell you mine. Fair?”

With a crowd bustling around them, young ladies and gentlemen strolling in groups, Rong Tang immediately turned his head away, looking perfectly unperturbed. “No!” he replied, with calm authority.

Su Huaijing: “…”

He broke into a broad grin, making no attempt to hide his good mood. Xingfeng, who was lingering nearby, had a glance at the notes on their two lanterns. He paused, slightly taken aback, then placed them back, letting them drift with the water.

— Long life for Tangtang.

— May Huaijing’s wishes come true.

Who makes wishes like this?

Confused, he returned to the residence and sought out Bi Xin, who had recently left Earl Wukang’s manor and was now managing the Tangjing household. As they sorted through medicinal herbs, he shared his bewilderment.

At his words, Bi Xin stood silently for a long moment before a soft laugh escaped her. “You’re such a blockhead; of course you don’t understand.”

A faint sound came from outside the door. A young man stood there with a cold expression, two butterfly knives at his waist, looking every inch like a living King of Hell.

Bi Xin clapped her hands after sorting the last bundle of medicinal herbs, then took out two red envelopes from the drawer.

Liuyun was puzzled. “What’s this for?”

“Lantern Festival gift,” Bi Xin replied. “Master said he wanted to give these to you both, including New Year’s money.”

Liuyun’s expression remained blank, though there was a hint of confusion. Xingfeng felt a wave of exasperation, glancing at Bi Xin with an expression that needed no words.

[He’s younger than us, so why is he giving us lucky money?]

Bi Xin shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe he’s just in a good mood since Rong Tang gave him lucky money.”

From New Year’s Eve to the ninth day of the Lunar New Year, Rong Tang had given him a red envelope every day, no more, no less. Exactly ten.

From the twenty-fifth year of Yuanxing to now, it had been ten years, neither long nor short.

So, naturally, Master was happy, which explained the lucky money he gave them.

Liuyun nodded, satisfied with the logic, accepted the red envelope, and disappeared in a flash.

Bi Xin chuckled softly and continued sorting the medicinal herbs into categories for her master’s use later. For the past six months, he’d been working on a new formula, keeping it under wraps so as not to raise Rong Tang’s hopes prematurely. He’d been so cautious about it, his very scent had taken on the herbs’ aroma.

When had anyone seen him look so cautious, so lacking in confidence? His wish for Rong Tang to live a long life was no surprise.

But for Rong Tang to wish that Su Huaijing’s dreams come true? Bi Xin couldn’t help but smile.

She recalled a certain early spring afternoon when someone, with an expression as if ready to die at any moment, had stormed through the moon gate in a rage, outshining all the blooms around.

Yes… it made sense.

As a maid, she’d never had any lofty ideals, but now she’d gained a new one: she hoped both her masters’ wishes would come true.

Rong Tang’s long life, Su Huaijing’s heart’s desire fulfilled.

If so, there’d be hope each and every spring to come.

…

On the eighteenth day of the first lunar month, an imperial messenger arrived, officially summoning Huaijing to the Censorate Office to train under the Deputy Censor-in-Chief.

Huimian had yet to return to the capital, and Sheng Chengli had volunteered to guard the imperial tombs. Emperor Renshou, after making all the necessary ceremonial gestures, finally agreed, swayed by the Board of Astronomy’s fervent “petition for death.” His Highness, the Fifth Prince, was to leave the capital after the first month, tend to the tombs for six months, and return by late summer.

Rong Tang didn’t move back to Duke Ningxuan’s Palace. With one less person, Yong’an Lane suddenly felt a little dull.

The storybooks around the capital hadn’t been updated for some time. He looked out at the lake, beginning to thaw, and the budding willow branches, then returned to his room to resume copying scriptures.

During the Lantern Festival, he returned to the palace for a meal. He remembered the Buddha portrait he’d received last year when he’d gone to burn incense at Tuolan Temple. Somehow, he’d brought it with him again.

Still, he didn’t hang it; it simply rested on the display shelf behind him.

After he finished reading the storybook, he began copying scriptures.

The system awoke from dormancy and, startled by his behaviour, asked hesitantly, “Tangtang, what’s wrong?”

It was easy to predict the little dummy system’s thoughts; whenever it wanted to soothe him, it would call him Tangtang.

Rong Tang chuckled. “Nothing, just feeling a bit bored.”

The system fell silent for a moment, considering the possible reasons for his boredom. It even wondered if its host’s mind was really bonded to the system or if he was just lost in thoughts of romance.

The system was speechless, fuming. “You’re beyond saving!”

It was about to go back into sleep mode but felt that it hadn’t scolded him enough, so it added, “Idiot host!”

Rong Tang replied, “Alright, I’m the idiot host, and you’re the clever system.”

System: “…???”

“There’s something wrong with you.” It muttered in disbelief, wondering how he could have changed this much just from falling in love. Where had its quick-witted, sharp-tongued host gone?

Rong Tang finished copying a page, put down his brush, and smiled. “I praise you, and yet you’re still displeased. So hard to please.”

A main villain was far better company than this silly system.

With more people to converse with, Rong Tang found his life more amusing. Without thinking, he tried to tease the system again, but before he could continue, there was a knock at the study door, and Shuang Fu entered to report, “Young Master, someone is at the gate asking to see you.”

Rong Tang was puzzled. In this residence, the only people who might visit him were Ke Hongxue, Mu Jingxu, or Lu Jiaxi—even Sheng Chengming had never come by. But all of them were currently occupied at court, so why would any of them visit him now, and with such formality?

Rong Tang asked, “Who is it?”

Shuang Fu replied, “His Royal Highness, the Fifth Prince.”

The system, which had been fussing with the host, froze mid-argument, momentarily stunned, before instinctively moving towards Rong Tang.

…

Elsewhere, Su Huaijing emerged from the Imperial Censorate and saw a carriage parked nearby.

A man stepped out and approached him.

Su Huaijing frowned slightly, then quickly adjusted his expression and asked with a smile, “Is Young Lord Qin here to see Tangtang? Unfortunately, he didn’t come with me.”

Qin Pengxuan shook his head. “I’m here for you.”

Su Huaijing’s smile faded as he angled himself aside and asked, “Why do you need me?”

Qin Pengxuan, dressed in a rich, heroic red coat, hesitated, seeming unsure of how to begin.

Su Huaijing waited, but when no words came, he turned to leave.

Suddenly, Qin Pengxuan grabbed his arm and asked urgently, “Do you have a birthmark on your back, on your shoulder blade, shaped like a begonia flower?”