Chapter 71

Chapter 71

In the eleventh winter of the Qingzheng era, Rong Tang fell seriously ill.

This illness had also occurred in his first life, so it did not feel unfamiliar to him. However, as he watched the snow fluttering outside Tanghua Courtyard, he couldn't stop worrying.

He had exchanged for life-saving medicine with the system a few times and had wrapped himself in multiple layers before venturing out.

The Dali Temple prison was deep and cold, seemingly a place where the clear sunlight would never reach. Rong Tang felt a painful ache in his chest, suppressing his pain as he coughed and walked to the deepest part of the prison.

It was an interrogation cell. Ke Hongxue stood outside the door, leaning casually against the wall, draping a fiery red fox fur cloak over his arm, his brows slightly furrowed, displaying neither sorrow nor joy as he looked at a piece of something in the corner, gnawed by rats, indistinguishable if it was rotten flesh or a pancake.

Rolled in the mud, its original form was unrecognizable.

Hearing the footsteps, Ke Hongxue looked up. The moment he saw Rong Tang, he appeared slightly surprised and asked in a subdued voice, "Has your Highness recovered?"

Ke Hongxue's greeting always seemed to start with this question. Rong Tang's well-being clearly had nothing to do with him, but he always asked "Are you feeling better?" upon seeing Rong Tang. If the answer was affirmative, Ke Hongxue's affectionate peach blossom eyes would curl up slightly, showing a hint of pleasure; if not, he would appear somewhat melancholic.

But these emotions were fleeting. The next moment, Ke Hongxue would remember why they were together and ask, "Does the Fifth Prince have any instructions?"

Rong Tang also spoke in a hushed tone, replying that his condition was the same, then gently shook his head, "There's nothing from His Highness."

Ke Hongxue then wondered, "Then for what matter has your Highness come to the Dali Temple?"

Continuous cries of prisoners echoed from the interrogation room, and no other sound could be heard. Through the crack of the door, Rong Tang saw a tall and straight figure. Sometimes, when he looked at Mu Jingshu's back, he felt this man shouldn't be in such a dark place, staining his hands with blood every day.

He is the snow on the mountains, but shouldn't be so cold. Even snow-capped mountains should have vibrant wildflowers.

Rong Tang didn't know how to warm him, and it seemed no one could.

Withdrawing his gaze, Rong Tang said softly, "It's going to snow."

Ke Hongxue was momentarily stunned, puzzled.

Rong Tang explained, "Recently, Li Changfu was executed. The Ministry of War is too preoccupied, Marshal Xia is overwhelmed, and the Third Prince's faction has suffered a heavy blow. I was thinking, should we ask Minister Mu to take a leave and rest for a while?"

Ke Hongxue blinked, digesting the meaning behind his words, then smiled, "I'd like him to rest too, but do you think he'll listen to me?"

Rong Tang, looking dejected, lowered his head, "If he won't listen to you, who will he listen to?"

Ke Hongxue's eyebrows lifted slightly, teasingly saying, "Why is your Highness so concerned about my senior brother?"

Rong Tang remained silent, thinking to himself, because he's on the brink of death.

Due to limitations imposed by the system, Rong Tang couldn't reveal to anyone in this world their ultimate fate, nor could he expose his identity as a time traveler.

Still, he wanted to make some changes.

If his presence could alter the ending of this novel and save Sheng Chengli's life, why couldn't he also save others?

But it seemed he just couldn't save them.

As the cries in the prison cell gradually weakened, Ke Hongxue left the wall, saying, "I'll remind him."

Rong Tang's eyes brightened slightly, almost wanting to thank him, but Ke Hongxue softly advised, "The prison is dark and gloomy. Your Highness, with your noble status, should avoid coming here in the future."

The sudden kindness and seriousness again made Rong Tang feel a dissonance that didn't quite align with Ke Hongxue.

He was showing concern, yet Rong Tang oddly felt it was more about consoling a part of Ke Hongxue's own inner thoughts.

Rong Tang's gaze involuntarily shifted, looking at the thick, dark prison doors of the Dali Temple.

He nodded, ready to leave, "Please give my regards to Minister Mu."

"Of course," Ke Hongxue responded, but then he asked, "Rong Tang, what do you think of the Censorate Minister?"

Rong Tang was startled, feigning calm as he countered, "You mean... Su Huaijing?"

Ke Hongxue smiled slightly, "Who else could it be?"

In the Dayu Dynasty's Censorate, there were two Censorate Ministers, but in the current official circles, mentioning the Censorate Minister would subconsciously refer to that nineteen-year-old young man.

Not only for his striking appearance but also for his influence, having become the emperor's confidant in less than a year since entering the court.

The Censorate oversees all officials, and now, when officials mention Su Huaijing, everyone feels threatened.

It was a smiling tiger that did not show its fangs.

Rong Tang composed himself and replied, "A very smart and decisive person, with considerable courage."

“Really?” Ke Hongxue murmured softly, his eyes slightly drooping, lost in thought. Then, with a half-serious, half-joking smile, he said, “Lord Su treats you quite differently.”

Rong Tang was surprised, “How so?”

“Have you ever been to the grasslands?” Ke Hongxue asked. “On the grasslands, when a wolf catches a rabbit, its first instinct is often not to eat it right away.”

Rong Tang thought he was talking nonsense again, frowning as Mu Jingxu was about to finish the interrogation. “Then what would it be?”

Ke Hongxue explained, “The wolf would carry the rabbit in its mouth, showing it off to the whole pack. If the rabbit is obedient and sensible, the wolf might even raise it, feeding it grass and grain, fattening it up.”

Rong Tang imagined this scene and asked expressionlessly, “And then eat it? Like people raising pigs?”

Ke Hongxue laughed at his response, “Young Master, you really have a sense of humor.”

Rong Tang didn’t think it was his humor, but rather that Ke Hongxue’s remark could only lead to this conclusion.

So he silently gazed at him for a while, until Ke Hongxue gradually lost his smile, his eyes containing a hint of something Rong Tang couldn’t understand, like an admonition or advice, saying, “If one day you find yourself alone, you might consider seeking Lord Su’s protection.”

Rong Tang frowned, “I have my parents, owe loyalty to His Highness, and work with you and Lord Mu. How could I be alone?”

“Who knows?” Ke Hongxue’s gaze slowly lifted, staring at a candle on the wall. There were few insects on winter nights, yet an early-awakened white moth was circling the flame. “I just feel, perhaps at the start, we all made the wrong choice.”

Rong Tang didn’t understand the meaning behind his words. The cries from the interrogation room stopped completely. Ke Hongxue took a breath, then quickly reverted to his carefree, frivolous demeanor, preparing to leave with a fox fur over his shoulder.

Rong Tang, anxious not to forget the important matter, was about to remind him when Ke Hongxue smiled, “I’ll remind my senior brother. But you, Young Master, with your fragile body, really need to take care.”

Rong Tang didn’t care much; after all, he would only use this body for a few more years. To him, even if he were to die from illness, it would just be a worn-out shell being discarded, albeit the suffering in the process would indeed be annoying.

He didn’t care much about his own health and didn’t go in to see and talk with Mu Jingxu that night.

After returning to Ningxuan Prince's Mansion, Rong Tang lay in the courtyard for a long time, occasionally slipping into a semi-conscious state. On the day of the first snowfall, he stared blankly out the window, unclear whether he was waiting for someone to deliver a message or hoping no one would come.

He waited the entire day, the fine snow fluttering down, and the moonlight reflecting off the snow in the evening made it seem like daytime.

No one came to bring him any bad news, and Rong Tang felt relieved, his health noticeably improving.

The heavy snow continued intermittently for five days, and by the fifth day, he had recovered to his usual self.

He planned to leave the mansion but then received an invitation from Lu Jiaxi.

At that time, Lu Jiaxi had joined the Ministry of Rites, responsible for all ceremonial matters. He looked downcast and confused, forcing a pale smile upon seeing Rong Tang.

Rong Tang was even more baffled than Lu Jiaxi.

Then he heard Lu Jiaxi say, "Your Highness, Minister Mu is gone."

Ke Hongxue single-handedly managed all the funeral arrangements. Mu Jingshu's nominal father, advanced in years and at Linyuan Academy, was kept in the dark under the pretense that no parent should bury their child.

On the day Rong Tang went to pay his respects, Ke Hongxue, who usually wore bright and luxurious clothes, was dressed in plain white mourning attire, showing more respect than what was customary for a friend.

Rong Tang had never seen him cry, not even during the mourning and funeral procession.

He was adept and effortless in his actions, navigating the ruthless world of fame and fortune with ease, and even at the funeral, there was no wailing or crying, just an air of elegant tranquility.

It was extremely quiet and refined. Ke Hongxue didn't hire any loud brass bands, only inviting monks from Tuolan Temple to chant prayers for the deceased day and night.

The guests were all silent, as if afraid that a louder voice might disturb Mu Jingshu's journey to the afterlife.

When Rong Tang went to offer incense, he saw the over seventy-year-old Ke Wenrui, disregarding his status, kneeling on the cushion and bowing three times, offering three sticks of incense. In the corner, the monks chanted complex Sanskrit. Rong Tang glanced over, finding them calm and composed, dignified and profound.

One of them, particularly handsome, with a shaved head and visible scars of religious vows, chanted the prayers with his eyes closed, resembling an ancient Buddha eroded over the years in the main hall. Rong Tang looked at him longer, but when he diverted his gaze, he could no longer recall the monk's features.

Su Huaijing entered from the courtyard gate, walking silently to the coffin, bowing three times in a manner that was neither overly respectful nor disrespectful, like mourning an ordinary colleague. After offering incense, he was about to leave when his gaze fell on Rong Tang for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but ultimately decided against it.

He greeted Ke Hongxue and was about to leave when Ke Hongxue's usually smiling expression suddenly turned somber, and Rong Tang finally saw what seemed like unspoken sorrow on his face.

In a low voice, he asked, "Will Master Su be in the capital in three days?"

Su Huaijing, puzzled, replied, "Of course, I will be."

"My senior brother's body will lie in state for three days. Where should I find you afterward if I want to speak with you?" Ke Hongxue asked.

Su Huaijing didn't understand but still answered, "Ke Hongxue can come to the Censorate to find me."

Ke Hongxue nodded, stepping aside and extending his arm forward, softly saying, "Take care."

Rong Tang thought it was just a minor incident during the funeral and didn't pay much attention until after Mu Jingshu's burial when Sheng Chengli spoke to him in a light tone, "The junior minister visited the Censorate last night."

It was snowing outside again, as if the heavens and earth were dressing Mu Jingshu in white.

Knowing Sheng Chengli had doubts, Rong Tang went to great lengths to dispel them. Two days later, while he was warming a fire in the courtyard, Su Huaijing unexpectedly entered Ningxuan Prince's Mansion and knocked on his door, smiling, "Your Highness, care for a drink?"

Alcohol wasn't suitable for Rong Tang's health. The times he and Su Huaijing met at Liujin Tower, they drank non-intoxicating fruit and flower wines, but this time, Su Huaijing brought the strongest spirits.

After one cup, Rong Tang felt dizzy; two cups nearly left him senseless.

He sat on the stool, dazed, watching the flickering lights on the table, the shadows on the walls dancing erratically.

Su Huaijing drank cup after cup, seemingly unaffected by the harshness, always smiling, but his eyes revealed emotions Rong Tang had never seen in two lifetimes.

Despondency, confusion, panic, regret, fear, resentment...

Such emotions were not typical for a villain.

Rong Tang, in a daze, unconsciously reached out, wanting to touch his eyes, drunkenly asking, "Have you been crying?"

"Don't cry."

"Your eyes are beautiful. You should smile, not cry."

His fingers felt warm and smooth skin, no trace of wet tears, but Rong Tang felt sure he was crying, rambling comfortingly for a long time until Su Huaijing finally grasped his hand.

All conversations in this life were kept brief. Rong Tang never overstepped to inquire about Su Huaijing's actions, and Su Huaijing never asked what Sheng Chengli wanted.

They were each walking on their chosen paths, intersecting occasionally, exchanging smiles and greetings before parting ways again.

Perhaps, on a day when one grew tired and paused, they would see the other approaching from a different path, smilingly shaking a wine flask, and asking, "How about stopping to enjoy the moon?"

Moonlight, river lanterns, the shimmering waves of Jinjing River, and fine wines that don't intoxicate.

This was the unspoken secret between Su Huaijing and Rong Tang.

But that day, by the stove in the side room on a snowy winter night, with the harsh liquor, Su Huaijing held Rong Tang's hand for the first time. Looking earnestly into his eyes, as if after a long, deliberate decision, he spoke so softly it was almost inaudible.

"Rong Tang, do you want to come with me?"

Forget about those you want to protect, stop dragging your sick body through treacherous schemes, and don't engage in plots you dislike.

Stay by my side, and I will ensure your safety.

Just be, for a while, my anchor, and that's your reward.

I suddenly feel so tired...

The charcoal in the stove crackled, Rong Tang was drunk, unsure if he heard clearly.

He blinked and asked softly, "What about His Highness, then?"

……

For a moment, or perhaps an instant.

Under the winter snow and fireworks, the hands that held each other for the first time let go, never to intersect again in this lifetime.

The person waiting at the crossroads embarked on a completely different path.

Author's note:

This chapter recounts experiences from the second life.