Chapter 100

Chapter 100

The question was too impertinent. Suhuai Jing's brows knitted, his gaze dropping to Qin Pengxun’s hand on his arm, speaking coldly, “Prince, please conduct yourself with dignity.”

Qin Pengxun immediately came to his senses, abruptly withdrawing his hand.

Suhuai Jing felt a momentary pause, an odd emotion welling up within him.

The Marquis of Wukang was a powerful figure in the current court. Emperor Renshou favored scholars over warriors, thus officials with military power were few. Marshal Xia was one, and the Marquis of Wukang was another.

Though only in command of a portion of the imperial city's forces, it was enough to show the emperor's trust in him.

With a powerful father and a mother who passed away early, as the heir, Qin Pengxun had never known fear or anxiety from birth, nor had he learned to bow and scrape.

His superficial respect for others was due to higher-ranking, compelling figures above him, occasionally reminding him of the proper etiquette ingrained in him as a scion of a noble family.

He barely showed enough respect for Rongtang, let alone Suhuai Jing.

Yet, from the moment he alighted from his carriage, hesitating to speak, to the flash of panic in his eyes when he abruptly withdrew his hand, every gesture revealed a fact:

He was afraid of Suhuai Jing.

This fear, perhaps unknown even to himself, explained his simultaneous display of rudeness and terror.

One moment recklessly direct, the next filled with fear and regret.

These were strange emotions. Suhuai Jing narrowed his eyes, stepped back, and answered his earlier question: “No.”

“How can that be!” Qin Pengxun, overwhelmed, forgot his fear and stepped closer, urgently asking, “That spot, you can't see it yourself. Hasn't anyone told you about it? Have you always been unaware?”

His concern for the birthmark was even greater than that of Suhuai Jing himself, desperately needing a definitive answer.

Calmly, Suhuai Jing asked, “Do you need me to undress for you, Prince Qin, to see for yourself?”

The Imperial Censorate and the Dali Temple shared origins, with stone statues of Bixi, overseeing punishment and lawsuits, standing at their gates.

Few officials frequented the Imperial Censorate; its front was desolate, conveying a chilling solemnity. The carriage horse, impatiently stamping its hooves and sneezing, seemed to wonder why they hadn't returned home yet.

Early spring in Yu Jing carried a unique chill, and as the north wind howled, Suhuai Jing momentarily caught a glimpse of expectation and probing in Qin Pengxun's eyes.

It seemed as if Qin was enticed by his suggestion.

An unfamiliar surge of killing intent welled up in Suhuai Jing.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, his right hand hanging by his side, grasping Rongtang’s waist token. His lips curved into a slight, upward arc, prompting, “Prince Qin?”

Qin Pengxun, called back to attention and hit by the cold wind, swiftly stepped back and bowed apologetically, “I was impolite, please forgive me, Mr. Suhuai.”

Not as a prince’s consort or a respected official, but a vaguely intimate and ambiguous title of ‘Mr.’

Suhuai Jing lowered his gaze, suppressing his irritation, and asked, “May I inquire, Prince, what prompted this question?”

Qin Pengxun's eyes darted away, fabricating an easily debunked lie, “Pan Yan mentioned it to me.”

Suhuai Jing observed him briefly, chuckling lightly, “I see. I haven’t had the chance to visit my cousin since her miscarriage. Please take good care of her, Prince.”

“Certainly, of course,” Qin Pengxun stammered.

Suhuai Jing turned to board the carriage. As Qin Pengxun followed a step, Suhuai Jing turned back before entering, his tone a reminder but his voice icy, “Prince, if you have matters that need clarification, please refrain from such behavior as blocking people at government offices.”

He added, “In this vast imperial city, how many households can withstand thorough scrutiny by the Imperial Censorate?”

Qin Pengxun stiffened, his face revealing shock, his gaze at Suhuai Jing turning ghostly.

Suhuai Jing disliked that look – too foolish and overly transparent, revealing his thoughts, which only bred resistance.

He neither liked nor, more accurately, loathed Qin Pengxun.

Had he been taken to the Marquis of Wukang’s residence a year ago, by now, they would be too embroiled in their own troubles to commit such follies as accosting someone at the Imperial Censorate.

Elevated to court out of turn and as the prince consort of Ningxuan Wangfu, countless eyes within and outside the court were on him. Qin Pengxun’s actions today could easily spark rumors tomorrow of collusion between Ningxuan Wang and the Marquis of Wukang.

Dealing with fools was draining; Suhuai Jing felt irked.

Yet, it was precisely the reckless audacity of Li Changfu and Qin Pengxun that led him to Rongtang. So, Suhuai Jing didn't wish for Qin's demise, but today's incident...

He settled back into the carriage, removing the outer robe that Qin Pengxun had grabbed, warming his hands over a small stove.

Indeed, there were no birthmarks on his back; even if there were, he would have excised them all when he first escaped from the palace ten years ago.

Such marks were like ticking time bombs, unpredictable in their future effects, potentially ruining his plans. He couldn’t afford such risks.

But then...

As his palms warmed, Suhuai Jing looked down and opened a secret compartment in the carriage, filled with various antidotes, poisons, and silver needles.

He picked up a bottle and poured a single, shiny red, subtly toxic pill into his palm.

The pill was lustrous and tasteless, inducing hallucinations, as if one were in a mystical realm, experiencing boundless pleasure.

A year ago, at Fengyue Tower, he had only two pills with him.

One was this very pill, the other a lethal poison. Had Rongtang not intervened, one of those pills was meant for Qin Pengxun.

A healer must test his medicine. Made from ancient formulas and improved by Suhuai Jing, he had locked himself up to test its effects the day it was completed.

Back then, he found carnal desire mundane. After testing, he locked away the formula, never to revisit it.

However, Qin Pengxun’s mention today suddenly reminded him of a begonia blossom he had seen.

The begonia, scentless and blooming serenely, exploded into splendor at its peak, drowning all senses in its illusionary wash.

Suhuai Jing’s brow furrowed as he counted the pills remaining in the bottle.

Ten per bottle, minus the one discarded a year ago, left nine exactly. The discarded pill had been ground to dust, blending with the earth.

The carriage moved slowly through melting snow, with winter lingering reluctantly. Suhuai Jing replaced the pill, gently closing his eyes, his fingers tensely curling by his side.

Qin Pengxun had taken that drug.

After consumption, he witnessed hallucinations, mistaking the blooming begonia in his visions for a birthmark on the person beneath him.

In his illusion, the goddess of Mount Wu in the fantasy was Suhuai Jing.

This situation was riddled with strangeness, yet Suhuai Jing couldn’t help but believe it.

Qin Pengxun himself might not have realized where the error lay, how such a perception formed in his mind, and it could connect to more things that terrified and shocked him. That's why he recklessly came alone to the Imperial Censorate, seeking Suhuai Jing for answers.

He might have thought it was all a mere illusion.

Suhuai Jing didn’t care why Qin was scared, nor did he want to know why this memory suddenly surfaced.

He just clenched his fist in restraint, a bitterness in his throat.

"So it wasn’t a dream…" he muttered softly, his eyes bloodshot as he reopened them.

In the "dream" fabricated by Rongtang, he wasn't taken away from Fengyue Tower, but ended up in the Wukang Marquis’s residence from Li Mansion in Songjing Lane.

There was no absurd, yet tender meeting colored by the lights of spring water, no tranquil dwelling in Yong'an Lane, no exchange of letters, no marriage, cohabitation, kissing, travels through Jiangnan, and return to the capital.

The multicolored threads of the Dragon Boat Festival, the New Year's money filled in year after year after the Eve...

None of it had happened.

It was Rongtang's "dream", but now all this seemed like Suhuai Jing’s "dream".

What made Suhuai Jing more desperate was that in the previous "dream", he seemed unable to save Rongtang.

Trapped himself, he caused Rongtang grief and fear.

Suhuai Jing couldn’t help but wonder, what should he do?

Inside the carriage, sandalwood burned, calming his restless heart.

Suhuai Jing collected himself, bending over to add more incense to the censer.

If everything Rongtang said was not a dream, then let’s assume, as per the legends in strange tales, that it was Rongtang’s past life.

In his past life, he chose Sheng Chengli, devoting himself to protecting, guarding, and rescuing him from the cold palace, teaching him the art of kingship.

A sudden "snap" sound.

Suhuai Jing, lost in thought, looked down to see the incense spoon he had broken, stunned for a moment.

Eventually, he put down the spoon, opened the carriage window, letting in the cold wind to clear his mind, driving away the overwhelming resentment.

In his past life, Rongtang chose Sheng Chengli, yet in this life, he feels disgust and fear at the sight of him.

The past and present are connected, and Qin Pengxun clearly didn’t understand where his strange memories came from, but Rongtang seemed to always foresee everything, as if he knew it all.

He had invested so much in Sheng Chengli in the past life, strategizing for him, but in this life, he didn’t even want to use his brain, wishing someone would read the storybook to him.

Suhuai Jing calmed down a bit with these thoughts.

The carriage traveled from the Imperial Censorate towards Yong'an Lane, where Rongtang was waiting for him to return home.

Suhuai Jing thought calmly, if Rongtang alone had memories of a past life, what did that imply?

Could it be said that all the development trajectories of this world once had something similar, and Rongtang was swept into them, forced to follow along?

Then, how did he manage to turn back in time?

Suhuai Jing stared into the furnace fire, pondering for a long time, and had to consider the most logical possibility.

——Death.

Rongtang died, so he returned to the very beginning.

Once this point was understood, almost all other questions had their answers.

How did he die?

Betrayed.

Who betrayed him?

Sheng Chengli.

Suddenly, it all became clear.

Suhuai Jing leaned back, halfway through the journey, his lips slightly raised, but his eyes brimmed with surging murderous intent.

After a while, Suhuai Jing exhaled deeply and muttered in a low voice, "Sheng Chengli killed Rongtang..."