Chapter 162

Chapter 162

Rong Tang felt something was amiss but couldn’t pinpoint exactly what the problem was.

Su Huaijing still acted coquettishly every day, insisting on a kiss after taking his medicine, claiming his mouth was bitter otherwise. After the kiss, he would slyly smile, like a mischievous child, irresistibly annoying yet endearing.

The system, as usual, visited him every month on the fifteenth, chattering away about many things, its thoughts more flickering than the lights on its body.

Letters from Jiangnan arrived monthly. Ke Hongxue penned them, rambling about things Rong Tang cared about: Wang Xiuyu, Yuan Yuan, the branch of the Linyuan Academy, and naturally, his life with Mu Jingxu. The letters depicted an ordinary yet vivid life.

Everything seemed normal, but Rong Tang couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Autumn in the capital would soon bring cool weather. Due to the Empress Dowager's passing, Emperor Renshou wouldn’t celebrate his birthday this year, and foreign envoys wouldn’t enter the realm.

Friends and relatives had left the capital, and there were no external threats.

In a day of extreme tranquility, Rong Tang finally realized what was amiss before falling asleep.

It was too quiet. Even before a storm, there was always some indication, but now, although there were undercurrents, it was unlike any past life he had experienced, nor like any scene described in the original story.

—The kind of scene where every step felt like struggling through a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood.

He couldn't see any signs of Su Huaijing's ambition to seize power.

Rong Tang suddenly opened his eyes, pushed Su Huaijing with a bit more force. The villain grunted, grabbing his fingers, his voice hoarse, asking deeply, "Can't sleep?"

Just three simple words, inexplicably laced with danger. In the depths of the night, they carried an unmasked desire for invasion.

This time, Rong Tang didn’t indulge him and asked directly, "What have you been doing lately?"

Awakened by the push, Shu Huaijing's sleepiness faded. His other hand slipped inside Rong Tang's inner robe, roaming with its warm palm over lean and resilient skin. Shu Huaijing's eyes narrowed slightly as he nuzzled against Rong Tang's neck.

His breath warm against the neck, Shu Huaijing teasingly traced his tongue, barely touching, stirring the delicate cartilage and the nerves overlying the muscles: "Loving Tang Tang."

"Not just recently," he added softly. "I've loved Tang Tang every day, more with each passing day."

His hand fully invaded the territory. Shu Huaijing rolled over, pressing down without waiting for Rong Tang's further inquiries, nibbling lightly on his ear and seductively murmured, "Let's do it."

The sensation of skin and physical desire numbed his mind, almost making Rong Tang forget the question he woke Shu Huaijing to ask. His soul succumbed to desire, his body loyal to its wild instincts. Being bewitched by a loved one was a common affair.

Rong Tang looked up, struggling for a moment in the hazy darkness, then swallowed his question.

—Shu Huaijing didn't want to tell him.

Before completely succumbing, Rong Tang realized this.

Unwilling to answer, yet not wanting to lie, he chose to divert his thoughts and attention in another way.

Rong Tang remained silent for a moment, then joined him in the ebb and flow, ultimately saying nothing.

……

Autumn winds rustled the leaves in the courtyard as Rong Tang leaned against a beauty's backrest, absently flipping through a storybook in his hands.

Su Huaijing rarely kept anything from him, or rather, Rong Tang seldom had a strong desire to probe. When he did show curiosity, the big villain was often more excited than he was.

He would spare no effort to satisfy all of Rong Tang's curiosities and explorations, and would find ways to bring him into his own world.

The unpredictable changes of Bo Yun had nothing to do with Rong Tang, but in all their honest interactions, Su Huaijing never hid anything.

Yet now, his concealment was too obvious, forcing Rong Tang to suspect that what he was planning might actually involve him.

There was a connection and a possibility of being hurt, which was why Su Huaijing was reluctant to tell him.

But...

Rong Tang closed his eyes; the half of the black fog in his consciousness had turned grey, relentlessly assimilated and tinted by swathes of grey, eventually diluting the deep black to a dominant grey.

The only person in the current capital city related to him and needing to be kept in the dark was Sheng Chengli.

Su Huaijing and Sheng Chengli...

Had they reached some kind of agreement?

For what purpose?

Rong Tang opened his eyes, pondering uneasily.

-

Suppressed rumors by the official troops were resurfacing, this time even more intense than before.

In the capital, there was a troupe named Ziyu, known for its risqué and boldly innovative performances.

In early July, the Ziyu troupe premiered a new play, performed only once, with just thirty tickets for sale.

Yet, these thirty seats, in just three days, thrust the royal family's secrets once again into the spotlight.

On Rong Tang's first visit to the Ziyu troupe, Su Huaijing discovered his secret fascination with risqué novels; on his second visit, he humbled himself to the ground, doing his utmost to placate Su Huaijing.

Thereafter, no matter how the villain tempted or Ke Hongxue invited, he never again agreed to visit that place to watch a play.

Thus, all news and rumors were relayed by word of mouth from Shuangfu.

Both the nobility and commoners, usually reticent, quickly spread the news throughout the city within a few days.

The new play, a story of familial discord, was divided into three acts, titled "Decay."

The first act depicted a harmonious elder brother, managing the family's fortune and honor, while the younger brother, dissatisfied with his lesser share, conspires with enemies of the family, eventually assassinating his elder brother in a surprise attack to usurp his position.

In the second act, the younger brother, now head of the family, indulges in extravagance, filling the once solemn courtyard with garish colors. With many women in the household and three sons, he discovers his youngest, whom he adored, was not his own, and rage overcomes his reason.

In the third act, the brother plots and kills the biological father of his youngest son, but the grandmother discovers the child's true identity. During a nighttime heart-to-heart, she questions why he hasn’t expelled the child from the family. He replies: "It's not that I defy your wishes, mother. With three sons, each balancing the other, eliminating one would stir the remaining two to vie for my position."

The grandmother, in grief and anger, berates him: "My son, today you worry about your position, even willing to dress others for their weddings. Have you forgotten that you too once usurped your brother's place?"

The new family head, shocked by her words, is haunted by nightmares, hearing her scolding as if proclaiming to the world how he gained his position. Waking in terror, spitting dark blood, he weeps and kneels, repenting to the void: "Mother, forgive your unfilial son!"

The scene shifts, and soon the grandmother falls ill.

First she loses her speech, then her sight, and eventually dies miserably in winter. On the day of her burial, black crows follow the coffin, and as it is lowered into the earth, they descend en masse, prying open the coffin to peck at her unresting corpse, dropping rotting flesh onto the snow, swiftly devoured by their beaks.

Crows feeding on the dead, the living slaying their predecessors, the once magnificent household, in a moment, turns into a haven for carrion crows, obscuring the sun and moon.

……

Combining traditional theater with shadow play, the performance vividly unveils the secrets of a noble household.

The garden audience was sparse, yet as the curtain fell, no one dared move, the usually bustling place eerily silent, where even the drop of a pin could be distinctly heard.

The thirty play tickets were acquired in various ways: some by the powerful with heavy gold, some won in gambling dens, some randomly obtained in eateries, and some gifted for literary brilliance...

Thirty secluded boxes, small rooms staggered across the four directions. Each spectator, blindfolded upon entry, was led to their seat, where they could then remove the blindfold.

No one knew who else was in the same room watching the play, everyone too anxious to utter a sound.

But in just three days, this highly subversive and suggestive play became an unspoken secret among the citizens of the capital.

No one dared to speak of it, yet many knew parts of it. The original three acts of "Decay" evolved, with audience members vividly filling in the unportrayed details, adding flesh and blood to the story.

By the time the authorities sensed something amiss and went to arrest people at the Ziyu troupe, the most bustling troupe in the city had already vanished, leaving behind an empty Pear Garden to decay with time.

As for those thirty viewers, they had dispersed into the vast sea of people, untraceable.

Such a grand and opulent mansion, such a vast and expansive territory.

Who could not guess what this play was really about?

Sheng Chengxing's final words on the Golden Throne, foreboding and imminent, had still spread.

Emperor Renshou spent his life crafting a reputation of benevolence, donning masks of kindness and compassion.

Yet, because of three acts and thirty viewers, his facade was punctured, revealing nothing but a rotting core, exposed in broad daylight, attracting circling crows.

……

Rong Tang, hearing all this, was stunned for a long time.

This was not any development he had seen or experienced in his story; in the original text as told by the system, the great villain did not even vindicate his parents or siblings after ascending the throne.

There was no need; he did not love this country or its people, finding them all foolish and mindless. Why seek their approval or correction?

In the story, everything Su Huaijing did was solely for revenge.

Those who seek revenge actually don't need to explain to their victims why they are dying; that would be a form of mercy, and the great villain has no heart for mercy.

He just needs his enemies dead and the world in ruins. As for this land, it will continue to thrive, with new travelers and old souls coexisting, moving forward along the wheel of history, while Dayu...

Will disappear by his hand.

Thus, ascending the throne was simple. When he had enough power and troops, when he could easily obtain the imperial jade seal, when he could leisurely watch Sheng Xuyan personally draft the abdication edict...

All the public opinion and power were just icing on the cake, not necessities.

Yet, the world Rong Tang witnessed in this lifetime had changed.

Su Huaijing began to lay the groundwork for his own legitimacy and Sheng Xuyan's heresy, just like Emperor Renshou did before and after his coup, spending effort to compile many false histories.

The play "Decay" sent chills through the city.

Autumn leaves fell onto Xuanwu Avenue, and a morning glory struggled to rise from the ashes of a burnt-down courtyard.

The officials finally saw the ailing emperor attend court, only to jointly present a petition.

"We earnestly request Your Majesty to establish an heir soon!"

Su Huaijing stood among the crowd, neither kneeling nor speaking, his eyes slightly raised, observing the prince selected by the ministers.

Letting go of past grievances, now, Sheng Xuyan and Sheng Chengli were merely dogs snarling in the same arena, nothing more.

Both driven by immense selfishness, they would inevitably harm each other and meet disgraceful ends.