On his first day at Lingfu Temple, Rong Shuang was tormented quite severely by Ying Wujiu, and it was entirely foreseeable that as long as Ying Wujiu stayed there, he wouldn’t have a single good day. 

Rong Shuang felt utterly hopeless. Wrapped in the thin quilt from his meditation room, he didn’t sleep a wink all night, and the next day, he had to get up before dawn, before the roosters even crowed, to recite the morning sutras.

He put on his outer robe and went out, quietly asking the young novice, “Has His Majesty given any instructions?” 

The young novice shook his head: “None.”

Rong Shuang breathed a sigh of relief and tiptoed off to the main hall to recite the morning sutras.

Sure enough, practice makes perfect—the words no longer stumbled over each other on his tongue. Not only did they not stumble, but he even found time to let his mind wander.

Rong Shuang knelt on the small meditation cushion, his slender figure and black hair pulled up high. He mused to himself that Ying Wujiu had actually forbidden him from staying here as a monk. Ah, what a pity—he felt he had a real knack for monastic life! 

Rong Shuang was feeling down in the dumps. After finishing the morning sutras, he was just about to head out for a bit of labor reform when Ying Wujiu’s verbal order arrived. This time, it wasn’t delivered by that round-faced little novice monk, but by Huang Lian.

Huang Lian was accompanied by two young eunuchs; the entourage was quite grand and looked very formal.

“Today is the Blessing Ceremony at the Great Hero Hall. His Majesty has ordered this servant to present you with your court robes. Please change into them and follow me.”

Rong Shuang stood in the courtyard, watching as one of the young eunuchs held the official robe and official’s hat, while the other carried a basin of pure water scented with lotus petals. Huang Lian smiled and said, “Lord Rong, please come.”

Rong Shuang didn’t dare delay; he took the garments and returned to his meditation chamber to change.

Having been away from the capital for so many days, he was even less clear on the latest developments in court politics. While others were strategizing behind the scenes to secure victory from afar, he didn’t even know what time the iftar meal would be served once he stepped outside this courtyard gate. 

The gap between people is sometimes wider than that between humans and dogs—not to mention that Ying Wujiu had always intended to sever his connections and marginalize him.

This is what it’s like to have not a single confidant by one’s side.

But it didn’t matter; he was already working hard to become Ying Wujiu’s confidant. 

After changing his clothes, he washed his face and hands at the entrance, then left the courtyard as Huang Lian watched him with a puzzled smile. He passed through several gates, climbed a few winding stone steps, and finally arrived outside the main hall.

But before he could enter, he was stopped by a figure.

“Hmph.”

Rong Shuang: “?”

That familiar presence—upon closer inspection, it wasn’t Qin Tianyang.

It was a rather unfamiliar face, and a brief look of bewilderment flashed across Rong Shuang’s face.

That’s the downside of the ancient era—even though Rong Shuang had read the seven or eight notebooks written by the original host cover to cover several times, he still couldn’t match the faces to the names.

Not to mention, with so many people who hated him, pinpointing a single individual from among the entire court was truly difficult. The man glared at him with pure hostility, his face practically screaming profanities.

Rong Shuang remained polite in the presence of the Buddha and asked kindly, “Who are you?” 

The man: “???”

With a tirade on the tip of his tongue, Huang Lian stepped in to save the day: “Minister Ji, let’s go.”

“Lord Ji.”

Thankfully, while many people hated him, not many bore the surname Ji.

Ji Changju, the Censor of the Censorate, had submitted numerous memorials harshly condemning him. “Leave? If that corrupt official isn’t beheaded, I’ll throw myself to my death right outside this imperial hall!” All right, that matches perfectly.

Rong Shuang patted him on the shoulder: “This is a pure Buddhist sanctuary—it’s no place for fighting and killing. Besides, we’ve all come this far, and it hasn’t been easy for any of us, especially on such a major holiday.” 

Ji Changju: “?”

What on earth is he babbling about??

Rong Shuang had already grabbed his official robe and dashed inside. 

“You, you, you, you, you, you!”

“Don’t think that just because you’re hiding in Lingfu Temple, I can’t submit a memorial to scold you!!”

The young man left behind only a slender, graceful silhouette. 

Rong Shuang ran as fast as he could, desperate to find Ying Wujiu—in a situation like this, he was the only one with the power of life and death over him.

If Ying Wujiu wanted to kill him—say, right now—any random person could come along and demand his execution. But if Ying Wujiu didn’t want to kill him, not even the King of Heaven himself could touch him.

On this point, Rong Shuang had always been unwavering. Although he could sense that this man was a bit of a psychopath during their time together, so what? What leader isn’t a bit of a psychopath? 

Before he started working, he heard from his older brother about how his boss really loved making his subordinates clean the restrooms, would sneak into the office to watch porn during work hours, and even installed a row of surveillance cameras at the employees’ desks to monitor what everyone was doing on the job. 

Any one of those stories is way more twisted than what Ying Wujiu did. 

When he came to his senses, Rong Shuang had already tried on a row of red, purple, and green official robes and ceremonial attire. A stream of voices washed over his ears: “Long time no see, Lord Rong.” 

“Oh.” 

“Lord Rong, where are you rushing off to?” 

“Tsk.” 

“Oh my, it’s been ages—Lord Rong really is glowing with health.” 

“Pfft.” 

Rong Shuang thought to himself, Qin Tianyang, stop hiding. 

The ceremony hadn’t started yet. After making his way all the way to the front, Rong Shuang adjusted his robe and hat, steadied his breathing, and slipped in from the back.

She flashed a smile: “Your Majesty, good morning! How did you sleep last night?”

The Emperor, clad in the deepest black ceremonial attire reserved for the highest rites, heard this boisterous greeting and shot a sidelong glance over the shoulder of his twelve-tasseled crown. He leaned toward him imperceptibly, raised a finger to the jade bead hanging by his ear, and asked, “Lord Rong, do you know what this is called?”

The young man’s beautiful eyes followed his finger, staring intently, then shook his head. Ying Wujiu replied, “Yellow silk earplugs.”

Rong Shuang tilted his head, smiling: “?”

What sound just slipped past my ear? 

“This object is meant to remind me not to listen to slander or malicious words, and to remain vigilant at all times.” 

Rong Shuang: “……”

He’s talking about slander and malicious words, right? 

The curve of his lips widened, and then he made a motion as if zipping up his fly. 

If he doesn’t want me to say it, then I won’t.

He silently planned to take a step back, but just then, the Emperor, feeling rather smug, added, “Lord Rong, you must perform well at today’s grand ceremony. Otherwise, given your current notoriety and disrepute, I fear you might accidentally get your head chopped off on the way back to the capital.” 

Rong Shuang gave a nervous laugh.

“By accident?” He wasn’t buying it.

He suspected that the “person” who would hack him to pieces would go by the surname Ying and the given name Wujiu. 

He nodded quickly without a word.

The grand ceremony began shortly thereafter. The imperial hall, with its soaring eaves and intricate bracket systems, exuded an air of majesty and solemnity. Officials stood in order of rank, following the Emperor as they received incense, offered it, paid their respects, and prayed for blessings. Although Rong Shuang had been stripped of his authority, his position was still quite prominent, standing just a few feet behind the Emperor. 

Mingjue presented the Emperor with three massive sticks of “Imperial Agarwood.” The sandalwood smoke was ethereal, swirling and rising. The Emperor stood before the incense burner, the twelve jade beads of his crown hanging down.

The sacred chanting sounded like a tide, deep and resonant.

Rong Shuang, too, could not help but feel a sense of reverence, holding his breath.

Just as the first rays of the rising sun illuminated the golden roof of the Great Hero Hall, the blessing ceremony came to an end.

Rong Shuang bowed once more with deep sincerity before the majestic image of the Buddha, silently repeating in his heart, “Amitabha Buddha, please bless me, please bless me.”

The delegation from the capital was set to return today. Rong Shuang had originally planned to sneak back to his meditation room and wait a while before heading home, but to his surprise, Ying Wujiu called him out by name and had him taken away.

Dragged before the Emperor, Rong Shuang meekly raised his hand: “Your Majesty, this subject feels he could continue reciting the sutras for a while longer; I have only just become thoroughly familiar with them.”

In front of all the civil and military officials, Ying Wujiu spoke in a tone so kind it was eerie: “Today, I have seen Lord Rong’s sincerity, and I have decided to pardon your offense. If you truly wish to continue reciting, I shall establish a Buddhist chapel within the palace. After court each day, you may pray for the welfare of all the people of the realm here—would that be acceptable?” 

Without realizing it, Rong Shuang had dug another hole for himself.

Or perhaps it was Ying Wujiu who was always ready to set a trap for him.

He gave a wry smile and waved to Abbot Mingjue, who returned a slow Buddhist bow: “Amitabha. Lord Rong’s sincere devotion is plain for all to see.”

Rong Shuang sighed. “Ah, I’ll never have another chance to become a monk.” 

So Rong Shuang packed up the small bundle he’d brought with him and left with the ceremonial procession from the capital. On the way back, he walked alongside Qin Tianyang.

As their horses rode side by side, Qin Tianyang called out, “Hey!”

Without turning his head, Rong Shuang cupped his hand to his ear as if listening: “Go ahead, Young Marquis.” 

Qin Tianyang snapped, “Have you no manners!”

Rong Shuang hadn’t expected to hear the word “manners” come from such a hothead’s mouth. He shook his head earnestly: “I’m afraid I’m out of them today. I hope the Young Marquis will forgive me.”

Qin Tianyang was silent for a moment: “…Are you in a bad mood?”

This time, it was Rong Shuang’s turn to look confused.

“Never mind. Since I’m about to tell you something that’ll make you feel even worse, I won’t hold it against you.”

“His Highness the Prince of Ning is returning to the capital.”

Prince of Ning?

The name sounded vaguely familiar to Rong Shuang, but he didn’t have a strong impression of him. He vaguely recalled that among the people “attending court” at the East Market during the soup distribution, there had been one of his spies.

“Do you know why His Highness the Prince Ning is returning to the capital?”

Rong Shuang: “No idea.” 

Qin Tianyang: “His Highness the Prince Ning led his troops to a great victory in quelling the rebellion in the southeast. The news of the victory reached the capital the day before yesterday, and now His Highness and his forces have arrived in Yunzhou, and he’ll be back in the capital in less than three days.”

Rong Shuang remained silent, offering no reply.

“Does this news sound familiar to you?”

To be honest, it didn’t sound very familiar.

However, Qin Tianyang was a man who asked and answered his own questions; he didn’t need Rong Shuang’s response to continue.

“The Southeast—that’s the fiefdom where the Prince of Qi was stationed. A month ago, he raised an army in rebellion, and it was His Highness the Prince Ning who volunteered to go to the Southeast to restore order. He’s been cleaning up the mess ever since, and this time he’s returning to present His Majesty with a satisfactory report.”

Rong Shuang’s face went ashen: “Thanks for telling me all this.”

Qin Tianyang mimicked his earlier forced smile: “You’re welcome. His Majesty has granted me permission to tell you this.” Rong Shuang was at a loss for words.

Before long, Meng Han’s horse caught up, and he rode up alongside him. “Lord Rong, it’s been a long time.” 

Rong Shuang smiled. “It’s been a long time, brother.”

Meng Han asked, “Lord Rong, how have you been eating and sleeping these past few days at Lingfu Temple?” 

Rong Shuang replied, “Not bad, my friend.”

Qin Tianyang listened to their conversation and cast a strange glance their way, as if to say, “What are you two brothers talking about, brother?” 

Rong Shuang pretended not to notice and continued riding along, his horse bouncing up and down.

Qin Tianyang: “Hey! You there, Rong!” 

Rong Shuang: “……”

“Why aren’t you yelling anymore?”

Rong Shuang: “I’m wondering if His Highness the Prince Ning will have me wiped out along with the rebels once he returns to the capital.” 

Qin Tianyang: “Pfft.”

Rong Shuang: “Whoa~.” 

Qin Tianyang: “……”

Meng Han turned his head and also gave him and Qin Tianyang a strange look, as if to say, “What kind of secret code are you two exchanging?” 

Rong Shuang pondered for a moment, then raised both hands: “Not becoming sworn brothers, not becoming brothers.”

Desperate straight man Qin Tianyang: “??”

Desperate straight man Meng Han: “??”

Rong Shuang, whose sexual orientation was temporarily rendered ambiguous from being tormented by Ying Wujiu: ^^

Qin Tianyang: “Have you lost your mind?! I’m reporting this to His Majesty!”

Rong Shuang squeezed his horse’s flanks and rode ahead.

Leaving behind one last line:

“Treat it as official business.”