Under the Emperor’s piercing gaze, Rong Shuang calmly took a step back. 

Then he said, “Yes, I will.”

Ying Wujiu didn’t speak, but merely studied him. Rong Shuang felt as if he were being seen right through by that gaze; he wanted to escape, to escape, to escape, to escape, to escape.

It was unclear how long had passed before Ying Wujiu finally chuckled—as always, with a biting sarcasm that was somehow reassuring.

“Lord Rong, you must be well aware that once this letter is made public, not even the late Emperor’s imperial edict could save your life. A ruler must prioritize the realm above all else. I act for the sake of the realm and the state, and thus have no choice but to defy the imperial decree.”

I have no choice.

That was very much like Ying Wujiu.

Rong Shuang had long known that Ying Wujiu was a master of shifting blame—a true art form. No matter the situation, his go-to line was “I was unaware,” “I had no choice,” or “I acted involuntarily.” His words were the product of thirty years of practice, and every line was laced with the most sophisticated of open schemes.

His own cunning was no match for Ying Wujiu’s.

Rong Shuang nodded like a chick pecking at grain. 

Ying Wujiu: “So Lord Rong should also be well aware that there is only one person in this realm who can decide your life or death—not the late Emperor, but this Emperor.”

“The Prince of Qi has already been executed. As long as you obediently follow my orders, I can pretend I never saw that letter. If you continue to heed my commands, that letter will remain sealed away, left to rot here in the palace.”

Only now did Rong Shuang finally understand what Ying Wujiu had intended to do tonight.

To put it bluntly, Ying Wujiu didn’t trust him. The “Banquet at Hongmen” he’d faced when he first arrived had been both a test and a warning. At that time, the Prince of Qi’s head had just rolled, and Ying Wujiu likely hadn’t yet obtained evidence of Rong Zhihuan’s collusion with the Prince of Qi.

That was the moment when Ying Wujiu most wanted to kill him, yet he truly couldn’t touch him. Just as Ying Wujiu had said, as a feudal prince who had just ascended the throne, he hadn’t even secured his position yet if he were to crack down on other feudal princes. If he were to openly defy the late Emperor’s imperial decree and execute Rong Zhihuan, those who were already stirring up trouble and watching him with eagle eyes would inevitably use this as an excuse to wage war.

But now it’s different. With this letter in hand, Ying Wujiu would be fully justified in killing him—no one could find fault with it.

But Ying Wujiu…

At the very moment when he was most capable of killing him, he actually didn’t want to anymore. Because Ying Wujiu had seized the key to his survival, regaining the initiative in this showdown; even if he didn’t trust him, he had more than enough means to keep him under control.

Rong Shuang couldn’t help but swallow hard.

What kind of game is this? Can he even win? They should’ve said from the start not to let college students play political games!

Damn it.

He put on a smile and said obediently, “This subject promises to listen only to Your Majesty, to serve only Your Majesty, and to be Your Majesty’s loyal dog.”

Ying Wujiu was finally satisfied and smiled, beckoning him with a wave of his hand.

It’s fucking like calling a dog. 

Can’t I just kick this bastard a couple of times, seriously? 

Rong Shuang seethed inwardly, but still didn’t dare hesitate; he splashed his way through the water to the emperor’s side. 

He was soaked from head to toe; his black hair blended into the water’s surface, like an overturned inkwell.

Ying Wujiu raised his hand and, as if caressing him, brushed the damp strands of hair from the side of his face. Rong Shuang watched the movement with bated breath.

The next second, that hand landed on his neck again, but this time the grip wasn’t tight—it merely rested lightly there.

Rong Shuang: “……”

“I trust that Lord Rong will certainly not disappoint me.”

The Emperor looked down at him, his face extremely close to Rong Shuang’s; his tone was like a whisper, but only Rong Shuang knew it was a threat.

He hesitated for only a moment before answering, and the hand suddenly tightened. Startled, Rong Shuang hurriedly replied, “I won’t, I won’t.”

Ying Wujiu gently stroked him; the calluses on his hand felt like sandpaper.

This guy seems to really like doing this—every time he uses the calluses on his hand to pinch him, it feels so good. 

Rong Shuang didn’t dare move, and inevitably couldn’t help recalling what happened just now.

Who knows what I mean, Ying Wujiu genuinely looks so gay right now.

No!

Ying Wujiu took a deep breath, and only after rubbing against his throbbing pulse did he let go: “Go down.” 

Relieved, Rong Shuang backed away very cautiously: “This humble servant takes his leave.”

Then, with a splash and a gurgle, he made his way to the edge of the pond and climbed out. Scattered nearby were the folded paper he’d dropped earlier and a few golden, plump loquats.2

Rong Shuang was soaking wet. After glancing around for a moment, he picked up the loquats and carefully piled them within the Emperor’s reach, then patted the spot. 

“Your Majesty, I’ve placed the loquats here for you. Next time I come to the palace, I’ll be sure to bring more.”

Ying Wujiu said nothing.

Rong Shuang placed the memorial next to them as well.

The side hall returned to the deathly silence it had held when he first arrived. He backed away and, once he reached the doorway, hurried off.

Huang Lian saw him come out, took a few quick steps to catch up, and said insincerely, “Lord Rong, are you leaving the palace already?”

Rong Shuang wrung the water from his clothes as he walked: “Yes.”

Huang Lian: “If you have any questions, Lord Rong… please feel free to ask this servant.”

Rong Shuang: “?”

Is he really that nice?

He decided to take him at his word and asked offhand, “Why does His Majesty spend so much time soaking in the medicinal pool? Is there a special reason for that?”

After the question left his lips, there was silence for a long while—until he bumped into Huang Lian’s hand.

What’s he rubbing it back and forth in front of me for? 

Oh, he’s asking for money.

Rong Shuang stopped in his tracks: “How much? Is three hundred taels of gold enough?”

Huang Lian was surprisingly self-aware: “Oh, Magistrate Rong, that’s too much.”

Rong Shuang chuckled, “If it’s too much, then so be it—I wasn’t planning on giving you any anyway.” 

If you’re going to ask him for money, you’ve come to the right person—you’ll get nothing but your life in return.

Huang Lian’s smile widened.

Rong Shuang flicked his sleeve: “So why exactly does His Majesty soak in that medicinal pool every day?”

Huang Lian’s smile turned sharp: “Lord Rong, let me give you a word of warning: in this palace, the worst thing you can do is talk too much and ask too many questions. Don’t look at what you shouldn’t, and don’t ask what you shouldn’t—otherwise, you won’t even know how you died.”

Rong Shuang: “……” A true Great Liang chameleon.

No wonder he’s Ying Wujiu’s chief eunuch—he’s just as sharp-tongued. 

He shook the water off and returned the smile. 

Splash, splash, splash—

Huang Lian, doused with half his body in water: “?”

Rong Shuang shook himself for a moment, then suddenly noticed his fingers had slipped through the opening beneath his sleeve. Upon closer inspection, he realized his official robe had been torn at some point. 

O… no. 

Huang Lian was demanding money from him, but he was the one who wanted to ask Ying Wujiu for money. 

Rong Shuang had no desire to banter with Huang Lian any longer, so he strode forward: “Eat well, drink well, and sleep well. I’ll see you later, Eunuch.”

He remembered Old Ge telling him there would be a celebratory banquet in the palace tomorrow night to welcome Prince Ning. He couldn’t possibly attend wearing an official robe with a hole in it.

At that moment, in the side hall of the Liuqing Pool.

Young eunuchs carrying medicine tubs filed in one after another, adding medicinal herbs upstream where the fresh water was drawn into the Liuqing Pool. The water gurgled along the stone channels and eventually flowed into the pool.

Only after the young eunuchs had all left did a figure emerge from the corner.

“Fourteenth Brother, why not take this opportunity to kill that guy surnamed Rong?” 

Ying Wujiu replied in a calm voice, “He’s still useful.” 

The young man fell silent for a moment, then said, “Sixth Brother has raised a private army in Yunzhou. Though it’s not very large yet, with the support of the Wu family from Jiangnan, this matter probably won’t end well.”

He let out a hiss. “Fourteenth Brother, the Wu family is far too wealthy—almost as rich as Rong Zhihuan.”

Ying Wujiu let out a cold laugh.

The youth said, “If all else fails, make an example of Sixth Brother. With so many eyes on him, if we let this continue, it’ll become a problem too big to handle.”

Ying Wujiu didn’t respond. After a long silence, he finally said, “You’ve been traveling day and night to reach the capital ahead of schedule; you must be exhausted. Go rest first.”

The young man dared not say anything more: “Yes, Your Majesty. This humble servant takes his leave.”

Just as he took two steps back, his gaze fell on a few loquats beside the emperor’s hand, so he retraced his steps.

He pointed at them: “Fourteenth Brother, may I have one of those loquats?”

Ying Wujiu: “……”

He gave a nod, and the young man happily took the loquats and left.

Once the side hall had fallen silent again, Ying Wujiu finally opened his eyes.

He suddenly recalled that line from the imperial decree: “My fourteenth brother is virtuous and capable, worthy of entrusting with the imperial succession.” 

He also recalled that year when he returned to the capital to report on his duties and the late Emperor, who was ill at the time, had said, “I fear that once I die, the realm will descend into chaos. I fear even more that this empire will fall into the hands of Prince Yong and Prince Xin; when that happens, they will certainly leave you no way to survive.”

Ying Wujiu knew full well that, with the Northwest Army under his command and having established a stronghold in Lingzhou, he would be the first to die—regardless of whether Prince Yong or Prince Xin ascended the throne.

It wasn’t just him; none of the feudal princes could escape death.

Throughout history, feudal princes opposing the imperial court was nothing new. The late Emperor, though benevolent and kind, was incompetent and unwilling to see his own brothers turn against one another; he allowed the feudal princes’ power to grow unchecked, which led to the current situation.

But while the late emperor did not understand, every feudal prince commanding a large army did: the feudal princes of Great Liang had reached a point where their power must be curtailed—and it would be no different regardless of who ascended the throne.

Ying Wujiu gazed vacantly ahead, his eyes calm and indifferent.

He could foresee the bloodshed and cruelty of this struggle, and he could foresee the eternal infamy he would bear for slaughtering his brothers.

But so what. 

Glancing downward, he suddenly spotted the memorial.

Ying Wujiu picked it up casually and opened it.

“……”

“?”

He closed the memorial.

Then opened it again.

The handwriting was so hideous that it abruptly severed all of Ying Wujiu’s heavy thoughts, leaving only a single notion.

It looked like a piece where chickens and dogs ran amok.

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

The next day, news of Prince Ning’s triumphant return from quelling the rebellion spread throughout the capital.

According to Old Ge, the palace had specifically dispatched several senior ministers of great prestige in the court to greet Prince Ning at the city gates as he entered the capital—a display so grand that even Prince Yong in distant Jiangnan and Prince Xin in the southwest had heard of it.

At that time, Rong Shuang was still busy patching official robes with the people of the Rong household.

His Rong household was truly in dire straits now; not a single person in the entire household knew how to sew. 

Sitting under a loquat tree, Rong Shuang held a needle and pondered, “Will this really work?”

Old Ge also pondered: “As long as you’re not embarrassed, it’s the others who’ll be embarrassed.”

Rong Shuang: “……”

All right, then.

As dusk fell, the Tailin Hall was ablaze with lights.

That evening, Rong Shuang entered the palace with Meng Han—for no other reason than to hitch a ride on his horse.

Meng Han was already used to it and didn’t forget to add, “Then I’ll wait for you at the West Side Gate after tonight’s palace banquet.”

Rong Shuang was totally fine with that. She reached into her sleeve and pulled out a loquat: “Want a loquat?”

Meng Han clasped his hands in a bow: “Thank you, Lord Rong, but I’ll pass for now.”

Rong Shuang: “Alright, they’re really sweet.”

Just as he was about to put them away, a lively, youthful voice suddenly rang out from behind him. 

“He doesn’t want them, but I do!”

Rong Shuang turned his head.

He saw a young boy, about seventeen or eighteen years old, with fair skin and round eyes—a real baby face, with traces of baby fat still lingering on his cheeks.

Rong Shuang: “?”

Who is this?

Meng Han, standing nearby, bowed: “I pay my respects to His Highness the Prince Ning.”

Say that again—who is this?????