Chapter 42

Songyuan appeared like a secluded paradise, detached from the bustle and turmoil of the capital. Days spent in the company of poetry and time itself could induce a sense of dreamy disorientation in some.

The theme of the Blossom Gathering changed daily: peonies on the first day, gardenias on the second, spring peaches on the third, continuing until the sixth day when Sheng Chengxing finally settled on peonies.

Lu Jiaxi came to the small courtyard early in the morning with the day's theme, prompting Rong Tang to laugh sarcastically at the news.

Su Huaijing peeled a bowl of round, golden-yellow loquats, skewered one with a small fork, and extended it towards Rong Tang, “Have one?”

Rong Tang hesitated for a second, turned his head, and gobbled down the loquat, instantly puffing out his cheek. Su Huaijing looked like he wanted to poke it but restrained himself, asking Lu Jiaxi, “Why today, out of all days?”

Lu Jiaxi replied with two words: “The climax.”

Ke Hongxue, who had been urging Mu Jingxu to join him in a game of Go, paused upon hearing this, laughing so hard his eyes nearly closed. He placed a piece on the board, creating a line, then slowly and suggestively captured one of Mu Jingxu's white pieces, commenting, "Should we say that Sheng Chengxing's boldness truly follows the lineage of Marshal Xia and Consort Hui?"

As a modern-day person, Rong Tang viewed the use of the term 'finale' in opera differently. He respected opera teachers as they promoted traditional culture.

But in the feudal era of Dayu, opera singers were simply performers, and comparing a pitiable performer to the empress or even the empress dowager in the palace was unthinkable. If Sheng Chengxing weren't a prince, no amount of heads would be enough to atone for such a transgression.

Ke Hongxue said, "But at events like the Flower Folding Festival, attendees are either students yet to graduate, cultured civil officials, or brainless officials' sons who only know how to drink and enjoy life. Hearing Sheng Chengxing's words, they might actually praise him for placing great importance on the Empress Dowager, even giving the peony poetry gathering the finale slot. In this way, the first day's herbaceous peonies became just a stepping stone, not only avoiding disrespect but actually showing respect by using his own mother as a foil to the Empress Dowager."

Ke Hongxue smiled as he made his move, unsure whether he was reminding or enjoying the drama. He glanced at Rong Tang and added, "Even if someone does see through the manipulation and wants to report him, they might just be playing into his hands. Prince Consort, it's a bitter pill the Empress Dowager must swallow regardless."

Rong Tang's expression darkened slightly, fully aware of this, which is why he felt unhappy.

He spat out the pit of a loquat and asked, "How old is Sheng Chengxing this year?"

Such a young age, yet so cunning! Among Emperor Renshou's sons, was there even one good seed?

Even if Su Huaijing didn't seek revenge and seize the throne, if the Dayu imperial succession passed to any of Emperor Renshou's sons, how long could it last?

Once again, Rong Tang felt that the world-building of this author had some serious flaws.

Su Huaijing answered, "Princes leave the palace at 16 to establish their own households. The Third Prince is 17 this year." He paused and added with a light laugh, "The same age as me."

Ke Hongxue, originally smiling as he played chess, subtly pressed his lips together at the mention of 'the Third Prince,' glancing up at Mu Jingxu sitting across from him.

"The latter remained remarkably calm and composed, not even flickering an eyelash."

"Ke Hongxue sighed inwardly, shaking his head in a slightly desolate manner, placing a black piece on the board, helplessly watching as Mu Jingshu’s white pieces lined up, then strategically capturing his own."

"Rong Tang turned his head, noticing the smile on Su Huaijing’s lips, seemingly indifferent to everything, and realized that he did take these matters seriously, deciding not to dwell on it further."

"Lately, he had grown lazy, placing increasing trust in Su Huaijing, readily relinquishing thought-intensive tasks to him whenever possible."

Lu Jiaxi tentatively extended an invitation, "Shall we go to the Lan Yue Pavilion? The Zi Yu Troupe has prepared a new play, debuting today especially for the Third Prince."

Upon hearing this, Ke Hongxue, usually the most enthusiastic, remained motionless, fiddling with a Go game simple enough for a three-year-old, not even lifting his eyelids: "It's too hot, can't be bothered. You go, just let me know what they perform later."

Rong Tang was slightly surprised; he remembered Ke Hongxue as someone who loved lively events. Whenever a theater troupe from another region visited the capital, Ke Hongxue would even skip meals to drag a few friends to watch the plays.

His first choice was always Mu Jingshu, but if he couldn't persuade his senior, he would turn to Ning Xuanwang's Mansion to invite Rong Tang. Rong Tang himself had lost count of how many theaters he had accompanied Ke Hongxue to, and how many shows they had seen.

And now, Ke Hongxue could resist the allure of a new play?

Rong Tang found this odd, but as they were about to leave, he saw Ke Hongxue turn his head with a probing look, scrutinizing Su Huaijing for a moment before suddenly asking, "Is Su Gongzi seventeen this year? When is your birthday?"

Rong Tang halted in his tracks, turning to look at the antagonist, suddenly realizing something:

He didn't know his "baby's" birthday!

The novel wouldn't mention the villain's birthday. In his previous lives, Rong Tang and Su Huaijing had interacted, but neither had the type of personality to invite the other to birthday parties. Thus, with Ke Hongxue’s question, Rong Tang shockingly realized he had never known his spouse's birthday!

This was actually illogical. Marrying and exchanging betrothal gifts typically included the birth dates and horoscopes of both parties, something one would glance at and remember. But during that time, Rong Tang’s schedule was simple: visiting his "baby" in Yong'an Lane, finding Shen Feiyi in the suburbs, accompanying Wang Xiuyu to the temple, and figuring out ways to gather more betrothal gifts for Su Huaijing...

He truly hadn't thought to check the antagonist's birthday.

Perhaps it was his intense gaze, or maybe Su Huaijing was just naturally attuned to Rong Tang’s emotions, but noticing his expression, he paused for a second before smiling and asking, "Doesn't Rong Tang know my birthday either?"

Feeling somewhat guilty, Rong Tang heard Su Huaijing softly say, "I'm so sad..."

Rong Tang immediately apologized, "I'm sorry..."

He almost dared not look at Su Huaijing, who laughed lightly in response, answering Ke Hongxue's question while gazing at Rong Tang, "My birthday is in spring, on the eighth day of the first lunar month. Have you remembered it, Rong Tang?"

A light "clack" sound came from the chessboard, signaling a collision.

Before Rong Tang could reply to Su Huaijing, he was distracted by the noise and turned to see Ke Hongxue leaning over the board to pick up a white piece. Ke Hongxue then meticulously restored the disrupted game piece by piece before finally placing the chess piece back into Mu Jingshu's bowl, teasingly saying, "I told you not to worry about such things when you're out. One moment you're resolving after-effects for others, the next handling official duties. Even an iron man can't endure that."

He softly suggested, "Maybe you should rest a bit afterwards?"

Rong Tang looked at Mu Jingshu and wondered if it was an illusion to see a trace of... what could barely be called bewilderment on Mu Jingshu's typically frosty face?

As Rong Tang was about to observe more closely, Mu Jingshu had already composed himself. With a faint look towards Su Huaijing and then averting his gaze, he resumed the game. With a very soft 'hmm', he seemingly responded to Ke Hongxue's earlier advice.

Rong Tang felt something was amiss, but couldn't quite pinpoint what it was.

Since the heavy rains a few days ago, Mu Jingshu and Ke Hongxue had been noticeably more relaxed, less frequently mentioning Su Huaijing in their presence. This was the first time in this life that Rong Tang had seen such a hint of uncontrolled emotion on Mu Jingshu's face.

And the cause seemed to be...

He pondered, and it appeared to be related to Su Huaijing's birthday?

Sensing something unusual, Rong Tang instinctively wanted to inquire further but noticed Su Huaijing's eyes narrowing as he turned to ask Ke Hongxue, "Why did Ke Shaofu suddenly ask about my birthday?"

Today, Ke Hongxue was dressed in a pink robe, not using a jade fan but a gold-painted paper one instead. The overwhelming opulence was both elegant and gaudy, yet strangely harmonious.

He casually said, "We just happened to be talking about it, and I asked on a whim. I suddenly remembered that I have a younger brother who should also be seventeen this year. I was just curious to see who is older between you two."

"As the morning breeze and sunshine passed through the upper floor, clouds drifting by, both Ke Hongxue and Su Huaijing, one sitting, one standing, wore smiles. Su Huaijing asked, 'And the result?'"

"With narrowed eyes, Ke Hongxue gazed at Su Huaijing, it was unclear whether he was reminiscing about someone through him or speculating. He opened his lips, laughing slowly, 'Same year, same month, same day.'"

"Rong Tang tensed, his brows slightly furrowing. He moved to stand beside Su Huaijing, guarding against any dangerous questions Ke Hongxue might pose."

"But then Ke Hongxue’s eyes shifted, opening his fan with a carefree gesture, 'I was going to ask the exact time of your birth, but my brother... he was unfortunate, passing away early, not reaching your age. Asking too much might revive painful memories, so I’d rather not.'"

"Su Huaijing looked at him for a moment, then softly said, 'Condolences.'"

"Ke Hongxue responded, 'It was many years ago, I’ve long since come to terms with it.' He placed a piece on the board, capturing another of Mu Jingshu’s, then reminded Rong Tang, 'The play at Lanyue Pavilion won’t wait; Young Master, if you wish to see it, you should hurry.'"

"As the clouds gathered and dispersed again, the three left the small courtyard through the moon gate. Ke Hongxue withdrew his gaze, casually remarking, 'Don’t you have anything to ask me, school brother?'"

"Mu Jingshu looked at him, 'What should I ask you?'"

"Ke Hongxue said, 'For instance, about how my family has only one son for three generations – where did this brother of mine come from?'"

"Mu Jingshu pressed his lips together, silent, his usually cold eyes showing a hint of fracturing ice."

"Ke Hongxue watched him with satisfaction for a while, then laughed, 'You’re always interesting like this, never laughing, never getting angry, never crying, never fussing. Even my grandfather wasn’t as rigid as you. Sometimes I wonder if you're a snowman.'"

"Mu Jingshu remained silent, and Ke Hongxue laughed again, 'Someone once called me a snowman, do you know who it was, school brother?'"

"Mu Jingshu’s gaze lingered on him, silent for a long time before speaking, 'Ke Hanying, what exactly are you trying to say?'"

"Ke Hongxue felt happy, his eyes curving into crescents with joy."

"Ordinarily, people use familiar terms to express closeness, but with his school brother, it’s when he’s angry, annoyed, or trying to distance himself…"

The closest two words, when articulated by him, exude nothing but cold indifference. Yet paradoxically, they leave one unable to let go or remain cold, almost addictive, making one wish for him to get angrier just to hear him utter his name again, savoring a hint of the cold fragrance of winter snow.

Ke Hongxue said with a smile, “I'm just a bit curious.”

He toyed with a chess piece, hesitating to place it, “It’s been so peaceful in the capital for years, but lately, there have been notable events: the execution of the son of the Left Shao Guard General, the rare white tiger presented as an auspicious gift to the Emperor, the opening of the Shu Dao Pavilion next to Fengyue Tower, and even my naive junior boldly suing someone in court—”

He paused as if suddenly remembering, “Oh yes, I also heard that on the night Ding Laibao was executed, the Second Prince personally captured someone and sent them to the Dali Temple. Have you seen who it was, student?”

Lively movements flowed through the Solitary Garden, with people attending banquets, watching plays, recuperating, and scheming…

Meanwhile, they sat in the pavilion, their world out of sync with the daylight, playing a game of chess so simple even a child could understand.

Mu Jingshu didn’t respond, so Ke Hongxue answered himself, “I haven’t seen him, but I heard his name is ‘Chen Fei’.”

Mu Jingshu finally spoke, “It’s a common name.”

Ke Hongxue nodded, “Indeed common—” looking up, he added, “and also easy to fake.”

He insinuated, “It's a pity I couldn’t see the face to tell if it resembles someone from the past.”

Mu Jingshu’s grip on the chess piece suddenly tightened.

Ke Hongxue detailed, “Three months ago, the Emperor ordered Li Changfu to return to the capital as the Ministry of War’s Assistant Minister. Two months ago, Minister Li arrived in the capital with his family, traveling light… Interestingly, soon after his arrival, our seemingly unsophisticated Second Prince began to frequently make political achievements; and our World Prince, deemed foolish for nine years, suddenly married a male spouse.”

Spinning a black chess piece, Ke Hongxue nonchalantly smiled, “There’s another coincidence, but you probably won’t guess, so I’ll just say it.”

He laughed, “Before coming to Solitary Garden, I had someone investigate. After Minister Li’s appointment, his family traveled by carriage from Shu to the capital. But on the border of Shu and Qin, they were ambushed by bandits who took their belongings but spared their lives. Minister Li, having lost most of his savings, was forced to send his legitimate daughter to the Marquis of Wukang’s house as a concubine to Qin Pengxuan.”

Mu Jingshu’s expression subtly changed, he asked hoarsely, “What are you trying to say?”

Ke Hongxue shook his head, “I don’t want to say anything specific, I just find it interesting.”

"Student, when all the coincidences in the world converge on one person, can they still be called coincidences?”

Ke Hongxue placed the chess piece he had been toying with onto the board, forming a caterpillar-like line of black pieces. He didn't proceed to capture any pieces, nor did he continue playing. Instead, he propped his chin with one hand and smiled, “And this person tells me he was born on the eighth day of the first month of Yuanxing's eighteenth year. Do you think if I asked further, he would say he was born precisely at the hour of Chen?”

The eighteenth year of Yuanxing, the first month, the day of Chen, dawn. The first rays of the rising sun hit the red bricks and green tiles of the palace walls, reflecting dazzling light on the snow. A baby's cry echoed from Fengqi Palace.

The most cherished Seventh Prince of the Great Yu Empire was born at that moment, and since then, all adoration fell upon him like the morning light, like a shooting star descending to this mortal world.

The birthdate and time of a prince is a royal secret, not to be known by commoners.

Mu Jingshu remained silent, lips pursed. Ke Hongxue sighed softly, “All these coincidences, so blatantly revealed before me, either it's a deliberate disguise, or…”

He paused, looking directly at Mu Jingshu, “Student, do you believe in resurrection from the dead?”

Mu Jingshu didn’t respond. Ke Hongxue, in a rare breach of etiquette, placed his hand over Mu Jingshu's, his eyes flashing with determination, “I believe. I also believe in the cycle of karma and retribution, in an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. I believe that there are divine beings above us, that the world should not witness such grievous injustices as snow in June. What about you, student?”

Do you want to believe with me?

The wind blew through the pavilion. Mu Jingshu sat in silence for a long time before slowly withdrawing his hand, “I don't believe.”

Ke Hongxue became anxious, “Student—”

“Ah Xue…” Mu Jingshu interrupted him, raising his eyes to meet his, repeating coolly, “I don't believe.”

Don't give me hope.

Don't let me look forward to something, only to be let down again.

I'd rather rot underground than touch the dawn's light.

Living is already exhausting.

In this world, light and shadow are just unattainable fantasies for me, bursting upon the slightest touch.

Then... there's no need to hope anymore.

I can't bear it.