Chapter 22#

Only Then Did Rong Yu Realize He Had Been Unknowingly Cornered by Chu Tan, With No Chance of Turning Things Around#

Chu Tan fell ill—a high fever.

That was to be expected. Having soaked in the icy lake water for so long, it would have been strange if he hadn’t gotten sick.

Mo Shu forbade Chu Tan from appearing before Rong Yu on the grounds that he might pass his illness on to the young master, and he was not to return until fully recovered.

In Chu Tan’s room.

Chu Tan felt someone touch his face and jolted awake from his slumber. A sharp glint flashed through his eyes, then vanished the moment he saw the familiar face before him.

“Seeing how wide Your Highness the Crown Prince opens his eyes, I can tell your spirits are in good shape.” Jiang Qi sat cross-legged on the table, grinning, an apple in his hand as he took a bite.

Chu Tan removed the cloth from his forehead and pushed himself up into a sitting position. He suddenly felt a pang of pain and looked down at his chest.

His chest and abdomen were wrapped in layers of bandages, emitting a strong medicinal scent.

“Your Highness’s wounds have split open again. I’ve re-dressed them for you.” Cai Shu said while tidying up his medicine box.

Chu Tan leaned back against the headboard, bare-chested, and said hoarsely, “Why have the two of you both come?”

Jiang Qi swung his crossed leg as he teased, “Well, in just three short days, the Rong household has sent for a physician twice. I was anxious and wanted to see how many more days Your Highness has left. If you’re not going to make it, we’ll have to find ourselves a new master.”

Cai Shu shot Jiang Qi a glare. “Show some respect.”

Jiang Qi pursed his lips and resumed crunching loudly on his apple.

Cai Shu looked at Chu Tan with some helplessness. “Your Highness is covered in wounds right now. Please don’t provoke Rong Sanlang anymore. That one is twisted and gloomy by nature, ruthless and vicious. If Your Highness suffers any more hardship, even a body of iron wouldn’t hold up.”

Chu Tan rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to clear his foggy mind, and said, “I know what I’m doing.”

“It’s good that Your Highness has a plan.”

Jiang Qi picked up an object from the table and examined it. “This is the glazed cup Your Highness fished out of the lake?”

Chu Tan frowned slightly. “How do you know?”

“The servants in the Rong household have all spread the word.” Jiang Qi held the glazed cup up to the oil lamp and slowly turned it. Dark golden shadows of light drifted across the carved patterns on its surface, and the crystal-clear glass reflected the lamplight in a riot of colors—truly dazzling and magnificent.

He clicked his tongue in wonder. “So beautiful. The people of the capital sure know how to enjoy themselves. While we’re out there fighting tooth and nail in wars, they casually spend nine thousand taels of gold to buy a trinket like this for amusement.”

At these words, Cai Shu fell silent too, feeling somewhat bitter inside.

Soldiers guarding the frontier and defending the nation—that was their duty, and they shouldn’t have any complaints.

But upon returning to the capital, they discovered the extravagant lives these silk-robed nobles led. When they were narrowly escaping death on the battlefield, gnawing on cold mantou and slurping vegetable soup, the nobles were throwing money around in this bustling place of splendor.

Most importantly, the current emperor was absurd and fatuous—he had butchered loyal ministers and good generals out of mere suspicion. Now, in his pursuit of immortality, he was lavishly building Taoist temples and shrines, exhausting the people and draining the treasury. He ignored his ministers’ counsel and ruled with arbitrary tyranny.

If they were to lay down their lives for such a monarch, it simply wasn’t worth it.

And that was precisely why they had rallied behind Wei Jingtan.

The Prince of Wei was a hero of his generation, and a tiger father begets no dog son.

Wei Jingtan had displayed astonishing military leadership talent since childhood. As he grew older, he showed signs of surpassing even his father—graceful and majestic, with a faint air of imperial authority about him.

A ruler like that was worth following.

The lamplight flickered. Jiang Qi stopped his movements and a sudden idea struck him. “This glazed cup is so valuable—why don’t we pawn it? The silver we get would be enough to pay the brothers’ wages for three months, and we could even buy a batch of war horses on top of that.”

Chu Tan’s brow tightened slightly. “Give it to me.”

Jiang Qi handed over the glazed cup, his eyes shining. “Your Highness, my idea’s not bad, is it?”

Chu Tan wiped the cup with a cloth, set it neatly in the small box by his bedside, closed the lid, and locked it.

Then he ruthlessly shook his head at Jiang Qi. “No.”

Jiang Qi was dumbfounded. “Why not? This is exactly when we need money.”

“This cup is too conspicuous. I’m merely a servant in the Rong household now. If I pawned it off for a large sum, what reason would I have to stay here? If it draws the attention of those with sharp eyes, and some clue is discovered—wouldn’t that just bring trouble?”

Chu Tan’s expression was perfectly calm, revealing nothing of the true thoughts hidden in his heart.

“Your Highness makes a fair point.” Cai Shu glanced at the small box and spoke up unexpectedly. “Jiang Qi, you should drop the idea of the glazed cup.”

Jiang Qi could only shut his mouth.

Cai Shu said, “Rest easy, Your Highness. The silver we brought from the prince’s estate, along with the banknotes the Prince left in various money houses, are more than enough for now. There’s no need to rush.”

Chu Tan nodded. He had his own plans for these matters. Then he asked, “Any progress on the Yangzhou business?”

At this, Jiang Qi turned serious. “Little Five sent word last night. He’s been making contact with the salt merchants in Yangzhou, but those merchants have eight hundred schemes hidden in their hearts. They’re tight-lipped, so we haven’t been able to dig up anything yet.”

“Take it slow. They’ll slip up eventually.” Chu Tan pondered for a moment. “Have Little Five pay closer attention to Yangzhou’s annual records of missing persons. Perhaps that will yield some clues.”

Jiang Qi was puzzled. “What does selling illicit salt have to do with missing persons?”

Cai Shu’s eyes lit up, and he said appreciatively, “Your Highness is brilliant.”

Jiang Qi was completely lost, and no one bothered to explain it to him. After lingering a while longer, the two rose to take their leave.

As they left, Cai Shu took a jade bottle from his medicine box. “This is a scar-removing ointment I made. Once Your Highness’s wounds have healed, remember to apply some, so you won’t be left with scars.”

Jiang Qi’s face was full of disapproval. “Why bother removing scars? Scars are a man’s medals. A body covered in scars is what makes you mighty and impressive!”

Chu Tan treated Jiang Qi as if he were air and carefully put away the scar ointment.

After his previous attempts at probing, he’d discovered that the young master was quite fond of this body of his. He’d better take good care of it—it would prove useful in the future.

—

Three days later, Chu Tan returned to duty.

Mo Shu frowned at him. “Are you fully recovered? Don’t go passing your illness to the young master.”

Chu Tan said, “I’m completely well.”

With a face full of reluctance, Mo Shu led him to see Rong Yu. He’d assumed Chu Tan’s illness would take at least ten days to half a month to fully mend, yet he’d recovered this quickly.

Mo Shu eyed Chu Tan sideways, muttering inwardly—could this man be some sort of demon in disguise? How was he so resistant to wear and tear? Anyone else would have been ruined by now, but Chu Tan was still hale and hearty.

Little did he know that Chu Tan had grown up in military camps since childhood—starting martial arts training at four, following the Prince of Wei into battle at twelve, forging a body of steel and iron through blades and gunfire.

A mere chill was nothing. If not for the whip wounds he’d suffered earlier that got infected from soaking in water and triggered the fever, he probably wouldn’t have fallen ill at all even if he’d stayed in the water a while longer.

Chu Tan arrived at the main hall. Rong Yu was reclining on the soft couch by the window, playing Go by himself—a white stone in one hand, a black stone in the other, playing both sides against each other.

The youth’s brows were serene, his crow-feather lashes casting shallow shadows over his eyelids. His pale-colored pupils lay hidden beneath those lashes, neither sorrowful nor joyful, like a beautiful ink painting—yet also hollow and lifeless.

Rong Yu held a black stone, hesitating for a long moment without placing it, as if he’d hit a dead end.

Mo Shu was about to remind Chu Tan not to disturb the young master, when he saw Chu Tan stride over in large steps.

Mo Shu gritted his teeth in fury and shook his fist viciously at Chu Tan’s back.

“Has the young master run into a difficult spot?” Chu Tan stopped beside Rong Yu and spoke softly.

Faint ripples stirred in those beautiful eyes. Rong Yu tilted his head to look at him, then expressionlessly turned his gaze back to the board.

“Your servant knows a little something about Go. Perhaps I might have a try.” Without waiting for Rong Yu’s response, Chu Tan sat down across from him as if it were the most natural thing. He paused in thought for a moment, then smoothly plucked the black stone from Rong Yu’s fingers and placed it on the board.

Rong Yu’s eyes widened slightly, and a look of sudden realization appeared on his face.

Then he picked up a white stone and set it down elsewhere.

And so the two of them played back and forth against each other.

Rong Yu’s playing style was free and unpredictable. He excelled at calculation, often placing his stones in unexpected positions that nonetheless yielded tremendous results.

By contrast, Chu Tan was notably aggressive and battle-hungry. He made his moves with decisive ruthlessness, giving off a fierce, kill-or-be-killed sense of desperate combat.

An hour later, Rong Yu gazed at the board, slowly set down his white stone, and said quietly, “I lost.”

Chu Tan seemed to act without thought, careless of consequences. In truth, he advanced step by step with careful strategy, pressing closer and closer. It was only at the final clash that Rong Yu realized he had been unknowingly cornered by Chu Tan, with no possibility of turning things around.

Chu Tan reached out and picked up the stones one by one, placing them back into the bowls, and said slowly, “The young master’s skill is superb—striking from unexpected angles. It’s just that you’re too easily led and drawn along. If you could hold firm to your own intentions, I might not have won.”

Rong Yu raised his eyes and said coldly, “I don’t need you to lecture me.”

“It’s not a lecture—merely a suggestion.” Chu Tan offered a cup of tea.

Rong Yu brushed his hand aside and said to Mo Shu, “Push me back to my room. I’m tired.”

Rong Yu had been feeling weary more often lately. Spring must be approaching.

—

In the blink of an eye, two months passed. The snow and ice melted, all things revived, and spring finally arrived in the capital.

The snowdrifts in the courtyard had vanished, and willow branches by the lake had sprouted tender buds. When the spring breeze blew, they swayed along with the wind.

The servants of the household had already swapped their padded jackets for thinner clothing, yet Rong Yu still wore his fox-fur cloak.

He didn’t want to wear it, but Nanny Qin insisted he keep it on until the Awakening of Insects. Besides, he’d always been prone to cold, so wearing this much didn’t make him hot.

Rong Yu glanced at Chu Tan beside him. Chu Tan had also changed into lighter clothes, but his sleeves and pant legs were a bit short and tight.

“Did you grow taller again?” Rong Yu frowned.

He remembered that during the New Year, he’d gifted every servant a set of clothes—Chu Tan included. How could newly made clothes already be too short?

Chu Tan nodded. “Yes.”

Rong Yu pressed his lips together. Some people were still growing at eighteen, while others had already been in a wheelchair for four years. Comparing oneself to others was infuriating.

“When Manager Chen comes to make my clothes, have him make a few sets for him too,” Rong Yu instructed Mo Shu. “So I don’t look shabby bringing him out.”

Manager Chen was the head tailor of Shangyi Studio in the capital, specializing in bespoke clothing for the nobility. He came every season to take Rong Yu’s measurements.

Mo Shu acknowledged the order.

A spring breeze suddenly rose, and the lake’s surface shimmered with rippling light. Strands of Rong Yu’s hair drifted in the wind.

Mo Shu hurriedly gathered Rong Yu’s clothes around him. “Young master, the wind is picking up. Shall we head back?”

Rong Yu nodded, and they turned to leave, when a servant arrived to report that the old master had requested the young master’s presence in the front hall.

So they changed direction and made their way to the front hall.

In the front hall.

Rong Xiuyong sat in the seat of honor, with Rong Yue seated below him.

Rong Yu hadn’t seen Rong Yue in a long time. Rong Yue had been sick for a whole month, and Rong Yu hadn’t bothered to visit.

However, he’d heard that after Rong Yue recovered, he’d come looking for Chu Tan. Rong Yu could only sigh at Rong Yue’s persistence. Unfortunately, under his influence, that connection with Chu Tan had already frayed considerably. Rong Yue’s several attempts to extend goodwill had all failed, and Chu Tan didn’t seem to have developed any favorable feelings toward Rong Yue either.

Rong Yu was delighted by this. After all, whenever Rong Yue was unhappy, Rong Yu was happy.

“Come take a look at this.” Rong Xiuyong pointed to a letter on the table.

Mo Shu went over, took it, and presented it to Rong Yu.

Rong Yu opened it and read. In essence, it invited Rong Xiuyong and his wife, along with the Rong family’s two sons, to participate in the spring hunt half a month from now.

The spring hunt was an imperial hunting event hosted by the emperor. Imperial relatives, ministers, and military officers would gather at the royal hunting grounds for a grand hunt, demonstrating the majesty of the Son of Heaven.

Rong Yu was somewhat surprised, though. In the past, no matter what events were held in the capital—large or small—he was never included. Why such a change this time?

His gaze landed on the seal at the end of the letter, and his brow jumped in even greater astonishment.

It was personally invited by the Crown Prince.

【Author’s Note:】

I’ve seen so many dear readers asking me for more chapters, but I’m still in the countryside right now and the writing environment isn’t great. Once I get back to my own place and settle in, I’ll write more. Mwah mwah mwah mwah mwah.