FYM - 1

The tenth year of the Taiqing era.

Luoyang.

Snow.

The Western Palace was deep and secluded, its only light piercing through the stormy night. The palace lanterns hanging outside the Guanfeng Hall flickered under the fierce northern winds, their flames dancing precariously as if on the verge of extinguishing. Inside the hall, however, the imperial chambers were brightly lit. The magnificent structure boasted intricate carvings, gilded beams, and luxurious furnishings—but an undercurrent of cold desolation lingered in the air. The sharp smell of medicinal herbs overwhelmed the fragrant osmanthus incense that the emperor had always favored, and every table and chair seemed to be steeped in bitterness.

“Cough… cough…”

A muffled, blood-choked sound echoed from the deepest recesses of the hall. Outside, the howling wind battered the doors and windows with relentless fury, making the majestic imperial palace feel like fragile paper, ready to collapse at any moment.

“Yizhi…”

A gaunt hand emerged from the curtains of the dragon bed, its bluish hue illuminated by the newly lit candles on the bronze tree lamp—it was the hand of the Son of Heaven. Once commanding armies and bestowing titles upon lords, it now resembled nothing more than a withered branch, trembling uncontrollably as though it might fall apart entirely in the next instant.

“Your Majesty—”

Many courtiers knelt within the inner chamber. A minister dressed in purple robes prostrated himself near the emperor’s bedside, bowing deeply: “Houzhou has fallen into chaos, and His Highness has yet to return…”

His hoarse voice carried an air of solemnity, but the emperor seemed deaf to all around him, muttering “Yizhi” over and over again. Muted coughs continued to emanate from behind the curtains, each one laced with thick traces of blood. The ministers remained kneeling respectfully, fully aware that great disorder was imminent this night. Amidst the silence, they exchanged furtive glances, their flashing eyes colder than the biting winds raging outside.

“Father Emperor—”

Finally, the Crown Prince crawled forward on his knees and grasped the frail hand extending from the bed. Barely twelve or thirteen years old, his eyes were red and swollen from crying, and his voice trembled with sorrow, like that of a young deer mourning amidst encircling wolves. His father, who should have been his protector, was now on the brink of death, barely clinging to life.

“Since ascending the throne, I have reigned for nearly twelve years. Though I have labored tirelessly day and night without laziness, my endeavors have often ended in failure…”

“Now, the rivers and mountains remain unrestored, postal routes are fraught with hardship, the ancestral altars stand unsteady, and warfare erupts ceaselessly—all these are the sins of my lack of virtue…”

“To you, my loyal ministers, I entrust the care of the Crown Prince… After my passing, none of the regional lords need attend my funeral. Instead, cooperate with Lord Song to relocate the capital southward… For the sake of… the people…”

The broken words drifted faintly through the chamber. In his final moments, the emperor’s thoughts lingered on the fractured empire he left behind—or perhaps he had already lost consciousness, merely repeating fragments of the edict long prepared. Below, the ministers bowed their heads, chanting praises even as the Crown Prince let out a heartrending wail. When they looked up, the emperor’s hand had already fallen limp. The flickering candlelight cast gray shadows beside the dragon bed.

“Your Majesty—”

A chorus of sobs erupted in unison, each person seemingly overcome with grief, their cries echoing as if they sought to wrench out their own hearts. In the distance, the somber tolling of bells began to resonate throughout the vast imperial palace.

Dong—

Dong—

Dong—

The mournful sounds seemed to come from beyond the heavens. As the ministers rose to their feet, the grand hall suddenly felt oppressively small. Still kneeling, the Crown Prince had not yet stopped weeping when several elder statesmen approached him steadily. Their purple and crimson robes stood out starkly against the gloom. Looking up, their towering figures loomed above him as though they, not he, were the true sovereigns.

“Your Highness,” said the Duke of Yinping, bowing slightly. “With the late emperor’s passing, the entire realm mourns. However, military and state affairs cannot be neglected for long. Please compose yourself and move to the Eastern Palace.”

Tears still streaming down his face, the young prince looked around, his vision blurred by the shifting figures. Panicking, he protested, “No—I won’t go back to the Eastern Palace! I must seek Mother Empress at Xianju Hall!”

As soon as the words left his lips, the tightly shut palace doors burst open. A violent gust of snowstorm surged inside, instantly extinguishing the row of freshly lit candles on the bronze tree lamp.

Bone-chilling cold and darkness descended simultaneously. The Crown Prince watched helplessly as Chancellor Fan stepped closer toward him from beside the Duke of Yinping.

“Xianju Hall?”

Chancellor Fan smiled faintly, his expression tinged with disdain and mockery.

“No, Your Highness… Her Majesty is no longer there.”

Is that so?

While the bells tolling for the emperor’s death still rang mournfully, the grounds outside Xianju Hall were already bristling with cold, glinting weapons. Chaos brewed not only in Hezhong Prefecture but also deep within the palace walls.

The elite forces of the Northern Guard had surrounded the empress’s quarters, led by General Lou Wei, whose sword pointed directly at the troops sent by the regional princes. His face was stern, his gaze sharp, and his gleaming armor exuded authority. He barked coldly, “Xianju Hall is Her Majesty’s residence. To bring arms into the palace is treason! If anyone dares advance further, they will be executed without mercy!”

Standing below the jade steps was Wei Lin, son of the Duke of Yinping. Clad in armor and wielding a halberd, he stood firm, refusing to retreat. Raising his voice, he declared, “We act on the late emperor’s decree to escort Her Majesty to Bailu Terrace. General Lou, do you dare defy the imperial command?”

Bailu Terrace, located on the outskirts of Luoyang, had once been a summer palace built for Consort Gao during the previous dynasty. Over generations, it had fallen into disrepair, now little more than ruins.

“Imperial decree?” Lou Wei sneered, turning to bow mockingly toward Feishuang Hall, obscured by the swirling snowstorm. “The late emperor cherished the empress deeply; how could he issue such an order to humiliate her? Moreover, His Majesty has been gravely ill for some time. When exactly did he issue this command? Young Master Wei, do not spout falsehoods!”

“The late emperor has passed!” Wei Lin retorted, advancing instead of retreating. “The Crown Prince ascends the throne before the coffin. Are his golden words false?”

“Ridiculous!” Lou Wei exploded with rage. “The Crown Prince is renowned for his filial piety. How dare you twist black into white and sow discord? Do you wish to disgrace the royal family and invite your own demise?”

Pausing briefly, his voice grew sharper, slicing through the air. “If this truly comes from the Eastern Palace, then produce evidence! If not, the Northern Guard will never allow you to leave the palace alive!”

The threat struck fear into the bones of those present. Yet Wei Lin, standing below the steps, showed no sign of fear. Smiling calmly, he replied, “The late emperor’s will clearly states that due to the Crown Prince’s youth, five regents shall govern the realm. This decision was made collectively by three of them, and even the Eastern Palace itself must comply.”

Indeed.

Worried about the stability of the realm, the late emperor had appointed five regents for his young heir while bedridden. The three Wei Lin referred to were prominent figures: Wei Bi, Duke of Yinping; Fan Yucheng, Chief Minister and head of civil officials; and Chen Meng, Grand Tutor to the Crown Prince and Minister of Light and Honor. All wielded immense power and influence, leaving even the new emperor no choice but to heed their counsel.

But what of the other two?

Lou Wei’s eyes narrowed sharply, understanding full well the ambitions harbored by certain members of the court. Realizing there was no turning back tonight, he ordered the six armies to advance further, declaring, “Regardless of whether what Young Master Wei says is true or false, even if it is, those three cannot act alone. Two of the five regents are absent from court. Therefore, this decision is invalid!”

“You, Lou Wei!”

Wei Lin’s expression darkened, revealing a ferocious glint in his eyes. Gripping his halberd firmly, he countered, “A wise man knows when to adapt. I advise you—choose your allies wisely. Don’t ruin yourself and destroy the Lou clan!”

With no room for negotiation left, Wei Lin saw that Lou Wei showed no signs of backing down. Enraged, he shouted three times, “Fine!” Then, addressing the generals behind him, he commanded, “Attack! Kill the traitorous minister defying the imperial decree! Escort Her Majesty to Bailu Terrace!”

Howling winds and swirling frost filled the air as the imperial palace endured both mourning and upheaval. The expansive courtyard bristled with weapons, their blades glinting with a thirst for blood.

Creak—

Just then, the heavy doors of Xianju Hall slowly opened. The faint sound reverberated like thunder in everyone’s ears. Soldiers holding blades instinctively turned to look. Through the storm, several palace lanterns swayed, illuminating a figure emerging gracefully from within. Surrounded by palace maids, she wore simple white attire devoid of jewels but radiated an ethereal beauty akin to a solitary plum blossom blooming amidst December snow. She seemed neither of this world nor touched by its storms, yet her presence carried an undeniable fragrance of quiet strength.

She was the emperor’s wife, the Crown Prince’s mother, and the daughter of Nanjing’s most illustrious family—the Song clan. Her name was Song Shuyan.

For a brief moment, silence enveloped the grand hall. Even the falling snow seemed louder. Finally, Lou Wei snapped out of his daze and immediately laid down his weapon, kneeling before the empress. Following his lead, the entire Northern Guard knelt, chanting in unison, “We pay homage to Her Majesty—”

The resounding voices echoed across the imperial palace. The soldiers of the Duke of Yinping exchanged uneasy glances. Wei Lin, feeling the weight of the empress’s piercing gaze, hesitated before finally kneeling alongside Lou Wei, bowing his head and saying, “We pay respects to Her Majesty—”

She did not respond immediately. The icy winds lifted the hem of her mourning gown, lending her a haunting beauty even in desolation. Without acknowledging the elaborate bows of the generals, she spoke after a pause: “I hear you wish to escort me to Bailu Terrace?”

Her voice, clear and serene despite the chaos, carried an aura of unmatched dignity. No other woman in the land could rival the majesty of Empress Zhou.

Wei Lin faltered for a moment, delaying his response before finally answering, “Yes.” He added, “This is the Crown Prince’s decree. Please do not make things difficult for us, Your Majesty.”

“Xi’er?”

She raised an eyebrow faintly, a subtle smile playing on her lips. Snowflakes settled onto her raven hair, resembling icy hairpins.

“Though I am not the Crown Prince’s birth mother, I raised him. If he wishes to banish me from the palace, let him come personally to Xianju Hall to explain. Otherwise, tonight’s rebellion is solely orchestrated by the Duke of Yinping. Think carefully, Young Master Wei, how historians will record this.”

Her tone was light as mist, yet her words cut like icicles. Knowing he couldn’t afford to lose ground in verbal sparring, Wei Lin prepared to argue further, but the empress’s gaze fell heavily upon him once more.

“If the three regents in court wish to emulate treacherous figures of old, then tonight, step over my corpse in front of all these ministers. Otherwise, as long as I remain Empress of Great Zhou, I will not leave Xianju Hall a single step.”

Each word rang with clarity. Though her slender frame seemed unable to withstand the biting frost, much less resist the sharp edges of swords, none of the rebels dared approach. Wei Lin clenched his teeth, frozen in place, unable to move.

The empress said no more. With a gentle wave of her hand, she dismissed the formalities. Even amidst the chaos, her composure remained impeccable. Her beautiful eyes gazed quietly at the swirling snow, through the darkness toward the distant Guanfeng Hall and beyond to the far reaches of Luoyang. Finally, she turned silently and walked back toward the palace gates.

Thud.

The heavy doors of Xianju Hall closed once more.