FYM - 12

“Lord Song, there is no need to make excuses for me. Today was indeed my oversight.”

Another voice came from beyond the screen—this one younger and more tender. It belonged to Fang Yunhui, the fourth young master of the Fang family.

“To disrupt your esteemed wife’s celebration in a fit of temper was truly rash and reckless, but I had no intention of showing disrespect to the Song family. I hope you can forgive me.”

With that, he bowed deeply to Song Dan, his demeanor respectful and sincere.

“Young Master Fang, please rise...”

Song Dan quickly reached out to support Fang Yunhui, perhaps somewhat surprised by the Fang family’s attitude. After a sigh, he continued, “Today, Zhong Ji’s visit was unexpected, but minor disputes at banquets are not worth dwelling on. My wife holds no grudge and asked me to convey her greetings to Young Master Fang.”

This statement was somewhat untrue. Earlier that day, this noble guest had impulsively kicked over the table in front of him, shattering porcelain plates and wine cups. If not for the eldest Fang son’s intervention, his fist might have connected with Zhong Ji’s face. After storming off, the banquet hall fell into an awkward silence, rendering the carefully planned celebration a failure.

The Fang family likely understood Song Dan’s words were merely polite. From behind the screen, Song Shuyan heard the heir apparent muse for a moment before replying, “Recently, my mother has been unwell and unable to receive guests. After the New Year, we will certainly host a banquet to apologize to your household. We hope Lord Song can find time to attend.”

After the New Year?

It would likely be after the first month.

By then... she might have returned to Qiantang.

Her beautiful eyes slightly lowered, her heart remained calm. Beside her, Song Shuqian was overjoyed, covering her mouth to suppress a laugh when she accidentally bumped the screen, creating a faint “thud”—inaudible to most.

—But he heard it. Perhaps military officials had sharper hearing. He immediately glanced toward the screen, his deep black eyes stern, yet the mole near the outer corner of his right eye made him appear even more striking. For a moment, it felt as if his gaze pierced through the narrow gap, meeting hers directly. Song Shuyan was slightly startled and took half a step back.

At that moment, her second brother chuckled and said, “Third Brother, why scare them? They’re just our family’s unworthy girls...”

After a pause, his voice grew louder as he called out to those behind the screen, “What are you hiding for? Come out.”

Though this wasn’t directed solely at her, Song Shuyan still felt a flush of embarrassment. She glanced at her second sister, whose face was redder than hers. The boldest was Song Shuqian, who eagerly rushed out from behind the screen upon her brother’s call. Their father sighed, likely not expecting his daughters to appear in the main hall without permission, but he refrained from reprimanding them. Relieved, Song Shuyan and Song Shuqing emerged from behind the screen moments later, with Song Shuyan keeping her eyes lowered.

“Brother Yi—”

She heard her third sister address the man, her voice softer and sweeter than usual.

“How is Her Grace’s condition recently? Mother sent some ginseng last month—I wonder if it has been useful...”

In recent years, the Song family had grown close to the Duke of Jin’s household. Since Song Shuyan spent only a month or two at home each year, she had never met anyone from the Fang family. Now, it seemed her stepmother had gone to great lengths for her children, even befriending the Duchess.

Before the heir could respond, Fang Yunhui chuckled and said, “Sister San, if you are so concerned, why not visit the Duke’s residence personally one day? After our elder sister married, Mother often laments having no girl around. She would surely be delighted to see you.”

These words were pleasing to the ear. Song Shuqian’s lips curled slightly, her cheeks glowing like freshly painted rouge. At one point, Song Shuyan considered looking up to see the heir’s expression but hesitated and refrained, keeping her eyes lowered on her sleeve.

“Hmm?”

At this moment, Fang Yunhui spoke again, his voice amused and surprised.

“This sister is unfamiliar. I’ve never seen her before.”

He must be referring to her.

She finally raised her head to see him staring at her. She stood half-hidden behind her second sister, and beyond her shoulder, she could see the Duke’s heir also looking at her. His profound eyes resembled a masterpiece painted by the finest artist, the beautiful mole a stroke of genius.

“This is our youngest sister, Shuyan,” her second brother interjected, speaking familiarly with the Fang brothers. “She hasn’t stayed at home long in previous years, so you haven’t met her.”

Turning back, he introduced her, “This is the Duke’s heir and Fourth Master Fang. Go and greet them.”

Her second brother always doted on her. Though his introduction sounded casual, it was actually paving the way for her—Lady Wan would never let her meet these distinguished young men. In past years, when she returned to Chang’an, she stayed secluded in her Pingwu Pavilion, shielded from such encounters.

She wasn’t greedy or eager to choose a husband, yet she now felt inexplicably flustered, her palms slightly sweaty. Still, outwardly she appeared composed and graceful, stepping forward to greet them: “...Greetings, Your Highness, Fourth Master.”

Since ancient times, Jiangnan had been known for its beauties, and the Song daughters bore the reputation of being “Dreams of Jinling.” Before her eldest sister, Song Shuying, married, her beauty stirred Chang’an, making many nobles secretly covet her. Yet, Miss Song Shuyan was even more exquisite than her elder sister. Her beauty had blossomed this year, her fair skin glowing softly under the candlelight. Her almond-shaped eyes and delicate nose exuded vitality. Her melodious voice made Fang Yunhui blush; he couldn’t help stealing glances, his response delayed. Finally, the heir nodded and acknowledged her: “Miss Four.”

…His voice was as deep and pleasant as that snowy night.

Song Shuyan remained composed, though inwardly she felt conflicted. She wondered if he recognized her voice, pondering whether he might remember her too. As Fang Yunhui regained his composure, he quickly said, “So this is Miss Four... We’ve known your second brother for a long time. May we call you Sister Four?”

This was appropriate; he had addressed Song Shuqian as “Sister Three” earlier. Song Shuyan slightly bowed, acknowledging the familiarity.

Beside them, Song Dan felt quite pleased. Initially worried the Duke’s household might harbor resentment over today’s incident, he was relieved to see the younger generation getting along harmoniously. His brows relaxed as he turned to Fang Xianting, saying, “Thank you for visiting us today. After the New Year, I will visit the Duke’s residence to pay respects and hope Her Grace recovers soon.”

By the time they left the Song residence, it was nearing dusk.

Both Fang brothers rode horses. Returning from Rongxing Lane to the Duke’s mansion would take about the time it takes to burn an incense stick. Upon entering, Fang Yunhui was still nervous, repeatedly glancing at Fang Xianting’s profile, whispering, “Third Brother...”

Fang Xianting handed the reins to the gatekeeper. Zuo Ying resisted softly, seemingly unwilling to be led by others. He calmed the horse for a while, then looked back at his younger brother, his expression cool, saying, “Go rest early.”

...His emotions were unreadable.

Fang Yunhui bit his lip, looking even more anxious than before, following his brother into the mansion. They parted ways at the main house courtyard, and Fang Xianting alone circled past Yi Garden to the main hall.

Duke Jin Fang He was in Lady Jiang’s chamber. She had caught a cold recently, suffering from headaches and unable to leave her room for several days. The Duke lovingly prepared herbal medicine daily, feeding it to her at night to ensure her comfort. When Fang Xianting arrived, he asked the waiting maid if his mother had already retired. Hearing she was asleep, he didn’t disturb her, waiting silently outside for about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea before the door opened, and his father emerged.

He was an exceptionally handsome man, tall and upright like Fang Xianting, with a commanding presence. Surprised to see his son waiting outside, he paused momentarily, approaching to feel the heavy chill permeating his clothes.

“Why didn’t you send someone in to announce your arrival?” He frowned, gesturing for a servant to fetch a cloak. “The weather is bitterly cold. Take care.”

The Fang family, despite their noble status, didn’t live as luxuriously as the Song family. The cloak brought by the servant was simply scented with common spices, carrying a hint of warmth from the charcoal braziers—a thoughtful gesture.

Fang Xianting accepted the cloak, thanking his father. The Duke waved dismissively, walking alongside his son through the winding corridors of the mansion, asking as they went, “Have you met the Song family?”

“Yes,” Fang Xianting replied. “Uncle didn’t reprimand Zi Xing much. Zhong Ji’s visit seems to have been unexpected by the Song family.”

Fang He nodded, unsurprised by the outcome. “The Song family belongs to the pure faction. Bo Ji isn’t ignorant of worldly affairs and wouldn’t intentionally stir trouble.”

Fang Xianting acknowledged this.

“But that Zhong family youngster is too arrogant,” Fang He narrowed his eyes. Nearing fifty, he held the rank of Second Rank Auxiliary General, his martial background giving him a certain severity. “Knowing the Fang family was invited, he still dared to flaunt his presence. Perhaps he was ordered by his father to provoke trouble.”

“Today was partly my fault,” Fang Xianting lowered his head slightly, his voice subdued. “My younger brother is still young and doesn’t know better. I should have accompanied him.”

Fang He waved dismissively, patting his son’s shoulder. “You aren’t omnipotent. How can you oversee everything? Besides, the Eastern Palace had issues recently—it can’t do without you...”

Mentioning this, Fang He’s expression grew heavier, clearly still troubled by the recent conflict between the Emperor and the Crown Prince, related to the flooding disaster in Hebei.

The Yellow River frequently overflowed; in the past decade, it had burst four times. This year, Dizhou in Hebei suffered the most. The embankments collapsed during summer and autumn, flooding farmland, displacing people, and causing famine and disease outbreaks. The governor of Dizhou petitioned the court for relief funds and relocation of the provincial capital. The Emperor was furious, rebuking him for incompetence, venting his anger in court.

Unfortunately, this governor, Su Jin, had been recommended by the Crown Prince. The Emperor’s wrath naturally extended to his own son, chastising him for poor judgment and questioning his ability to uphold the dynasty’s vast territory. This led to Crown Prince Wei Qin kneeling for six hours outside Taiji Palace, sparking endless court gossip.

Throughout history, which son hasn’t been scolded by their father? Scolding is trivial. But the current situation was different—Consort Zhong remained highly favored, and the second prince gained significant support in court. Her uncle, Zhong He, had returned to Chang’an, signaling impending storms. If the Eastern Palace faced further imperial disfavor, the succession...

The Fang family had always supported the Crown Prince. Fang He’s only daughter, Fang Ranjun, married into the Eastern Palace years ago as the Crown Princess. With the ongoing rivalry between the Fang and Zhong factions, the court was on edge. The Crown Prince’s reprimand was a critical issue for the Fang family. Fang Xianting had even traveled to Hebei to assist the Zibo Pacification Commissioner in quelling peasant uprisings, returning to Chang’an after two months.

“Did the Crown Prince say anything to you today?” Fang He asked his son.

Crown Prince Wei Qin, five years older than Fang Xianting, had known him since childhood and shared a close bond. After Fang Xianting’s sister married into the Eastern Palace, their relationship deepened, akin to both sovereign and subject and siblings.

“The situation in Dizhou has stabilized, and His Highness feels somewhat reassured,” Fang Xianting replied. “However, after the Emperor’s eastern tour, he replaced the Henan Circuit Censor with Lu Ji Yongkang, who previously served in the second prince’s staff. The Crown Prince worries this appointment carries deeper significance.”

Fang He pondered deeply, his expression grave. After a moment, he asked, “How is His Highness’s health?”

The Eastern Palace had long suffered from chest ailments, unlike other robust princes. Over the years, he frequently fell ill, causing concern.

“After kneeling for six hours outside Taiji Palace, he fell ill for a period. Although he can walk now, he remains weak,” Fang Xianting furrowed his brows. “This year... he likely won’t participate in the winter hunt.”

Hearing this, Fang He sighed heavily, feeling helpless about the dire situation. After a pause, he lamented, “Throughout history, replacing the legitimate heir with a concubine-born son has caused great turmoil. Let alone with the Zhong family—a nouveau riche clan obsessed with power behind the second prince. Now, we can only hope the Emperor doesn’t act on fleeting emotions to regret it forever... Or perhaps hope your sister can soon bear a son for the Crown Prince...”

Not mentioning his sister was fine, but bringing her up deepened Fang Xianting’s worry. He glanced at his father’s expression, hesitating before cautiously starting, “Regarding Elder Sister and Dizhou...”

Barely beginning the sentence, the Duke’s expression darkened. He let out a heavy snort, saying, “Your sister is foolish, quarreling with His Highness over trivial romantic feelings—years have passed, and she still...”

Unfinished, he sighed deeply again, concealing many unspoken secrets in the truncated sentence. Fang Xianting lowered his eyes, feeling his father’s hand on his shoulder, heavier than before.

“You are different from your sister—you understand consequences,” Fang He’s voice was low. “In life, who can do as they please? Everyone makes sacrifices.”

“Don’t be reckless.”

These were redundant admonishments—everyone knew the Duke’s heir was disciplined and prudent. Among the noble families of Chang’an, none of the younger generation surpassed Fang Yizhi. He was already the best.

“Yes, Father.”

His calm response reassured his father, who, recalling the minor disturbance caused by Fang Yunhui at the Song residence, added, “Your younger brother’s behavior today was indeed inappropriate, but as the elder brother, be more tolerant.”

Fang He was severe, hardened by his military upbringing, governing both army and family strictly. However, he was lenient toward the nephews of the main house, feeling indebted to his elder brother Fang Lian. Both were legitimate sons of the old Duke. After their father’s death, Fang Lian, the eldest, voluntarily allowed his younger brother to inherit the title. Though partly due to Fang Lian’s disinterest in martial pursuits and lack of military achievements, Fang He still believed he had taken what rightfully belonged to his brother. Thus, he felt responsible for the main house lineage, always caring for them. For the next generation, he ensured his only son showed extra care for those brothers.

Fang Xianting, accustomed to his father’s guidance, was used to looking after younger siblings like Zi Xing. He simply replied, “Father, rest assured.”

“As for the Song family,” Fang He continued, “these are turbulent times. We shouldn’t create rifts with the pure faction. Find opportunities to show goodwill and maintain relations.”

The cold wind howled; warmth was scarce in this world. Every matter required careful calculation to secure temporary stability.

“Yes.”

Fang Xianting responded indifferently, his eyes reflecting the deep night within and outside the mansion.