FYM - 18

Fang Xianting was also acutely aware of the court’s political landscape. Hearing Wei Qin mention today’s court session, his expression darkened slightly as he said, “There have been disturbances in the northwest garrisons. Former Deputy Director of the Zhi Fang Department, Xue Tao, has repeatedly delayed updating the maps of Longyou. I fear…”

The Duke’s heir was renowned for his martial prowess and strategic brilliance. The unspoken implication of his words sent a chill through the air: the Zhi Fang Department oversaw national defense fortifications and beacon towers. By regulation, regional maps should be updated every three years to keep the court informed of geographical changes. Why had the Zhong faction repeatedly delayed submitting Longyou’s maps?

“You’re suggesting…”

Wei Qin’s brows furrowed deeply.

“…that the Zhong clan plans to establish independence in Longyou?”

“Not necessarily independence,” Fang Xianting replied sternly. “But if Longyou becomes an impenetrable fortress, it will remain a significant threat to the court.”

Indeed.

Longyou was vast, bordering Western Regions states, forming the first line of defense for the nation. Losing Longyou would mean endless turmoil north of the Yangtze. Whether Zhong He declared autonomy or retreated with the Second Prince to carve out a fiefdom, either scenario posed a grave danger to the realm.

“This matter must be reported to Father Emperor…”

Wei Qin grew visibly agitated, pacing and muttering these words repeatedly. Fang Xianting sighed inwardly, adding, “There is no concrete evidence regarding Longyou at present. Moreover, His Majesty has always favored the Zhong clan; he may not easily doubt them.”

Pausing, he hesitantly added, “And recently, the Di Zhou incident…”

He left the sentence unfinished, yet its implications were clear to Wei Qin: Di Zhou had erupted in chaos due to flooding. The governor, Su Jin, was personally recommended by Wei Qin. The Emperor had already rebuked him, and the Zhong-aligned censors seized the opportunity to criticize the Crown Prince for lacking virtue and competence. In such circumstances, accusing the Second Prince’s maternal family of rebellion would only worsen matters.

These thoughts swirled in Wei Qin’s mind, the increasingly perilous political situation weighing heavily on him, culminating in a deep sigh. His eyes dimmed slightly as he turned back to Fang Xianting, asking, “Then what should we do about the northwest? Shall we allow them to act with impunity?”

“The empire is vast, not confined to the northwest alone,” Fang Xianting responded, his voice cold and solemn. “Most of the ten regional commanders operate independently but can also check each other. Your Highness should consider the broader picture.”

Check each other?

True. Besides the four northwest garrisons, there were six others—Shuofang, Jiannan, Pinglu, Fanyang, Hedong, and Lingnan—and one two-garrison commander in Hebei named Xie Ci. If he could win Xie Ci over, wouldn’t that counterbalance the Zhong clan?

“As for the court, adjustments within the Ministry of War are necessary,” Fang Xianting continued, his hawk-like eyes sharpening. “The position of Deputy Director of the Zhi Fang Department should be carefully arranged. I intend to recommend Song Mingzhen, second son of Left Minister Song Dan, to replace him.”

“Song family?” Wei Qin raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “Aren’t they scholarly officials?”

“Song’s second son intends to take the upcoming martial examination and is likely to pass,” Fang Xianting explained. “The Song family has always remained neutral. Appointing him to the Ministry of War would least provoke criticism.”

Wei Qin nodded, realizing this move served dual purposes: embedding a piece within the Ministry of War to limit the Zhong clan’s autonomy while strengthening ties with the Song family of Jinling. The scholarly officials held immense prestige and influence among literati, with southern officials rallying around the Songs. Aligning with them was undoubtedly beneficial.

Wei Qin patted Fang Xianting’s shoulder, his expression filled with gratitude. “Thankfully, you are here… giving me some room to maneuver.”

The Fang family was indeed the Eastern Palace’s strongest ally. Current Duke Fang He was a man of integrity, having led a victorious campaign against the Turks years ago, losing many clansmen but never wavering. Now, he staunchly supported orthodoxy and advocated reducing regional powers, opposing the Emperor’s inclination toward replacing the crown prince—a testament to Yingchuan Fang’s noble heritage.

However…

“If you have time today, perhaps visit your sister…”

Wei Qin’s expression clouded.

“…She has been in low spirits recently, hasn’t left Yichun Palace for days.”

—This might be Wei Qin’s only regret concerning the Fang family.

Fang Xianting’s sister, Fang Ranjun, was the Duke’s only daughter, two years older than him. Five years ago, she married into the Eastern Palace as Crown Princess, fulfilling both imperial and Fang family wishes. The Empress had worked tirelessly to arrange the marriage and treated Fang Ranjun like her own daughter afterward. However, she had failed to conceive, and her relationship with the Crown Prince remained strained.

Court gossip often criticized the Crown Princess for resenting the illegitimate eldest son born from a palace maid—a scandal from three or four years ago. One night, during a grand banquet, the Crown Prince, unusually drunk, spent the night with a servant girl who unexpectedly conceived and bore a royal grandson ten months later.

The Crown Prince was deeply troubled, having no affection for the Dong maiden—this indiscretion was entirely accidental. Yet, the child was unmistakably of imperial blood. Neither the Emperor nor the Empress allowed the child to be cast aside, raising him in the Eastern Palace while sending Dong to Bailu Tai Palace in the eastern suburbs.

Such scandals invited ridicule, compounded by the Crown Princess’s inability to bear children despite five years of marriage. The Empress urged her to personally raise the illegitimate grandson, Wei Xi, but she refused, harboring resentment against the imperial family.

Fang Xianting understood the delicate relationship between his sister and the Crown Prince. His expression now cooled further—his mole, usually warm like spring, now resembled frost on snow. Everyone knew the Duke’s heir was displeased; further discussion was impossible.

“My military duties are pressing; I must leave the palace by the hour of Shen.” He responded.

Wei Qin sensed his reluctance and didn’t press further, sighing once more before waving his hand. “Very well, then we shall meet at the winter hunt… Your sister will attend then.”

By the time Fang Xianting left the Jianfu Gate at Shen hour, Song Shuyan was still kneeling motionless in Wei Rui Hall.

Since being publicly reprimanded by Wan Shi at Chen hour, she had knelt for four hours. Servants passing by saw the “legitimate” young lady from Qiantang punished for breaking rules, their scrutinizing gazes like sharp arrows piercing her.

Nurse Cui and Zhui’er accompanied her, tears streaming down their faces. Nurse Cui even wiped her tears while cursing Wan Shi’s cruelty towards the late Lady’s legitimate daughter. Her complaints gradually turned into sorrowful lamentations, bemoaning her young mistress’s tragic fate—subjected to her uncle’s and aunt’s whims in Qiantang, enduring her stepmother and sister’s harsh treatment upon returning to Chang’an.

Song Shuyan remained silent throughout. Even when her frail body swayed precariously, she shed no tears. Her cool, tranquil eyes seemed lost in thought or perhaps devoid of any. Wan Shi even had the painted screen moved to Wei Rui Hall, mere steps away, a reminder that no matter how close, it wasn’t hers. She could see but not touch it, underscoring her place in the household.

As the sun set in the west at You hour, anticipating the master’s return, Wan Shi sent Wang Mama to release Song Shuyan. Her legs, numb from kneeling, threatened to give way. Wang Mama watched with a cold smile, her words equally frigid. “Madam is merciful and doesn’t wish harm to Miss Four’s health. Please retire to Pingwu Pavilion; avoid wandering these few days.”

This was house arrest—no one misunderstood. Nurse Cui seethed, longing to tear Wang Mama’s hateful mouth apart, but outnumbered, she could only send a defiant “Hmph” as they passed.

Song Dan returned home at You hour. The servants kept tight-lipped, fearing to offend the mistress. Wan Shi, confident yet cautious, decided to preemptively report the day’s events, ensuring her narrative reached him first.

“In truth, I know Shuyan’s nature is good…”

Wan Shi feigned helplessness, sighing while watching Song Dan’s reaction.

“…But she wasn’t raised by us. Qiantang is a merchant family, unable to provide proper upbringing…”

Song Dan remained silent. His youthful handsome face retained a scholarly elegance, though his silence exuded authority. Wan Shi cautiously continued, “Today’s punishment was severe, but ultimately for her benefit—receiving gifts from men before her coming-of-age, especially the Duke’s heir, everyone’s scrutiny… How can we tolerate our legitimate daughter being thus criticized?”

Upon hearing “legitimate daughter,” Song Dan’s tense brows relaxed. Wan Shi mentally sneered, knowing he couldn’t forget Lady Qiao. Despite minimal affection for her biological daughter, he would honor his late wife’s memory by granting her some dignity.

“The Duke’s heir, of noble character and prestigious lineage, naturally draws admiration…” Wan Shi, feeling bitter, spoke plainly. “…Yet Shuqian grew up with him, cherishing him. Must the younger sister force the elder to retreat?”

“What nonsense!” Song Dan’s face darkened at this, immediately reproaching her. “You disgrace our daughters!”

Unfazed, Wan Shi appeared more aggrieved, obstinately protesting, “You are the father; ensure fairness. Don’t let your pity for the absent overshadow those raised by your side…”

She seemed on the verge of tears.

Annoyed, Song Dan sighed again, ordering tea for the mistress. “How could I wrong Shuqian? She is my most cherished…”

Who could deny it?

Compared to a daughter seen only a few times yearly, compared to a daughter whose birth endangered her mother… Naturally, he favored others more.

Wan Shi’s mood eased slightly, wiping her tears. After a pause, she tentatively asked, “Then perhaps Shuyan shouldn’t attend this year’s winter hunt? To avoid encountering the Duke’s heir again, stirring gossip…”

Song Dan saw through Wan Shi’s true intentions—fear that Shuyan would obstruct her biological daughter’s path. As a man, he cared little for these inner quarters’ affairs—especially regarding the daughter from Jiangnan, whom he cared even less about.

Thus, he said nothing.

…A tacit approval.