FYM - 20

Entering the twelfth lunar month, Chang’an experienced another heavy snowfall. After the skies cleared, an imperial decree arrived, setting this year’s winter hunt for the eighth day of the twelfth month.

The current Emperor had loved hunting in his youth, performing rituals at national gates and worshiping mountains and rivers along the way. He visited provinces to inquire about local customs, not merely for entertainment but also to display martial virtues and strengthen military preparedness. However, imperial processions were grand and frequent hunts burdened the people and depleted resources. Consequently, many officials repeatedly petitioned against such activities, advising the Emperor to reduce hunting.

Now older, the Emperor lacked the energy to venture far to Henan or Jiannan, yet he remained defiant against aging. Each year, he still went to the Lishan hunting grounds to stretch his limbs. Court officials regarded this as a major event. The Ministry of Rites annually organized grand ceremonies in the twelfth month. Only after ministers accompanied the Emperor in worshipping heaven, earth, and ancestral temples could they proceed to Lishan.

Most Song family men held important court positions, like Song Dan and Song Bo, who would accompany the Emperor’s procession. Brothers Song Mingzhuo and Song Mingzhen would follow later, escorting the family’s womenfolk. Traveling with other noble families’ carriages was safer.

That day, though cold, the rare sunshine made it perfect for wearing the pink satin cloak recently made by her mother. Song Shuqian was in a pleasant mood. However, just before departure, she noticed her motherless fourth sister boarding the carriage with her second brother. Upon inquiry, she learned their father had changed his mind and decided to take her to Lishan.

“How can Father be so inconsistent! Didn’t he say he would confine her?”

Miss Song was furious, venting to her mother upon entering the carriage. Wan was equally upset, unaware what tricks the girl might have played behind her back. She cursed Lady Qiao, whose ghost seemed to linger, causing trouble even in death.

“She is still your father’s daughter; we mustn’t make things too ugly on the surface...” Wan suppressed her anger, consoling her daughter. “Without her mother and no brothers to support her, how can she surpass you in the end?”

“Just focus on the gathering... Don’t let these irrelevant people distract you.”

Song Shuyan was indeed irrelevant to her, perhaps even to all of Chang’an.

She didn’t necessarily want to attend the winter hunt but hoped her father would treat her fairly. Attending had its advantages—it showed that her father wasn’t entirely indifferent. However, her stepmother and sister would surely resent her more, making it unclear if it was worth it.

She sighed inside the carriage, heard by her brother riding outside. Through the window, he teased, “You asked me to relay a message to Father, and now you sigh. Little girl, are you so hard to please?”

Song Mingzhen always favored his fourth sister. Song Shuyan wouldn’t ungratefully play tricks on him. Her earlier request was straightforward, without concealment. Hearing his teasing now, she faintly smiled, replying, “I’m not sighing…”

Her brother chuckled, tapping her carriage window affectionately, as if tapping her forehead. He said, “Father bringing you shows he cares. I think you should show more sincerity. Gaining another person’s love and care is ultimately good.”

“Sincerity.”

She had plenty of sincerity—ten parts for her grandparents and second brother, five for Wu and second sister. How much for her father? One part? Two?

If she gave more?

Would Father… reciprocate with “sincerity”?

Chang’an was about seventy li from the hunting grounds. It took most of the day for the convoy to reach the foot of Lishan. As Song Shuyan was helped down by her second brother, she saw the sky ablaze with clouds. The majestic yet elegant mountain palace was partially visible.

She didn’t know then that years later it would be destroyed by war or under what identity she’d see it again. Life’s encounters are mysterious, full of unknowns. While gazing, she heard a familiar horse’s neigh. Turning, she saw the esteemed Duke’s heir, Fang Xianting, riding towards them—a figure clad in black armor crowned with gold, followed by many imperial guards, appearing even more heroic than before.

Song Mingzhen brightened, waving and calling out, “Third Brother!”

Hearing this, Fang Xianting turned. His hawk-like eyes often appeared stern but softened seeing the Song family. Pulling the reins, he guided his temperamental steed, Zhuoying, towards Song Mingzhen.

“Ziqiu.”

After dismounting, he warmly nodded to Song Mingzhen.

Song Shuyan stood behind her brother, feeling somewhat dazed. Though they’d met recently, it felt like ages. Unsure whether to greet him, she hesitated. Yet, he looked at her first. The mole at the corner of his right eye softened his stern features, hinting at warmth.

“Miss Four.”

He nodded to her.

She suddenly found herself tongue-tied, palms sweating. Just as she was about to return the greeting, she heard her third sister, freshly alighted from the carriage, joyfully call out, “Brother Yi Zhi,” fluttering over like a pink butterfly, brimming with youthful shyness and delight.

“Brother Yi Zhi...” her voice softer than usual, “...why are you here? Haven’t you entered the mountain palace yet?”

The Lishang palace complex, though not as grand as the eastern and western capitals, had undergone multiple renovations and expansions. The mountain palace primarily housed the Emperor, consorts, and princes. Most officials stayed in Zhaoying County at the mountain’s base, except a few highly esteemed ministers granted quarters within the palace grounds, including the Yingchuan Fang family.

Standing aside, Song Shuyan heard Fang Xianting politely respond, “Miss Three,” then explain, “The Qian Niu and Jin Wu guards share responsibility for palace security. We leave only after settling the families.”

His response was courteous but distant. Miss Song was accustomed to his tone, but today, with her fourth sister present, she felt embarrassed. Fortunately, her mother intervened, saying, “Lord Fang, you’ve worked hard. If you have time, please visit our lodging for refreshments. Is the Duchess accompanying you? Has her health improved?”

Fang Xianting thanked Madam Wan, explaining his mother’s condition had improved and she was settled in the palace, though still recovering and unlikely to participate in the hunt. Madam Wan exchanged polite words. Soon, imperial guards summoned Fang Xianting, likely for military matters.

“Duty calls; please forgive my early departure,” he apologized to Madam Wan, then turned to Song Mingzhen with a warmer smile. “With recent rains and snow, the mountain paths are treacherous. Be careful tomorrow during the hunt, Ziqiu.”

This friendly advice reminded Song Shuyan of their first snowy encounter—similar weather, similar difficult paths. Surely, he’d long forgotten.

Lost in thought, he mounted his horse and departed. His black armor resembled an ink blot. She watched longer, promptly hearing her third sister’s sharp remark: “Fourth Sister gawking so much—have you forgotten kneeling in punishment at Wei Rui Hall? Be mindful when outside to avoid gossip.”

Though biting, Song Shuyan didn’t react strongly. But her second brother’s temper flared quicker. Before she could respond, he retorted, “Third Sister staring so intently should also behave properly. Why does Fourth Sister addressing ‘Lord Fang’ invite gossip while Third Sister calling ‘Brother Yi Zhi’ is deemed proper?”

Unprepared for her second brother’s boldness, especially in front of her mother, Song Shuqian’s eyes widened in shock, tugging at her mother’s sleeve, calling “Mother.” Song Mingzhen ignored further quarrels, turning to converse with approaching palace eunuchs, guiding the family to their Zhaoying County lodgings.

The night passed quickly. In unfamiliar surroundings, Song Shuyan slept restlessly. Morning brought yawning encounters with her second sister. Their second brother, however, was spirited, dressed in athletic attire, feeding horses early. Seeing his sisters, he grinned confidently, promising to shine at the hunt and requesting their best wishes.

Both sisters showered him with auspicious words, genuinely hoping for his success. After breakfast with the elders, palace eunuchs arrived, inviting them to the hunting grounds. A short ride from the mountain base took about half an hour. Alighting, Song Shuyan saw the vast hunting field filled with fluttering banners, solemn guards, and nobles chatting lively on viewing platforms—a magnificent scene unmatched in Jiangnan.

Song Mingzhen needed to select arrows, bidding farewell at the platform. Song Dan patted his son’s shoulder, and Uncle Song Bo wished him success. Laughing, Song Mingzhen replied, “Uncle overestimates me. With Third Brother here, winning is inevitable.”

As he spoke, drums sounded from the hunting grounds. Everyone turned to see the Emperor, Empress, and Consort Zhong arriving amidst a cloud of ceremonial splendor. Accompanying royal princes displayed unparalleled majesty. Recently mentioned Fang Xianting, clad in silver armor today, exuded sharpness and unmatched grace.