FYM - 21

Many years later, Song Shuyan still vividly remembered this scene. At that time, the great upheaval that would plague future generations for over a century had yet to occur. The leader of the Five Regents, who held life-and-death power during the Guangyou era, had just come of age. Full of youthful ambition and confidence, he was the very picture of elegance and grandeur—”like frost piercing through a jade tower, or blossoms brewing in a snowy breeze.” Not a single word of Liu Xiansheng’s poetry was false praise; he truly was a master among poets.

From afar, Song Shuyan watched silently, her heart inexplicably aching with a sudden pang of bitterness. Perhaps it was because this was the first time in her otherwise detached life that she felt a burning desire for something—something she knew deep down she could never have. Around her, daughters of noble families were much more at ease. On the viewing platform, red sleeves fluttered, laughter rang out melodiously, each vying for the favor of the dreamlike figure below.

On the hunting grounds, ministers bowed low and shouted “Long Live the Emperor!” The Son of Heaven slowly escorted the Empress and Consort Gui to their seats at the highest point of the viewing platform. Crown Prince Wei Qin and Second Prince Wei Zheng sat on either side, both exuding an aura of imperial majesty and natural grace.

“Rise—”

The palace eunuch’s voice rang out loud and clear. The civil and military officials rose and took their seats. Yet the eyes of the noble maidens nearby remained fixed on the young heir of the Marquis of Jin, who stood in the field selecting arrows alongside generals and sons of aristocratic families. Such a sight inevitably drew teasing remarks from others.

“Father, look at him,” said Second Prince Wei Zheng, seated beside Consort Gui. Perhaps due to his maternal family’s partial Hu ancestry, his features were sharper than most, his black pupils tinged faintly with green, making his gaze all the more piercing. Two years past his coming-of-age ceremony, he had already been granted a fiefdom and titled Prince of Qin. Yet, beloved by the Emperor and Consort Gui since childhood, he still resided in Chang’an.

Upon hearing this, the Emperor smiled and turned his gaze toward the field below, remarking: “A fine horse adorned with golden reins, a dragon-sword slung across a brocade belt—since ancient times, heroes emerge young. It is only natural for them to seize the limelight.”

Pausing briefly, he turned to his second son and asked with a smile: “What? Are you going to compete with Yi for attention?”

The reigning Emperor Wei Xun was nearing fifty, the age when one reflects on destiny. In his youth, he had excelled in both literary and martial pursuits, once a dashing young man with a fair complexion. But now, with age, he had grown increasingly corpulent, his jowls sagging slightly, his brow shadowed, and his overall vitality diminished.

“Why shouldn’t I compete?” Wei Zheng shook his head and laughed, his demeanor vibrant. “He merely benefits from not being married yet. Once he has a wife, let’s see how many daughters will still throw themselves at him!”

This remark elicited laughter from the crowd on the viewing platform. Observing the ministers sighed inwardly, noting that Second Prince Zheng indeed basked in the Emperor’s favor, their relationship resembling that of an ordinary father and son rather than ruler and subject.

“Zheng-er didn’t mention it, but I nearly forgot,” Consort Gui interjected with a smile, pouring wine for the Emperor herself. “The Marquis of Jin’s heir has already come of age—it’s time for him to marry. I wonder if he has already arranged betrothal with any family’s daughter?”

Consort Gui was a legendary figure within the palace.

Favored immensely since entering the palace at fifteen, she rose rapidly in rank—from an eighth-rank concubine to a fourth-rank Beauty within two years. After giving birth to a prince, she was promoted to one of the Four Consorts, then further elevated to the rank of Imperial Noble Consort, her status nearly rivaling that of the Empress. As the saying goes, when one rises, those around them benefit too. Her maternal family, the Zhong clan of Longyou, had once been a minor household in the northwest, their ancestors holding no higher rank than a seventh-rank military officer. Yet under her influence, they soared to prominence. Her elder brother, Zhong He, was transferred to Chang’an as a fourth-rank official in the Secretariat, later bestowed the title of Military Governor over Hexi and Longyou, his ascent truly meteoric.

Now, as the Emperor accepted the goblet from her hands, his fondness for her remained evident. After draining it in one gulp, he turned to the Crown Princess Fang Ranjun seated beside the Crown Prince and asked: “Does the Crown Princess know anything about this matter?”

The situation was somewhat delicate.

True, Crown Princess Fang Ranjun was the full-blooded elder sister of Fang Xianting, but the Marquis of Jin—the father in question—was seated nearby. For the Emperor to bypass him and inquire of the Crown Princess instead…

Before anyone could speculate further, the Crown Princess, born into immense privilege, rose gracefully from her seat. Her features bore a resemblance to Fang Xianting’s, though hers were softer and more refined. Bowing to the Emperor, she replied that no betrothal had been arranged yet. Emperor Wei nodded, signaling her to sit, while Consort Gui casually chimed in: “The Fang family’s illustrious lineage naturally isn’t for everyone. Moreover, Yi Zhi is highly esteemed by Your Majesty. His bride should be chosen with utmost care…”

The crowd murmured agreement, but Second Prince Wei Zheng chuckled: “Still, we can’t let him keep picking and choosing endlessly. Every time he does so, drawing crowds of admirers, who among us can bear to watch?”

This cheeky remark made the Emperor laugh again, clearly fond of his second son. Beside him, Consort Gui covered her lips and giggled, then, after a moment’s thought, spoke softly to the Emperor: “Speaking of which, I recall my family still has a niece waiting in the boudoir. Your Majesty met her last year, I believe.”

These words…

The Emperor’s close advisors were sharp-eyed and quick-witted. Upon hearing Consort Gui’s tone, they immediately understood that the Zhong family intended to form a matrimonial alliance with the Fangs. However, whether this was solely the Zhong family’s idea or carried the Emperor’s implicit endorsement remained unclear. Tensions between the Fang and Zhong factions had been escalating in court, their debates often splitting along clear lines. Perhaps the Emperor, recognizing the discord, sought to ease tensions through marriage.

“At your mention, I remember now…”

As expected, the Emperor quickly responded, visibly pleased.

“…Her name is Qinru, correct? She is exceedingly clever and well-mannered, truly possessing the grace of a distinguished family.”

His intent to play matchmaker was unmistakable, even resorting to exaggeration—”distinguished family”? How could the Zhongs, whose rise depended on familial ties, claim such status before the Fangs of Yingchuan?

The ministers internally scoffed but outwardly smiled obsequiously. Only the Marquis of Jin remained unfazed, sitting quietly without expression or movement.

From his high seat, the Emperor subtly glanced toward Fang He, and upon seeing no hint of acquiescence in the latter’s demeanor, a flicker of anger passed through his eyes. Consort Gui noticed this and exchanged a glance with her brother Zhong He seated nearby. Turning back, she gave the Emperor a gentle smile, subtly tugging at his swollen fingers beneath the table.

“Your Majesty…” she whispered soothingly.

Wei Xun glanced at her and sighed deeply. Though still simmering with anger, his expression softened slightly as he addressed Fang He again: “Yi Zhi has grown up under my watchful eye, and naturally, I wish him nothing but the best. The sages teach that to govern a nation, one must first harmonize the family. He has reached the age for marriage. If Lord Fang also deems Qinru suitable as the Fang family’s daughter-in-law, I shall take charge and arrange this auspicious union while Lord Zhong remains in Chang’an.”

His words were soft yet firm, especially the phrase “suitable as the Fang family’s daughter-in-law,” which cleverly elevated the Fangs while subtly reinforcing hierarchy. To refuse would be seen as ungrateful—not only offending Zhong He and Consort Gui but also embarrassing the Emperor himself.

Marquis Fang He surely understood these nuances. No sooner had the Emperor finished speaking than he raised his eyes to meet the Emperor’s gaze directly, his clear, unadorned eyes reflecting decades of loyal service.

“To govern a nation, one must first harmonize the family; to harmonize the family, one must cultivate oneself,” he spoke calmly, every word precise. “My son is still young and has yet to purify his conduct and nurture his character. I fear he may fall short of Your Majesty’s expectations.”

This…

The ministers on the viewing platform were startled. They silently marveled that only the Marquis of Jin dared to defy the Emperor’s wishes openly—but who could blame him? The Fang family of Yingchuan was renowned for its purity and righteousness, having helped the founding emperor secure the realm. Over a century, they safeguarded the borders and protected the people, earning a reputation for loyalty. Even the current Emperor could not break their spirit.

—But the Emperor was still the Emperor.

Wei Xun harbored resentment toward Fang He, the leader of the Fang faction, who repeatedly opposed his plans to depose the Crown Prince in favor of a younger son. Now publicly humiliated, how could he not seethe with rage?

The Fangs of Yingchuan?

Ah, such upright integrity, such arrogance and disregard for propriety—did they still respect the principles of ruler and subject?

The Emperor’s fury erupted, his face darkening instantly. His attendants trembled, heads bowed, none daring to utter a word. Meanwhile, the Marquis of Jin remained composed, neither kneeling nor apologizing, nor agreeing to the proposed marriage with the Zhongs. As the atmosphere grew icy, the Empress could no longer remain idle. She understood well that the Marquis of Jin was the Crown Prince’s strongest ally in court. Without the Fangs’ support, her son’s position would be precarious.

“Perhaps Lord Jin speaks thus because Yi Zhi already has someone in mind?” she teased lightly, feigning nonchalance. Though not as stunning as Consort Gui, her aged features bore the marks of wisdom. “He has always been a man of resolve, not easily swayed by others…”

Her interruption eased some tension, and Crown Prince Wei Qin, seated beside her, visibly relaxed. Hastily following up, he began: “Yes, Yi Zhi he…”

Before he could finish, a thunderous “thud” reverberated through the air—the Emperor had slammed his palm onto the table. The ministers were horrified, scrambling to kneel and bow their heads. The December winds of Lishan seemed to grow colder, more biting.

“The aftermath of the flood in Dizhou remains unresolved, yet the Crown Prince finds leisure to inquire about trivial matters among officials,” the Emperor’s voice was icy, his usually muddled eyes now flashing with fury. “The heir to the throne should recognize talent and embody virtue. If he is truly incompetent and indifferent, perhaps he need not occupy this position any longer.”

The Emperor’s wrath sent shockwaves through the realm, with the Eastern Palace bearing the brunt of it. The Crown Prince had recently been reprimanded for mishandling the Dizhou floods, forced to kneel outside the Taiji Hall for six hours. Now, his old transgressions were dredged up in public, suggesting not only displaced anger but also…

The assembly remained silent, each person lost in private calculation. Just then, Second Prince Zheng spoke again, reminding his father that the start of the hunt was nigh—they should beat the drums, play music, and shoot the ceremonial first arrow. The Emperor fell silent for a long moment, but even in his fury, he agreed to his second son’s suggestion. Supported by Zheng, he slowly descended the viewing platform and stepped onto the field.

Gradually, the ministers rose and followed, but the Crown Prince, weakened by illness, stumbled. Fortunately, the Marquis of Jin swiftly steadied his arm, sparing the heir further embarrassment under public scrutiny.

“Thank you, Lord Fang…”

Wei Qin whispered his gratitude, his breathing uneven. At that moment, Zhong He passed by them, his face—more akin to a Hu man’s than Zheng’s—bearing an enigmatic smile. He gave Fang He a slight bow and departed, following the Emperor.

Perhaps it was at that very moment…the seeds of chaos were sown.