FYM - 22

The atmosphere on the viewing platform was fraught with tension, while the mood below was equally delicate and charged.

The fourth son of the Fang family, who had once caused chaos at a banquet hosted by the Song family, was also present today. While selecting arrows alongside his eldest and third brothers, he frequently glanced toward Zhong Ji, who was riding nearby, muttering under his breath: “They claim their steeds are extraordinary Hu horses, but compared to Zhuoying, they fall far short. And their horsemanship? Hardly worth comparing to my third brother.”

Zhuoying, ever perceptive, seemed to understand Fang Yunhui’s praise. It proudly raised its head and snorted in delight. Fang Xianting gently stroked its mane and calmly addressed his younger brother: “In the presence of His Majesty, there are many ears. Do not invite trouble.”

Fang Yunhui shrank back slightly, still wary of his third brother, and quickly nodded three times in succession, replying, “Yes, yes, yes.”

The Lou brothers were close to the Fang family, and both Lou Feng and Lou Wei had come to the hunting grounds today. The elder, Lou Feng, was twenty-three, while the younger, Lou Wei, was about the same age as Fang Yunhui—only eighteen. Seeing Fang Yunhui’s compliance, Lou Wei chuckled quietly, prompting the fourth young master to stealthily kick him behind their third brother’s back.

Song Mingzhen stood nearby. He was usually friendly with the younger members of the Fang and Lou families, but before the event began, his father had warned him not to associate too closely with the Fangs in public, lest the Emperor suspect that the ostensibly neutral Song family was aligning itself with one faction in the court’s power struggles. Thus, he refrained from approaching them. As he hesitated, he caught the gaze of his older brother, Song Mingxuan, who always seemed to understand his predicaments. Without saying anything, Song Mingxuan gave a slight nod, as if to reassure him: “It’s fine.”

Grateful yet somewhat apologetic, Song Mingzhen turned his attention elsewhere just as movement stirred on the viewing platform. The Emperor, accompanied by the princes and consorts, entered the field. All bowed deeply as officials from the Ministry of Rites presented the Emperor with a longbow and feathered arrows. The ceremonial first arrow would strike a golden bell suspended above, marking the start of the three-day winter hunt at Lishan.

However, the aging Emperor, whose health had recently been affected by elixirs promising immortality, found it difficult to draw the heavy bow, let alone aim for the small golden bell. After weighing the bow in his hands, he hesitated and scanned the crowd. Spotting Fang Xianting, he beckoned him over, saying, “Yi Zhi, come here.”

As the current commander of the Southern Palace Guards and the winner of last year’s Lishan hunt, Fang Xianting was the most logical choice to perform this task. The Emperor, coughing lightly, passed off this challenging duty with an air of generosity, saying, “There are many skilled archers in the realm, and claiming victory each year is no easy feat. I entrust you with this task today, Yi Zhi—do not disappoint me.”

Though thinly veiled, everyone could see that the Emperor was asking the Fang heir to save face. Fang Xianting, fully aware, said nothing but accepted the imperial bow gracefully. Drawing the string taut like a full moon, he released the arrow, which flew like a meteor. A crisp “ding” echoed across the field as the arrow struck the golden bell perfectly. The resounding chime, accompanied by drums and music, created a scene of grandeur—a dazzling spectacle akin to the final rays of a setting sun.

“Bravo!”

The first to applaud was Second Prince Wei Zheng, who had changed into martial attire, signaling his intention to participate later. His gaze toward Fang Xianting was complex, filled with admiration yet tinged with an unspoken melancholy. Fang Xianting nodded slightly in acknowledgment before deliberately averting his eyes.

The Emperor laughed heartily, reciting a line from classical poetry: “The startled geese fall silent; the crying apes mourn swift arrows.” Turning to the countless officers and generals below, he declared loudly: “Since the second year of Yuanzhang, Fang Yi Zhi has reigned supreme for over four years. If anyone can surpass him this year, I shall reward them handsomely!”

This proclamation ignited the crowd’s enthusiasm, further showcasing the harmonious relationship between ruler and subjects. Laughing, the Emperor and Consort Gui departed, leaving the hunting grounds to erupt in dust as eager participants spurred their horses into the forest in groups of twos and threes.

Second Prince Wei Zheng, however, moved at a leisurely pace. After mounting his horse, he rode alongside his cousin Zhong Ji, occasionally exchanging glances with the Fang siblings. When passing Fang Xianting, he called out: “I heard this year the Southern Guards have divided Lishan into six zones, with five of them teeming with fierce beasts worth multiple points. Would you care to join me, Yi Zhi? Together, securing victory should be as easy as plucking fruit from a tree.”

His words sounded playful, but those who heard them understood their deeper implications.

The relationship between Second Prince Wei Zheng and the Fang family of Yingchuan was intricate. As youths, Wei Zheng had trained in swordsmanship at the Marquis of Jin’s estate, growing up alongside Fang Xianting. Now, however, they were rivals in the struggle for succession. Each encounter in court was marked by tension. Wei Zheng’s mention of winning the hunt was mere rhetoric; what he truly sought was the Fang family’s support. He believed their loyalty to the Crown Prince stemmed from misguided tradition rather than conviction.

Fang Xianting understood this well. His expression remained respectful but distant as he replied: “Your Highness already commands a host of capable generals, and now you have the assistance of Military Advisor Zhong. I fear it would be inconvenient for me to accompany you.”

“Inconvenient?” Wei Zheng raised an eyebrow, casting a mocking glance toward the Crown Prince standing on the viewing platform. “My elder brother, still recovering from illness, should have remained in Chang’an. Even if he came, he wouldn’t be able to participate. What inconvenience could there be for you?”

This was a subtle jab at the Crown Prince’s frailty, implying his lack of prospects in the succession battle.

Fang Xianting’s brow furrowed slightly, showing no desire to continue this exchange. Wei Zheng, sensing his intent to leave, sighed with frustration and resignation, saying: “Yi Zhi… You are too biased.”

With that ambiguous remark, he turned his horse and rode deeper into the forest with Zhong Ji and several guards. After they left, Fang Yunchong, the eldest son of the Fang family, slowly approached Fang Xianting on horseback. Glancing alternately at the Crown Prince on the platform and the retreating figure of the Second Prince, he expressed concern: “Yi Zhi…”

Before he could finish, Lin Ze, one of Fang Xianting’s guards, rushed over and whispered something into his ear. Fang Xianting’s expression immediately darkened, causing Fang Yunhui and Lou Wei to hold their breaths nervously.

Zhuoying let out an impatient snort, its combative nature urging it to race into the forest. Fang Xianting, regaining focus, tightened the reins and turned to address those behind him: “I’ll go ahead. I’ll meet you all again before dusk.”

Pausing briefly, he looked at Fang Yunhui and Lou Wei, instructing: “Do not venture too deep into the forest. Stay within the first four zones.”

With that, he nudged Zhuoying’s flanks. The horse let out a long neigh and bolted forward like a black arrow vanishing into the woods.

No sooner had the figure of the Marquis’s heir disappeared into the forest than the fervor among the noblewomen on the viewing platform noticeably waned.

Miss Song San, her neck sore from stretching all morning, sat resting her jade-like feet after being massaged by Shu Mo, a servant of her mother. Observing the various noblewomen around her, each blushing and bashful, she couldn’t help but feel irritated.

“What are they even looking at…” she muttered disdainfully. “Do they think waving their sleeves fancifully will win them their dream husbands? Have they forgotten the stature of the Fang family or the cultivation of Yi Zhi Gege?”

Her words were almost laughable, nearly causing Miss Song Er nearby to choke on her tea. Internally, Song Er thought her younger sister was overly conceited, perhaps even imagining herself as the future daughter-in-law of the Marquis of Jin.

Yet, inexplicably, many other noble daughters flocked to curry favor with her. Before long, ladies from various households gathered around, seeking to build connections. Seeing this display uninteresting, Song Shuqing pulled her younger sister away, whispering: “Shall we go rabbit hunting together? We’ll join Miss Lou. We won’t go too deep, just wander around the first two zones.”

The customs of Zhou were relatively open, and hunting was popular among women too. For them, the winter hunt was a novel way to socialize. They could sit elegantly on the viewing platform, chatting amiably, or don Hu-style clothing and ride freely through the woods. The deeper zones of Lishan’s six enclosures were more dangerous, but the outer zones held only rabbits and pheasants, making them ideal for noblewomen to frolic and play.

Song Shuyan, raised in Jiangnan, couldn’t compare to the noblewomen of Chang’an in terms of archery or horsemanship. She knew some basics of riding but was entirely inexperienced in archery. However, sitting idly on the platform bored her, and wandering through the forest might make her trip worthwhile. Tempted, she nodded to her elder sister.

The two sisters then sought out their father, Song Dan. After hearing their request, he did not object but cast an extra glance at Song Shuyan, saying faintly to Song Shuqing: “Take more people with you. Your sister is young; make sure to look after her.”

Song Shuqing crisply replied, “Yes,” while Song Shuyan paused, silently meeting her father’s gaze. Her emotions were complex, unclear whether they stemmed from joy or something else.

“…Thank you, Father.”

She bowed slightly in deference.

Miss Lou Tong, daughter of the third branch of the Lou family, was known for her straightforward and bold demeanor. Recently, she had publicly rejected a marriage proposal from the Crown Prince of Yinping, criticizing his martial skills as unworthy of her. Yet, she was warm and kind to others. Upon meeting Song Shuyan, a new face, she showed no airs, instead taking her hand and examining her closely. Turning to the other ladies, she remarked: “What miraculous elixir do the Song daughters consume? Each is so pitiable in beauty—or is it the water and soil of Jiangnan? They’re like carved jade.”

Song Shuyan, unused to such enthusiastic praise from high-born ladies, felt her face grow warm. Her shy demeanor seemed to charm Lou Tong even more, prompting her to ask: “Younger Sister, do you ride? The mountain paths are rugged and slippery compared to flat ground. You can share my horse if you’d like—it’ll prevent falls.”

Such warmth overwhelmed Song Shuyan, who politely declined, explaining her riding skills were passable but her archery nonexistent, meaning she might slow the group down. Lou Tong dismissed her concerns, laughing: “A delicate beauty like you needn’t bother with archery. Let’s see how my luck fares today—if it’s good, I’ll catch a fox and gift it to you for a scarf.”