FYM - 24

Song Shuyan’s horse was rampaging wildly through the forest.

She had never been skilled at riding—her earlier lessons with her cousins in Jiangnan were merely for physical exercise—and today, she hadn’t anticipated how fierce Lou Tong’s whip would be. A few lashes sent both her and her second sister’s horses into a frenzied gallop. Unable to control her mount, she could only grip the reins tightly to avoid being thrown off. As they raced through the forest, the biting cold wind of Lishan in December sliced across her cheeks like a knife. The violent jolts nearly dislocated her bones.

The other ladies accompanying them likely hadn’t expected such chaos. Lou Tong abandoned the pursuit of the deer and hurried after them to help, but the frightened horse bolted uncontrollably, running several miles without stopping. Eventually, it charged out of the second zone’s wooden fence and deep into the forest. Behind them, the pursuing women heard the howls of wolves and quickly pulled Lou Tong back, saying: “Ahead lies the fifth zone. If we encounter wolves or tigers, what will we do? You mustn’t chase further. Go find your brother to rescue them—that’s the sensible course.”

By this point, Song Shuyan could no longer hear their chatter. Her horse, upon hearing the wolf howls, grew even more agitated and ran wild. She struggled to hold onto the reins, her tender palms already blistered and bloody. Yet, what overwhelmed her most was a bone-deep fear. Life and death, she realized, were so fragile—one careless moment, and she could be thrust into peril.

She began to despair, knowing that their family servants had likely gone to save her second sister first, leaving her utterly alone. Even if she were to die here, no one would care. Her grandmother—she would surely cry for her, perhaps the only person in this world who truly cherished her…

In her daze, the icy wind howled again, and she heard her panicked horse scream. Suddenly, it came to an abrupt halt, rearing up on its hind legs. The force of it caught her off guard, and in an instant, she was flung violently off the horse—

There had been many such moments in her life.

Moments when she stood isolated amidst accusations, or calmly observed as calamity unfolded around her. Each time, danger loomed large, yet there was always someone who, at the last possible moment, reached out to catch her. Like a storm sweeping in, then vanishing like dust, sparing her from sorrow and granting her peace.

This was the second time.

She fell into a broad, warm embrace. The horse’s cries seemed to fade into the distance. As she looked up, her gaze met eyes as sharp as a bird of prey. Beneath his right eye, a small mole shimmered softly, almost tenderly.

Fang Xianting.

Her heart pounded wildly, the wind roaring in her ears. She couldn’t tell if he was real or an illusion, appearing before her when she least expected it.

“Miss Song,” he called to her, his voice close to her ear. Yet her mind still felt distant, staring at him blankly.

“Injured?” His brows furrowed slightly, his voice low and firm.

The scene felt familiar—it mirrored their first encounter on the road to Shangzhou just a month ago. Her body, stiffened by the cold wind, was immobilized. Her tongue felt heavy, and she could only mumble: “…No, I’m fine.”

He said nothing, but his eyes briefly scanned her bloodied palms. Then came the sound of fabric tearing—he had ripped a strip from his own clothing.

“The wounds need tending,” he said calmly, his tone polite yet detached. “Please sit for a moment, Miss.”

The forest was bitterly cold, though she had not noticed it until now, still shaken from the ordeal. Only then did she realize she was still half-encircled in his arms, his strong hand steadying her waist. Without it, she would have collapsed to the ground.

“Thank you, Young Master…”

She murmured faintly, her heartbeat growing more erratic. She tried to pull away from his embrace, but as soon as she lost his support, her legs gave way, and she nearly fell again. He frowned, swiftly catching her once more. Apologizing quietly, he effortlessly scooped her up and carried her to a nearby rock to sit.

She had always known he was a military officer, but being held in his arms now made her acutely aware of his towering strength. The young maiden, nearing the age of笄, was beginning to reveal her beauty. Her once deathly pale cheeks now bore a faint blush, like a bud about to bloom, evoking poetic musings.

Yet he did not look at her further, carefully avoiding her gaze as he set her down. Before she could react, he crouched in front of her.

“Your hand.”

He gestured for her to extend it.

People often praised the Marquis of Jin’s heir for his noble character. Now, face-to-face with him, she understood why rumors likened him to “frost piercing a jade tower” or “pear blossoms in a snowy breeze.” Song Shuyan stole a glance at him and slowly offered her right hand. His palm was large and warm, cradling hers as he skillfully cleaned the blood from her wounds with the torn cloth. His movements were swift, but his touch was less than gentle. She winced, her face turning pale, yet she endured silently.

“The sixth zone is exceptionally perilous. No one ventures there on the first day of the winter hunt,” he spoke first, his lowered eyes avoiding hers, his voice cold and clear. “Why did you take such a risk, Miss?”

His question startled her.

Born into hardship, she had always been adept at reading between the lines. Though she had only met this young master a few times, she could sense a subtle shift in his tone—more authoritative, more severe.

Taking a deep breath, she steadied her nerves despite the recent brush with death and replied carefully: “I was hunting rabbits with my second sister near the outer zones. Unfortunately, my poor riding skills slowed everyone down. Miss Lou, trying to help, whipped the horses, but they bolted instead, carrying me deep into the forest…”

Her explanation was honest, every word verifiable. Meanwhile, her gaze subtly swept the surroundings, finally spotting an incomplete Daoist temple dozens of paces behind him. Her heart tightened with unease, sensing something amiss.

He acknowledged her response with a sound, asking no further questions. The vast forest fell silent except for the rustling wind. The earlier wolf howls had ceased. Her heart raced faster. Logically, she should have asked, “Why are you here, Young Master?” But instinct told her not to. Instead, she remained silent, watching as he tended to her wound.

Yet, at that moment, he suddenly raised his head, his sharp eyes meeting hers. She hadn’t managed to conceal the suspicion in her gaze, and in that instant, she felt exposed. Embarrassed, she turned her head away, but his increasingly cold voice still reached her ears: “I know your eldest brother quite well. He once said his youngest sister was the most intelligent and sensible. I wonder, Miss, do you truly understand what ‘intelligence’ means?”

Her heart skipped a beat, recognizing the veiled warning in his words. While wary, her suspicions about his solitary presence here deepened. Was he meeting someone? Amidst the public spectacle of the Lishan winter hunt, why choose this desolate spot for a secret rendezvous? The implications were undoubtedly grave—once uncovered, it would ignite countless disputes.

And what about her?

If he thought she had stumbled upon something… would he kill her?

The dread intensified. In that moment, she realized this man—this man who had once lifted her carriage axle for her, who had later gifted her a spring landscape screen—was not the same person. He was a trusted minister of the Emperor, a staunch supporter of the Crown Prince, entangled in matters far beyond her comprehension. She dared not overstep, lest she plummet into an abyss.

“Did my second brother only tell you these things?”

She carefully responded, forcing herself to meet his eyes despite the biting wind.

“…I’ve always been quiet and reserved, rarely staying long in Chang’an. After the New Year, I’ll return to Jiangnan.”

Her words were calm and composed, seemingly fearless. Yet he could feel her small hand trembling in his. Song Mingzhen indeed had a clever younger sister—and one who understood boundaries.

He scrutinized her for a moment before shifting his gaze. She immediately felt a weight lift from her shoulders, unaware that her back had broken out in a cold sweat. By now, he had finished bandaging her right hand, tying the final knot firmly. The pressure made her wince, and tears welled up in her eyes.

It wasn’t emotion—it was simply pain.

He hadn’t expected such a reaction. He hadn’t meant to bully a girl; having grown up among rough soldiers, he had actually tried to be gentle. Yet, it seemed…

She mistook his actions for another threat. Reflecting on recent events, she thought everything had been a string of unfortunate coincidences. Who could say otherwise? Even her punishment days ago at Wei Rui Hall stemmed from this young master. And today—after being nearly killed by a panicked horse, she narrowly escaped death only to endure his intimidation. What offense had she committed to deserve this?

Such thoughts left her feeling even more helpless, yet she dared not shed more tears. She knew well that apart from her grandparents, no one else would protect her. Even her beloved second brother couldn’t fully shield her. If she angered this young master in the depths of the forest, and he killed her with a single sword strike, would her brother seek justice for her?

What about her father?

Or her stepmother?

Who would?

Children unloved learned to shed fewer tears. Whatever grievances they had, they had to bear silently. Now, she remained quiet, lowering her gaze and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Just like that, all traces of tears vanished.

He saw it all. Memories of their encounter at Fu Bi Pavilion resurfaced—how this fourth miss had similarly kept her head bowed, quiet as a beautiful doll beside her lively second sister. Even as her eyes lingered on the lacquered screens adorned with mother-of-pearl and gemstones, she ultimately chose the cheapest, plainest painting screen. From this, he understood her life in the Song household hadn’t been easy. At such a young age, she had already developed a self-restrained and resilient nature.

No wonder her eldest brother doted on her—it wasn’t without reason.

He cleared his throat softly and released her right hand. When he took her left, his touch was gentler. Still, she refused to meet his eyes, her reddened corners betraying fear—or perhaps resentment. She braced herself for another stern move, but nothing came. After treating her wound, he turned and whistled sharply. Soon, the sound of hooves approached—his steed, Zhuoying, galloping from the depths of the forest.

“This place is dangerous. Miss, you shouldn’t stay long,” he said, standing tall, his towering figure overshadowing her. “I’ll escort you back to the hunting grounds. Afterward, your family can summon the palace physician to tend to you.”

With that, he glanced down at her and asked: “Can you still ride?”

Still seated on the rock, her legs too weak to stand, she fell silent at his question. Beside them, Zhuoying stood majestically, taller and more imposing than the brown horse that had nearly cost her life earlier. Though terrified, she struggled to rise, leaning on the rock, and replied: “…Yes.”

He watched her, sighing inwardly. The next moment, he stepped closer, his voice warmer than before: “Let me help you onto the horse.”

His tone reminded her of the past—the warmth of a “red clay stove” rather than the frosty “jade tower.” Yet, having witnessed this young master’s icy, ruthless side today, she no longer hoped to draw near enough to feel his warmth. Fortunately, what wasn’t hers to begin with was easy to let go.

Lowering her head, she thanked him. Being lifted onto the horse made her uneasy. Zhuoying, however, seemed even more disgruntled about carrying someone other than Fang Xianting. Before she could steady herself, it began pacing restlessly, shaking its head as if trying to throw her off. Panicked, she gripped the reins tightly, reopening the freshly bandaged wound on her palm. Fang Xianting, seeing this, lightly tapped Zhuoying’s face, and it immediately stilled, though it continued to snort irritably, like a child sulking.

He sighed, mounted the horse, and half-encircled her from behind. His distinct hands took the reins from hers, and he murmured near her ear: “…My apologies.”

Was he apologizing for the horse?

It wasn’t necessary—not compared to the pain of the knot he’d tied earlier.

“Young Master is too kind,” she replied coolly, her voice devoid of emotion.

He paused briefly, then said nothing more. Turning the horse around, he guided it toward the forest’s edge with remarkable skill. Despite the dense trees, he navigated without collision, ensuring not even a low-hanging branch disturbed her already disheveled hair.

Meanwhile, her mind raced. She guessed he no longer intended to kill her. Based on her understanding, the illustrious Fang family of Yingchuan faced considerable challenges in court. Earlier, on the viewing platform, the Emperor had publicly humiliated the Crown Prince, signaling his intent to depose him and elevate a younger son. As staunch supporters of the Eastern Palace, the Fangs inevitably opposed the Emperor’s will, inviting potential disaster. Perhaps… it was already imminent.

Thus, the Fangs had recently sought to curry favor with the Songs, hoping to enlist her father and brother in supporting the Crown Prince’s legitimacy. Since she bore the Song name, he couldn’t easily decide her fate. Instead, he had to ensure her safe return to gain her father’s gratitude.

She smiled bitterly to herself, feeling a twinge of sorrow. She realized how distant this man—currently encircling her from behind—truly was. At the same time, she found her own relationship with her family somewhat ironic. Though they shared little connection, in certain moments, their fates were tightly bound together.

Lost in thought, she was abruptly jolted back to reality as Zhuoying reared up with a loud neigh. The sudden movement nearly sent her tumbling backward again, but this time, his strong arms caught her. One hand held the reins firmly while the other wrapped securely around her waist, his grip both firm and reassuring.

“What… what happened?” she stammered, still shaken, as she turned to look at him after Zhuoying steadied. His face was close to hers now—his broad chest pressed against her back, his chiseled profile sharp and striking. Beneath his right eye, the mole that once seemed tender now appeared dangerous.

Her heart skipped a beat as she followed his gaze toward the depths of the forest. There, partially concealed by towering trees, stood a massive white tiger with gleaming fangs, its narrow green eyes locked onto them with predatory intent.

A tiger…

Song Shuyan, a young lady raised in the genteel surroundings of Jiangnan, had never encountered such a terrifying sight. Even with her usually composed nature, she couldn’t help but turn deathly pale. No wonder the earlier wolf howls had faded—the wolves themselves must have fled this domain ruled by the solitary tiger.

The beast’s enormous frame and powerful limbs radiated strength. Its unblinking stare fixated on them, its pupils glowing faintly green. Song Shuyan’s hair stood on end, her body going limp as if all her bones had been stripped away. The only thing keeping her upright was the unwavering support of the man’s hand around her waist, steady as a rock.

“Don’t move.”

His voice was low and calm, almost inaudible, yet it carried an undeniable authority.

She didn’t dare to move. Under the tiger’s piercing gaze, she froze like a frightened bird, cold sweat drenching her clothes. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his right hand tighten slightly on the reins. After a tense moment of standoff, the veins on his hand bulged as he suddenly yanked the reins forcefully. Zhuoying responded instantly, turning sharply and leaping away with incredible speed, showing no trace of fear.

But she screamed in terror, the sound echoing through the forest. Behind them, the tiger let out a thunderous roar, startling countless birds into flight. Zhuoying neighed loudly, darting through the trees like a creature with wings. The rushing wind drowned out all sense of direction, and she could barely keep her eyes open, her soul seemingly torn from her body.

Just then, the hand that had been firmly encircling her waist suddenly loosened. It felt as though the ground beneath her had collapsed, leaving her panicked. Desperately opening her eyes, she turned to look at him and called out: “Fang Xianting!”

He didn’t turn back. The young general, whose valor had once inspired poets to write odes, now drew his bowstring back with practiced ease. Like frost-laden winds sweeping through pear blossoms, or like a jade tower cloaked in icy mist, he cut a figure of unparalleled majesty. All the red-sleeved beauties of the world paled in comparison to him; the praises heaped upon him by others barely scratched the surface of his true worth.

Swish.

In the blink of an eye, a feathered arrow flew through the air. Even shielded in front of him, she could hear the piercing whistle as it sliced through the wind. A moment later, the tiger let out an earsplitting roar, tinged with agony. Through her hazy vision, she managed to glimpse the arrow striking the tiger squarely in the eye.

This…

He…

Before she could fully process what had happened, his left hand tightened securely around her waist once more. The brief withdrawal had been solely to draw his bow and shoot the tiger. Now, having dealt with the threat, he turned his attention back to her, murmuring near her ear in a deep, soothing tone: “There’s no need to fear. It’s over.”

At that moment, for reasons she couldn’t explain, she found herself speechless.

She should have said something—perhaps thanked him—but her fragile defenses, combined with the overwhelming presence of the best person she’d ever met, left her momentarily stunned. A foolish thought crept into her mind: What kind of woman would be worthy of spending a lifetime with someone like him?

Lost in her reverie, the sound of approaching hoofbeats startled her. She flinched instinctively, like a sparrow frightened by a bowstring. Then she heard him say: “It’s your brother.”

Brother?

She hurriedly looked up, but her eyesight wasn’t as keen as his. At first, she could only make out distant figures. As they drew closer, she saw her second brother, Song Mingzhen, his face etched with worry. Lou Tong was also there, accompanied by her brothers, Lou Feng and Lou Wei, along with several palace guards—a formidable entourage.

“Shuyan!”

Her brother was the first to call out, urging his horse forward until he reached her side. He immediately began examining her anxiously, asking in a flurry: “Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere? This—this is blood! Where are you injured?”

His words were already losing coherence.

Her heart warmed slightly, and for the first time, she truly felt like crying. But surrounded by so many people, she couldn’t afford to lose composure. Shaking her head, she reassured him: “No… I’m fine…”

Hearing this, Song Mingzhen finally exhaled in relief. Only then did he notice Fang Xianting standing protectively before his sister. Stunned, he exclaimed: “Third Brother!” Then, realization dawned: “The fifth zone is perilous beyond measure. I knew she couldn’t possibly emerge unscathed on her own—it turns out she ran into you, Third Brother…”

With that, he dismounted and bowed deeply to Fang Xianting, saying earnestly: “Third Brother, I’ll never forget your life-saving kindness. I will inform Father and ensure we properly thank you!”

His words were heartfelt, but Fang Xianting merely raised a hand to stop him, his expression calm and detached. “First, tend to your sister. Her hand is injured, and she’s been through quite a scare.”

Song Mingzhen gratefully acknowledged his advice and quickly lifted his sister off the horse. Zhuoying seemed relieved, even shaking its body slightly as if glad to finally be rid of an outsider. The moment Song Shuyan returned to her brother’s side, the fear and委屈 (grievance) she had been suppressing erupted. Her beautiful almond-shaped eyes immediately reddened, prompting her brother to pull her into a comforting embrace.

“It’s alright, it’s alright…” Song Mingzhen gently patted her back. “Brother will take you home soon…”

This touching scene of sibling affection moved those watching, including Fang Xianting, who noticed how Song Shuyan’s eyes had reddened the moment she left his side. So she wasn’t incapable of throwing tantrums—she simply reserved them for those closest to her.

He averted his gaze and dismounted. By then, Lou Tong had also approached, her face pale as she examined Song Shuyan anxiously. Full of guilt, she stammered: “Fourth Sister, were you frightened? Alas, it’s all my fault. Why did I think it was amusing to whip the horses? I’ve caused you such trouble…”

“Amusement?”

Lou Tong’s apology was cut short by Song Mingzhen, his voice laced with restrained anger.

“Miss Lou, do you treat human lives as mere amusement? Is my sister’s life so worthless that she deserves to die just to entertain you?”

Song Mingzhen, typically carefree and cheerful, rarely displayed such sternness. Lou Tong, hearing this, turned even paler, struggling to respond: “I—I didn’t mean…”

Not wanting her brother to antagonize others—especially someone from the influential Lou family of Guannei—Song Shuyan discreetly tugged at his sleeve and shook her head silently. The Lou brothers, sharp-eyed as always, noticed her gesture. The elder, Lou Feng, seized the opportunity to step forward and address Song Mingzhen: “Today’s mishap was entirely Tong’er’s fault. If you wish to punish her, I’ll bear it on her behalf. When we return, I’ll ensure Father disciplines her strictly, and we’ll visit your household in Chang’an to offer our apologies. For now, please focus on your sister and escort her back to Zhaoying County to see the imperial physician.”

His words were reasonable, aimed at diffusing the tension. He also subtly signaled Fang Xianting, hoping he would mediate. Observing the escalating tension and Song Shuyan’s increasingly pale face, Fang Xianting finally spoke: “There’s a wounded but still-living white tiger in the forest. This isn’t a place for discussion. Let the Left Thousand Ox Guard escort everyone back to Zhaoying County, while the Right Majestic Guard accompanies me to clear the path.”

Before the guards could respond, a laugh echoed from behind. A voice rang out: “On the first day of the winter hunt, you ventured into the sixth zone and shot a white tiger—Yi Zhi, are you so unwilling to let others surpass you?”

Everyone turned to see a group emerging from the depths of the forest. Leading them was a tall, imposing figure with black eyes flecked with green—none other than Second Prince Wei Zheng. Beside him, apart from the guards, was Zhong Ji, son of Zhong He.

Those present bowed to the Prince of Qin, who waved off their formalities and casually rode his horse to Fang Xianting’s side. Dismounting, he asked with a smile: “What’s going on here? Why is everyone gathered in one spot?”

This prince was known for his sharp wit and subtle provocations. Though his question seemed casual, his gaze quickly settled on the unfamiliar Song Shuyan. He briefly scanned her disheveled hair before lingering on her exquisite, dreamlike face.

“It’s all my younger sister’s fault…” General Lou Feng stepped forward and answered. “She didn’t know her limits during play and accidentally startled Miss Song’s horse.”

“Miss Song?”

Wei Zheng raised an eyebrow, his gaze sharpening as it landed on Song Shuyan.

“Could it be the daughter of Song Dan, Left Deputy Minister of the Ministry of Works?”

After enduring so much today, Song Shuyan had neither the energy nor the inclination to deal with these nobles of Chang’an. But being publicly addressed by name left her feeling irritated. Her brother lightly patted the back of her hand, offering a reassuring glance, then led her in bowing to the Prince of Qin, answering on her behalf: “Yes, Your Highness, it’s her.”

Wei Zheng’s eyes, streaked with green, glimmered with interest. He took a few steps closer to the siblings and, to everyone’s surprise, personally extended his hand to help Song Shuyan rise. Startled, she instinctively stepped back. Beside them, Lou Feng frowned, glancing at Fang Xianting, who also looked troubled, his expression darkening slightly.

“Minister Song has kept his precious gem well-hidden,” Wei Zheng remarked with a smile, unfazed by her retreat. “I haven’t seen her before—what could be the reason?”

Song Shuyan remained half-hidden behind her brother, keeping her head bowed. Her brother answered for her: “My younger sister was raised in Jiangnan due to certain circumstances. She has only recently returned to Chang’an and hasn’t yet ventured out into society.”

“That explains it,” Wei Zheng nodded, his gaze on Song Shuyan growing more probing. “The Song family of Jinling is renowned for its grace, and the waters of Jiangnan nurture beauty—Minister Song is truly blessed.”

His words were clever, praising her without directly mentioning her appearance, yet making his interest abundantly clear. Song Shuyan, unused to such bold advances from men in Qiantang, found herself tongue-tied.

“As for Miss Lou, she should be more careful,” Wei Zheng continued, turning his gaze toward Lou Tong. His expression grew more complex as he added, “Other people’s lives are not to be trifled with. If your playful antics were to harm Miss Song for life, how would you explain yourself to the Song family in the future?”

Lou Tong, already guilt-ridden over her actions, felt even more ashamed and immediately began apologizing profusely. Her two brothers exchanged glances, each recognizing the underlying provocation in the Second Prince’s words. The Lou family had always been aligned with the Fang faction. If the Songs were to take offense at this incident involving their daughter and create discord with the Lous, then…

“Your Highness speaks wisely. Today, we were fortunate to have Third Brother here,” interjected Lou Wei, the younger of the two brothers, who was quick-witted despite his youth. Sensing the shift in tone, he stepped forward to smooth things over. “If not for Third Brother shooting the white tiger and protecting Miss Song, this situation could have ended in disaster…”

The Lou family of Guannei, closely tied to the Fangs of Yingchuan like kin, truly excelled in shielding their allies. With these words, Lou Wei not only quelled the Second Prince’s attempts at further provocation but also deflected Zhong Ji’s earlier jibe about Fang Xianting being unwilling to let others surpass him. His defense was thorough and well-executed.

However, Zhong Ji, upon hearing this, suddenly sneered coldly. His face, roughened by years stationed on the northwestern frontier, exuded a wild, untamed energy. Fixing Fang Xianting with a sharp glance, he said: “Tigers and wolves prowl the fifth and sixth zones. No one ventures there on the first day of the winter hunt. Why is it that Lord Fang seems so eager this year? You entered the forest without even traveling with the other Fang sons. Could it be…”

He paused, his expression darkening dangerously. “…that you have some secret you’re hiding?”

The moment his words hung in the air, the atmosphere froze. Only the Second Prince, Wei Zheng, remained outwardly composed, strolling leisurely as if nothing were amiss. After surveying the tense scene, he remarked casually: “Speaking of which, I see that Lin Ze isn’t with you either—Yi Zhi, do you have anything to explain?”

The Fang family of Yingchuan was known for its unimpeachable integrity, but the past entanglements between Crown Princess Fang Ranjun and Su Jin couldn’t remain entirely concealed. The Zhong faction had long known of the connection between the Crown Princess and the former governor of Dizhou, Su Jin. After Su Jin was recalled to Chang’an under charges of misconduct, they had been secretly monitoring him. However, Fang Xianting had managed to shield both parties so effectively that they had yet to gather conclusive evidence. Unfortunately for them, Su Jin, an impulsive and inexperienced scholar, had slipped away from Fang Xianting’s watchful eyes and ventured to Lishan alone. The Zhong faction, upon receiving this news, planned to catch him red-handed with the Crown Princess, intending to bring down both her and the Eastern Palace in one fell swoop. Alas, at the last moment, their scheme was thwarted. Lin Ze, one of Fang Xianting’s trusted men, had intercepted Su Jin just half an hour ago, escorting him back to Chang’an. In the process, they had nearly detained members of the Prince of Qin’s household, further inflaming tensions.

On the surface, Wei Zheng appeared calm and collected, but inwardly, his emotions churned. Watching Fang Xianting stand unwavering before him filled him with resentment. Why did the Fang family of Yingchuan remain so stubbornly loyal to outdated principles? Aside from not being the Empress’s son, in what way did Wei Zheng fall short of his elder brother, Wei Qin? That frail, indecisive heir was hardly fit to ascend the throne and inherit the three-hundred-year legacy of the Zhou dynasty!

Fang Xianting… if only you would serve me instead, then…

“I have done nothing improper, and thus owe no explanations to anyone,” Fang Xianting replied evenly, his gaze steady and unwavering. “As for my personal attendants, they are none of your concern, Your Highness.”

His words were sparse, clear, and distant. The Fang lineage produced the most loyal subjects under heaven—and simultaneously, the most difficult to control.

Wei Zheng’s brows furrowed, anger flickering in his eyes. Beside him, Zhong Ji was visibly infuriated. The Fang family of Yingchuan had grown far too arrogant! Just days ago at the Song residence, he had already endured their disrespect once—did they truly think him weak and easy to bully? The Zhong clan of Longyou was no minor house! How dare they humiliate him so brazenly?

“Fang Yi Zhi, how dare you!” Zhong Ji exploded in rage, unsheathing his sword in one swift motion and pointing it directly at Fang Xianting.

“The Prince of Qin asks a question—who dares answer with such insolence? Moreover, you ventured into forbidden territory alone. Do you dare claim you weren’t up to something nefarious? If you cannot provide a satisfactory explanation, come with me to the Emperor’s presence to settle this!”

His harsh words shattered the fragile veneer of peace between the two factions. Even the Lou brothers, who had initially intended to mediate, drew their swords upon seeing Zhong Ji’s blatant disrespect toward Fang Xianting. While disputes among civil officials in court might still observe certain restraints, military officers like them could easily escalate into outright violence if tempers flared.

Song Mingzhen, caught in the middle, was deeply conflicted. Though he felt closer to his third brother, the Song family prided itself on neutrality and couldn’t afford to take sides. Meanwhile, the Southern Palace Guards found themselves in an impossible position, unsure whether to protect the Prince of Qin or assist their commander-in-chief.

“Yuan Jing, Yuan Xi,” Fang Xianting finally spoke, his voice still calm and unruffled as he addressed the Lou brothers. He shook his head slightly. “Put your swords down.”

The Lou brothers hesitated, torn. Lou Wei frowned and called out softly: “Third Brother…” Zhong Ji, seeing this, sneered again. He assumed Fang Xianting wouldn’t dare harm the Emperor’s most favored son, and even if he tried to intervene now, it was too late. Today’s conflict would undoubtedly reach the Emperor’s ears.

“His Highness is merciful and has no intention of making trouble for anyone,” Zhong Ji pressed further, taking another step forward. The tip of his blade edged closer to Fang Xianting, his voice razor-sharp. “Lord Fang, simply explain yourself clearly, and we can all go our separate ways. It will be better for everyone.”

Still, he hadn’t given up hope of uncovering evidence against the Crown Princess.

Fang Xianting stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his cold, steady gaze never once meeting Zhong Ji’s. How dare this parvenu family, risen through marital connections, presume to challenge the Fang family of Yingchuan? To him, they were beneath notice. His only regret was that the Second Prince couldn’t align himself with the Eastern Palace.

Yet his proud demeanor only served to enrage Zhong Ji further. The thought of mutual destruction flashed through his mind. Just as he prepared to strike, a soft, delicate voice interrupted—

“This matter is entirely my fault…”

Everyone turned to see the unfamiliar young lady from the Song family speaking up. Standing beside her brother, head bowed and eyes lowered, her exquisite face was deathly pale.

“…The horse was startled, and I was unable to regain control. Along the way, around the fourth zone, I unexpectedly encountered Lord Fang. Out of pity for my plight, he pursued me into the sixth zone and helped subdue the frightened horse. On our way back, we encountered a tiger blocking our path, and it took considerable effort to escape unscathed…”

Her voice was faint but clear, every word deliberate. The atmosphere grew subtly strained. Fang Xianting’s gaze rested on her—the makeshift bandage torn from his clothing still wrapped around her hand, now stained with fresh blood.

She was utterly exhausted… yet she had lied for him.

His eyes softened imperceptibly, and he suddenly wanted to see her gaze. But she kept her head lowered, denying him that wish. Wei Zheng, however, moved closer again, looking alternately at her and her brother, his expression inscrutable.

“Oh… is that so?”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, his tone laced with skepticism.