FYM - 25

“What?!”

The Tangquan Palace, adorned with intricately carved beams and embroidered pillars, was filled with swirling steam as Emperor Wei Xun bathed in the hot spring pool.

“Today, Fang Yi Zhi dared to unsheathe his sword against my son Zheng? Is he plotting rebellion?!”

The emperor’s wrath sent the palace maids scurrying to kneel with bowed heads. Only Concubine Zhong, half-undressed and daring, remained close to the emperor, her well-maintained fingers—still as delicate and fair as a maiden’s—plucking a winter jujube from a silver tray and offering it to him. Her voice was soft as she cooed: “The heir of the Marquis of Jin has always been respectful and humble. How could he commit such a rebellious act? I heard that the two Lou brothers quarreled with Prince Zheng—young men can lose their composure in moments of passion. It happens…”

“Passion? Common?” Wei Xun’s brows furrowed deeply, his aged, sagging face etched with lines. “Prince Zheng is the Qin Wang, personally bestowed by me! A prince of royal blood! Drawing swords against him is an affront to imperial authority, a disrespect toward me, your sovereign!”

With that, he struck the silver tray from the concubine’s hands, scattering the vibrant fruits across the floor. The kneeling maids trembled uncontrollably.

Concubine Zhong sighed, gesturing for the servants to clean up the mess. Slowly removing her outer robe, she joined the emperor in the hot spring, her jade-like hands gently kneading his slack, corpulent back. Her voice was a mix of timidity and playful reproach: “Your Majesty…”

This single utterance seemed to melt the emperor’s heart. His body warmed, his resolve softened, and he finally pulled her into his embrace, his tone easing slightly. “It’s not you I’m upset with… I lament only that the Lou family of Guannei, once loyal and valiant, has now degraded into pawns of the Fangs of Yingchuan. Those two sons of Lou Xiao are spineless, running around at the beck and call of the Marquis of Jin. How could they dare act so brazenly today without Fang Yi Zhi’s tacit approval? If I were wrong about this, it would be astonishing!”

The more he spoke, the angrier he became, his breathing growing heavier.

A flicker of amusement passed through Concubine Zhong’s eyes, though her expression feigned difficulty. She gently stroked the emperor’s chest to soothe him while pretending to counsel: “The Fang heir is still young; occasional recklessness is inevitable. Your Majesty mustn’t let a mere subject harm your health…”

“It’s not him I’m angry with…”

Wei Xun shook his head and sighed.

“That child has frequented the palace since childhood, practically raised before my eyes. I know his character—he’s a good-hearted, forthright boy…”

“But the Fang family…”

He paused, perhaps finding the words difficult to articulate. What of the Fangs of Yingchuan? Their integrity and loyalty were beyond reproach, making them one of the most virtuous and upright households under heaven. For generations, countless sons had sacrificed their lives on the battlefield for the nation. Even Wei Xun’s most despised figure, Marquis Fang He of Jin, was undeniably a pillar of the state. For decades, he had tirelessly fought in the north and south, repeatedly repelling barbarian invasions and ensuring the Zhou dynasty’s peace and prosperity.

And yet… they were far too arrogant in their self-assuredness.

Holding high offices and immense wealth wasn’t enough. Wielding military power wasn’t enough. They meddled in every matter of the court, even daring to interfere in the most sensitive issue for any sovereign—the succession. Everyone knew Wei Xun favored his second son, Zheng, and had long harbored thoughts of deposing the crown prince in favor of a younger son. Yet the Fangs of Yingchuan insisted on supporting the Eastern Palace, forming factions in open defiance of the emperor himself!

How perilous factional strife was! A single misstep could bring ruin to the state. What sovereign in history could tolerate such insolence? Only Wei Xun bore it all, tolerating their provocations without retaliation. But Fang He? Relentless, unyielding, forcing him to pass the throne to the Eastern Palace!

Never mind whether Qin was fit to rule—as for his frail constitution, how could he possibly endure the burdens of the empire?

Wei Xun was utterly disheartened, his expression growing increasingly restless. Concubine Zhong observed his face silently for a moment before cautiously speaking: “The Fangs of Yingchuan command great respect. Without Marquis Fang He repelling the Turks years ago, the nation might have fallen into ruin… Perhaps Your Majesty should forgive them a little more…”

These words only fueled the emperor’s ire, dredging up old memories. When he had first ascended the throne, the Turkic King Ashina launched a sudden invasion, vowing to capture Chang’an. Wei Xun personally led the campaign but found himself trapped in Huaiyuan, unable to escape. At the eleventh hour, Marquis Fang He of Jin arrived with reinforcements, turning the tide. Not only did he save the emperor’s life, but he also stabilized the border situation—a feat unparalleled in its glory.

Yet, it was also the emperor’s greatest humiliation.

Wei Xun closed his eyes briefly, his feelings toward Fang He growing ever more complex. Just then, Concubine Zhong spoke again beside him: “Your Majesty knows well that this servant has always revered the Marquis of Jin, regarding him as a hero who protects the nation. I’ve never dared show him the slightest disrespect… But it seems the marquis harbors deep prejudice against me, even extending his hostility to Prince Zheng and my elder brother. I fear, I fear…”

She trailed off, tears spilling from her eyes, her trembling form exuding a pitiable charm that tugged at the emperor’s heartstrings. How could he not understand her fears? Naturally, she worried that after his death, if Crown Prince Qin ascended the throne, the Fang faction would exact vengeance upon the Zhong clan. A fragile woman like her… how could she bear such anguish?

“Hui’er…”

Wei Xun tenderly embraced his beloved concubine, his fingers gently caressing her beautiful face as he murmured: “You and Zheng are my dearest and closest. I will always prioritize your well-being above all else…”

“As for those who dare harm you…”

Wei Xun narrowed his eyes slightly, a fleeting trace of resolve flashing across his face.

“…I will ensure they pay the price.”

Steam rose thickly within the palace halls, while outside the forbidden grounds, snow began to fall once more as night descended.

Zhaoying County, meant only as a temporary lodging for officials during the hunt, lacked the comforts of noble estates. The supply of charcoal was insufficient, making such snowy nights bitterly cold. Song Shuqian, the third daughter of the Song family, had already been dissatisfied with her accommodations. Upon hearing that her fourth sister had not only caught the attention of Prince Zheng but had even ridden with her “Yi Zhi Gege,” she grew furious. During dinner, she refused to hold her tongue, even in front of the elders, and mocked and taunted her sister relentlessly.

“Fourth Sister has truly made a name for herself—word of your exploits has spread throughout the hunting grounds today…”

Her tone dripped with sarcasm.

“Miss Lou has always been straightforward and pure-hearted. She probably doesn’t realize how much she’s helped someone today. Fourth Sister, if you’re grateful, you should visit the Lou family and prepare a generous gift—it would be the proper thing to do…”

Her words were so acidic they could make one’s teeth ache. Even the cousins seated at the table couldn’t help but stifle laughter. Song Dan, already aware of the day’s events, paid no heed to his third daughter’s tantrums. Instead, he looked toward his youngest daughter, Song Shuyan, who sat quietly eating at the lower end of the table. Furrowing his brow slightly, he asked: “Have you seen the imperial physician? Does the wound still hurt?”

Song Shuyan had been escorted home by her second brother before sunset and examined by the physician, who had applied medicine. Setting down her chopsticks, she respectfully nodded to her father and replied: “Yes, thank you for asking.”

After speaking, she glanced up briefly. Though reluctant to admit it, she secretly hoped her father would call her over to inspect her injured hand. Though the wound wasn’t serious, and his examination wouldn’t affect its healing, he simply nodded and said nothing more. Her heart sank, leaving no room for further emotion.

“I heard the two Lous drew their swords before Prince Zheng today?”

Her father had turned to address her second brother, Song Mingzhen. Matters of the court clearly held greater importance for him. When Song Mingzhen confirmed the news, Song Dan exchanged a glance with his younger brother, Song Bo. No further words were spoken in front of the children, but after dinner, the two elders summoned Song Mingzhen privately. Song Shuyan, supported by her maid Zhui’er, rose to see the elders off, remaining silent throughout.

Her third sister, however, wasn’t about to let her off the hook. Before retiring to her quarters, she openly mocked and ridiculed Song Shuyan in front of everyone, accusing her of being cunning and shameless, tarnishing the Song family’s reputation. Song Shuyan listened without responding. When her sister grew tired of berating her and stormed off, the cousins watched her with subtle expressions, likely harboring similar misunderstandings.

Song Shuyan felt a deep sigh rising within her. Why, despite enduring hardship and injustice, was she still subjected to such torment by her own blood relatives upon returning home? Occasionally, she wanted to explain herself, but ultimately swallowed her words, knowing they didn’t truly regard her as family—just another person sharing the same surname.

Accompanied by Zhui’er, she left the main hall, only to be intercepted midway by her second sister. Though they had faced danger together earlier, Song Shuqing had been fortunate enough to be rescued by the family servants who had accompanied her to the hunting grounds. Unscathed and rosy-cheeked, she apologized profusely to Song Shuyan, scolding the servants for neglecting to rescue her. Then, smiling, she remarked: “But this could be considered a blessing in disguise. Heaven is fair—it won’t let anyone suffer for nothing…”

…”A blessing in disguise.”

So even her second sister envied her for gaining the attention of those nobles.

Her heart felt emptier, unsure how to respond. Perhaps at that moment, she felt a twinge of grievance, but she didn’t let it show. After parting ways with her sister, she suddenly longed to see her second brother. However, he had been in discussions with their father and uncle for a long time and hadn’t emerged from the room. Growing weary of waiting, she decided to take a walk instead.

“Miss, you wish to go out?”

Zhui’er appeared troubled.

“It’s snowing heavily outside—it’s freezing! After all the troubles you’ve faced today, you must be exhausted. Wouldn’t it be better to return to your room and rest early?”

But Song Shuyan had no intention of returning. In fact, if a carriage were available, she would have driven straight back to Qiantang. Her grandmother was still ill, and she had been worried about her for some time.

“Let’s go,” her expression was calm, her beautiful eyes reflecting the falling snowflakes outside the eaves. “Don’t forget to inform Nurse Cui to bring extra umbrellas.”

Outside Zhaoying County, pedestrians were becoming scarce.

Before 5-7 PM, the roads were bustling with carriages and horses, as hunters returned and servants prepared to tally their game and equipment. Now, almost everyone had dispersed, and the snow fell silently, serene and tranquil.

Song Shuyan and Zhui’er walked along the empty, winding path. Soon, they could glimpse the dense forest at the outer edge of Lishan. Amidst the rustling pine trees, the snow-covered landscape peeked through. By morning, the scenery would surely be breathtaking.

Lost in thought, Song Shuyan marveled at the wonders of nature. Surrounded by such majesty, she felt even smaller. Her minor sorrows and grievances seemed insignificant, yet they persisted vividly, refusing to dissipate.

She inwardly laughed at her lack of resilience. Alone, she could maintain a broad perspective, but when compared to others, she lost her equanimity. Hadn’t she already decided? Chang’an was not her true home—how could she expect everyone here to offer her their genuine affection?

Step by step, she walked, watching the swirling snowflakes dance before her. With each step forward, her heart grew calmer, shedding more of her burdens. Finally, at one moment, she felt herself recovering. Yet, just then, the familiar neigh of a horse reached her ears. Beside her, Zhui’er exclaimed softly, standing on tiptoe to peer into the distance. Soon, she cried out joyfully: “Miss, look—isn’t that Young Master Fang over there?”

The biting wind stirred her indigo cloak. Turning her gaze from beneath the umbrella, she saw the figure dismount and lead Zhuoying toward her at a leisurely pace. The artistic conception of “Evening approaches; snow threatens” became vivid. She thought that someday, she might finally ask the question: “Can we share a cup?”

“Miss Song.”

He had reached her, snowflakes dusting his temples.