FYM - 33

On the other side, Song Shuyan had just left the courtyard of her stepmother, Lady Wu.

These past few days, with her father detained in the palace, everything at home had been under the control of Lady Wan, the main wife. Deep-seated grievances between the two branches of the family had now come to a head, and Lady Wan seized the opportunity for revenge. First, she ordered Second Brother to kneel in the ancestral hall as punishment, then confined Lady Wu and her daughter to their quarters—a severe penalty.

Song Shuyan was thus kept extraordinarily busy. During the day, she went to Lady Wu’s room to console her, and by evening, she secretly brought food to the ancestral hall for her second brother. In truth, she worked harder than those being punished. Zui’er, her maid, couldn’t help but complain in secret: “The matriarch sent Miss here to Chang’an to enjoy life, not to be entangled in such troublesome affairs… Perhaps it would be better to return to Qiantang. At least there, we wouldn’t be dragged into court matters and suffer innocently.”

Though crudely expressed, the sentiment rang true. Even Cui Mama, who said nothing outwardly, shared the same thoughts. Song Shuyan frowned slightly, urging them not to speak carelessly, then headed to the kitchen to fetch a food box and made her way to the ancestral hall.

As she passed through the garden, she caught sight of her father in the distance, personally escorting two distinguished guests into the house. One of them she recognized—just days ago, he had given her medicine during a snowy night at Lishan.

…Why had Fang Xianting come?

And the older, more authoritative figure beside him—was that his father?

She stayed far away, feeling a wave of confusion. How could these two visit so suddenly during such turbulent times? And why did her father, freshly released from the palace, meet with them so openly? Pacing for a while without finding an answer, she eventually turned toward the ancestral hall to find her second brother.

Second Young Master Song had already knelt solidly in the ancestral hall for two full days.

Though trained in martial arts, the biting cold of late winter was unbearable, especially in the unheated ancestral hall. To endure two days was already remarkable. When Song Shuyan entered, he could barely remain kneeling, his hands braced on the ground, frozen and bruised.

She quickly moved to support him, secretly slipping her hand warmer into his grasp. While unpacking food from the box, she scolded gently: “You always seem so lively and clever, yet at critical moments, you’re surprisingly obedient. The main wife didn’t send anyone to watch over you—what harm would it have done to sit or lie down for a moment…”

Ordinarily calm and composed, she rarely complained or criticized anyone. But with her second brother, she was entirely sincere, speaking her mind freely. Song Mingzhen knew she cared deeply for him, managing a weak smile and teasingly tapping her nose. “So fierce…”

Song Shuyan sighed, pouring him a cup of ginger tea to warm him. He accepted it but didn’t drink, only murmuring softly: “After all, I’ve caused such trouble for the family… This punishment is deserved.”

His despondent demeanor was heart-wrenching. They both knew his future prospects were now shattered. Recently, Second Sister had cried over this very fact, lamenting her bitter fate and fearing she’d never hold her head high before Third Sister again.

“Father has returned from the palace. From afar, I saw him earlier—he seemed fine…”

Song Shuyan tried to comfort her brother, hoping he wouldn’t blame himself for an unforeseen calamity. After a pause, she added: “Lord Jin and Young Master Fang have also arrived. I don’t know what they’re discussing with Father…”

At the mention of the Fangs, Song Mingzhen’s eyes lit up, as if seeing hope anew. Grabbing his sister’s hand, he asked excitedly: “Third Brother is here? Did you see him clearly?”

“Yes… The Fangs—they always have solutions. Third Brother can accomplish anything…”

“He knows that silk message wasn’t mine, and surely understands the Songs aren’t trying to harm the Crown Prince…”

“They’ll find a way…”

“…They must find a way…”

Likewise, Song Dan was awaiting this “solution.”

Aware of the sensitive position of the Fangs and the prying ears in the main hall, he personally escorted them through the rear garden to the Chuiyu Study, dismissing attendants to facilitate private discussion. However, the walk aggravated Marquis Fang He’s fresh wound on his left shoulder. His complexion turned ashen, and he needed Fang Xianting’s support to sit. Song Dan frowned deeply, sighing: “I deeply admire the Fangs’ righteousness, but risking your life to block a sword was perilous. For the sake of the state, Lord Marquis, you must take better care of yourself.”

Today, Fang He wore plain robes, appearing much gentler than his usual stern, armor-clad self. Smiling faintly at Song Dan’s words, he replied: “In such stormy times, Boji still welcomes me personally. It seems neglecting one’s own well-being isn’t unique to me.”

This self-deprecating remark carried deep respect beneath its surface. Song Dan shook his head with a bitter smile, saying: “It’s not that I fear death—I’m simply cornered and unwilling to give up. All my hopes now rest on you, Lord Marquis.”

The meaning behind this “giving up” was clear to all three present. The Songs refused to falsely accuse the Crown Prince to align with the Zhongs, but tomorrow, might the Emperor forcibly break their resolve in court?

“Boji treats me with sincerity; I’ll repay him with trust,” Fang He’s expression grew solemn, his eyes deep and resolute. “Tomorrow, the Emperor will cancel court for a day. What you fear will not come to pass.”

…Cancel court?

Song Dan’s brows furrowed further, unsure how the Marquis could be so certain. After a moment’s thought, he asked: “Are you planning to visit the Emperor? His mood remains unsettled—it may be dangerous…”

Unsettled? That was an understatement. The Emperor showed no mercy even to his own flesh and blood—how could he spare an outsider? As the pillar of the Eastern Palace, if the Marquis fell, what would happen to the Crown Prince?

“No need to worry,” Fang He waved dismissively, his tone calm. “Boji shouldn’t fret too much.”

—How could he not worry?

Chang’an was under the Emperor’s watchful eye; every movement within the city reached his desk swiftly. By stepping into the Song residence, the Marquis had tied the Songs’ fate to the Fangs. If the Marquis underestimated the risks and met disaster, how could Song Dan face his ancestors?

“Lord Marquis, please don’t underestimate the Emperor’s determination to depose the heir…” Song Dan’s brows knotted tightly, pleading earnestly. “If you remain safe, the Eastern Palace will still have a steadfast support. But if…”

He trailed off, unwilling to utter forbidden words. Fang He, however, understood his meaning. Smiling faintly, his gaze softened momentarily.

“The Crown Prince is no child, and I am no immovable mountain,” he spoke evenly. “Yinping Wang’s consort hails from the Zhao clan, long close to the Eastern Palace. Among civil officials, Fan Yucheng and Chen Meng are respected and capable of aiding the Crown Prince.”

“Besides, there’s you, Lord Song,” he raised his eyes, meeting Song Dan’s gaze with clarity. “All will be well.”

At the time, events unfolded so swiftly that neither Song Dan nor Fang Xianting discerned the deeper meaning in Fang He’s words. Only later, upon reflection, did they realize he had already made his decision. The most loyal and upright minister in the land was thus—resolute and selfless, making choices devoid of personal interest.

“Lord Marquis…”

Song Dan felt an inexplicable unease.

Fang He, however, seemed disinclined to delve further, leaving the matter unresolved. Instead, he asked: “How is Ziqiu? He must have been frightened as well.”

Song Dan was unaware his second son had been punished by Lady Wan to kneel in the ancestral hall. Now, he simply repeated: “My unworthy son acted rashly and ignorantly.” Fang He chuckled, shaking his head: “Why blame a child so harshly? Court politics are treacherous and unpredictable. Even seasoned officials like us struggle to foresee changes—why demand perfection from the younger generation?”

“Still, this matter began with him…” Song Dan sighed heavily, torn between anger and pity for his second son. “…In the future…”

Fang He, also a father, understood Song Dan’s lingering concerns about his son’s prospects. Taking a deep breath, he said: “The Crown Prince values talent and won’t let it go to waste. These years will serve as a trial for your son, benefiting him in the long run.”

This sounded like encouragement, hinting at future opportunities for Song Mingzhen. Song Dan wondered if this was the Marquis’s way of extending goodwill to the Songs during these turbulent times. Still, he sincerely hoped matters would resolve soon—for the greater good and for his family’s sake.

“May I see him?” Fang He suddenly asked. “Yi Zhi has always been close to Ziqiu and has worried about him these past days.”

Upon hearing this, Song Dan glanced at Fang Xianting, inwardly admiring the young man’s composure and restraint. If Ziqiu could gain his support in the future, perhaps his path wouldn’t be entirely lost.

“Of course,” Song Dan rose to lead them. “Please follow me.”

Meanwhile, Lady Wan hastily summoned Song Mingzhen from the ancestral hall.

These past days, she had wielded her authority mercilessly, tormenting the second branch of the family. However, her husband’s sudden return and the unexpected arrival of the Fangs caught her off guard. As they crossed the garden toward the ancestral hall, she scrambled to cover her cruelty, barely managing to send someone to excuse the concubine-born son from kneeling.

Song Mingzhen had knelt for two days straight, his knees swollen and nearly unusable. Now, he could barely walk, leaning heavily on his sister as they shuffled slowly. Just as they reached Weirui Hall, heading to the front courtyard, they encountered Song Dan and his group. Seeing his second son’s pitiful state, Song Dan was startled, glancing at his legs and then at Lady Wan, a flicker of anger passing through his eyes.

“This…”

Lady Wan lowered her head awkwardly, unable to justify herself in front of the guests.

Song Shuyan observed her father’s reaction first. Seeing his lingering concern for her second brother, she relaxed slightly. Then, her gaze shifted subtly, inevitably landing on Fang Xianting. Their eyes met briefly, then parted.

She stepped back, knowing it improper to intrude on the men’s conversation. Lady Wan, likely fearing her exposure before Young Master Fang, subtly pulled her behind her. Standing in the corner, she listened as Marquis Fang exchanged pleasantries with her second brother, followed by her father’s reprimands. Throughout, Fang Xianting remained silent, seemingly present yet distant.

…What a taciturn man.

She drifted into thought, recalling his voice—the snowy night they met, their brief encounters since—all left a deep impression. His tone was cool yet carried a trace of warmth, like sweetness amidst bitterness, lingering in her memory.

—Would he say nothing today?

If he truly remained silent… when would she hear his voice again?

Such foolish musings made her feel absurd. Silently raising her head, she noticed his gaze directed elsewhere. Following it, she saw the painted screen he had bought for her in place of her second brother at Fubi Pavilion last month. It had stayed in her room for only one night before being taken by the main wife and Third Sister.

Could it be… he recognized it?