FYM - 35

At dawn the next day, Marquis Fang He of Jin entered the palace to meet the Emperor.

According to the old customs of Great Zhou, the Xianmen Gate was to open at the hour of Mao each day. Before Yin, when the sky was still dark and all was silent, not only was the Emperor in Ganlu Hall likely asleep, but even the duty officers guarding the gates were barely awake. However, the founding emperor had once bestowed upon the Fang family the privilege of “entering the palace without heeding restrictions,” as a reward for their unparalleled contributions to the empire. Though this generation’s Marquis Fang He had rarely exercised this right—using it only during urgent military crises with the Turks decades ago—he now arrived at the palace gates in the dead of night, shocking everyone who witnessed it.

Kang Xiwen had indulged in late-night revelry with several palace maids and had only just fallen asleep around Hai. In the midst of a deep slumber, he was startled awake by a young eunuch, who informed him that the Marquis of Jin had entered the North Palace and would soon meet the Emperor. Kang leapt up in alarm, hastily dressed, and rushed out. Upon seeing the Marquis, he bowed deeply, trembling as he asked whether there was an urgent military matter to report.

The Marquis, clad in purple robes, showed no sign of distress and didn’t even spare Kang a glance. He simply ordered him to immediately announce his arrival at Ganlu Hall. Kang nodded obsequiously, too afraid to question further, though inwardly he seethed with resentment. Cursing the Fang family for their arrogance, he vowed they would one day provoke the Emperor’s wrath and fall from grace.

—Hmph.

Let’s see how arrogant they remain then.

The Emperor, sleeping soundly within his bedchamber, was also startled awake upon hearing that Fang He had entered the palace at Yin. The last time such a scene occurred was decades ago during the Turkic invasion, and its recurrence now was unsettling. Hastily dressing, he left behind the concubine sleeping in his arms and strode from the inner chambers to the outer hall, loudly asking: “What brings you here, Lord? Is there an emergency at the borders?”

The Marquis of Jin was already standing beneath the imperial desk in the outer hall. Upon seeing the Emperor, he knelt and kowtowed according to protocol. The fresh wound on his left shoulder, not yet healed, caused cold sweat to bead on his pale face, yet his bow was executed with perfect precision, without a trace of negligence.

“Under Your Majesty’s wise rule, the empire is at peace, and there are no threats from any direction…”

He lowered his head and spoke slowly, pausing before raising his eyes to meet the flickering candlelight within the dim hall.

“…But if Your Majesty insists on deposing the heir and favoring unworthy sons while trusting sycophants, I fear great chaos will soon arise.”

Emperor Wei Xun, who had been frantic and anxious, froze upon hearing these words. Only after a long moment did he realize that this powerful minister had come in the dead of night to admonish the Emperor himself.

He found it absurd. The simmering anger that had built up over days now boiled over like oil splattering into flames. Unsteadily, he made his way to the imperial desk and sat down, glaring down at Fang He as he retorted: “So, Lord Fang, you’ve stormed into the palace in the middle of the night just to utter such insolent, presumptuous words of rebellion?”

The word “stormed” carried a sharp edge, sending chills down the spines of the attending palace servants. Kang Xiwen, ever astute, sensed the gravity of the situation and knew this conversation was not meant for prying ears. He quickly dismissed the attendants, personally closing the doors of Ganlu Hall tightly. Yet Fang He seemed utterly unperturbed by the sudden tension, calmly replying: “I harbor no rebellious intentions, Your Majesty. I only reflect on the hardships endured by our ancestors in founding this empire and cannot bear to see the nation decline and the people lose faith. Thus, I dare to block Your Majesty’s path and kneel in protest, beseeching you to hear me out.”

His words were clear and measured, not loud or forceful, yet they carried an undeniable weight of sorrow. Wei Xun, however, grew angrier, slamming his fist on the desk and shouting: “I have ruled for over twenty years, conquered Jiannan, reclaimed Hezhou, purified the bureaucracy, and restored order. The empire prospers, and all praise my reign—how dare you claim the ‘nation declines and the people lose faith’!”

“Blocking my path? Fang Siqi, ask yourself! Are your so-called protests for me, for the millions under heaven, or merely to uphold the reputation of your own clan?”

…It was a complete tearing off of pretenses.

All in the court knew that the Emperor and the Marquis of Jin had long grown estranged. Though the Emperor resented being constrained by powerful ministers, he could not ignore the Fangs’ extraordinary contributions. Thus, their conflicts had always been veiled in subtle tensions, never openly aired. But now, the two had finally reached this point. Succession was the most sensitive issue, and the Marquis of Jin refused to stand idly by. The Emperor, unable to tolerate it any longer, intended to settle old scores once and for all.

“In the past, Emperor Wu of Han achieved greatness in both governance and warfare, a ruler unmatched through the ages. Yet in his twilight years, he trusted sycophants, leading to the calamity of witchcraft trials and countless innocents implicated, tarnishing his later years. And consider Emperor Wu of Jin, who unified the Central Plains and governed diligently, loved by the people. Yet after a prosperous era, he indulged in debauchery, paving the way for the War of the Eight Princes, which ultimately brought down the empire.”

“The rise and fall of dynasties follows the same pattern. If Your Majesty persists in favoritism and nepotism, how are you different from Emperor Wu of Han or Emperor Wu of Jin?”

A profound silence fell over Ganlu Hall.

The Marquis of Jin was known as the foremost general of the court, a man of action who rarely spoke at length. Yet now his words were sharper than those of the most eloquent censors, piercing like daggers into the heart of the Emperor.

“Fang Siqi, you—you…”

Wei Xun’s face turned ashen, trembling with rage.

“I am also a parent, deeply aware of Your Majesty’s love for your sons…”

At this, Fang He’s tone softened. He raised his head to look at his sovereign, his eyes reflecting sincerity and earnestness born of years of shared service.

“…Second Prince possesses remarkable talent and virtue, while the Crown Prince has long suffered from chest ailments. It is understandable that Your Majesty harbors doubts.”

“I am not a rigid traditionalist clinging to outdated norms. If choosing between the eldest and the most virtuous cannot be reconciled, I would not defy Your Majesty’s will. However, the Crown Prince demonstrates strategic wisdom and the virtues of a benevolent ruler. He will surely fulfill Your Majesty’s aspirations, bring stability to the empire, and bestow blessings upon the people. Why insist on abandoning the near for the distant, deposing the legitimate for the illegitimate, and giving the world grounds to criticize?”

“Prince Wei Zheng is indeed talented and virtuous, but his maternal clan, the Zhongs, are far from upright and incorruptible. Zhong He, relying on Your Majesty’s favor and the protection of Consort Zhong, openly sells official posts and accepts bribes. His accomplice, Wu Huaimin, repeatedly obstructs the court’s efforts to reduce the power of the feudal lords and delays the updating of maps in Longyou. Their treachery is evident. If Prince Wei Zheng ascends the throne, will the Zhongs willingly remain humble subjects? They will surely abuse their influence as relatives of the Empress, eliminate rivals, and harm loyal officials. How could they allow a new emperor to consolidate power and achieve his ambitions?”

“Your Majesty… For centuries, our Fang clan has protected this nation, never harboring rebellious thoughts. Every word I speak today is for the sake of the empire. I implore Your Majesty… to reconsider.”

With this, he bowed deeply again, his reverence moving enough to stir the hearts of all under heaven. The dull thud of his kowtow echoed clearly in the silent hall, as if he were laying bare his heart to his sovereign.

—But what use was this?

Did bowing signify loyalty?

Did speaking solely for the Emperor’s benefit signify loyalty?

Fang He was merely a subject! No matter how illustrious the Fangs of Yingchuan were, they were still servants of the Emperor. How dare they so brazenly meddle in matters of imperial succession!

Was he not arrogant and defiant?

Was he not presumptuous due to his achievements?

Fang He was the most overbearing and insidious man in the world! Under the guise of utmost loyalty, he committed the greatest evils. The Fangs of Yingchuan had deceived everyone! Who could see their detestable faces now, coercing the Emperor with audacity and disrespect?

“You dare—”

Wei Xun, enraged, kicked the imperial desk violently, sending it toppling to the ground. An inkstone flew high into the air, striking Fang He squarely on the brow. Fang He remained motionless, kneeling in place as blood began to trickle slowly down the side of his resolute face.

“The matter of succession concerns the very foundation of the state. How dare you, a mere subject, presume to dictate it! This is my empire! Great Zhou will forever bear the surname Wei! You, the Fangs of Yingchuan, have no right to interfere and act recklessly!”

“Fang Siqi, do you think you are some loyal martyr?”

“I’ll tell you—you are not!”

“When a dynasty is nearing its end, factions inevitably form! Do you not know the grave harm of factional strife? Yet you conspire to elevate the Crown Prince, forming cliques, engaging in corruption, and manipulating power for personal gain. Everyone regards you, the Marquis of Jin, as the leader of the Eastern Palace faction, following your lead blindly! You advocate reducing the power of feudal lords and implementing new policies—do you truly believe every action is for the good of the state? You aim to suppress the Zhongs! You cannot tolerate another clan rivaling the Fangs of Yingchuan!”

“Relatives of the Empress? Fine, fine… You claim that if Prince Wei Zheng ascends, the Zhongs will abuse their status as relatives. But what if the Crown Prince ascends? Will your Fangs cease to be relatives of the Empress? Will you, Fang Siqi, refrain from eliminating rivals and controlling the new emperor?”

“Do you think your daughter’s illicit affairs with external officials are so flawlessly concealed? Do you think I am unaware of the scandals she has caused, despite your and your son’s efforts to cover them up? Your Fangs pride yourselves on integrity, claiming ‘nothing we do cannot be spoken of openly.’ And now? Allowing your daughter to engage in adultery and defile the imperial harem—how can we even be sure the children she bears will carry the imperial bloodline?”

“Fang Siqi, let me tell you! You, the Marquis of Jin, are the greatest villain in the court! Your Fangs of Yingchuan are the greatest threat and cancer to Great Zhou!”

…Such cruel words.

Did Wei Xun truly forget how many sons of the Fangs had sacrificed their lives for the nation? Did he not know that the Fangs had always been incorruptible, their lineage untainted by greed or abuse of power for centuries?

He knew—all too well. In his youth, when he first ascended the throne, he regarded the Fangs of Yingchuan as the empire’s steadfast pillar. They defended the borders, intimidated the royal clans, cleansed the court, and quelled rebellions, never hesitating to sacrifice themselves for the empire.

Yet those words still spilled forth so easily… Years of restraint had bred unbearable frustration. The Fangs of Yingchuan were like the straightest rulers, constantly measuring him, not allowing the slightest deviation. He knew they were right, but he could not tolerate his imperial dignity being trampled. Perhaps, deep down, he feared this excessively upright family. The ministers and the people revered their integrity. If the tides of fate were to shift one day, might they… seize the vast empire the Weis had ruled for three hundred years?

By now, the blood from Fang He’s brow had stained his purple robe a deep, dark crimson.

The severe wound on his left shoulder had not yet healed, and tonight he had sustained a new injury. Yet these were not the reasons why this renowned general’s face turned deathly pale. The only sword capable of wounding a loyal minister was always wielded by his sovereign. When the sovereign’s heart turned cold, the minister’s spirit died. Sometimes, matters were exceedingly complex; other times, they were laughably simple.

“Your servant is filled with trepidation…”

His voice remained low and steady, yet an indescribable sadness lingered in the cadence of his words.

“As a child, I was taught by my father and brothers to dedicate my life to serving the nation and being loyal to the Emperor. Perhaps I have been foolishly self-assured or stubbornly difficult, but I have never harbored disloyal, unjust, unkind, or untrustworthy thoughts… Truly, I am not unaware of the harms of factional strife, but alone, I could not stem the tide and resorted to this inferior strategy—not out of desire, but necessity…”

“I have walked alongside Your Majesty for decades and know well that you possess the wisdom of a sage ruler and the virtue of a benevolent one. Knowing that the Crown Prince is filial and innocent of the golden eagle incident at Lishan, how can you bear to let your own flesh and blood suffer unjustly and become despised by all under heaven?”

“The Fangs of Yingchuan were born as the empire’s swords and spears, our duty to defend the borders and protect the people. If we have become a source of worry and suspicion for Your Majesty, we must reflect and restrain ourselves. I beg Your Majesty to strip me of my title. The Fang clan will retreat to Yingchuan and not set foot in Chang’an for ten years henceforth.”

“As for my daughter…”

His tone suddenly softened, and under the Emperor’s astonished gaze, he continued speaking slowly.

“She left home as a child to enter the palace, knowing that marrying the Crown Prince was an immense honor bestowed by Your Majesty. Alas, her fortune was thin and her virtue insufficient, and she was never destined to share a marital bond with His Highness… Though she and Minister Su Jin have known each other since childhood and developed mutual affection, they never promised lifelong commitment or engaged in immoral acts. Both the Crown Prince and the Empress are aware of their past—it was not something I intentionally concealed… As for after marriage, though she did exchange letters with Dizhou, she committed no further acts disrespectful to the imperial dignity…”

“I am fully aware that the faults of children reflect upon their father. The Crown Princess’s sins are mine to bear alone. I humbly request that Your Majesty grant me one day to return home and make arrangements. Thereafter, I shall serve you as a commoner, repaying your boundless grace.”

With this, he bowed again. The blood from his brow amidst the scattered debris resembled an unnamed flower, the final bloom of solitary virtue, carrying an awe-inspiring solemnity and sorrow.

Outside Ganlu Hall, the cold wind howled. At the end of the hour of Yin, the sky remained pitch black, devoid of even a glimmer of light.