FYM - 36

At the stroke of Mao, the ministers stood solemnly before the Taiji Palace, awaiting the morning court session. Yet the Emperor’s arrival was long delayed. Only Kang Xiwen emerged in the biting cold to hastily announce that His Majesty was unwell and had canceled the day’s court session.

…Canceled court?

The ministers bowed their heads, refraining from comment, but each harbored their own suspicions. They had all heard rumors that today, the Emperor intended to resolve the matter of the golden eagle at Lishan, which would likely result in the Eastern Palace’s downfall and the formal decision to depose the heir in favor of a younger son.

Now that court was canceled, could it be…

Crown Prince Wei Qin also stood among the ministers. Perhaps due to the immense torment he had endured recently, his already frail body appeared even more emaciated, his cheeks sunken deeply, dark circles shadowing his eyes. Meanwhile, Prince Wei Zheng remained as elegant as ever. However, upon hearing the news of his father’s absence, his expression cooled slightly. Glancing around the imperial courtyard, he confirmed the absence of Marquis Fang He of Jin, unease creeping into his heart. As he passed by his elder brother, he delivered a meaningful jab: “It seems Your Highness is truly blessed by heaven, with the Marquis of Jin willing to sacrifice everything for your sake. But how much face does the Fang family of Yingchuan still hold with Father? Can they really turn the tide this time?”

With that, he turned and left with his uncle Zhong He, his arrogant and icy demeanor causing the surrounding ministers to instinctively step back.

Wei Qin, too, was unaware of what had transpired in Ganlu Hall just an hour prior. He was certain, however, that the cancellation of court today was connected to the Marquis of Jin. Hurrying back to the Eastern Palace, his heart remained uneasy. Upon entering the side hall, he encountered the Crown Princess taking breakfast in the warm chamber. Since the incident at Lishan, the couple had not interacted, living under the same roof yet estranged as strangers.

Today, however, the Crown Prince paused at the entrance, having overheard one of the maidservants brought by the Crown Princess from her natal home reporting that the Marquis of Jin had arrived and was seeking an audience with the Crown Princess outside the Eastern Palace.

Upon hearing this, Fang Ranjun’s expression turned cold. Perhaps memories of her confrontation with her father at Lishan resurfaced—memories filled with sorrow, anger, and madness—but now, only apathy and desolation remained.

“Do not see him,” she replied without hesitation. “Tell him to leave.”

The palace maid hesitated, unsure how to persuade her. Just then, the Crown Prince strode in, asking: “Is it the Marquis who has come? Quickly, invite him in—”

Fang Ranjun, seated nearby, sneered faintly, finding the situation bitterly ironic. This was her biological father, yet throughout her life, he had never cared for her happiness or suffering, focusing solely on the Crown Prince’s honor. In the end, he had pushed her far away, leaving her estranged from her husband while appearing closer to him than ever.

Unexpectedly, the maid, upon hearing the Crown Prince’s words, knelt in panic and replied: “The Marquis specifically instructed that he would only see the Crown Princess today. If His Highness requires assistance, he may summon Young Master Fang instead… The Marquis will not meet with His Highness today…”

This response caught the Crown Prince off guard. He grew anxious, unsure why his father-in-law refused to enter or meet with him. Fang Ranjun, however, remained indifferent, feeling that her fleeting peace had been shattered by her father’s appearance. She quickly took a few bites of the delicately prepared imperial breakfast, then set down her chopsticks and rose coldly, departing without another word.

By the third quarter of the Mao hour, Fang He finally returned to the Marquisate.

His wife, Lady Jiang, had discovered upon waking that her husband had already departed, learning from the servants that he had left before dawn to enter the palace. Concerned about his recent injury, she had spent the morning anxiously awaiting his return, fearing that his shoulder wound might worsen during his visit.

To her dismay, he returned with a fresh injury. Though the wound on his brow had been hastily bandaged on the way, blood continued to seep through. Lady Jiang gasped in alarm, immediately pulling her husband to sit and examining him closely, her face paler than his.

“What happened now…”

Tears welled up in her eyes.

“…Was it the Emperor again? Has it been properly treated? Let me call a physician to examine it—the bandage is inadequate…”

Lady Jiang was already past forty, yet in her husband’s presence, she still seemed like a young girl. It was clear she had been sheltered from hardship, never truly experiencing turmoil in her life.

Fang He had always treated her exceptionally well. In over twenty years of marriage, he had never taken a concubine or raised his voice in argument. Though strict in military matters, he was always gentle and tender with his wife. Now, seeing her so distressed, he felt awkward but waved away the servants, gently taking her hand.

“It’s just a minor wound; there’s no need for such fuss…”

“How can it be minor!” she protested, tears spilling from her eyes. “It’s still bleeding! Does it have to break bones and cost you half your life to count as serious? You always act recklessly, never thinking how worried I am for you…”

“Why are you crying…”

Fang He grew exasperated, helpless whenever she shed tears. Gently pulling her into his arms, he whispered soothing words.

“All right, all right, it’s my fault. Whatever you say goes…”

But she wasn’t finished, venting the fear and frustration that had built up since their return from Lishan. After a moment, she grew angry again, leaning against him and cursing: “I’ve told you before, your Emperor has gone mad. He won’t listen to loyal advice. Let him depose the heir and replace him if he wants—this nation isn’t yours. Why suffer these humiliations protecting it for him every day?”

Her words were outright treasonous. Fang He frowned, urging her to “speak carefully.” But she grew even angrier, continuing: “Why should I be careful? If he can do such vile things, why can’t I speak of them?—He stabbed you just days ago, and now he injures you again. Even an ordinary minister shouldn’t be treated this way, let alone you, who saved both his life and the late Emperor’s!”

“I can’t stand how he mistreats and humiliates you…” Lady Jiang sobbed into his embrace, her voice trembling. “Has he forgotten how much you’ve sacrificed for his empire…”

…Indeed, the sacrifices were countless.

From his youth, he had endured countless injuries in battle. Now, he had made yet another promise. His entire life had been dedicated to Great Zhou. Looking back, he had no regrets, but for those closest to him…

He sighed inwardly, his eyes clouded with sorrow, yet before his wife, he always remained steadfast, hiding his pain and grief.

“Then speak only in front of me…” he conceded, his usually stern features softening with tenderness. “In public, we must remain cautious. As for later…”

He hesitated, unable to finish the sentence. Lady Jiang didn’t understand his meaning, sulking in his arms for a while before softening her tone: “What’s there to fear? You’ll protect me. What can they do to me?”

These were intimate words between husband and wife, brimming with affection. Unlike the passionate declarations of young lovers, their bond was subtle yet profound, each word steeped in deep emotion. Fang He said nothing, simply holding her close. Thus, they had spent half their lives together.

“Where is Yi Zhi?” he asked after a moment, his voice low.

“He went to the Southern Bureau to report for duty early. Like you, he’s constantly busy,” Lady Jiang sighed, a hint of reproach in her voice. “Once this matter is resolved, petition for him to take some time off. Ever since he went to Hebei, he’s been ceaselessly occupied—it’s heartbreaking to watch…”

Fang He murmured an acknowledgment, though his gaze grew darker when his wife wasn’t looking. After a pause, he said: “When he returns, tell him to find me in the study. There are words I must convey to him.”

Lady Jiang sighed again, knowing she couldn’t stop this father and son from dedicating themselves to national affairs. Nodding, she agreed, then remembered she needed to fetch a physician for her husband. Turning to leave briskly, she was gently pulled back by Fang He. She looked at him, sensing something different about him today. His gaze seemed deeper, more tender, as if he hadn’t seen her in ages—or as if he wouldn’t see her for a long time.

“What is it?” she asked.

He didn’t answer, releasing her hand moments later. Even as he aged, the man remained captivating. To walk even a short distance beside him was the greatest fortune under heaven.

“…Nothing.”

He gazed at her, smiling softly.