FYM - 40

“Second Young Master is truly the best person in this world...” As the boat sailed southward, already a hundred or two li away from Chang’an, Zhuier still couldn’t stop praising him to her young mistress. “...I don’t know why Heaven is so cruel—those who are kind never seem to get sweet fruits to eat...”

Zhuier always spoke favorably of those who treated her mistress well, and calling Song Mingzhen “the best” was high praise indeed. Adding an extra “most” meant even more affection. However, such words only deepened the sense of parting sorrow. Cui Mama, brewing tea in the cabin, glanced up occasionally to check on her young mistress’s expression. Seeing a hint of melancholy, she quickly instructed Zhuier to fetch a new hand warmer for the young miss, cautioning her not to say anything more that might upset her.

Song Shuyan didn’t notice their subtle exchanges. She kept her head slightly bowed, gazing at the rolled-up painting of spring mountains. Her slender, pale fingers gently traced the fine silk surface. Everything she had seen in Chang’an this year now seemed like a fleeting dream, drifting away just as quickly. Concerned that these thoughts might sadden her, Cui Mama used the opportunity of serving fresh tea to lean closer and ask, “Does the young miss feel inspired to paint? The scenery along the river is unique and would make a fine subject.”

Indeed.

They had departed early this year, traveling down the Han River by boat during the first month. Fortunately, the snow and rain had lessened over the past fortnight, and though parts of the water were still frozen, the rugged winter landscape of the northern river held its own austere beauty. Though Song Dan harbored little genuine affection for his youngest daughter, he still fulfilled the expected parental duties thoroughly. For this journey, he had sent two servants and eight guards to escort her south, hiring a spacious and comfortable boat. With minimal rocking, it was indeed suitable for painting.

“No need...”

But Song Shuyan wasn’t interested. Her thoughts remained preoccupied with her grandmother far away. Cradling the warm tea to warm her hands, she asked anxiously, “Is Physician Zheng settled comfortably? Is everything in order?”

He was the doctor she had asked her second brother to arrange before leaving home. Renowned as a guest of honor in many prestigious households in Chang’an for his exceptional medical skills, she had spent all the money she brought north and promised a substantial additional payment upon reaching Qiantang to persuade him to accompany her south. Nothing could go wrong on this journey.

“The young miss can rest assured—he’s being well taken care of,” Cui Mama reassured her repeatedly, her expression tinged with emotion. “If Madam knew how devoted you are, she would surely be very pleased.”

A few days later, as they approached Xiangzhou, an unexpected sight unfolded.

That afternoon, Song Shuyan was napping in the cabin when one of the servants sent Zhuier in to report: a large fleet of ships was visible not far ahead, likely another noble family departing Chang’an. Due to ice narrowing the channel, they were moving slowly. Should they pause momentarily to allow them to pass?

River traffic was typically sparse in the first month, especially on the sixth day of the lunar year. What prominent household would set out from Chang’an so grandly? After some thought, Song Shuyan suddenly had a surprising suspicion. Hurrying out to look, her steps quickened unconsciously. Sure enough, several large ships loomed ahead. Banners fluttered in the cold wind, bearing the faint character... “Fang.”

So it really was them.

How soon after the imperial edict stripping them of their titles had they begun their departure from the Western Capital! It seemed they wished to avoid drawing attention by leaving quietly just after the New Year, slipping away from the glittering imperial city.

—They must be heading back to Yingchuan.

After Xiangzhou... their paths would no longer align.

Gazing at those ships, lost in thought, Song Shuyan couldn’t help but recall the man she barely knew. Their connection was tenuous—she would return to Jiangnan, and he would retreat to Yingchuan. They were unlikely to meet again. Yet, strangely, it felt fated. She had encountered him in the mountains before arriving in Chang’an and now glimpsed his fleet on the river as she left. Though unseen, it somehow felt like closure.

“Scholars are the treasures of the nation; Confucians are the jewels of the banquet…”

Her voice was soft, concealing unspoken regrets and wistfulness within its cadence.

“…The world should not compete with the Fangs of Yingchuan for the right of way. Please let them proceed first.”

Seven days later, the boat passed through Ezhou and entered the Yangtze River. The eastern roads of Jiangnan were now in sight.

Traveling south, the climate grew warmer, and icy blockages became rarer. Zhuier and Cui Mama, both natives of Jiangnan, had long endured the harsh northern winters. Now, emerging from the southern mountains, they felt invigorated, often coaxing their young mistress onto the deck to enjoy the breeze.

That night, Physician Zheng, inspired by the beauty of Jiangnan, suggested enjoying the view with wine. Zhuier, eager to cheer her mistress, hurriedly heated a pot of wine. But before pouring it into cups, thick black smoke appeared in the distance, obscured by the high mountains around the bend. The boatmen and guards immediately turned pale. The once-joyful atmosphere vanished in an instant.

“It might be river pirates attacking ships—” Several rushed to Song Shuyan’s side, their voices tense. “Young Miss, please order the boat to turn and avoid them. It’s best not to confront those ruthless bandits directly…”

This was indeed the safest course. With unrest common before and after the New Year, and few ships sailing in the first month, those pirates were ferocious and deadly—an encounter could easily overwhelm their small vessel.

Song Shuyan furrowed her brows but nodded in agreement. However, the river currents were swift, and the narrow bend made maneuvering difficult. Despite the helmsman’s efforts, the boat continued forward. Rounding the towering mountain, the view suddenly opened wide. Flames engulfed the river—six or seven ships tangled together, some sinking, others capsizing. The fire illuminated the night sky, revealing bodies floating in the water and blood staining the waves.

“Young Miss…”

Zhuier trembled, her face pale, legs weak.

“...Dead... people…”

Panic erupted among the group. Song Shuyan’s heart raced, but noticing that most of the floating corpses wore black masks rather than typical pirate garb, doubts arose. Looking further, she spotted a burning banner amidst the flames—still bearing the character... “Fang.”

Could it be...

Her heart jolted, hands turning icy. Without hesitation, she commanded the helmsman, “Quickly, steer toward them—to rescue them!”

Startled, the others tried to dissuade her, but the current pushed them forward. As they neared, they realized the battle wasn’t over. Black-masked figures kept falling from the largest ship into the water. Straining to see, Song Shuyan recognized a familiar face—one of Fang Xianting’s guards, whom she had briefly met under the pavilion in Chang’an.

Then, those aboard the ship... were truly...

Before she could fully process, some masked men noticed their group lingering nearby and turned to attack. A guard shouted, “Young Miss, be careful!” drawing his sword to engage the assailants. Others kicked masked intruders attempting to climb aboard back into the river, holding their ground for now.

Zhuier and Cui Mama screamed in terror, but Song Shuyan kept her eyes fixed on the Fang family’s ship. Seeing the fire spreading uncontrollably, the vessel teetering precariously as if about to capsize, she finally called out Fang Xianting’s name. Her voice, fragile amidst the fierce cries of battle, went unheard, yet she refused to give up, shouting repeatedly while dodging deadly blades nearby.

Amidst the surging waves and roaring flames, though they had yet to share life-and-death struggles as they would in years to come, she already reached out her not-so-strong hand toward him. Amidst the chaos, a pirate broke through their guards’ defenses, boarding their ship. Trained killers far surpassed household servants in skill. With murderous glints in their eyes, they raised sharp swords, closing in. The line between life and death loomed once more. Pushing Cui Mama behind her and pulling the distraught Zhuier into her arms, she closed her eyes tightly, hearing the sharp whistle of a blade slicing through the air—

Shh—

Swords pierced flesh deeply!

She smelled the heavy stench of blood, but the anticipated pain didn’t reach her. Trembling, she opened her eyes to see his gaze across the turbulent waters. On the blazing ship, he looked down at her, his thrown sword clearing a path of survival for her.

...How could I not come to find you?

Silently, she gazed at him, her heart surging like the river’s tide.