FYM - 51

Jiangnan, the land of beauty; Jinling, the imperial capital. As the ancient seat of six dynasties and the cultural hub of the world, it brimmed with countless tales of romance and elegance.

The ruins of Taicheng still stood, meticulously preserved and restored by the current dynasty. From nearby, one could see towering walls and majestic palaces, as if a call would summon figures from the past. The grandeur and prosperity embodied by the name “Jiankang” centuries ago remained vividly alive.

“It truly differs from the imperial palaces of today’s eastern and western capitals…”

Lady Jiang gazed into the distance, her tone tinged with nostalgia.

“Rain drizzles over the river, grass grows lush; the six dynasties pass like dreams, birds cry in vain… Each word rings true.”

Her words carried a mystical air, their cadence imbued with subtle sorrow. The Song family listened carefully, suspecting Lady Jiang might be reflecting on the Fang family’s decline earlier that year. Song Mingzhuo, the eldest son currently in officialdom, eagerly sought to ingratiate himself with Marquis Fang. Seizing the moment, he interjected, bowing deeply. “Indeed, the affairs of former dynasties are unpredictable. With the new emperor ascending the throne, a fresh era begins. When Lord Fang returns to Chang’an, he will surely achieve great things, ensuring our dynasty prospers for generations without repeating the tragedies of Taicheng.”

This flattery was artfully delivered, showcasing the talents of Song’s eldest son honed through years in office. His younger brother, Song Mingzhen, lacked such tact. Casually conversing with Fang Xianting, he remarked, “It’s been years since I last returned to Jinling—I’d forgotten how well-restored these Six Dynasties ruins are. They’re not much inferior to the palaces of Chang’an. Those towering pavilions built by the Liang, crafted from fragrant wood dozens of zhang high—if our court had settled here…”

His words were reckless. Song Shuyan’s heart skipped a beat, and she discreetly tugged her second brother’s sleeve from behind. Alas, their eldest brother’s rebuke came swiftly. He glared at Song Mingzhen, saying, “Nonsense! The auspicious qi has always resided in the Central Plains. None of the southern dynasties endured long. That Emperor Wu of Liang you mentioned starved to death within these very walls—how tragic and lamentable!”

Song Mingzhen froze, realizing his blunder sounded like a curse on the current dynasty. He quickly apologized and fell silent, remaining so for some time.

Though Lady Wan hadn’t fully grasped the conversation, she seized the opportunity to glare at her incompetent concubine-born son before turning back to Lady Jiang with a wide smile. “This Taicheng site is usually locked, but if Lady Jiang wishes to enter, I’ll have someone open the gates…”

The Song family, as the foremost noble clan of Jiangnan, commanded significant respect from local officials. However, Lady Jiang preferred discretion, avoiding public spectacles that might draw crowds. Waving her hand dismissively, she said, “No need, no need. The willows of Taicheng are most unfeeling, yet they still shroud the ten-mile embankment in mist… The verdant willows outside the palace walls are worth admiring enough. We need not disturb the tranquility within.”

Thus, they did not enter the palace but wandered among the willow groves outside the city walls. At that moment, none of them foresaw the turmoil that would engulf this seemingly prosperous empire a decade later, nor that this dormant palace would once again become the heart of the realm.

A spring outing under such radiant skies was a joyous affair. Yet, after walking for a while, fatigue inevitably set in. Ever-thoughtful Lady Wan ensured Lady Jiang felt no discomfort, promptly suggesting they rest and proceed to Jiangyun Pavilion for a leisurely lunch.

Jinling had always been a bustling city, with its liveliest areas along both banks of Qingxi River. While the left bank housed the mansions of nobles and officials, the right teemed with fluttering banners of taverns and teahouses. Jiangyun Pavilion stood out among them, having earned fame even when the late emperor visited during his southern tour—a place where reservations were notoriously hard to secure.

The Song family, however, faced no such difficulties. Arrangements had been made early for a prime table on the third floor. The proprietor himself greeted them, bowing deeply to Lady Wan and conveying greetings to the Song brothers. Glancing at the unfamiliar faces beside Lady Wan, he sensed their extraordinary origins and cautiously inquired, “May I ask who these esteemed guests are?”

Knowing the Fangs preferred subtlety, Lady Wan merely smiled regally and replied, “They are distinguished guests of our household. Please ensure their comfort.”

None in Jiangyun Pavilion failed to recognize Jinling’s elite. These two strangers clearly weren’t locals, radiating an air of distinction. The Song family’s deferential treatment confirmed their noble status—perhaps northern aristocrats visiting Jiangnan. The proprietor redoubled his attentiveness, personally escorting them upstairs.

The finest private room exuded refined taste. Fragrant incense wafted through the air, and intricate furnishings adorned the space. Through carved windows, one could see the winding Qingxi River, dotted with boats and lively chatter—a serene haven amidst activity.

With elders present, gender segregation at meals wasn’t necessary. Eyeing Yi Zhi greedily, Song Shuqian hoped to sit beside him but was ultimately disappointed. He sat with her brothers, leaving her to vie with Song Shuyan for a spot near Lady Jiang. This time, she succeeded, nudging Song Shuyan to the lower seat beside her second brother.

“Lady Jiang, do try our Jinling delicacies. They offer a unique flavor compared to Chang’an…”

She poured tea enthusiastically for Lady Jiang. Meanwhile, the men discussed drinking. Song Mingzhen, subdued since his earlier misstep, finally regained spirit, asking Fang Xianting, “Brother San, shall we sample our Jiangnan bamboo-leaf wine? Though not as potent as Xinfeng wine, its mellowness lingers beautifully.”

Drinking?

Song Shuyan’s eyelids flickered, stealing a glance at Fang Xianting. She assumed his reserved nature meant he wasn’t much of a drinker. To her surprise, he chuckled and accepted, downing a full cup effortlessly, as if sipping water.

So… he truly was a warrior.

She found this revelation intriguing, feeling he became more tangible in her eyes. Lost in thought, she noticed her second brother pouring her a drink—not a full cup, just a shallow sip.

“Try it,” he leaned over and smiled. “It won’t get you drunk.”

She blinked, staring at the cup. Fang Xianting also glanced over, asking her brother hesitantly, “…Can she handle it?”

“Just a sip, what harm could it do?” her brother replied. “We’re all here. We won’t let her get drunk and neglected.”

Fang Xianting frowned, about to dissuade further, but Song Shuyan, convinced by her brother’s logic and curious about the taste, picked up the cup and took a delicate sip behind her sleeve. To her shock, the men’s seemingly mild drink was fiery and sharp, triggering a coughing fit. Her lovely face flushed crimson.

Her brother, anticipating her reaction, laughed while patting her back—a playful gesture between close siblings. Fang Xianting sighed, personally pouring her a cup of tea and handing it over Song Mingzhen’s shoulder. “Perhaps tea would suit you better.”

Song Shuyan glanced at him, the bitterness of the wine suddenly sweetened by the lingering warmth of his concern. Her voice, soft and sweet, expressed gratitude. The charm in her gaze rivaled the intoxication of fine wine. This exchange, observed by Lady Wan and Song Shuqian, only deepened their resentment. Song Shuqian clenched her hands tightly, nearly breaking her freshly painted nails.

Just as she prepared to lash out, a painted boat drifted past the carved window, carrying a woman’s melodious song. Delicate and tender, it lingered hauntingly, like the trill of a nightingale stirring hearts.

Lady Jiang found it fascinating, tilting her head toward the window. “That singing voice—is it…”

All eyes followed hers to the boat, where several colorfully clad women played instruments, danced with bells, or sang coyly behind fans. Their performance evoked poetic imagery, characteristic of the era’s famed courtesans.

“Merely entertainers’ music, unworthy of your notice,” Lady Wan remarked, her expression enigmatic.

Yet Lady Jiang remained intrigued. Accustomed to the solemn grandeur of northern music, these Jiangnan melodies felt refreshingly novel. After a pause, she asked, “The melody is enchanting. What lyrics do they sing?”

From the private room, the lyrics were faint but discernible:

Skin as frost, clad in crimson skirts, eyebrows curved like the moon, brimming with emotion.

Rarely seen beyond the walls, her powdered cheeks reveal shy tenderness.

Fragrance lingers, grace remains still; how often do dreams wake yearning for you…

Typical of brothel songs, though slightly more refined, avoiding explicit references to carnal pleasures.

“Jiangnan literati are sentimental, indulging in such unrestrained elegance,” Lady Jiang chuckled. “But it hardly graces lofty halls.”

All nodded in agreement. Song Shuqian, however, felt her mother nudge her under the table. Glancing downstairs, she saw the painted boat dock. A dashing young man, handsome as jade, disembarked. Courtesans onshore showered him with flirtatious glances and waves of red sleeves, reminiscent of the fervent admiration Fang Xianting once received at Lishan. Ignoring the beauties, he exchanged bows with a man whose features were obscured. After brief conversation, they headed toward Jiangyun Pavilion, each step piercing Song Shuqian’s heart.

“Eh?”

She feigned astonishment, pointing toward the window with slender fingers.

“That man there—who is he? Could it be Young Master Wang of Xuanchou?”

Wang Xu?

Song Shuyan’s brow furrowed, sensing trouble. Looking at her stepmother’s deceptively calm yet subtly triumphant expression, she realized this encounter targeted her. Sure enough, Lady Wan remarked, “It seems so—what a coincidence, meeting everywhere…”

Her daughter giggled behind her hand, casting a pointed glance at her fourth sister. “Clearly, Fourth Sister and Young Master Wang are fated. Inseparable. Since they’ve met, why not invite him upstairs? He’s chased you from Xuanchou to Jinling. Surely, we must show him some kindness.”

Before Song Shuyan, visibly displeased, could refuse, hurried footsteps echoed outside. A servant announced, “Young Master Wang Xu of Xuanchou awaits below.”