FYM - 102

It was an extraordinarily magnificent dusk.

The great river flowed ceaselessly, day and night. The crimson clouds stretched endlessly across the horizon like a burning sea. As Wei Lan disembarked with her father and brother, she saw the embankments on both sides teeming with people, resembling ants clustered beneath a giant tree—countless yet insignificant.

A fleeting sense of pity welled up in her heart. Soon after, she heard the cries of “Long live!” Turning her head, she noticed movement coming from the imperial ship. A figure clad in bright yellow emerged amidst the gleaming armor—it was the young emperor making his appearance before the masses. By his side stood a woman, exquisitely beautiful and elegant, radiating a natural grace that commanded respect. Standing beside the emperor, she resembled the sun and moon in the sky or rivers flowing across the land—an aura of noble dignity enveloped her.

That was... Empress Dowager Song Shuyan of the current dynasty.

Wei Lan found herself entranced. Then, she saw the officials and commoners alike bowing deeply, her father and brother included, their expressions tinged with disdain as they knelt. She followed suit, bending her knees in obeisance. The imperial procession descended slowly down the gangway until they reached the riverbank. Only then did Wang Mu, a high-ranking eunuch, raise his voice with a commanding “Rise!” However, only the nobles and officials were permitted to stand; the commoners remained kneeling where they were.

“Once, I was taught by the late emperor that only when the common people are at peace can the ruler find stability. Now, the masses come to us with doubts about governance. It is my duty to resolve their confusion and ease their worries, leaving no question unanswered.”

Her calm, gentle voice carried across the riverbank, exuding both regality and an uncommon sense of closeness. The kneeling commoners exchanged glances, their expressions uncertain, but for now, silence reigned.

After a moment, the cry of a baby echoed through the air. Barely a year old, wrapped in tattered swaddling clothes, its frail body trembled weakly—likely malnourished from hunger. Its parents, gaunt and ragged, panicked as the child’s wails drew attention. Desperately trying to soothe the infant while repeatedly kowtowing to apologize, they appeared utterly helpless.

This cry stirred something deep within the weary crowd, evoking shared sorrow. Emboldened, one brave soul stepped forward, prostrating himself before the empress dowager and the young emperor. “Your humble servant knows nothing of state affairs,” he declared loudly, “but I know that life requires food, clothing, and shelter. Now that the court has moved south, abandoning the vast Central Plains to bandits, how are we ordinary folk supposed to survive? If we remain in the north, we face slaughter and enslavement by the barbarians. If we migrate south, we will be destitute, without fields or homes to rely on. Either way, death awaits us... This life—we simply cannot endure it any longer!”

His anguished words pierced hearts, each syllable dripping with blood and tears. In times of chaos, the paths available to ordinary people grow narrower and more perilous. Had there been even a glimmer of hope, they would not have resorted to blocking the way and pleading here. The resilience of the common people, upon reflection, could bring tears to one’s eyes.

The young emperor, too, felt moved. For the first time in his life, he was confronting his subjects so directly. He realized that beyond the opulent palaces of Luoyang lay countless humble dwellings. But Empress Dowager Song Shuyan had witnessed these harsh realities seven years ago. To her, the division between north and south was merely an imaginary line—neither side offered paradise; humanity itself was a crucible of suffering.

“The grievance does not lie in its magnitude, but in the fear it instills in people. A ruler must tread carefully, for those who carry the boat can also overturn it... The essence of statecraft lies in ensuring that everyone has enough to eat, proper clothing, and education. The turmoil of today has displaced countless civilians, leaving women, children, and the elderly without care. All of this is my fault.”

Her voice carried a tone of resignation as she gazed at the crowd, her eyes tinged with sorrow.

“However, the southern migration is not an abandonment of the Central Plains. The eastern capital is the heart of our nation, and the western capital is where our dynasty rose to power. How could His Majesty and I forsake them lightly? Even now, two military governors, Xie Ci, are battling the Eastern Turks in the north, and Lord Yingchuan personally leads troops to Youzhou to assist. The court’s resolve to fight has never wavered, nor will we cede an inch of land to others.”

“Governance and warfare are akin to archery—one must first set the target before drawing the bow and releasing the arrow. The eastern capital, though geographically advantageous, faces threats from all sides. Should it fall, the imperial carriage would be endangered, and the enemy’s audacity would threaten our national integrity, plunging the realm into greater chaos.”

She spoke clearly, treating the kneeling masses not as ignorant peasants but as fellow stewards of the empire, engaging them earnestly in dialogue.

“The southern migration is a grand strategy envisioned by the late emperor. With the Yangtze River as our natural barrier, future northern campaigns can be better planned. After a decade of war, the realm is weary. A few years of recovery will replenish granaries and restore military strength. Then, we shall march north, expel the invaders, reclaim the Central Plains, and return to our former capital, honoring the spirits of our ancestors and fallen soldiers.”

“As for now... The southern provinces have reorganized to accommodate refugees from the north. Taxes will be lightened, and relief efforts expanded to stabilize livelihoods. I make this promise to all: under the principle of ‘the world belongs to the public,’ anyone who seeks refuge will be provided for. Our dynasty will surely devise long-term plans to usher in a new era of prosperity!”

...It was a scene many would remember for the rest of their lives.

The phrase “ruling from behind the curtain” may sound simple, but bringing it to fruition required immense effort—how could a delicate maiden step by step reach this position within seven years? Even renowned scholars might lack her vision and insight. Now, bathed in the crimson glow of the setting sun, she seemed to stand simultaneously amidst fire and water.

Emperor Wei Xi gazed up at his mother, his emotions raw and intense. Both officials and commoners felt a profound awe. Perhaps hearing such promises—”reclaiming the Central Plains,” “long-term planning for a new golden age”—from a woman stirred hearts even more.

From afar, the Prince of Yinping and his son exchanged dark glances. Particularly Wei Bi, whose face twisted with resentment and frustration. He waved dismissively, signaling his men to retreat unnoticed in the chaos. Moments later, a man rose abruptly from the crowd, shouting, “Does Her Majesty truly take us for three-year-olds?”

“What nonsense is this ‘all who seek refuge will be cared for’? Pure fabrication! There are millions of Central Plain residents—how many can actually migrate south? What of the widows, orphans, and elderly left behind? They’ve been abandoned by the court and will become victims of barbarian swords!”

“Will restructuring the southern provinces guarantee fields to till and jobs for everyone? And what of repairing the new palace in Jinling and fortifying the Yangtze defenses after the relocation? Who will bear these burdens?”

“This so-called southern migration protects only your noble lives! We commoners are forever pawns to be exploited and deceived!”

These accusations were outrageously defiant and disrespectful. Not only did they shock the dignified court officials, but even the kneeling refugees erupted in murmurs. Song Mingzhen, enraged, stepped forward and bellowed, “How dare you!” The imposing presence of the imperial guard sent nearby civilians trembling and kowtowing profusely.

The young emperor’s face darkened. Revering his mother more than his late father, he could not tolerate her being insulted publicly. Pointing angrily at the man, he shouted, “How dare you slander the southern migration—a decade-long plan of our dynasty! Her Majesty’s honor is sacred and untouchable! Seize him at once!”

Though the imperial guards hesitated, the empress dowager raised her hand slightly, signaling restraint. Given the circumstances, her authority outweighed the emperor’s, and the guards held their positions.

“Mother...”

Wei Xi pleaded urgently, his expression conflicted. Empress Dowager Song Shuyan calmly observed the man still ranting among the crowd. Though ragged, his physique was robust, unlike the typical refugee. After a decade of war, how had such a strong man avoided conscription? Clearly, he was no ordinary peasant but someone hired for this task.

She smiled faintly, turning her gaze toward the Prince of Yinping and his son. Meeting Wei Bi’s cold, challenging stare, she remained unperturbed, having long since detached herself from personal gains, viewing these power struggles as tedious farces.

As the troublemaker continued his tirade, denouncing the ruling class and demanding the court abandon the southern migration, his accomplices in the crowd joined in, inciting the masses. Ordinary citizens, swayed by the rhetoric, wept passionately, raising their arms in support. Calls to abandon the migration grew deafening.

The splendid sunset sank below the horizon, and night fell silently. The imperial guards lit torches, illuminating the scene as if it were daylight. In the fiery glow, Empress Dowager Song Shuyan’s piercing gaze revealed her true nature—not the beleaguered widow cornered by the Luoyang faction a month prior, but a powerful empress dowager wielding real authority.

“Unending troubles inevitably lead to disorder; unchecked weeds grow into monsters...”

Her soft-spoken words carried a chilling undertone.

“I wished to avoid drastic measures, but governance and chaos rarely follow one’s desires. Today, I shall establish order and justice here, providing an explanation to the world...”

With that, her tone turned sharp, her gaze locking onto the ringleader. One word escaped her lips: “Execute!”

The icy command startled even Song Mingzhen, who had watched her grow up. Hesitation flickered in his eyes—not just because he felt a strange unfamiliarity towards his beloved sister, but also because he recalled her earlier concerns. She had said that force alone could not resolve Yangzhou’s predicament, and killing civilians might invite endless complications. Perhaps the Luoyang faction awaited this very word, using it to drag her into an abyss of ruin.

“Empress Dowager—”

He called out urgently, brows furrowed. But zealous imperial guards, eager for merit, unsheathed their swords. Cold steel glinted ominously in the night, poised to claim the man’s life—

A sinister smile curled the lips of the Prince of Yinping.