FYM - 104

The night was deep, the breeze gentle, and the bright moon hung high in the sky, indifferent to the joys and sorrows of the world.

How tragic it was for him to remove his armor and carve a character into his flesh. On the riverbank, ministers and commoners alike wept profusely, bowing once more to Lord Fang. After this, no matter how much the Luoyang faction tried to incite or provoke, they could no longer utter slanderous words. Eventually, they all silently dispersed. The officials of Yangzhou breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that nothing disastrous had occurred under their watch. Governor Wan Sheng invited the imperial procession to stay overnight, but Lord Fang insisted on continuing south immediately to avoid further trouble. Thus, they crossed the river under the cover of night, and by the next day, they would truly set foot in Jiangnan.

For Song Shuyan, it was an excruciating night.

Since childhood, she had been skilled at concealing her emotions. After entering the palace in the third year of Taiqing, she regarded restraint as the foundation of her existence, not daring to relax for even a moment over the past seven years. Yet that night, a fire raged within her heart. For reasons unknown, she felt a mad desire for mutual destruction. Whether this stemmed from anger or sorrow, she couldn’t say.

—She went to see him.

Past midnight, in the stillness of the night, the empress dowager pushed open the door to the most powerful minister’s chamber. It was absurd, even with her second brother covering for her, it was as perilous as crossing a river in a clay boat. If anyone saw her, she would instantly fall from grace into ruin.

He probably didn’t expect her to be so reckless. His gaze held surprise when he looked towards the door, followed by a frown that made him appear exceptionally stern. It was understandable that he was angry. Moments earlier, the imperial physician had just left after tending to his wound, and even the emperor had personally seen his wound bandaged before retiring. Yet here she was, boldly entering his room right after them—how utterly inappropriate and irrational.

“Empress Dowager…”

He rose from the bedside. His formal attire was not yet fully donned; beneath his white inner robe, blood-stained bandages were visible. His pale complexion hadn’t improved, but his rigid demeanor remained unshakable as ever.

“Stop calling me Empress Dowager!”

Her anger flared tenfold. All the careful pretense she had maintained for years shattered in that moment.

“Do you truly see me as the Empress Dowager? Or am I merely a puppet under your control?”

“How can a subject come south without summons? And if you’ve already disobeyed orders, why pretend otherwise?”

“Fang Xianting… you have wronged me too much.”

…She had never been angry with him.

Not once in over a decade of knowing him—not even when she mistakenly thought he intended to kill her in Lishan, nor when the Fang family left Chang’an and he rejected her from afar. What right did she have to be angry with him? He had just used his own blood to protect her and the Zhou royal family’s dignity in front of ministers and commoners. No one else in the world would be so loyal and devoted.

“It is indeed my fault to have come south without summons…”

As expected, he remained unmoved by her fury, his expression even colder and more distant than before.

“…Please, Empress Dowager, punish me.”

With that, he emotionlessly knelt before her on both knees. Such an act of submission became a cruel humiliation—how ironic. The one bowing was clearly superior, while the recipient seemed diminished to dust.

“‘Punish’…”

She repeated his words softly, her heart torn to shreds.

“What crime has Lord Fang committed?”

“Abandoning the three armies in Youzhou? Coming south without summons?”

“But the whole world knows of your loyalty… Today, removing your armor and carving characters into your flesh will surely earn you a place in history.”

Her expression and tone were becoming distorted.

“It was my uncle who informed you, wasn’t it?”

“What did he say? That there would be trouble in Yangzhou and that neither I nor His Majesty could handle it? That only you could resolve matters here?”

“The Prince of Yinping and Chancellor Fan also believe that the affairs of the world cannot proceed without the Luoyang faction. Hence, they acted rebelliously in the Mingtang. Now, you have taken unilateral action. How are you any different from them?”

Each accusation was sharp, though far removed from her true feelings. Unlike her, he didn’t let emotions take over, calmly answering with a furrowed brow: “Today’s chaos was deliberately orchestrated by those with ulterior motives. Though the troublemakers are not ordinary people, killing them would make it impossible to distinguish truth later. Public opinion is hard to suppress, and Your Majesty has only recently begun ruling behind the curtain. If stained with such infamy…”

“Do you think I don’t understand all this!”

His well-meaning words were interrupted by her loud outburst. Outside the cabin, the river surged, reminiscent of certain old scenes from years ago.

“The Luoyang faction doesn’t just want to obstruct the southern migration plan; they aim to strip me of my power and install Consort Dong. If they see me killing today, they will proclaim it to the world tomorrow, and the condemnation will never end. Eventually, they will drag me off the phoenix throne—”

“But do you think I care about these things?”

“What did the late emperor entrust me to rule behind the curtain for? Why did he elevate the Song family?”

“He knew the southern migration would cause division in court and that the Luoyang faction wouldn’t easily give up! The Song family and I are merely scapegoats for the young emperor. Once these tasks are done, we’ll be useless!”

“I’m not greedy for power or wealth, and I can return governance to His Majesty anytime. Why should I care about reputation or long-term schemes?”

“Let them all come after me! If sacrificing an insignificant empress dowager can pave the way for the young emperor, it would be a blessing for the Zhou dynasty! I can do all the dirty work for him—and for you—”

Her eyes reddened with emotion, but she abruptly stopped speaking when he suddenly looked up at her, the shock in his eyes cutting her like a knife.

She gave a bitter smile, tearing away all pretense and disguise in front of him. Perhaps because she knew she’d rarely have the chance to speak the truth, she cherished every fleeting moment of being unrestrained before him. At that moment, she too knelt before him, seeing his bloodied chest rise and fall unevenly. Their gazes met, laden with karmic burdens, yet to her, it was like drinking sweet poison when desperately thirsty.

“Third Brother…”

Her eyes turned red, and the tears she had suppressed all night finally spilled over. Her blurred vision wavered, yet she couldn’t stop herself from gazing at him with lingering affection.

“I only want you to be safe… always safe.”

“From now on, leave all these matters to me—I don’t scheme for the long term, nor do I want… too long a future.”

…It was indeed a very obscure statement.

They often loved to speak in riddles, like the past references to “Spring Mountain” that circled back and forth between them. Upon reflection, perhaps it wasn’t just a love for mystery. The impermanence of their relationship simply didn’t allow for straightforward expressions.

—What does “not scheming for the long term” mean?

Was she certain that the path of ruling behind the curtain was fraught with danger, and that ultimately, neither she nor the Song family could escape unscathed?

—And what does “not wanting too long a future” mean?

Was she mentally and physically exhausted, unwilling to continue in the suffocating imperial palace, even secretly hoping for… the arrival of a day of collapse?

He seemed to understand, just as he had effortlessly unraveled the hidden puzzles on her painted screen in the past. Or perhaps he only half-understood, his gaze more profound and heavy than ever before.

She no longer had the strength to probe his attitude. At that moment, she focused solely on the blood seeping from his chest. Perhaps in his eyes, she was already irrelevant—the late emperor’s empress, the young emperor’s mother—but she stubbornly, secretly still saw him as the lover she had missed. She couldn’t bear to lose him, and in her eyes, he was far more precious than those so-called mountains and rivers, righteousness and morality.

“I…”

“Can I…”

She asked brokenly, but in the end, she couldn’t bring herself to voice that humble question.

—Can I embrace you?

Not as tenderly and intimately as in Qiantang… Just a brief moment, even as polite as approaching an old friend.

I know it’s inappropriate, and after our ties have been severed, I shouldn’t harbor any illusions… But it’s been seven whole years since I last called you “Third Brother.” Now that we’ve come to this point, can you indulge me this one wish?

I’m not seeking your pity, nor do I expect any resolution between us… I’m just a little tired, and I know there’s still a long road ahead that I must walk alone… I fear I won’t endure long enough and will eventually drag you down to suffer in my stead…

She said so much in her heart, but what came out was only muffled sobs. The precious moments of solitude slipped away rapidly. She cried like a child, helpless and anxious, unable to do anything but watch him in silence.

“Third Brother…”

She called out to him again and again, feeling breathless. He lowered his head slightly, gazing at her with a hint of pity. When she trembled and reached out to him, he didn’t dodge or evade. She was grateful for his kindness. Her fingertips first touched his shadow, then slowly approached the wound on his chest. Beneath his inner robe, the tangled scars stung her eyes. Some, though years old, still evoked the ferocity of the past—how could flesh and blood be as strong as steel walls? Perhaps her greatest wish was for the world to know that this man before her was not a deity but just an ordinary person like them.

When her fingertips were only an inch away, footsteps sounded outside the cabin. The door was pushed open, and her second brother hurried in. He probably didn’t expect to find both of them kneeling, and the sight of his sister’s tear-streaked face filled him with sorrow. Overwhelmed by complex emotions, he turned his head slightly, unable to bear looking. “His Majesty was restless tonight and couldn’t sleep. A eunuch sent word that he will likely seek the Empress Dowager… So…”

It was a clear signal for her to return immediately. The dreamlike moment shattered abruptly. In the end, she still hadn’t touched even a corner of his robe. She seemed to smile faintly, a sad, heart-wrenching smile more poignant than tears. It seemed fate was indeed a strange thing—they always had half the cause, yet could never bear the other half’s fruit.

“Alright…”

She nodded through her tears, finally withdrawing her hand and standing shakily on her own.

“…I understand.”

The “I” disappeared again, and she was forced back to her original position. Song Mingzhen stood at the door, watching his sister slowly emerge from the room. With each step, the vulnerability in her eyes receded, replaced by increasing composure, until she became the dignified and solemn empress dowager once more.

A pang of sorrow struck his heart. As he turned to follow her departure, he glanced back at their third brother, who still knelt where he was, not having risen. His pallor seemed worse than before the imperial physician arrived, his gaze firmly fixed on his sister. More blood seeped through his white inner robe.

For a moment, he even thought…

…he might cry too.