FYM - 105

On the second day of the second month of Guangyou Year 1, the imperial procession finally arrived in Jinling, marking the end of the southern migration that had lasted over half a month. With this, the era of Empress Dowager Song’s reign officially began.

After passing Yangzhou, the journey continued by land. The emperor shared a carriage with the empress dowager throughout the trip, while Lord Fang, still recovering from his injuries and unable to return to Youzhou, accompanied the procession westward to Jinling. He traveled alone in a carriage, never appearing in public again, yet his presence continued to stir the hearts of unmarried daughters from prominent families across the court.

The world loves heroes, and no one could remain unmoved after witnessing the scene at Yangzhou where he removed his armor and carved characters into his flesh. Even Wei Lan, the daughter of the Prince of Yinping, found herself captivated by her father’s political rival. From Yangzhou to Jinling, she frequently lifted the carriage curtain to catch glimpses of Lord Fang’s carriage ahead, growing increasingly distracted and entranced.

It was as if frost pierced through a jade tower or snow-laden blossoms swayed in the wind… Recalling Liu Xian’s poetry from over a decade ago, it still felt apt and fitting—how could such a person exist? Seemingly possessing everything yet desiring nothing, merely standing there made others feel inadequate yet drawn to him.

And… he was still unmarried.

How could a man in his thirties have no wife or children? Forget someone of his stature as the head of the Five Regents—even ordinary noble sons often had multiple wives and concubines. Did he harbor some unspoken sorrow? Or… was there someone he couldn’t let go of?

Hesitantly, she asked her father and brother about it. Her brother, Wei Lin, snorted coldly upon hearing her question. “After his father’s death, he observed mourning for his mother. If he had married and had children during that period, wouldn’t it tarnish the blameless reputation of the Yingchuan Fang family? In the end, he’s just a fame-seeker, tormenting himself for the sake of appearances…”

He then narrowed his eyes suspiciously at his sister. “Why are you asking about him? Could it be…?”

The word “could it be” turned Wei Lan’s face crimson. A maiden’s heart was impossible to hide, especially at her age. Seeing this, Wei Lin immediately scowled, raising his voice. “He is Father’s enemy! Just days ago in the eastern capital, he acted arrogantly and imposed private punishments. How can you even think of him—”

Wei Lan panicked, her face turning pale. She covered her face with a light cough and said, “N-no, I was just asking casually. I don’t have any ulterior motives…”

Could her brother be so easily fooled? Of course not. He immediately lectured his sister sternly, declaring that they would never reconcile with Lord Fang of Yingchuan, forbidding her from having any connection with him. Wei Lan half-turned her face, pretending to listen while ignoring him. Meanwhile, her father, the Prince of Yinping, watched his daughter with an enigmatic gaze. Reflecting on the failed uprising in Yangzhou and their future position in the new capital of Jinling, his expression grew increasingly inscrutable…

The day they entered Jinling, the spring breeze was unusually warm and pleasant.

Since entering the palace in the third year of Taiqing, Song Shuyan hadn’t returned to her “hometown” for seven years. Now, the city gates and watchtowers she saw were still as exquisite as before, but the imperial guards had cleared the roads, driving away all refugees fleeing the south. Gone were the chaotic and desolate scenes of war from the past.

The young emperor had never left the Central Plains. Catching a glimpse of Jinling’s gates from afar, he couldn’t help but feel excited. Pointing at the gate, he exclaimed to Song Shuyan, “I’ve heard Jinling is an ancient capital of six dynasties. Today, seeing it for myself, it truly lives up to its reputation—rich in natural beauty and blessed with talent!”

After a pause, he leaned closer to Song Shuyan and asked, “Mother, it must have been many years since you last returned. Are you happy to be back?”

“Happy”?

She had been to many places in her life. Chang’an was merely a temporary residence, Luoyang a prison, and although Yingchuan was perfect in every way, her memories of it were filled only with endless mourning. The only place that brought her comfort was Qiantang. Jinling was perhaps the place she despised most—everyone she met here was selfish and hypocritical, and every event that occurred was maddening and exhausting.

“Of course, I’m happy,” she replied nonetheless, her tone and expression calm and detached. “Your Majesty will like it too.”

Hearing this, Wei Xi’s eyes brightened even more. By the time they reached the city gates, his excitement was still high. After alighting from the imperial carriage, he saw the officials lined up to greet them, led by Song Dan, the long-absent Chancellor and father of the current empress dowager, who had always been respected by the emperor.

“Lord Song—”

Wei Xi called out loudly and quickly descended from the carriage with the help of Wang Mu. Song Shuyan followed a step behind. As she prepared to disembark, she noticed that the palace maids who should have assisted her were conspicuously absent. Instead, standing by the carriage was… Fang Xianting.

His wounds likely hadn’t fully healed, yet he stood there in his purple robes, looking as composed as ever. His raised right arm seemed to await her left hand. This scene was strikingly similar to one from ten years ago when he and Lady Jiang visited the Song estate in Jiangnan. On the day they toured Taicheng together, he had personally helped her out of the carriage. Back then, her heart had been full of sweetness and excitement; now, she felt only a profound sense of loss and conflicting emotions.

The court officials watched silently, remarking inwardly that Lord Fang was truly a loyal supporter of Jinling. Today, personally assisting the empress dowager out of the carriage was likely a gesture to curry favor with Lord Song. With the two families united, they would surely wield even greater influence in the new capital. Among the women, whispers circulated that the widowed empress dowager was fortunate to receive such care from Lord Fang. If not for her status, jealousy and resentment might have arisen.

Yet Song Shuyan didn’t accept his assistance. After a brief exchange of glances, she coolly turned her face away. Perhaps the conversation aboard the ship days ago had hardened her heart further. She no longer wished to maintain any lingering ties with him. At that moment, she called out, “General Zhonglang,” summoning her second brother, Song Mingzhen, to help her. Under everyone’s watchful eyes, he reluctantly stepped forward, bypassing his older brother to offer his arm to his sister.

This scene was rich with meaning. Why had the empress dowager rejected Lord Fang’s gesture? Was she still upset about his unauthorized journey south days earlier? Or was she displeased that he had overshadowed the imperial family by carving characters into his flesh on the Yangzhou riverbank?

Was she being overly presumptuous? Did she believe that moving to Jiangnan with her family’s support meant she could disregard the authority of Lord Fang, the head of the Five Regents?

Amidst these murmurs, Song Shuyan, assisted by her second brother, stepped down from the carriage. As she passed him, her gaze didn’t waver, though the hem of her elaborate skirt inevitably brushed against his shadow. He lowered his eyes, taking it all in, his complexion paling slightly.

The young emperor, oblivious to the tension between the two, joyfully watched the reunion between his mother and her father. Since the end of Taiqing Year 9, Lord Song had been stationed in Jinling by the late emperor to oversee preparations for the new capital, repairing palaces and official buildings and supervising the construction of various provinces. It had been over a year since he last saw the emperor. As for his own daughter, the empress dowager, their relationship had grown distant, almost like strangers.

Now, Song Shuyan stood watching her nearly sixty-year-old father, his temples streaked with gray, slowly kneel before her. Her mind drifted back to scenes from seven years ago—she had once told him she would sever ties with the Song family. Now, their relationship was reduced to mere formalities of ruler and subject. Seeing his aged appearance stirred no emotion in her. She simply said, “Lord Song, rise.”

Upon hearing her words, Song Dan complied, rising with some difficulty due to his age. Song Mingzhen averted his gaze slightly, while Song Shuyan remained calm and composed. Only Wei Xi, still young and innocent, went to help him up. Unaware of the subtle tensions among the elders, he believed blood was thicker than water and that a long-awaited reunion should bring joy.

“Your humble servant has awaited Your Majesty’s arrival in Jinling for a long time. Finally, I am able to see Your Majesty again…” Song Dan bowed deeply, making no special acknowledgment of his children. “After the southern migration, everything is renewed. Your servant has done his duty.”

Song Shuyan didn’t respond, leaving it to Wei Xi to utter two words of approval. The officials of Jinling then bowed once more to the empress dowager and the emperor at the city gates. After completing the formalities, they boarded their carriages and entered the city. The famed beauty of Jiangnan remained unchanged, and Jinling once again became the imperial capital. Along the streets, commoners knelt in reverence, as if nothing distinguished it from the eastern and western capitals. The tranquil Qingxi Stream flowed as always, seemingly forgetting the foggy days of the past.

Before long, the ancient palace of Taicheng came into view. In the warm spring breeze of mid-February, the towering pavilions and verdant willows created a breathtaking sight. The gates of the former Liang dynasty palace, closed for a hundred years, were thrown open once more. Their freshly painted red doors gleamed magnificently, creating a surreal atmosphere where one couldn’t tell whether it was past or present.

As Song Shuyan gazed at the scene before her, memories of her visit with Lady Jiang ten years ago came flooding back vividly. For a moment, she even considered turning to look at Fang Xianting again. Ultimately, she restrained herself, unaware that he had been watching her all along. As their carriage entered the palace gates, she saw several noblewomen bowing by the roadside, including her stepmother, Lady Wan, and her supposed elder sister, Song Shuqian, who should have been married off to Yangzhou but remained in the inner chambers of the Wan household.

They prostrated themselves before her, no longer the haughty and domineering figures they once were. She signaled for the imperial procession to pause briefly, causing those with ulterior motives to tremble nervously. Observing this, Song Dan, who accompanied the procession, fell silent for a moment before finally addressing her as “Empress Dowager,” pleading on behalf of his wife and children.

Song Shuyan smiled faintly, feeling neither sadness nor joy. Beside her, Fang Xianting watched her expression, the shadows in his eyes growing darker.

“Let’s go.”

The ministers heard the empress dowager sigh softly.

The former Liang dynasty palace had once been the most magnificent structure in history, though it had suffered damage over the centuries. After renovations, it had regained its former glory. However, the plaques for the various halls and palaces remained unnamed, awaiting the empress dowager and the young emperor to bestow titles. Song Shuyan invited Wei Xi to take up the brush, ultimately naming the emperor’s sleeping quarters “Gui’an Hall,” the empress dowager’s chambers “Fuqing Hall,” and the main hall for governance “Qianding Palace.” As they named each building, only a towering twenty-zhang ancient tower from the previous dynasty remained unnamed. Standing in the imperial garden, Song Shuyan gazed at it from afar, seeing the lush greenery reminiscent of verdant mountains. She said, “Let’s name it ‘Wangshan Tower.’”

The name was simple and lacked literary flair. Most ministers didn’t grasp its deeper meaning, but one person understood the origin of the word “mountain” and the bittersweet weight of the word “gaze.”

Silently, he watched her back as the Ministry of Rites officials invited her and the young emperor to attend a grand banquet in Qianding Palace. She declined, stating that since the southern migration, the people had endured much hardship, and henceforth, expenditures within the palace should be kept simple. The grand banquet was canceled, and the ministers were instructed to return to their new residences to settle their families. They would reconvene in the palace two days later to resume discussions on state affairs.

Upon hearing this, the ministers kowtowed and praised her decision. Wei Lan, following her father and brother, also knelt in respect. However, her gaze remained fixed on Lord Fang of Yingchuan. She saw him momentarily lost in thought, gazing in the direction the empress dowager had departed. Moments later, he turned his attention to the newly named “Wangshan Tower,” his eyes reflecting a depth and tenderness she couldn’t quite comprehend.