FYM - 109

She truly needed to think carefully.

If the victory in Fanyang was a “minor” one, then the casualties must have been severe. Even if the Turks sought peace, they would undoubtedly try to extract a hefty price from Great Zhou. She couldn’t allow them to make outrageous demands and take advantage of their weakened state—otherwise, the already depleted treasury wouldn’t be able to sustain it.

Her brows furrowed slightly as she fell into deep thought, but the young emperor beside her was elated, overflowing with joy. At that moment, he praised Xie Ci and the Fang family for their achievements while bowing to Song Shuyan, exclaiming: “Today is Mother’s birthday, and we’ve received good news of victory—it’s truly double happiness! Mother’s blessings protect Great Zhou, and the restoration of our central plains will surely come soon!”

These were auspicious words, and the palace attendants in the waterside pavilion immediately knelt down to congratulate Her Majesty on the double joy. Seeing this, Song Mingzhen smiled and bowed, saying: “It seems I’ve arrived just at the right time today. Please forgive my tardiness, Your Majesty and the Emperor.”

His eyes crinkled with laughter, revealing a unique sense of intimacy between siblings. Wei Xi, caught up in his excitement, even felt playful towards his minister, teasing: “The rewards and punishments in the palace are always clear. The Colonel has missed the auspicious hour of the birthday feast and shown no signs of repentance. How can the Empress Dowager and I show mercy?”

Hearing this, Song Mingzhen’s smile deepened. He bowed again to the young emperor, first calling out “Unjust!” and then revealing a three-tiered food box in his hand, saying: “How could I not know repentance? I’ve prepared a humble gift to apologize to Her Majesty.”

As he spoke, he opened the lid, revealing exquisite dishes and fine wine inside. One dish looked familiar—it was fish shaped like peony flowers, turning slightly red when cooked. It seemed to be…

Song Shuyan’s thoughts had been preoccupied with the war, but at this moment, her attention was diverted. She recognized it as Linglong Peony Fish, a famous delicacy from Qiantang. When she was younger and raised by her grandmother, she had loved eating it. Although the Qiao merchant family wasn’t prominent, they were wealthy, and their chefs were highly skilled. The best at making this dish was Granny Sun, who served her grandmother. The fish slices under her knife were tender and thin without a hint of fishy smell, and paired with plain porridge, it was always appetizing.

“She’s lazy now; she only cooks personally to coax you, little ancestor, into eating,” her grandmother would occasionally tease when in a good mood. “You should eat more, so she doesn’t find an excuse to stop cooking later.”

Looking back now, those were the happiest and most carefree times of her life, far away from Chang’an and Jinling. Her biggest worry was the occasional teasing from her uncles and aunts. Alas, all the people who treated her well in those days had passed away. Even Aunt Cui, who accompanied her into the palace eight years ago, had left the palace due to old age and returned home. There were no traces of Qiantang left around her anymore.

—But勉强地 (barely), that person could also be considered related to Qiantang.

He had once accompanied her through picturesque bridges and lush curtains, and together they had eaten this Linglong Peony Fish by the tranquil and gentle Shi Han Lake. She remembered how he coughed a few times from the pungent smell of the pickled fish, and even the renowned Yuhang wine didn’t suit his taste. But she would always remember that night’s gentle breeze and moonlight, the dazzling blossoms on the lake island blooming overnight. He looked at her under the flower trees, making her believe she could hide in his arms forever.

“The Colonel’s gift came at an opportune time. I was just about to order food,” the young emperor still didn’t know the myriad thoughts swirling in his mother’s mind and continued chatting cheerfully with Song Mingzhen. “What kind of cuisine is this? I haven’t seen it in the palace.”

“Replying to Your Majesty, these humble Jiangnan dishes can’t compare with the imperial kitchen’s delicacies,” Song Mingzhen inclined his body and replied. “However, they carry a bit of Yuhang flavor, which might be considered novel.”

“Yuhang?” Wei Xi’s eyes lit up upon hearing this. “I heard that Mother lived in Qiantang for a long time. So, this must be a taste of her hometown.”

After a pause, he turned to Song Shuyan and smiled: “But whether it’s authentic or not still requires Mother to personally taste. If it’s not good, we can’t exempt the Colonel from punishment.”

Laughter filled the waterside pavilion, finally taking on the true essence of a “family banquet.” However, Yingchuan Marquis, present here, suddenly became an “outsider.” The young emperor glanced at him, thinking it inappropriate to let this meritorious minister feel too awkward. After some thought, he stepped forward and initiated a conversation, saying: “Lord Fang…”

After speaking, he faltered, perhaps feeling a bit intimidated by this powerful marquis who overshadowed the court—his sternness and dignity were even more intimidating than the late emperor. His attitude towards him was inevitably complex, mingled with respect, caution, and an indescribable dependence…

Wang Mu noticed the young emperor’s intention to retain him. As the foremost confidant in the palace, how could he let the emperor be troubled? He immediately intervened tactfully, inviting the marquis to sit and join the feast to celebrate the Empress Dowager’s birthday. At that moment, Fang Xianting’s expression remained unchanged, and his tone was very indifferent as he declined: “I came to the palace today to report military news from Youzhou. Disrupting the family banquet would be inappropriate…”

In reality, these words were clearly a case of protesting too much. Beside him, Song Mingzhen felt somewhat helpless, thinking silently that his third brother had gone through the trouble of sending someone to Qiantang to invite a chef to Jinling specifically for his sister. Yet, he insisted on using his hands to deliver the items into the palace. To find a pretext to meet the emperor, he even delayed the report of the victory until nighttime. Now that he had finally seen his sister, he refused to step down from the metaphorical stage Wang Mu offered. Truly…

“Your Majesty’s words are golden. How can Lord Hou reject such grace?” He hurriedly built a firmer bridge, fearing that his third brother would turn around and leave. “Must the Empress Dowager personally invite you?”

As he spoke, he half-laughed and half-seriously looked at his sister, though deep down, he didn’t quite understand what he was doing—was he encouraging his sister to rekindle old feelings with his third brother? Letting the Empress Dowager secretly communicate with the head of the five ministers? They were impossible… But as an observer, he always felt a useless pang of regret.

At that moment, Song Shuyan also felt hesitant, and in the next instant, she sensed Fang Xianting’s subtle gaze. She knew who had sent the food and that he had deliberately chosen to enter the palace tonight. The only thing she didn’t understand was his heart—after Yangzhou, she no longer had any expectations. That great river could only ferry one person. Whether ten years ago or now, he and she were never destined to ride the same boat.

…So, what was he doing now?

Did he finally feel some pity for her…so he came to comfort her?

She found it somewhat boring and was indeed tired after dealing with the Song family. At that moment, it was inconvenient to hurt his face in front of everyone, so she had to accept her second brother’s words and said: “If Lord Fang has nothing to do tonight, please join us.”

Her tone wasn’t warm, and everyone could hear the official politeness. However, he surprisingly didn’t refuse this easily rejectable invitation, bowing to her and saying: “…I cannot decline Your Majesty’s kindness.”

Upon hearing this, Wei Xi was delighted and quickly called for someone to bring a seat for Lord Fang. Song Shuyan, however, didn’t want to sit formally at the table and remained lazily leaning against the beauty rest. Everyone naturally accommodated her. The young emperor quickly sat to her right. Song Mingzhen glanced at his third brother and voluntarily gave up the seat to his sister’s left. Fang Xianting accepted it. This seating arrangement was inappropriate in terms of intimacy but reasonable in terms of rank.

Wang Mu skillfully directed the palace attendants to bring a small table in front of the corridor chair and arranged the delicious dishes brought by the Colonel from the food box. The faint aroma of Jiangnan wine spread again, and the moonlight that night was indeed gentle and bright. Song Shuyan originally didn’t want to lift her chopsticks, feeling a subtle discord with the man sitting next to her. However, the traces of her hometown were captivating, and perhaps at that moment, she felt a bit lonely.

She picked up a thin slice of fish jerky with her chopsticks and placed it in her mouth. The fresh, fragrant, sweet, and savory taste quietly spread on her tongue. Though it was still far from Granny Sun’s skills, at that moment, it was perfectly satisfying. She felt like she had returned to her youth, with her grandmother sitting kindly beside her, gently patting her back and softly sighing: “Our Yingying, why haven’t you come home for so long…”

Suddenly, she wanted to cry, feeling a hundredfold of委屈 (grievance) and sadness—she really wanted to go back. For eight whole years, there wasn’t a single moment she didn’t want to escape from the towering palace walls. But once some choices were made, there was no turning back. Not a single moment of her life had been under her control. During the southern migration, she silently gazed in the direction of Qiantang. Despite being only a few days’ carriage ride away, it felt like thousands of miles separated her. Moreover, she knew that even if she returned, everything would be different. Hometown wasn’t about a place—it was a beautiful dream with old acquaintances.

“Mother, would you like some wine?” The young emperor also tasted a piece of fish jerky but probably didn’t like the salty taste. The light fragrance of Qiantang pear blossom spring wine pleased him, and he ordered someone to pour half a cup and handed it to his mother. “After all, it’s your birthday; have a drink.”

Her turbulent emotions hadn’t yet settled, and perhaps drinking was the best option at that moment. She took the cup and drained it in one gulp, then asked Xixiu to fill it again. Smiling, she said: “Indeed, it’s good wine.”

She had changed a lot. In the past, even a small sip would make her cough incessantly, but now she drank a full cup without changing her expression. After finishing, she asked for more—it was already her third cup. Xixiu obediently approached with the wine pot, but before she got close, the marquis raised his hand. At that moment, he was looking down at the woman sitting not far from him, his usual aloof expression tinged with an indescribable subtlety.

“Spring-fermented wine is mild, but excessive drinking still harms the body,” his deep voice was as reserved as the fading blossoms outside the waterside pavilion. “Even on one’s birthday, it’s not advisable to drink too much.”

Just then, the night breeze blew, and the abundant flowers fell rustling with it. The faint, lingering fragrance filled the air, and the falling petals created small ripples on the water’s surface. Song Shuyan didn’t know if she was drunk, but she felt an overwhelming familiarity in his tone, like that hazy encounter ten years ago at the Huzhou post station. Taking one step back was proper and ordinary; taking one step forward was reckless and overstepping.

She looked up at him through the mixed aroma of wine and saw her reflection in his deep eyes. Though he had stopped speaking, the rare word “birthday” still echoed in her ears.

—Could this be a coincidence?

Everyone called today her “birthday,” but he alone used a different term. A single word difference brought her back to the past, as if she wasn’t the terrifyingly high-status “Empress Dowager,” but a maiden celebrating her coming-of-age in Qiantang, touring the lake center with her beloved.

…He was always like this.

Knowing the hidden sorrow in her heart that couldn’t be shared with outsiders…at the same time, he cared for and protected it subtly and distantly.

She averted her gaze, but the burning sensation in her eyes grew stronger. People of any age were the same—if they weren’t consoled, they were fine, but once they felt noticed, they wanted to stir up some commotion. The palace attendants on both sides were very understanding. Knowing the marquis’s immense power, even the dignity and honor of the royal family stemmed from him. Naturally, they followed his intentions and dared not refill the Empress Dowager’s wine. The waterside pavilion fell silent for a moment.

That quietness was her favorite. The soft moonlight also heightened vulnerability, telling her that it was harmless to feel a little sad secretly—she refused to look at him, her lowered head appearing petulant. In reality, her gaze lingered on his shadow. She wanted to reach out and touch it, like that day in the cabin. Unfortunately, there were people all around tonight, and it seemed impossible.

She sighed inwardly, leaving a small regret in her heart. Suddenly, he stood up and personally took the wine pot from the palace attendant to pour her another glass. When he sat down, he was closer to her than before. Though they were still two feet apart, their shadows on the ground had quietly intertwined.

Ah…

She felt a bit dazed, momentarily unable to discern whether everything was coincidental or deliberate. Later, she felt that the answer was no longer important. The covert secret beneath the moon’s shadow was the best birthday gift he could give her—she accepted it. Despite hidden sorrows and grievances, the forbidden act under everyone’s watchful eyes was still exhilarating. No one in the world knew how easily he had filled her heart on this moonlit night.

She finished the wine he poured himself and, when putting down the cup, turned her face slightly with measured restraint. The shadow on the ground wasn’t as cautious as her real self—it had already boldly leaned on the man’s shoulder. He also slightly turned his face, his rigid appearance still serious and unsmiling, but his shadow kissed her forehead tenderly and compassionately, as if she were still the woman he genuinely liked. The subtle discrepancy was a gift bestowed by the moonlight, turning estrangement into intimate tenderness in this moment.

Her tears flowed deep into her heart—

Third Brother, do you know?

This is my first birthday…with you by my side.