FYM - 113

By the end of March, one of the four examination categories was nearing its conclusion—the specially designated military examination. Since Grand Tutor Chen, a civil official, could not oversee this matter, the position of chief examiner was assumed by the Vice Minister of War. Around the twenty-second day of the month, the final imperial selection would take place, and the relevant memorials had already reached Song Shuyan’s desk.

That morning, she was reviewing documents in the Imperial Study, Fengyang Palace, when a palace servant suddenly reported that Lord Fang Xianting sought an audience. She paused, setting down her brush, and after a moment’s silence, said, “...Let him in.”

The servant withdrew, and shortly afterward, the palace doors reopened. Fang Xianting, dressed in purple, entered slowly. Their eyes met, and memories of their unrestrained night at the waterside pavilion flooded back. Both expressions shifted subtly, each feeling a complex, indescribable sensation.

“Your humble servant... greets Your Majesty the Empress Dowager.”

His tone carried a hint of hesitation, imperceptible to others but noticeable to her. She pursed her lips, averting her gaze slightly, and replied, “Rise. Be seated.”

...Even more subtle.

He cleared his throat before expressing gratitude and taking his seat. For some reason, she felt uneasy and quickly asked, “What brings you here, my lord?”

Official matters were the best conversation topic, especially for them at this moment, providing excellent cover. He appeared more relaxed, his demeanor and tone growing serious and profound as he discussed military affairs.

It turned out to be about the situation in Youzhou.

Previously, the imperial army had achieved a minor victory at Fanyang against the Eastern Turks, capturing the Khan’s second son, Bi Hunu. However, Du Luo, a war-loving and arrogant leader, refused to halt hostilities or surrender even for the sake of kinship. Instead, he used his son’s capture to incite his troops to vow revenge against Zhou. Consequently, the battle situation remained tense, though the imperial army still held the upper hand, completely resolving the conflict would require more time.

“The barbarians’ morale is high at present. The area north of Hedong might turn into scorched earth,” Fang Xianting’s voice grew colder, his expression tinged with gloom. “I wish to lead reinforcements to Xie Ci. What does Your Majesty think?”

He would go personally?

Song Shuyan furrowed her brow, her gaze lingering on the wound he sustained a month ago on the Yangzhou riverbank—sharp knife piercing flesh, likely still unhealed.

“The new capital has just been established, and there are many disturbances. With the special examinations ongoing, further changes are inevitable,” her tone was stern. “In my opinion, it is more prudent for Lord Fang to remain within the court.”

Her words were partly personal and partly official: indeed, she did not want him to fight again with his injury, but it was also true that Jinling needed his presence now. The results of the special examinations would inevitably cause significant upheaval, and without him, no one else could suppress the discordant factions of Luoyang and Jinling.

He understood her reasoning and did not insist on going to battle against her wishes. Silence filled Fengyang Palace as Song Shuyan tried to let her gaze penetrate the palace walls to envision the bloody battlefield.

“I heard that there are two factions within the Eastern Turks. One advocates uniting with the Western Turks, while the other prefers maintaining separate territories like the Chu River boundary,” she struggled to recall details she had meticulously noted since the late emperor’s reign. “With the major battle approaching, how do these two factions interact?”

Fang Xianting raised an eyebrow, surprised at her deep understanding of the northern barbarian regime. A flicker of admiration crossed his eyes, followed by seriousness.

“Indeed, there is discord between the two factions,” he responded. “Those advocating unity with the Western Turks belong to the war faction, aiming to reorganize tribal forces for a large-scale invasion of our dynasty. The other is the peace faction, unwilling to become pawns for the rebellious king and Zhong He, adding to the casualties. Reportedly, the division between the two factions is growing, making it challenging for Du Luo to maintain balance.”

Song Shuyan nodded, saying, “The national treasury has long been depleted. Lord Fang must surely understand the situation. If we send more reinforcements, the consumption might be unbearable for the court—perhaps we can exploit this division? After the recent defeat, I believe the peace faction within the Eastern Turks might have something to say to Du Luo.”

She indeed possessed the insight and perspective of a ruler.

The highest form of warfare is to attack the enemy’s strategy; next is to disrupt their alliances; then comes attacking their army, and the lowest form is to besiege cities. The outcome of a nation’s victory isn’t solely determined on the battlefield by swords and spears. The unseen manipulations of human hearts are the most complex and unpredictable. Zhou couldn’t afford another prolonged war, but could the Eastern Turks? Du Luo couldn’t control everything. By sowing discord and encouraging the peace faction to intervene, perhaps the current conflict could dissipate without further bloodshed.

Upon hearing her words, Fang Xianting’s eyes darkened. The earlier admiration became subdued, mixed with a trace of concern. Perhaps he understood the pain a noblewoman confined to the palace had endured to reach this point, and how far this reality deviated from their past imaginations.

“In that case, I dare to recommend someone to Your Majesty.”

He lowered his head slightly, concealing the turbulent emotions in his eyes from prying eyes.

“Oh?” Song Shuyan didn’t notice his unusualness and casually responded with a normal tone, “Who is it?”

“Former Xingzhou Deputy Governor Jiang Chao,” Fang Xianting answered calmly. “This person once served as a Guoyi Colonel in Hedong Dao, repeatedly thwarting Turkic invasions at Taiyuan, familiar with the terrain and the internal politics of the Eastern Turks. He should assist the Xie family in repelling the enemy.”

“Jiang Chao?” Song Shuyan repeated the name, recalling his earlier military achievements and the honors bestowed by the late emperor.

“He is also participating in this special examination,” Fang Xianting continued, his tone deeper. “In the future, he will serve Your Majesty faithfully.”

These words...

Song Shuyan was momentarily stunned, just beginning to grasp the implications—Jiang Chao belonged to the Luzhou Jiang family, related to the former Duke’s wife and thus his cousin. Despite having an official position, he humbly participated in the special examination, signaling loyalty to the Empress Dowager, pledging allegiance entirely to her.

He had already devised a second path to resolve the conflict and handed her the key securely...

Her heart trembled, overwhelmed by a sense of security and subtly moved. Naturally, she knew he had been equally dedicated to the late emperor, but...

Silence enveloped the hall once more. He glanced at her inquiringly, prompting her to hastily compose herself and dispel those distracting thoughts, responding, “This is excellent... When the military examination results are announced, I will personally confer his appointment.”

Hearing this, he bowed deeply in gratitude and made no further remarks. Despite lingering feelings, outward composure was maintained. Rising to leave, he performed a respectful bow. Her mind conjured the disheveled shadows under the moonlight, a reluctant sentiment quietly unfurling in her heart. She knew she was somewhat insatiable.

“I am about to visit His Majesty,” she stated solemnly, easily seen through by him. “...Accompany me.”

Mid-March marked the transition from spring to summer. Plum blossoms had faded, while other flowers bloomed vibrantly. From Fengyang Palace through the Imperial Garden, the path was awash with brilliant colors, bees and butterflies flitting among fragrant blooms—a scene enchantingly picturesque.

Song Shuyan led the way, with Fang Xianting following closely behind, just a step away. A large group of palace servants trailed behind, heads bowed respectfully. No one noticed when the Marquis gently lifted branches that might have disheveled the Empress Dowager’s hair as they passed flower trees. Had Zui’er been present, she would have remarked on the similarity to the snowy night at Lishan, though much had changed over time. The resemblance was superficial; the essence had transformed drastically.

Neither spoke, the tranquil companionship rare. The severed emotional threads seemed to reconnect unknowingly, entwining their hearts delicately after that distant night of entanglement. No one would speak of it; both understood it was an unbreakable taboo. Yet, even the slightest clandestine transgression was sweet nectar, the more forbidden, the more intoxicating.

Unfortunately, tranquility was a rarity. Soon, the garden grew noisy—a crowd of palace servants surrounded a bright yellow figure. It turned out the young emperor was flying a kite in the Imperial Garden, which had broken loose and gotten stuck high in a tree. He was throwing a tantrum, eager to retrieve it, while Wang Mu commanded junior eunuchs to fetch a ladder.

Seeing this scene, Song Shuyan sighed inwardly. In her presence, Wei Xi was always filial and obedient, but occasionally displayed stubbornness and temper around others—not traits of a wise ruler. After the special examinations, she needed to dedicate time to properly guide him.

As she contemplated, the young emperor spotted her and immediately brightened, greeting her with a cheerful “Mother,” followed by a respectful salute from Fang Xianting behind her.

“What caused such a commotion?” Song Shuyan took a handkerchief from a palace maid to wipe the sweat from his forehead, her tone carrying a hint of reproach. “It’s just a kite.”

Wei Xi sensed his mother’s displeasure and immediately became docile, mumbling, “It wasn’t much... I saw the kite wasn’t too high and wanted to retrieve it myself, but they all stopped me...”

Wang Mu and others apologized. Song Shuyan looked up, seeing the kite caught on a cypress branch about twice her height—it was indeed somewhat dangerous to climb.

“Nonsense,” she frowned, her tone firmer. “How precious is the Emperor’s body! How can he risk it for mere play? If they hadn’t stopped you today, I would punish them.”

Her words carried maternal authority, startling Wei Xi into lowering his head further. Fang Xianting watched, amused—she was still the same half-grown girl in his eyes, attempting to act elder-like with a touch of... cuteness.

The young emperor, fingering nervously, heard Fang Hou clear his throat. His voice, unusually gentle, first urged, “Empress Dowager, please calm down,” then added, “Allow me to help His Majesty retrieve it. No harm will come.”

Wei Xi was startled—he had always perceived Lord Fang as aloof and stern, even more intimidating than his late father, the emperor. Today, however, he was unexpectedly kind and lenient, like ice melting and frost lifting, bringing an indescribable comfort and gratitude.

“This...”

The Empress Dowager hesitated but ultimately didn’t oppose him. He extended a hand, warm and steady, instantly dispelling any apprehension. Hesitantly, Wei Xi approached and was effortlessly lifted onto the man’s broad shoulders—much taller and stronger than his father’s. The wide shoulders cradled him securely.

Excited, he stretched upward to grab the broken kite, retrieving it with ease, as if the entire empire stabilized with his presence.

“Mother, look—I got it—”

Wei Xi turned back, joyfully shouting, waving the kite as the Marquis carefully brought him down. Many palace servants silently watched, thinking the scene resembled...

...the rare and long-lost so-called “family harmony” within the imperial palace.