FYM - 121

The palace banquet had ended.

The Empress Dowager changed her attire and soon retired, but Yingchuan Marquis didn’t return to the Imperial Garden until it was nearly time to disperse. The officials who were still sober noticed that his clothing had been changed—his deep purple official robe had been replaced with a plain set of close-fitting warrior’s garb. Upon inquiry, they learned that an unobservant palace servant had spilled wine on him, and the outfit he now wore had been hastily borrowed from Lieutenant Colonel Song Mingzhen at his guard post.

This explanation made sense, yet there were still some puzzling aspects. After all, when the Marquis returned, his expression was as dark as water, not only displeased but also tinged with a heavy melancholy. It certainly didn’t seem like such a simple matter as someone spilling wine on him. Moreover, Song Mingzhen’s reaction was also strange; while standing by the Empress Dowager’s side, he kept glancing nervously toward the Marquis, betraying an air of both fear and awkwardness.

…It was all rather subtle.

But Song Shuyan paid no attention to these trivial observations from others.

After the banquet dispersed, she returned alone to Fuqing Hall, rejecting visits from both her second brother and the young master, even sending away the palace attendants who served within the inner chambers. She flung her heavy pearl hairpins everywhere, too distraught to remove her makeup before slipping quietly into bed, hidden behind the curtains.

…She cried.

Reflecting carefully, she had endured many hardships in her life, but nothing had brought her more tears than him. She hadn’t expected herself to collapse so completely. Though she had long since given up hope of being with him, knowing full well that even looking at him too much was sinful, she still felt as though ten thousand arrows had pierced her heart upon hearing news of his impending marriage. Only then did she realize just how deeply obsessed she truly was.

And yet…how could she not be?

Once you enter the palace gates, it’s like plunging into an endless sea. Every day and night for the past eight years had been a cruel imprisonment for her. How many times had she woken screaming silently from nightmares, yearning to escape, only to heal her wounds through thoughts of him?

—She hadn’t forgotten why she entered the palace in the first place.

Though it was true that her family forced her into this situation, ultimately the cause lay with him . Those fleeting three days in Qiantang were enough for her to consider him her one true love, the man she entrusted her life to. She adored him, cherished him, and respected him just as everyone else under his protection did. She should have carried even a fraction of the immense burdens he bore, so that when they met again after death, she wouldn’t feel ashamed or unworthy.

Others wouldn’t understand how hard it was… She cared nothing for power or wealth, yet she was dragged daily into the intricate schemes of this dynasty’s rise and fall. Every solitary night spent poring over documents by lamplight, she thought of him, wondering if taking one more step forward might ease the dangers he faced. Year after year, step by step, she moved forward, despite being battered and exhausted, never daring to slacken.

But now…he was going to marry someone else.

Only when she lost control earlier tonight, drawing her sword and slicing through his sleeve, did she fully confront her own feelings. Even though she hadn’t hoped fate would grant them a future together, she’d never imagined he would one day choose another partner, marry, and have children. She wasn’t as generous or selfless as she believed herself to be; instead, she selfishly wanted to reduce him to the same trapped state she was in—a dying fish gasping for air in a narrow, dark corner, clinging desperately to each other until they perished, refusing to let anyone else escape first.

She was horrified by her own malice, yet she still feared the impending separation. She had no say in the matter; he always came and went freely in her life. The sweetness that had stirred her heart just days ago turned out to be nothing more than a fleeting illusion. Her secret longing and desire for him were merely a pitiful joke.

Scalding tears flowed from her eyes, soaking her pillow and soon turning icy cold. The grand, towering bedroom stood empty, resembling both a luxurious prison and a deep tomb.

Suddenly, she felt a chill.

An overwhelming, bone-deep loneliness stretched endlessly before her.

Meanwhile, the Yinping Prince’s residence was ablaze with lights.

As soon as Wei Bi entered the main hall, he angrily smashed a jade cup offered by a servant, as if competing with Fang Xianting’s casual dismissal of a wine goblet during the banquet earlier that night. His eldest son, Wei Lin, trailed closely behind, ranting nonstop: “That scoundrel Fang Xianting! How dare he toy with my sister like this! Does he really think our royal household fears his lowly Yingchuan Marquis title?”

Wei Lan followed listlessly behind her father and brother, her carefully painted face pale and drawn. Her beautiful eyes were slightly red and swollen, evidence of crying on the way back from the palace.

“Father…”

She called softly, her voice filled with sadness and confusion.

“Why did Lord Marquis…why did he…”

Her father didn’t know why the man had suddenly changed his stance that night. Could it be that his interpretation of the Marquis’ silence several days ago had been mistaken? In the world of politics, relationships are rarely spelled out explicitly—people leave room for ambiguity and tacit understanding.

—Could it be that Fang Xianting was dissatisfied with the current terms? Did he want more concessions?

Wei Bi fell into deep thought, unsure what else the Fang clan of Yingchuan valued besides his support for the new policies. Yet, faced with his daughter’s tearful gaze, he put on a confident front and consoled her: “Lan’er, don’t be sad. Your father was hasty today. Before requesting an imperial marriage decree, we should have communicated with your future in-laws…”

Though Wei Lan’s mind was in turmoil, her sharp intellect continued to churn. She suspected there must be a reason behind the Marquis’ rejection today—it could be that she or her father had made a mistake, or perhaps the timing wasn’t right yet. Her feminine intuition also warned her repeatedly that something crucial had been overlooked. Perhaps it was the sudden coldness in his eyes when she tugged on his sleeve, or the inexplicable change of clothes when he returned to the Imperial Garden.

Her thoughts drifted uncertainly, grasping at fragments that slipped away. Amidst her unease, her father’s voice cut through, heavy and resolute: “Rest assured. I will make him give you an explanation!”

Coincidentally, the Song family estate was also bustling with activity that night, no one able to sleep.

The three Song brothers sat together in the main hall, their wives, concubines, and children waiting anxiously nearby. Even Song Mingzhen, the second son who had estranged himself from the family and hadn’t stepped foot in the estate for a long time, appeared tense and seated stiffly beside his birth mother, Lady Wu.

“What exactly happened at the banquet tonight!”

Song Bo couldn’t contain his temper any longer, visibly enraged.

“All the civil and military officials were watching! So many people inside and outside! How dare your sister summon the Marquis alone and make him change his clothes! Doesn’t she fear tarnishing her reputation with rumors of palace scandal, bringing shame upon herself and others for eternity?”

His accusations were directed entirely at Song Mingzhen, aware that this once-unfavored illegitimate son was now the only one capable of speaking to the person in the palace. But this son, much like his younger sister, was defiant. Hearing these words, he immediately turned pale with anger, rose, and replied coldly: “Uncle, watch your words. The Empress Dowager is the mother of the emperor—how dare anyone speak ill of her behind her back? If you forced her into the palace in the past, today you must treat her with proper respect. If you still consider her a daughter of the Song family, you should have acted like elders back then!”

His stern tone brooked no argument, yet he clung to old grievances, showing how much he had changed since earning his rank. Wearing the uniform of a fourth-rank military official, his backbone seemed stiffer than ever.

“I won’t argue with a junior like you,” Song Bo sneered, equally unyielding. “I’ll only ask you one thing: Has anything happened between the Empress Dowager and the Marquis?”

He stopped, as if afraid of dirtying his mouth. This disdainful attitude only fueled Song Mingzhen’s fury. Perhaps he suffered more than the two involved parties, feeling resentful and indignant on their behalf.

“Uncle!”

He slammed the table violently, startling the women in the hall who instinctively shrank back.

“I am the personally appointed Lieutenant Colonel of the Imperial Guard, tasked with apprehending those who insult the dignity of the royal family. If anyone speaks out of turn again, don’t blame me for disregarding familial ties!”

His words were harsh, leaving Song Bo red-faced and sputtering a single angry syllable. But before he could finish, the eldest brother, Song Dan, sitting calmly in the main seat, interrupted with a steady voice.

“…Ziqiu.”

Song Dan spoke abruptly, his tone weary and subdued. Song Mingzhen looked up, meeting his father’s gaze for the first time in ages, unsure whether he felt more concern or resentment toward him.

“Overreacting will only harm us. Your uncle and I ultimately wish for both you and your sister to fare well…”

He continued speaking, his aging evident in both demeanor and posture.

“She listens to you, so you must guide her—court politics are perilous, especially for a woman like her. She can’t afford to give anyone leverage against her. Otherwise, no one will be able to save her.”

He stopped there, implying the growing estrangement between himself and his two children.

“As for others,” his tone suddenly hardened, his sharp gaze sweeping across the hall, “you must keep your mouths shut about the past between the Empress Dowager and the Marquis.”

“If not…you will pay with your lives.”

The word “death” rang out like a blade slicing through metal, sending shockwaves through the listeners. No one dared dismiss his warning as exaggeration. There were already cracks in the relationship between the current Empress Dowager and the Marquis, but outsiders remained unaware because no one knew of their shared history. This secret had been concealed from the late emperor for seven years. Now, they couldn’t afford carelessness.

Song Shuqian, huddled beside her mother, felt particularly uneasy, sensing her father’s gaze lingered on her longer than usual. Lost in thought, she watched her half-brother Song Mingzhen storm off, his unruly behavior infuriating their uncle.

“Big Brother, look at the fine pair of children you’ve raised—”

The annoying clamor drifted into Song Mingzhen’s ears as he walked further away, carried by the night breeze.

“You continue indulging them—now it’s not just the new policies, but the entire Song family that will be ruined by her—”

“We misjudged her—she never should have been sent to the palace in the first place—”

…How laughable.

Hadn’t she resisted being pushed into that dark, bottomless abyss? They never listened to a word she said back then, yet now they arrogantly demanded she conform to their wishes.

He hated and resented for her, wishing to voice her grievances endlessly and retaliate against the devouring family. But in the end, even he had to admit they were right about one thing—

…You can’t go on like this anymore.

Shuyan, even the last person willing to ignore their own needs to stand by you in loneliness has walked steadily farther away tonight…you too, cannot continue like this.