FYM - 122

Early the next morning, a drizzling rain fell incessantly. The late spring of Jiangnan was always so unpredictable, shifting between sunshine and gloom.

Song Shuyan feigned illness and skipped court for the day. As soon as dawn broke, she dismissed the palace maids to open all the windows in the hall. Without applying makeup or adorning herself with jewelry, she sat by the window, her unadorned face and loose hair framing her as she gazed out at the continuous curtain of rain. The damp air spread thickly around her, and the heavy, overcast sky pressed down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.

Xiu Xi waited cautiously nearby. A short while later, she noticed Zhao Hua entering the inner chamber, holding a stack of memorials. Xiu Xi subtly shook her head at her, silently conveying that Her Majesty was in no mood to review these documents. Yet Zhao Hua, despite her hesitant expression, still mustered the courage to approach. Bowing low beside Song Shuyan, she called out softly: “Your Majesty…”

Song Shuyan remained lost in thought, her vacant gaze drifting aimlessly. Zhao Hua pursed her lips and, steeling herself, continued hesitantly: “These are the memorials just delivered from the Chancellery. Lord Marquis specifically instructed that Your Majesty review them as soon as possible…”

…”Lord Marquis.”

Those two words carried a certain weight, and every time they were mentioned, they seemed to evoke a different response. In the past, they had always filled her with hope, but now they only deepened the shadow in her eyes. At that moment, she simply uttered two words in a monotone voice: “Withdraw.”

…Meaning she had no intention of reading them.

Zhao Hua’s eyelids twitched involuntarily, and her palms instantly broke into a sweat. Though she knew she had incurred Her Majesty’s displeasure, recalling the earnest reminders from the officials of the Chancellery just moments ago, she reluctantly spoke again: “They’re pressing urgently. This servant fears any delay might jeopardize military and state affairs… Please forgive me, Your Majesty.”

Military and state affairs…

Song Shuyan’s eyelashes trembled faintly, and her previously scattered thoughts sharpened abruptly. Perhaps there had been new developments in the Youzhou campaign, or perhaps conflict had erupted once more in the Longyou region. How wretched she was—she despised being trapped within the confines of the palace, yet at the slightest hint of trouble, she couldn’t help but worry. Zhao Hua, ever perceptive, saw the slight relaxation in Her Majesty’s expression and quickly leaned forward to hand her the topmost document from the stack. Song Shuyan’s slightly numb hands felt an unexpected heaviness, as though what she held wasn’t a light stack of paper but rather a pile of stones weighing a hundred catties.

“Your humble servant Hong has guarded Guangfu diligently for six years. When the late emperor passed, I did not receive a summons to mourn. Now…”

The lengthy text wound its way through countless pages, totaling over a dozen sheets. However, it wasn’t a military report from Jiangbei; instead, it was a memorial submitted by Shi Hong, the military governor of Lingnan.

The opening lavished extensive effort on mourning the late emperor and paying respects to the young sovereign, followed by grand praise for Her Majesty’s extraordinary leadership under the regency. Subsequent pages detailed the hardships and difficulties of repeated battles with southern tribes in Guangfu in recent years. Finally, the tone shifted to the main issue: fully aware of the prolonged warfare draining the nation and the difficulty of providing sufficient funding for multiple key strongholds, he implored Her Majesty and His Majesty to permit each military governor to independently raise their own provisions to alleviate the burden on the state.

“Independently raise provisions”…

Song Shuyan’s gaze suddenly grew sharper.

After the Zhong clan openly supported the rebellion of the usurper king, only seven of the ten military governors remained. Shi Hong governed the five prefectures of Lingnan, commanding twenty-eight thousand troops stationed in Guangfu, forming the primary defensive barrier against minority groups within Zhou territory. Since the Taiqing era, the national treasury had been depleted, and allocating annual military funds to the various governors had become a persistent headache for the Ministry of Revenue. Year after year, they scrambled to patch holes, devising every possible scheme but still struggling to meet the required amounts. Left with no choice, they resorted to cutting corners here and there, barely scraping by. But this situation couldn’t continue indefinitely. The frontier commands also faced difficulties—insufficient funding meant delaying upgrades to weapons and horses. It was said that even the spears stored in the armories of the Shuofang army dated back to the Linghe era, their wooden shafts riddled with wormholes, crumbling into splinters at the slightest touch.

Song Shuyan understood their hardships. The current reforms were precisely aimed at replenishing the treasury to meet military needs. However, increasing resources was not an overnight task. Xu Zongyao and his team had been dispatched to the provinces and counties, and it would take at least a year or two before tangible results could be seen. Money didn’t materialize out of thin air—it required patience and careful management.

Allowing the military governors to independently raise provisions was indeed a solution. On one hand, it significantly reduced the financial pressure on the central government. On the other hand, it promptly addressed shortages in supplies for key strongholds, ensuring border security. However…

Song Shuyan narrowed her eyes slightly, tossing aside Shi Hong’s memorial and taking another from Zhao Hua. Upon glancing at it, she realized it was from Du Zehun, the military governor of Jiannan. To her surprise, the request was identical to Shi Hong’s—”a coincidence without prior consultation.”

This…

Her expression grew colder, and a faint unease flickered across her heart. Her body, already exhausted from a sleepless night, felt stiff and weary, yet she straightened slightly and commanded those around her in a subdued tone: “Prepare my bath and attire.”

“…Summon the Five Regents to Fengyang Hall for deliberation.”

By the end of the third watch, eunuchs had already announced the cancellation of court sessions for the day. Officials whose residences were close to the imperial city had returned home to catch up on rest. However, just as Yinping Prince Wei Bi stepped through his door, he was summoned back to the palace for a meeting. Flustered and irritated, he arrived to find Fang Xianting already calmly waiting in front of Fengyang Hall, as if he had anticipated the summons from the Song family matriarch.

Wang Mu personally awaited the arrival of the Five Regents in front of Fengyang Hall. Once they had gathered, he bowed and ushered them inside. The young sovereign was absent; today, only the Empress Dowager sat behind the imperial desk. Despite her carefully applied makeup, her face still betrayed a hint of pallor. At one point, Fang Xianting cast a fleeting glance in her direction, but she appeared oblivious, offering no response.

“Your humble servants pay our respects to Your Majesty—”

The five ministers knelt before her. She acknowledged them with a faint sound, inviting them to rise. The next moment, she unexpectedly turned to Fan Yucheng and asked directly: “Minister Fan, what day is it today?”

Fan Yucheng, standing below, hadn’t expected to be singled out so abruptly. Surprised and somewhat uneasy—he wasn’t afraid of the Song woman, but times had changed, and he was now on her turf. He needed to tread carefully in front of Song Dan.

“Your Majesty,” he clasped his hands respectfully, “today is…the third day of the fourth month.”

“Is that so?” Song Shuyan’s expression remained impassive as she countered slowly, her words leaving everyone puzzled. “If the memorial from Shi Hong arrived at the Chancellery five days ago, why was it only presented to me today?”

…It was an accusation.

Fan Yucheng’s eyebrows twitched imperceptibly. He thought how sitting behind the screen for too long could make even a mere woman arrogant and domineering. Dissatisfied but cautious, he glanced at Fang Xianting beside him and replied humbly: “This old servant would never dare delay matters concerning the military governors. Indeed, as soon as the memorial arrived, I intended to present it to Your Majesty’s review. However, Lord Marquis said…”

He left the sentence unfinished, but the implication of shifting blame was unmistakable. Song Shuyan’s brows furrowed as her gaze finally landed on Fang Xianting. The tenderness she had once struggled to suppress in her eyes toward him had vanished completely today, replaced by an icy coldness. She simply said: “Oh?”

Everyone’s attention naturally shifted to Yingchuan Marquis Fang Xianting. After a brief silence, Fang Xianting hesitated, his gaze lingering on Song Shuyan before he answered: “I did handle this matter—several days ago, Your Majesty was preoccupied with overseeing the imperial examinations. I…”

“How dare you!”

A sharp rebuke rang out, startling the palace attendants. In today’s world, who else but the Empress Dowager would dare interrupt the Marquis? And…in such harsh, unforgiving tones.

“I have been entrusted by the late emperor to oversee the administration of the court. When and how I conduct affairs is none of your business as ministers! The Marquis suppresses the memorials of regional commanders at will. Will you overthrow me and His Majesty the next time we disagree?”

“Kneel!”

Her severe interrogation ended with an accusation tantamount to treason. Even during the incident when Yinping Prince Wei Bi forced his way into the palace, he had not been so harshly reprimanded, let alone publicly humiliated by being forced to kneel. Who was Yingchuan Marquis? The master of the Fang clan and a pillar of the nation! Even the late emperor showed him deference! For years, the special privilege of “not having to bow upon entering the court” had been granted, and yet now, the Empress Dowager…

The palace attendants stood frozen in fear. Chen Meng adopted an indifferent stance, while Fan Yucheng exchanged a shocked glance with Wei Bi. Among them all, Song Dan frowned most deeply—he understood clearly. While it was indeed improper for the Marquis to delay presenting the memorial, it hardly warranted such extreme anger from Her Majesty. Clearly, she was…

Just as Song Dan was about to interject, Fang Xianting suddenly lifted his robe and knelt down. His newly tailored official robes were pristine, no longer bearing the tattered appearance from yesterday, when she had slashed them with her sword. Gasps rippled through the crowd, but Song Shuyan’s complexion turned even paler. Perhaps his submission was the last thing she wanted. What she desired was never the rigid observance of formalities between ruler and subject, but rather…

“The military governors of Lingnan, Shi Hong, and Jiannan, Du Zehun, have petitioned to independently raise provisions…”

She continued the discussion with the Five Regents as if calm, masking her nearly uncontrollable emotions with a hurried transition.

“…What do my esteemed ministers think?”

Fan Yucheng had learned of this several days ago but hadn’t had the chance to inform Wei Bi due to his focus on the results of the imperial examinations. Objectively speaking, he believed this proposal wasn’t entirely unreasonable. With the treasury depleted and unable to sustain ongoing campaigns, including the war in Youzhou, continuing like this might force the court to confiscate the assets of a few ministers under the pretext of “purging corrupt officials.” That could lead to far greater complications…

“It is absolutely unacceptable.”

Amid silent contemplation, Fang Xianting suddenly spoke up. Kneeling tall and solemn, he bore no trace of resentment or anger despite the public admonishment. His tone was unusually grave, his expression even more serious than usual.

“Our frontier commands are tasked with defense and must obey imperial orders to protect the capital. However, most border regions are remote and difficult for the central government to manage closely. If financial authority is added to military power, how can we ensure the loyalty of the military governors and their compliance with the emperor’s decrees?”

“Our dynasty…must not produce another Zhong He.”

His words were brief but piercing, especially the mention of “Zhong He,” which sent shivers down everyone’s spines. Where had the roots of today’s chaos originated? Wasn’t it when the Zhong clan of Longyou, favored by Emperor Ruizong, carved out their own domain? The three western strongholds knew only of the Zhong name and ignored imperial decrees, gradually accumulating into a major threat. If, for temporary convenience, several military governors were allowed to grow unchecked, it would spell doom for the nation sooner rather than later.

In truth, Fang Xianting had only spoken half of what he truly feared. Lurking beneath the surface was an even more terrifying concern—the Lingnan and Jiannan strongholds were far apart, and Shi Hong and Du Zehun weren’t known to have close ties. Why, then, had their petitions to independently raise provisions arrived in Jinling simultaneously? Had they coordinated secretly? What about the five northern strongholds? Would they soon join forces as well?

An eerie silence enveloped Fengyang Hall. Cold sweat trickled down everyone’s backs. In these turbulent times, people’s hearts were easily unsettled. These frontier commanders, stationed far from the capital, were evidently growing restless. Song Shuyan seemed utterly exhausted. Her fractured nation was riddled with gaping holes she had strained every nerve to fill, yet unforeseen troubles kept piling up, cornering her until she had nowhere left to turn.

“All of you may withdraw…”

She closed her eyes and waved her hand dismissively. A sudden, intense headache drained the color from her lips.

“Give me…some time to think this over.”