FYM - 126

That evening, Yinping Prince Wei Bi indeed hosted a banquet for Shi Hong and Du Zehun.

He made no attempt to conceal it; the Wang Mansion was ablaze with lights, and music and revelry filled the air. Many officials from the Luoyang faction, who had previously adopted a wait-and-see attitude and refrained from showing favor to the two military governors, now drank freely alongside them without hesitation.

The news of the banquet reached Fuqing Hall through Wei Bi’s household. That night, Song Shuyan did not sleep at all. She knew better than anyone how much of her earlier performance in Fengyang Hall had been bluster. She was also acutely aware of the precarious situation in the south. The prefectures of Lingnan and Jiannan were merely the beginning. If she failed to quash this spark in time, the remaining five prefectures would quickly follow suit, demanding financial autonomy from the court. At that point, the calamity of division and separatism would inevitably descend upon the empire.

…But she was already stretched thin.

Xu Zongyao and Li Fu’s efforts to survey landholdings and register households in local prefectures and counties were proceeding with great difficulty. In Jiangnan, power structures were deeply entrenched, with layers of obfuscation and mutual protection among officials. Even a few small hills could yield a thick ledger of murky accounts. Some local gentry openly resisted the inspectors, even assaulting one of the land surveyors so severely that he was left critically injured.

She understood that these powerful families dared to act so brazenly only because they had backing—likely from her maternal Song clan. Relying solely on Xu Zongyao and other junior officials would never suffice. Ultimately, military force might be necessary—but what resources did she truly have? The only person who had ever unreservedly shielded her from storms was none other than him . Yet his burdens were already immense. How could she possibly ask him to shoulder not only the ongoing military campaigns but also the messes of dealing with the military governors and implementing the new policies?

He was alone.

And she… had nothing to offer.

An overwhelming wave of exhaustion suddenly crashed over her. Beyond the palace walls, the vast expanse of the night sky was pitch-black, devoid of even a single star. The young Empress Dowager’s face was beautiful yet utterly lifeless. Only her weary gaze seemed capable of reaching beyond the towering palace walls.

There… lay the Marquis of Yingchuan’s residence, which she had never seen with her own eyes.

________________________________________

In the same night, Fang Xianting too found himself alone.

The lively banquet and music from Yinping Prince’s mansion carried far enough to be heard several streets away. By contrast, the Marquis’ residence was eerily silent, almost desolate. He was well aware of why Wei Bi had orchestrated such a display tonight. It was a reminder for him to make a decision—to ally with Wei Bi. Otherwise, Wei Bi might grow closer to Shi Hong and Du Zehun, bringing the southern territories under his control instead.

“If you see things so clearly, why do you still hesitate?”

The Fang family’s newly constructed residence in Jinling closely mirrored their old estate in Chang’an—a clever touch by those who handled the construction, though whether it brought comfort or sorrow to its occupants was another matter entirely. In the rear garden stood a stone pavilion strikingly similar to the one where his father had taken his own life that fateful night. Now, Fang Xianting sat there alone, half-hearing the faint hiss of a warming wine stove. Turning his head slightly, he saw his father seated beside him, sternly questioning him as always.

“You…”

Before he could respond, a familiar voice interrupted. Looking up, he saw his mother approach from the other side of the pavilion, settling beside his father with a vividly reproachful expression.

“Didn’t you just say you regretted being harsh to him in the past? And here you are, falling back into old habits…”

As she spoke, she reached to pour tea for his father. The wine stove on the stone table vanished, replaced by a delicate fragrance of tea.

“No more drinking—your wounds haven’t healed yet,” she scolded, her tone firm. After a moment, perhaps recalling his father’s solitary drinking and poisoning episode, her eyes welled with tears.

“…Never again.”

His father, as always, was powerless against her, especially when she was on the verge of tears. With a sigh, he gently pulled her close, murmuring soothingly: “I won’t drink anymore—I’ll do as you say…”

Her response suggested satisfaction, but she continued to feign weeping behind her sleeve—a tactic she often used, though no real tears fell. After a while, she playfully pouted: “And you’re not allowed to pressure Yi Zhi anymore—he’s exhausted. Let him catch his breath…”

This gambit proved less effective. His father’s gaze returned to him, his voice unusually profound: “That’s precisely why he needs support. Water has no fixed shape, and people have no constant state. Wei Bi won’t always be your enemy. Right now, you need him.”

“But what about Shuyan?”

His mother grew anxious, beginning to argue with his father.

“You haven’t seen that child—I have. She’s wonderful, truly wonderful. Cultured, rational, and serene—perfectly suited for Yi Zhi. I even personally visited her maternal home to propose the marriage, promising the full three letters and six rites…”

“And Yi Zhi adores her so much… You should see how he is when they’re together…”

“So what?”

His father’s expression darkened, interrupting her—an exceedingly rare occurrence. His stern gaze remained fixed on Fang Xianting, for his anger and disappointment were always directed solely at himself.

“For the sake of protecting her alone, will you abandon everything else?”

“Without the support of the Luoyang faction, how will you pacify the south? Will you raise an army? Wage war? Shi Hong and Du Zehun are just the beginning! What will you do if all the frontier commands rise up in rebellion? What of the new policies and the campaigns in Zhongyuan? How will you answer to the world?”

“Fang Yizhi, you are the regent entrusted by the late emperor! You are the master of the Fang clan! You have never been just yourself!”

“Do you not understand the cruelty of war? Or have you forgotten how you survived eight years ago?”

The sudden barrage of questions thundered in his ears. Once again, the smoke and sand of Shangxiao Valley clouded his vision. He walked amidst countless corpses and nameless graves scattered across the wilderness, finally feeling a pair of blood-soaked hands grip him tightly, their owner shouting madly: “Fang Yizhi—you must live—you must live—”

“It’s just a marriage arrangement…”

His father’s gaze grew even darker, as if he too saw the same scenes.

“It can prevent war and save countless lives… Don’t you understand what’s at stake?”

“And even if you refuse, what then? She is already the late emperor’s empress dowager, the mother of the current emperor. Nothing can change that… Your sister has already betrayed the late emperor once… Are you willing to disregard propriety and betray him as well?”

The relentless questioning left him speechless. A single word could weigh a thousand catties, threatening to crush his throat. Just as it felt unbearable, a frail hand gently rested on his shoulder. Turning silently, he saw his gaunt sister standing beside him, tears streaming down her face.

“Yi Zhi… I was wrong…”

Her desperate tears fell onto his cheek.

“But I… couldn’t afford to be wrong…”

Everything felt achingly familiar. The gold and jade lock, meticulously crafted, fit perfectly as always. For a moment, he felt a cold sensation in his palm, as if his mother had taken his hand. She too was crying, seemingly helpless, weeping for him.

“I told you long ago that you were destined to endure hardship…”

His father’s sigh carried a note of sorrow, reminiscent of their parting ten years ago in the snowy night.

“Don’t look back, and don’t seek help from others…”

“Just remember to keep moving forward…”

“…Always move forward.”

—”Move forward?”

He suddenly felt lost. Where exactly was this “forward”? Perhaps he simply didn’t remember where he had come from. A decade-long dream had abruptly shattered. In truth, he had been broken and battered long before.

“I…”

Finally, he spoke, his voice tinged with an imperceptible hoarseness. But after the first word, he faltered, unsure how to continue. Perhaps only then did he realize that even the word “I” was wrong. He wasn’t supposed to have an “I.” From the moment the characters “Xian” (獻) and “Yi” (贻) were inscribed in his name, it was predetermined that he never would. No matter how illustrious his achievements, they would pale in comparison to the weight of those two characters. Conversely, even the slightest selfish stain could leave him feeling unworthy and ashamed.

As if to punish him, the apparitions of his parents and sister vanished from sight. The stone pavilion had been empty all along. He had always known this, yet seeing the vacant seat opposite him still tore open an endless void in his heart.

“Master…”

A low call came from behind him, dispelling the lingering remnants of his dream. It took him a few moments to turn around, his eyes still rippling with unresolved turmoil. The attendant in the Marquis’ residence dared not meet his gaze, bowing deeply instead.

“Your humble servant reports, Master—the Princess of Yong’an requests an audience.”