FYM - 132

And so, they waited—until Fang Xianting’s return to the capital in the ninth month.

By then, the battle in Youzhou had concluded. Du Luo had surrendered and sent envoys to Jiangnan to negotiate peace. His son, Bi Hunu, arrived in Jinling as a hostage. The negotiations, overseen by Jiang Chao, ended without increasing annual tributes or ceding territory—a significant victory since the southern migration of the court, greatly boosting morale and public confidence.

The Yingchuan Army had no time to rest. Fresh from their recent triumph, they quickly returned to Jinling to stabilize the southern capital. The previously aggressive Luoyang faction was subdued by this move, and the Lou brothers managed to safeguard the safety of Taicheng. However, what awaited the Fang clan remained uncertain. Fang Xing reported that the officials at court had grown deeply dissatisfied with Jinling’s prolonged curfew. Rumors circulated that Lord Fang had suppressed the southern territories without the imperial family’s approval, branding his actions as overreach and arrogance.

For centuries, the Fang clan of Yingchuan had maintained an impeccable reputation, never tainted by scandal. These accusations were like a drop of ink on pristine white paper—though not immediately visible, they left an indelible stain, unsettling and troubling. Fang Yongchong, the eldest son, was consumed with worry, unsure how Yi Zhi would handle the inevitable barrage of criticism upon his return to court. On the eve of entering Jinling, he finally cornered his younger brother and shared a night of conversation outside the encampment, bringing along a flask of wine.

There was a river nearby.

In the fertile lands of Jiangnan, where grass grew lush and the terrain gentle, even the deep autumn of the ninth month carried only a faint chill. Sitting atop a modest hill overlooking the tranquil flow of water, one might momentarily forget the turmoil of the world and imagine it still a time of peace.

“Freshly seized from Zi Xing. He claims it’s palatable,” Fang Yongchong passed the flask to his younger brother. “Give it a try.”

The brothers, raised amidst soldiers, drank like water and rarely observed restraint. Yet that night, Fang Xianting declined, simply saying: “Enough. I must enter the palace tomorrow.”

He had killed countless men in the south, his demeanor growing increasingly fierce over the past months. But now, at the mention of “entering the palace,” his expression softened slightly, exuding a rare tranquility.

Fang Yongchong’s heart stirred. The words he wished to say found their opening, but he hesitated to confront the matter directly. Instead, he approached cautiously: “You’re right to return early. The two southern prefectures cannot remain leaderless for long. Have you decided who will assume the role of military governor? Jiang Chao?”

Having just achieved great success in Youzhou, promoting him would command respect.

But Fang Xianting shook his head, indicating he already had someone in mind. After a moment, his gaze returned to his elder brother. “The court is in dire need of capable hands. It’s not unreasonable to entrust both southern prefectures to one person. If you are willing to bear the burden, I can petition the Empress Dowager tomorrow.”

This meant appointing another dual-prefecture military governor.

Indeed, he had few suitable candidates left. Though the Lou brothers were exceptionally talented, the stain of defeat at Shangxiao Valley still lingered, and promoting either Lou Feng or Lou Wei to the southern territories could incite public resentment. As for the newly appointed martial scholars from this year’s imperial examinations, their experience was too shallow to hold such critical positions.

Fang Yongchong was undoubtedly the most qualified candidate, willing to endure hardship for the sake of the nation. However…

“Have you considered how the court will react?”

Fang Yongchong’s brows furrowed deeply.

“Your actions against Shi Hong and Du Zehun have already caused an uproar. The curfew in Jinling remains in effect, and Wei Bi harbors deep resentment toward you. If they learn you’ve appointed a member of our clan as the dual-prefecture governor… what will they say?”

—What would they say?

Even before the orders were issued, whispers of “usurping power” and “defying the sovereign” had spread. If the Fang clan were seen consolidating control over the two southern prefectures, accusations of “self-serving ambition” and “seizing power through force” would inevitably follow. Public opinion was a tide impossible to stem… and he would be unable to clear his name.

“This is not your concern,” Fang Xianting replied swiftly, his expression unchanged. “I will handle matters at court.”

…It seemed he had long anticipated all of this.

“Yi Zhi…”

Fang Yongchong sighed deeply.

“To achieve great things, one may overlook minor details, but this concerns the reputation of both you and our clan. We must tread carefully.”

“The ambitions of Shi and Du were real, and taking military action against them was justified. The sole issue lies in the lack of proper authority—you could have acted under the decree of the Empress Dowager and the emperor, rather than making decisions unilaterally regarding high-ranking officials.”

“A weak ruler and a powerful minister… history and the world will not tolerate you.”

The river flowed gently, its serenity deceptive in the current lull of warfare. The blood-soaked paths carved by humanity often end in judgment from those clad in fine robes, dismissed as stains unworthy of remembrance.

“There is still room for redemption…”

Every word from the elder brother was earnest and heartfelt.

“Our clan could claim we acted under a secret decree from the Empress Dowager to execute traitors. This would legitimize everything, leaving even the Luoyang faction powerless to openly oppose the imperial will. Moreover, with our clan now stationed in Jinling, they won’t have another chance to endanger the throne. Yi Zhi… this is the safest course.”

…”Safest”?

The notion of “safety” had always been a farce, merely a guise for those sacrificed to remain unnoticed. How intricate were the machinations behind this suppression? The ambitions of Shi and Du were but the tip of the iceberg. The eyes of five northern prefectures and four military governors watched the south closely. Any sign of weakness from the court would invite a frenzy of rebellion, leading inevitably to the collapse of the realm.

Blame her? That woman crowned as “Empress Dowager,” possessing nothing of her own?

The regional governors held military power. If they rebelled under the pretext of opposing the unjust execution of Shi and Du, their first move would be to depose her, citing the chaos brought by a woman ruling from behind the curtain. What awaited her then? A poisoned cup, a silken rope? History seldom granted mercy to women thrust into positions of power.

But he was different.

As the head of the Five Regents and the patriarch of the Fang clan, his authority allowed him to contend with them. Even if worst came to worst, the accumulated goodwill and support of generations could grant him a fighting chance—something the weakened imperial family lacked, let alone a fragile woman of foreign lineage.

…And then there was the Luoyang faction.

The new policies promised lasting benefits, yet their implementation faced constant obstacles. She desperately needed the Luoyang faction’s support to counter her maternal clan. If Wei Bi believed she had ordered the Lou brothers to storm his mansion, how could he ever ally with her again? Already walking a tightrope… how could he push her further into peril?

“The world knows the Fang clan wields great power. If I had refused to pacify the south, this affair would not have proceeded,” he calmly explained the rationale while burying deeper considerations within himself. “Shifting blame to the imperial family is merely self-deception. The officials wouldn’t believe it, so why implicate others unnecessarily?”

“Others.”

He never mentioned the woman in Fuqing Hall, yet every thought, every plan revolved around her. Even the untarnished reputation the Fang ancestors had defended with blood and lives… was now cast aside without hesitation.

“Yi Zhi!”

Fang Yongchong could no longer suppress his anxiety. Speaking openly to his younger brother, his voice rose involuntarily.

“I know you harbor lingering affection for her, always seeking to protect her. But this matter carries immense repercussions—it cannot be decided impulsively! By shielding her, what becomes of yourself? Will you shoulder the stigma of a domineering minister, forever mocked by those at court?”

“And what of the Fang clan? Father always said we are ministers! We cannot make decisions on behalf of the sovereign! How much more criticism and pressure can our clan endure? A dike a thousand miles long collapses from an ant’s hole; a house a hundred feet tall burns from a crack’s smoke!”

…Each question struck like a bell toll.

—And did Fang Xianting not understand these truths?

The southern affair was a gamble. He wagered his supreme authority that the court officials would not dare to oppose him, and he staked the Fang clan’s pristine reputation on the hope that the people would forgive him this transgression. If he won, the nation might limp on through the storms. If he lost, it would crumble irreparably. At times, he felt a flicker of doubt—had they chosen the wrong path to save the country, or was the nation truly beyond salvation? Now, he stood once more in the same dead-end, each choice equally flawed, differing only in the degree of error.

“So what is the right choice?”

His counter-question was calm, far quieter than his brother’s. The long years of suffering had eroded all traces of indignation within him. Perhaps he had finally grasped the meaning of his father’s final words: “A man of virtue does not resent being misunderstood.”

“Would you have me push her to her death?”

“If she dies, the Luoyang faction will elevate Consort Dong, and thereafter, Jinling’s influence will wane while Wei Bi and Fan Yucheng dominate. Do you think the nation would fare better then?”

“She is but a woman…”

After the grand rhetoric, his voice softened, revealing hidden sincerity. Perhaps their bond transcended fleeting passion—it was a silent understanding that endured across vast distances.

“Why has no one ever said… that she is innocent?”

Some questions could not be asked. To ask them was to fall silent, to confront one’s own baseness and cowardice. Fang Yongchong suddenly found himself speechless, realizing in that moment the truth buried within his heart—he had intended to sacrifice a defenseless woman to shield their illustrious clan from calamity.

For an instant, shame flooded his face, his eyes betraying panic and regret. The quiet hilltop remained silent, save for the indifferent flow of the unnamed river below. It neither knew nor cared how many lives were born or ended each day, nor the blood and tears shed for those fates.

“Tomorrow, when I enter the palace to pay respects, I will confess my crimes to the Empress Dowager and the emperor.”

After an indeterminate span of silence, Fang Xianting finally spoke. All traces of ferocity had faded; his voice was especially serene when speaking of her.

“If our clan faces changes afterward, I leave it to you and Uncle to bear the burden.”

His tone was as light as a night breeze brushing over withered grass. Even the autumn hues of Jiangnan carried a hint of desolation. His solitude was profound and heavy, a silence no one else could endure for a decade as he had.

“…Very well.”

Fang Yongchong nodded eventually, unsure whether he had been persuaded by reason or moved solely by sentiment.