FYM - 138

In the following month, the Zhou court was truly a cauldron of intrigue, with hidden currents surging beneath the surface.

The imprisonment of Marquis Yingchuan and the Empress Dowager’s subsequent seizure of his 80,000-strong Shenlue Army was akin to brazenly reaching into another’s pocket to take what she wanted, inciting significant discontent within the Fang clan. Minister of War Fang Xing led a group of colleagues in a prolonged kneeling protest outside Fuqing Hall, pleading for the Empress Dowager to rescind her decision. Cornered, she could neither submit to the Fang clan’s pressure and lose face nor disregard their influence and push forward recklessly. In the end, she compromised by transferring the military authority to Jiang Chao, who had recently distinguished himself in Youzhou, and established a separate “Qianji Office” outside the Three Departments to oversee confidential military affairs. Only then did she manage to placate the Fang clan members.

Having been pushed into a corner, she vented her frustration on Marquis Yingchuan, actually pursuing the remaining forty blows decreed earlier in court. She sent men to the Censorate Prison to carry out the punishment, reportedly leaving Lord Fang severely injured, unconscious for three to five days before regaining consciousness.

The relationship between the imperial family and the Fang clan became subtly strained after this incident. While Marquis Yingchuan’s campaign to pacify the southern territories was indeed for the sake of the nation, the arbitrary act of locking down the entire Jinling capital for months without consultation was hard to justify. No ruler could tolerate such a powerful figure at their side, and suspicions that had quietly taken root would be difficult to uproot.

“But Lord Fang ultimately acted for the sake of the state…”

Young Emperor Wei Xi furrowed his brows slightly as he discussed current affairs with Grand Tutor Chen Meng during a break from his studies.

“Shi Hong and Du Zexun clearly harbored ill intentions, aspiring to be the next Zhong He. Much of the Luoyang faction’s clamor now is driven by personal grievances against the Fang clan. The Empress Dowager’s harsh treatment of Lord Fang… in my opinion, seems excessive.”

As the young emperor grew older, his concern for state affairs deepened. Grand Tutor Chen Meng was pleased, stroking his beard faintly as he sat in the master’s chair, his expression carrying deep implications. He countered with a question: “Then, Your Majesty, how do you believe this matter should be handled?”

“It should naturally be resolved by minimizing major issues and trivializing minor ones,” Wei Xi replied quickly. “Merit and fault should offset each other—no reward, no punishment. If punishment is necessary, the twenty strokes already administered should suffice. The Shenlue Army’s command should not have been seized, lest it dishearten loyal subjects. Who would dare risk everything for the nation in the future?”

His words were righteous and resolute, yet they only deepened the amused glint in Chen Meng’s eyes, as though he had heard something childishly naive.

“But Lord Fang did act without an edict this time,” he sighed, reminding the young emperor. “Weapons are ominous tools; how can they be wielded without the sovereign’s command? If this time he hadn’t marched south but instead led troops to attack Taicheng, how would Your Majesty respond?”

Wei Xi was stunned, having never considered such a possibility. His gaze turned astonished as he asked, “Does Grand Tutor also believe, like the Luoyang faction, that Lord Fang harbors ambitions of usurpation? The Fang clan of Yingchuan has always been loyal, without a single traitorous or rebellious member!”

“Old servant does not mean to imply such…”

Chen Meng replied unhurriedly, though his tone grew slightly heavier.

“Human hearts differ as much as faces. As the Son of Heaven, careful deliberation and deep strategizing are always prudent.”

“Perhaps the Fang clan is indeed selflessly devoted and pure in intent, but Your Majesty’s governance of your ministers should rely on the wisdom of balancing forces, not blind trust in any one individual.”

“Our dynasty’s situation is precarious… No one can afford to make even the slightest mistake.”

These words carried profound meaning. Wei Xi understood them only partially, vaguely sensing a subtle shift in the Grand Tutor’s recent attitude toward Lord Fang. Chen Meng had always been impartial and upright, free of factionalism in court. After overseeing the selection of officials, his reputation soared among the literati, who revered him as a teacher and praised his integrity. His prestige was gradually surpassing that of the Song brothers. Had he spoken up for Lord Fang during this crisis, public opinion might have shifted accordingly. Yet he remained a passive observer, allowing the situation to spiral into its current irreconcilable state.

“I understand…”

Wei Xi spoke insincerely, feeling increasingly overwhelmed by the complexities of governance.

Compared to the young emperor’s troubles, which had someone to cushion the blow, the gloom within Prince Yinping’s mansion was far harder to dispel.

Since the Lou brothers’ troops stormed his residence in April, Wei Bi had felt like the laughingstock of Jinling. Every outing felt like walking on pins and needles, a burning resentment growing within him. Fortunately, Fang Xianting’s recent punishment, imprisonment, and loss of the Shenlue Army’s command somewhat compensated for the humiliations suffered by the Yinping Wangfu since last year, giving him a fleeting sense of vindication.

Speaking of humiliation… his youngest daughter had offered her heart to marry into the Marquis Yingchuan’s household. Unbeknownst to her, the Fangs had arrogantly rejected the proposal, choosing instead to wage war in the south despite public outrage. Poor Lan, upon hearing the devastating news in early April, was struck as if by lightning. For months afterward, she secluded herself in her room, refusing to see anyone to this day.

This was truly…

He was heartbroken, and his resentment toward the Fang clan reached unprecedented heights. His eldest son, Wei Lin, aware of his father’s thoughts, asked one day, “Father, if you feel so aggrieved, why… not send a reply to Chang’an?”

“Chang’an…”

The uproar caused by Fang Xianting’s iron-fisted pacification of the south had not gone unnoticed by the false court in the north. Zhong He, ever the opportunist, upon hearing of the turmoil in Jinling, secretly sent a letter inviting Wei Bi to collaborate covertly and serve Chang’an’s interests.

His words were honeyed, carefully avoiding mention of their past rivalry during the succession struggle. Instead, he nostalgically recalled their shared service under Emperor Ruizong, painting a picture of harmonious governance. A few pages later, his true intentions emerged as he sowed discord, lamenting how the late Duke had once respected the Yinping Wangfu, whereas the young Fang heir treated them with disdain, provoking sympathy from any observer.

“That Zhong He is indeed a despicable traitor, but some of his words ring true!”

Wei Lin’s voice brimmed with indignation, his hatred barely concealed.

“Fang Yizhi is too arrogant! He has never regarded Father with respect, and now he even dares to dictate terms to the imperial family!”

“What exactly constitutes a ‘rebel’? Arbitrary execution of high-ranking officials? Unauthorized mobilization of troops? Blockading Jinling? —Is it simply because he bears the Fang name that every transgression is forgiven?”

“How long does Father intend to endure him? In my view, we should accept Zhong He’s offer and overturn the southern order! Let the Fangs, the Songs, and all under heaven see clearly—who truly sustains the Zhou dynasty’s peace!”

Though these accusations were impulsive, they were not entirely without merit. Indeed, what defines a “rebel”? Any of Fang Xianting’s actions, if committed by another, would have been met with immediate execution orders and universal condemnation. Yet because he bore the Fang name, because his family was immortalized in history alongside the nation, he received clemency, acting with impunity.

…Is this fair?

Wei Bi harbored deep resentment, his shame and anger far exceeding his son’s. But he thought more deeply, harboring more concerns. Chang’an had allied with foreign tribes, and the Turkic invasions had repeatedly massacred Han civilians. Collaborating with them would invite universal scorn and subjugation to the Turkic court. Unless cornered, he was reluctant to take such a perilous gamble. Moreover, the Empress Dowager seemed to have fallen out with the Fangs, likely seeking to balance power in court. Seizing the Shenlue Army’s command was only the first step; the Yinping Wangfu might still find opportunities to profit in Jinling, where their prospects were brighter than in Chang’an.

“My son, calm yourself. I understand the injustices you’ve endured…”

Wei Bi sighed heavily, then consoled his eldest son.

“For now, the broader situation remains uncertain. Venturing to Chang’an and allying with tigers is fraught with danger. It is better to observe developments before making a decision.”

“You must understand one truth: what protects Fang Xianting is not any individual, but the unseen hearts of the people beyond the halls of power. What I endure is not him, but the forces supporting the Fang clan of Yingchuan.”

Wei Bi’s tone was profound. As one of the Five Regents, was he truly a useless figurehead? He had his own insights and judgments, sometimes even surpassing others’ expectations in precision and foresight.

—No one enjoys perpetual security. Those who rely on mountains will see them crumble; those who stand by rivers will witness them dry up. Such fragile and fickle hearts… can they truly remain forever under the Fangs’ control?

How much longer can they protect Fang Xianting?

Perhaps… just one final, fatal misstep…

And everything he possesses… will collapse.