FYM - 139

In the days around the Cold Dew of early winter in the tenth month, Marquis Yingchuan finally returned to court and resumed his duties.

He had spent nearly a month recuperating from his injuries at home, during which he remained secluded and refused all visitors. On the first day of his return to court, however, he publicly requested titles for two regional commanders on behalf of his elder brother. Half the ministers in purple and crimson robes knelt together to deliberate, ultimately forcing Empress Dowager Song behind the curtain to reluctantly approve. Everyone knew this was Lord Fang reclaiming face after losing control of the Shenlue Army, so they remained silent, not daring to oppose him. That evening, General Fang Yuncong set out with troops toward the southern border, further complicating the Fang clan’s position within the court.

That night, Lord Fang entered the palace to request an audience with the Empress Dowager. Clad in his dark armor, dust-covered from his recent journey to see his brother off at the military camp, he cut an imposing figure. The palace attendants outside Fengyang Hall shrank back slightly, aware that the court had been embroiled in turmoil lately and that relations between Lord Fang and the Empress Dowager had grown strained. This late-night visit… no one could predict whether it might bring harm to Her Majesty.

They hesitantly relayed the message into the hall. At the time, the Empress Dowager was still seated under the dim light of a solitary lamp, reviewing a thick stack of memorials sent by the Ministry of Works. Upon hearing that Lord Fang had requested an audience, her brow furrowed sharply, her irritation palpable to all.

“…Let him in.”

She set down her brush carelessly, her expression weary and faintly displeased.

The eunuch bowed and withdrew. Not long after, the doors reopened, and Lord Fang entered slowly. After exchanging formal greetings, an awkward silence settled over the hall, leaving the attending maids, Chaohua and Xixiu, sweating profusely as if sitting on pins and needles. After a moment’s thought, Chaohua stepped forward and bowed deeply, asking, “Your Majesty… shall we prepare a seat for Lord Fang?”

She was a clever court lady, and her question aimed to ease the tension between the monarch and her subject. Unfortunately, the Empress Dowager did not appreciate her efforts, simply waving her hand dismissively. “Everyone may withdraw.”

Her words signaled her intention to speak privately with her minister. It was clear that on this first day of Lord Fang’s return to court, there were many secrets they needed to discuss that could not be overheard by others. The attendants quickly complied, bowing their heads and filing out in orderly fashion. The heavy thud of the closing doors echoed through the hall, sealing off whatever occurred inside from prying eyes.

“…Third Brother.”

Song Shuyan rose from behind the imperial desk. The coldness that had lingered in her eyes just moments ago seemed to melt away like ice under the sun. Yet inexplicably, her emotions held her back, and after a month of separation, she now stood hesitantly beneath the lamplight, too timid to approach him directly.

He, too, was watching her. His slightly gaunt face remained as handsome as it had been in her dreams, but the warmth in his eyes was softer than usual. Without a word, he slowly opened his arms to her. In an instant, her fear vanished, and the earlier awkwardness dissipated completely. Lifting her skirts, she descended the steps and rushed into his embrace like a carefree oriole flying into her lover’s arms.

He would never let her feel flustered. Steadily catching her, he lowered his head and kissed her deeply. Their passion flared instantly, as though it could ignite at any moment. Perhaps the month-long separation had been too difficult for both of them to bear.

“Did you forget who I am…?”

She heard him tease softly in her ear, his warm hands firmly encircling her waist. She was left breathless by his kiss, unable to muster the strength to respond to his jest. His armor was chillingly cold, yet her heart burned with such fervor that it made her feel uneasy.

“No…”

She shook her head lightly, feeling a little wronged. She wouldn’t tell him about the cowardly thoughts that had plagued her mind—worries that he might regret their connection, fears that the events of that night were nothing more than an unrealistic fantasy.

“It’s just… it felt like it had been so long since I last saw you…”

As she spoke, she clung to him even tighter, tilting her head to place a fleeting kiss on his throat. He let out a low groan, and it wasn’t hard to discern his arousal. She felt the hands around her waist grow hotter, and an indescribable sense of security washed over her in that moment. The next instant, he scooped her up horizontally, their shadows intertwining tightly, tightly under the lamplight.

Fengyang Hall was a place for governance, devoid even of a simple cot. He carried her to the imperial desk, piled high with memorials. A few stacks of scrolls fell to the floor with a soft thud as they paid no heed, consumed instead by their urgent kisses. His hands roamed across her body, while she struggled to figure out how to remove his heavy armor.

“You, you...”

She called to him with a mix of frustration and bashfulness, her expression so sweet it nearly drove him to the brink. He took a deep breath to steady himself, then pulled her back into his arms, explaining gently, “I came straight from the Western Camp... I didn’t have time to change.”

It was true—he had rushed to see her as soon as he finished his duties. She knew he couldn’t linger in the palace for too long, or the attendants outside would start gossiping.

“But I’ve missed you so much…”

Her voice carried a note of dejection as she sat atop the tall imperial desk, her arms tightly wrapped around his neck. Her affection was both sweet and tinged with sadness.

“…Why do you always have to leave?”

He couldn’t answer that. Even though he thought of her constantly, longing for her day and night, he could only softly pat her back, his guilt genuine: “It’s my fault… always leaving you alone.”

She had intended to scold him, but hearing his apology only made her heart sink. She couldn’t bear anyone speaking ill of him—even if it was himself.

“How much longer can you stay?”

She changed the subject abruptly.

“…At least a quarter of an hour, surely?”

He noticed her reluctance and kissed her forehead tenderly as he responded. They embraced quietly for a moment until he grew concerned about her discomfort sitting on the desk. Gently, he lifted her back onto the phoenix throne, then bent down to pick up the scattered memorials. Watching his back, she felt an unexpected wave of contentment wash over her. Leaning lazily against the backrest of the throne, her expression was both coy and alluring.

“Take a look while you’re at it,” she gestured toward the memorials he had picked up. “They’re all about impeaching you.”

He stood up, raising an eyebrow, seemingly unsurprised. He likely expected the backlash after requesting titles for two Fang clan members as regional commanders.

“I won’t read them,” he shook his head, his tone indifferent. “It wouldn’t be proper.”

Indeed, ministers’ memorials were not meant for a subordinate like him to read. But given their current relationship, the mention of “rules” now seemed almost laughable. She couldn’t help but shoot him a sidelong glance before reaching out for another embrace.

With no other choice, he lifted her onto his lap. She nestled softly against his chest, unwilling to part from him even for a moment.

“It doesn’t matter anyway; there’s nothing new…”

She spoke softly, her tone casual, though in truth, she had memorized every harsh accusation and curse directed at him. If given the chance, she would undoubtedly seek revenge for him. Unaware of her secret thoughts, he frowned at her weary face, gently stroking her cheek. His voice was tender: “Don’t stay up too late in the future. Take better care of yourself.”

She adored his tenderness. Thinking back, even ten years ago in Qiantang, he hadn’t been this affectionate with her. Sweetly agreeing, she added, almost teasingly, “Sometimes it’s unavoidable… You know how it is—there’s always trouble to deal with.”

Though spoken in jest, her words held more than a grain of truth. He had already noticed the worry in her eyes and asked, “Is something wrong?”

He always worried about her, and his question now seemed like an offer of support. She smiled, shaking her head. “It’s nothing serious… just that Xu Qing is returning to Jinling.”

Xu Qing?

Fang Xianting raised an eyebrow. “Xu Zongyao?”

Song Shuyan was surprised that he still remembered the man—after all, Xu was young and held a low rank. Since passing the imperial examinations, he had mostly been stationed in local counties and rarely appeared in court. Moreover, Fang had spent the past half-year campaigning in the south, leaving little room to focus on matters beyond military affairs.

“Are the land inspections not going well?”

He probed further.

Song Shuyan paused, knowing she couldn’t hide court affairs from him forever. Sighing, she admitted, “Not well at all…”

—Xu Zongyao’s past six months had been extraordinarily difficult.

Since ancient times, newly minted scholars were expected to remain in the capital, but Xu had volunteered to oversee land and population inspections in the provinces, staying away for over a hundred days and traveling through most of the southern circuits.

The results of the inspections were as expected: many counties falsely reported population numbers, and numerous powerful families colluded with officials to forcibly annex land. The chaos was endless, and none of it could withstand scrutiny. Xu acted decisively, executing several corrupt officials as a warning and confiscating the properties of over a dozen large landowners. He established strict rules across the regions and demonstrated the court’s resolve for reform.

But the struggle for interests was never smooth sailing. Nothing in this world was without obstacles.

The powerful clans of Jiangnan knew the court’s intentions were serious and wouldn’t give them any face-saving measures. Initially, they offered scapegoats for Xu to arrest and report back. However, Xu proved to be an unyielding rock, refusing their attempts at appeasement. After arresting several groups, he insisted on digging deeper, determined to expose the roots of the major scholar-gentry families in Jiangnan. He declared that unless they returned all illegally seized lands and paid the required redemption fees, the inspections would never end.

And who currently led the Jiangnan gentry?

The powerful families saw clearly that Xu’s main support came from Empress Dowager Song in Fuqing Hall. But she was the daughter of the Song family in Jinling—could she really turn against her own kin? Thus, they refused to show Xu any leniency. Recently, they burned down the Xu family ancestral home in Pengzhou and pushed his carriage off a cliff when he returned home to visit his mother. Thankfully, the carriage landed in a large lake below, sparing his life.

“I had no choice but to summon him back…”

Song Shuyan sighed softly, her lowered lashes concealing the frustration in her eyes.

“He’s far too stubborn… Even with a knife at his throat, he refuses to send me a single memorial pleading for help or seeking support…”

Though her words sounded critical, Fang Xianting knew she admired him. It was easy to say “untainted by the mire,” but living up to it was incredibly difficult. That young man, born into humble circumstances, had sacrificed so much for the public good—it was impossible not to be moved by his dedication. Especially for her, the one who had personally promoted and entrusted him.

He shook his head, understanding her dilemma more deeply. Gently stroking her soft hair, he asked softly, “What do you plan to do?”