FYM - 147

While the lovers in the Watchtower enjoyed a fleeting, blissful night, the Song family was thrown into chaos.

Though Song Mingzhuo was merely a sixth-rank official, he was still the eldest son of Song Dan, destined to inherit leadership of the clan after his father’s passing. Now, he had been so easily imprisoned by his own sister, who decreed that if the family failed to pay a staggering fine of sixty-eight thousand strings of cash within seven days, he would be stripped of his position and exiled according to the law. Wasn’t this a public humiliation for the Jinling Song family?

“Sixty-eight thousand strings of cash! She’s asking for our lives!”

The entire Song family was in an uproar. Even distant branches of the clan from other counties rushed to Jinling, demanding answers from Lord Song Dan. The Binwei Hall was packed with agitated voices—a scene unseen in the Song household for years.

“Our family never expected the Empress Dowager to show favoritism toward her maternal relatives! We accepted it when she appointed Chen Meng as the chief examiner of the imperial examinations!”

“But now?”

“What has our forbearance brought us?”

“It’s brought her relentless pressure! Her complete disregard for familial ties!”

“She wants to investigate landholdings to win popular support—are we not cooperating? There are countless noble families in Jiangnan, yet none have paid more in fines than the Song family! We’ve already given her face—what more does she want!”

“Lord Song! Are you really going to let your daughter destroy centuries of our family’s hard work?”

The clamor was like a suffocating net, descending upon Song Dan, who sat silently in the main seat, his face pale as his silver hair.

“Boji—”

His wife, Lady Wan, now joined the commotion. With a thud, she knelt at his feet, clutching his legs and sobbing uncontrollably.

“Zijian is our son—he’s flesh of my flesh! How can you idly watch him be driven to death?”

“The fourth girl isn’t acting for the country or the people—she seeks revenge on us!”

“She thinks I usurped her birth mother’s rightful position as the main wife! She hates us for forcing her to marry into the palace!”

“What sin has Zijian committed? What sin have the clansmen committed? If she wants vengeance, let her come after me, this mother! Let her kill me! Let me bear the sins of Zijian and the entire clan!”

With that, she suddenly leapt up madly, turning to throw herself against a wooden pillar in the hall. But the crowd, densely packed, wouldn’t allow her to harm herself, quickly restraining her. This only fueled their fury further.

“Lady Wan, why this madness! There’s no logic in children driving their parents to death!”

“You may not have given birth to the fourth girl, but you raised her with great hardship—how could she repay your kindness with such ingratitude? The world will not tolerate a daughter who disrespects filial piety, nor an Empress Dowager who disregards morality and righteousness!”

Their impassioned curses were vivid, as if they had witnessed Lady Wan’s “hardship” firsthand. Their anger deepened, and they turned their ire toward Song Dan.

“Lord Song! Speak clearly to us today!”

“What will you do about Zijian? How will you handle the Thousand Strategies Office’s demand for payment!”

“The entire Song family awaits your decision! Can you not appeal to your own daughter for the sake of our clan’s survival and honor!”

The incessant noise overwhelmed Song Dan. A memory from decades ago resurfaced—when the clan forced him to marry a second wife. Though this wasn’t the only regrettable act of his life, it now loomed large and vivid in his mind.

...He was indeed a cowardly and selfish man.

Unable to protect his beloved wife from the clan’s demands, too afraid to face his in-laws and his daughter, his approach to politics mirrored this pattern—decades spent evading and dodging responsibility.

—But did avoidance truly help?

He lowered his gaze to his “wife,” who was putting on a dramatic performance to force him to save their eldest son, inciting others to attack him. And those clansmen? Each red-faced and shameless, using the name of “kinship” to corner him. As for state affairs... since he took charge of the family, the Song clan’s reputation had plummeted. Perhaps it was because every major decision prioritized self-preservation over duty, tarnishing the ancestors’ honored legacy.

And finally... he thought of his daughter.

He had few memories of her, little love for her. Yet her words before leaving home remained clear in his mind—she said he could have changed many things, that Fang Gong had misjudged him, that she didn’t hate him but was disappointed, that henceforth their relationship would be purely formal.

She was right about everything except one thing—he had never felt “mutual disdain” toward her. He simply lacked the courage... even to look at her.

At that moment, he slowly closed his eyes, calming himself briefly before opening them again. His aged body was far weaker than before. Many young nephews and grandsons in the hall glared at him hungrily. His eldest son was now in prison, his second son estranged for years out of resentment. At last, he was completely alone.

He gave a faint smile, laboriously rising with the aid of the table’s edge. The hall fell silent instantly, all eyes locked onto him.

“Zijian is my son—I cannot bear to see him suffer...”

Song Dan’s voice was low and steady, his gaze sweeping across the crowd, yet his eyes were empty.

“However, the Empress Dowager’s actions this time are lawful and without fault. Even if there is personal bias, it is Zijian’s misconduct that invited this punishment—it is not the palace deliberately persecuting us.”

Lady Wan’s face paled at his words, and the surrounding brothers and nephews grew tense. He ignored them, continuing calmly.

“Since the southern migration, the nation has been precarious, facing countless dangers in just half a year. Clearing landholdings is a measure for survival—it should be self-evident.”

“When the nest falls, how can the eggs remain intact? Refusing to pay fines may satisfy temporary pride, but it is shortsighted. It invites accusations of disobedience and empowers Wei Fan to accuse us, bringing calamity upon ourselves. Is this not akin to cutting open one’s belly to hide a pearl, sacrificing the greater for the lesser? Better to endure temporary disgrace and loss—material wealth is external and ultimately insignificant.”

His decisive words caused an uproar in the Binwei Hall. The clamor was like oil poured into boiling water. Elderly members collapsed in shock, their descendants rushing to care for them while glaring at Song Dan with bloodshot eyes.

“The Song family shall pay the sixty-eight thousand strings of cash!”

Song Dan’s voice, now raised sharply, rang clearly in everyone’s ears. Perhaps this was the first time in his life he defied the majority—not because he wished to escape responsibility like his daughter ten years ago, but simply because he no longer wanted to disappoint himself.

“Kinfolk who respect the lord’s words, disperse now and gather funds. Those who do not... shall share the wrath of the imperial family!”

No one had seen the lord like this before. His usually refined face flushed red, his frail body seeming to regain vigor. His tone, though tinged with resignation, carried a fiery indignation. Lady Wan, sitting beside him, felt a sudden unfamiliarity toward the husband she’d shared decades with. She stared at him, seeing tears welling in his eyes when he glanced at her.

“It’s over—it’s over!”

The Binwei Hall erupted in chaos. Even Song Bo’s gaze toward his elder brother was filled with disdain and disappointment.

“So you’re the one truly guilty of favoritism... repaying your lifelong debts with the entire Song family...”

“How dare you claim to lead the Song clan!”

“You don’t deserve it!”

The sharp rebukes were profound, though not everyone understood them. Yet this didn’t stop the crowd from seething with righteous indignation, each person shoving forward to pull at Song Dan’s sleeves. All pretense of noble dignity was abandoned—they were beasts in fancy clothes, driven by self-interest.

Song Dan stood firm, seemingly invigorated by the taste of confrontation. He felt a surge of blood coursing through him, granting him boundless strength. In that moment, he felt capable of protecting his first wife, who had bled out in childbirth decades ago; of stopping his daughter, who had walked away from him ten years ago; and of showing his past self that his life could have been lived differently.

Until—

“Boji—”

“Brother—”

“My Lord—”

A cacophony of cries erupted!

Vaguely...

... It echoed eerily with an incident from ten years ago in this very place.

By the time the news reached Tai Cheng, Song Shuyan had returned to Fuqing Hall from the Watchtower.

The palace was in turmoil. Chaohua Xixiu’s faces were pale. Thinking they were worried about finding her, she prepared to offer a premeditated excuse. Instead, both maidservants knelt before her, heads bowed, saying, “Your Majesty, the Song residence sent word last night—Chancellor Song suffered a collapse at home due to the imprisonment of Compiler Song. The imperial physician just examined him... and said...”

Their faltering words sparked a sudden, unexplainable anger in Song Shuyan. Perhaps that man still held some inexplicable tie to her—she could never truly ignore mentions of him.

“What did he say?”

Her hands suddenly grew cold, her voice chilling to hear.

Both maids stuttered, but Chaohua eventually mustered the courage to reply, “They say Lord Song... might not make it.”

The Fuqing Hall fell silent. The biting chill of early winter proved impossible to ward off. The servants knelt on the ground, heads bowed, while only the most observant noticed the slight tremor in the Empress Dowager’s shadow. The fierce northern wind howled endlessly—many things in life were beyond human control.

“...Is the news confirmed?”

They heard her ask again, her voice colder and harder than before, as if discussing not her father’s critical condition but some trivial court intrigue.

“Who went to the Song residence? Bring him to me.”

Without a hint of intention to visit her father, she turned and walked into the inner hall. So the heart of a ruler was truly this cold—indifferent even to the life or death of her own father.

The palace staff whispered among themselves, shaking their heads as they departed. The vast palace was left with only Song Shuyan, the sky during the Chou-Yin hours pitch black without a single star. How strange—she had just seen the soft, radiant moonlight in the Watchtower. Why was it now pitch dark here?

She hugged herself tightly.

...Feeling a bone-deep cold.