FYM - 148

The next morning, Xu Zongyao, who was still at home caring for his mother, heard the shocking news of Chancellor Song Dan’s sudden death.

That day, the sky was overcast as if it might rain, the low-hanging clouds pressing down on people’s chests. When the servant brought the news, Xu Zongyao felt a chill but initially refused to believe it—Song Dan was only in his sixties and had always seemed robust. Could this be another ploy by the Song family to pressure Empress Dowager Song into pardoning Compiler Song? Or perhaps it was a staged act between the Empress Dowager and her maternal relatives?

Xu Zongyao was not an unfeeling man, but since April, his heart had been entirely focused on the new policies. He feared their failure would harm the nation’s welfare. Having witnessed half a year of political scheming, he now approached everything with caution, considering multiple steps ahead. Thus, he personally visited the Song residence to verify the truth. There, he saw servants dressed in mourning attire and heard frequent cries of grief from within the estate—it didn’t seem like a fabrication.

...Could Lord Song have truly passed away?

Then... what about the Empress Dowager and the new policies?

His heart sank, his worries deepening. How could any child remain indifferent to the death of their father? Would the Empress Dowager pardon her brother because of this? Would the Song family’s payment of fines be abandoned?

And afterward? If the southern aristocratic families saw the Song clan receiving exemptions, they would surely follow suit. In groups, they would protest, halting investigations into land and population. The Great Zhou’s accounts would become irreparably chaotic, and the power struggle in court would spiral out of control.

Frowning deeply, consumed by anxiety, Xu Zongyao finally decided to enter the palace to request an audience with the Empress Dowager. He knew meeting her now would provoke her displeasure and possibly endanger his life, but he had never been afraid to sacrifice himself. If his death could ensure the Empress Dowager’s commitment to the new policies, it would be the most worthwhile act of his life.

Upon entering the palace, everything appeared normal. The attendants said the Empress Dowager was still handling state affairs in Fengyang Hall. Surprised by this unexpected scene, while waiting outside Fengyang Hall for the female officials to announce him, he heard the Empress Dowager’s stern voice reprimanding someone inside: “Do not guess my intentions; just fulfill your duties. Tell him I’ve given him six more days.”

...Six days?

Xu Zongyao’s mind raced. The deadline for the Song family to pay the fine was also six days away. Was the Empress Dowager referring to this matter? As he pondered, he heard a minister’s voice inside asking, “But if Minister Song stubbornly refuses to cooperate, may I... use force?”

The voice unmistakably belonged to Jiang Chao, the head of the Thousand Strategies Office. The “Minister Song” he referred to was likely Song Bo, the Minister of Works. With Lord Song unexpectedly deceased and his eldest son in prison, Song Bo would likely inherit leadership of the Song family. But did Jiang Chao intend to use military force? After losing her father, if the Empress Dowager...

“Handle it according to the law.”

The woman’s calm, almost cold voice reached Xu Zongyao’s ears, causing him to shiver slightly.

“I only care about results... not the process.”

Jiang Chao softly acknowledged with a “Yes.” Soon after, he exited the hall, nodding briefly at Xu Zongyao as they crossed paths. Xu Zongyao remained stunned, still somewhat dazed when Chaohua invited him in. Seeing the Empress Dowager sitting behind her desk, reviewing memorials with her head bowed, he was rendered speechless. She looked delicate and refined, her shoulders slender, appearing no more than a gentle, fragile maiden. Yet...

“What business do you have to report?”

Her question came unexpectedly. The woman seated above exuded authority, far from the warmth she showed when inviting him to dine together. Xu Zongyao snapped back to reality, performing the kneeling ritual but unsure of what to say. He had come to persuade her to set aside familial ties and focus on implementing the new policies. But after hearing those seemingly heartless words earlier...

“If you have nothing to say, you may leave.”

She had already averted her gaze, clearly impatient with his silence. His face flushed—he, who had once answered questions fluently during the imperial examinations, now found himself tongue-tied before her.

“You may brave any punishment in pursuit of righteousness, and I will remain steadfast regardless of criticism…”

She seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. Her response was cold and resolute, directed both at him and perhaps at herself.

“Many will benefit from this step… whoever they are, there is no turning back.”

After noon, Song Bo, her uncle, arrived, leading several Song officials seeking an audience at Fengyang Hall. Empress Dowager Song refused to see them, allowing them to make a commotion for hours until they left just before the palace gates closed. Though outwardly composed, her back was drenched in sweat.

“...Are you really not seeing them?”

At nightfall, her second brother, Song Mingzhen, came on duty beside her. The two siblings sat in the opulent palace, yet somehow evoked the phrase “solitary and bereft.”

“Avoidance won’t solve anything… sooner or later, you’ll need to resolve this.”

His tone sounded weary, his eyes red. Empress Dowager Song understood, but still asked, “…Did Brother return today?”

Song Mingzhen was silent for a long time, his expression and body stiff. After a moment, he forced a smile and replied, “Yes… they all said he died. I had to go back and see... if it was true.”

The word “died” seemed sharp, causing both siblings to flinch. Empress Dowager Song’s complexion turned pale—it was indeed bitterly cold in Jiangnan’s winter.

“...Did you see him?”

She asked cautiously, still refusing to call him “Father,” even now. It wasn’t due to lingering resentment—she simply hadn’t used the term in so long that she didn’t know how to say it anymore.

“Mm…”

Song Mingzhen responded, lowering his head further.

“Elder Brother is still in prison… at least one son must purify his body, comb his hair, and perform the final rites.”

His words carried ambiguity—though meant literally, they also seemed accusatory. Why was Song Mingzhuo in prison? Wasn’t it due to her imperial decree? If she hadn’t been so stubborn and unreasonable, would they now face such a heartbreaking dilemma?

Empress Dowager Song fell silent. A moment later, Song Mingzhen realized the impropriety of his words and hastily tried to explain, saying, “I didn’t mean it that way! I just, just…”

He couldn’t articulate it, but Empress Dowager Song understood her brother bore her no ill will. At the moment of their father’s passing, many past memories inevitably resurfaced. Under such scrutiny, anyone would feel guilt and melancholy.

“The Imperial Medical Office said he died from anger-induced apoplexy…”

Empress Dowager Song’s voice was soft, her gaze misty like frost under the night sky.

“As expected… he cared most about his eldest son.”

Her words were ambiguous. On the surface, it sounded like sibling rivalry, but Song Mingzhen knew she was blaming herself. Despite believing she acted impartially, she still took responsibility for her father’s death.

“It’s not like that…”

He shook his head, looking at his sister. His bloodshot eyes reflected complex sorrow.

“Father wasn’t angry because Elder Brother was imprisoned… on the contrary, he publicly stated that Elder Brother had acted improperly first and that the Song family should pay the full sixty-eight thousand strings of cash…”

“The others disagreed with his decision, arguing and pushing him in the hall… that’s when…”

His sparse words failed to vividly recreate the scene. Empress Dowager Song froze, as if those simple words were some obscure scripture. That confusion was bittersweet. Song Mingzhen knew his sister had never received her father’s affection or favor. Unexpectedly, he had finally understood her, but at the cost of his own life.

“Go see him…”

Song Mingzhen felt his eyes sting, tears threatening to fall again.

“Before he is laid to rest… see him one last time.”

Regret was endless. Sometimes, even clear right and wrong couldn’t be articulated. That person had left her behind when she needed a “father” most and suddenly appeared when she least needed one. This belated kindness was ultimately cheap; she had long passed the age of yearning for parental love.

But… she eventually went.

The final day of his wake at home coincided with the end of the seven-day period. The Song family had not paid even half the fine. She drafted an edict in Fengyang Hall, ordering the Thousand Strategies Office to transfer Compiler Song to the Ministry of Justice for trial, then exile him two thousand miles away. After handling this, she ordered a carriage prepared to leave the palace. The young emperor, having been informed, waited at the palace gates. When she arrived, he carefully approached to support her hand, saying, “Mother… let me accompany you.”

She didn’t need company, longing instead for a private moment with him. But she knew such a wish was futile. The Song residence was undoubtedly crowded—morning and evening offerings, constant guests paying respects, as if kneeling before the coffin held some profound meaning.

She felt weary and didn’t refuse the young emperor’s offer. The Empress Dowager and the emperor leaving Tai Cheng together was a first since the southern migration. Pedestrians along the road hastily made way, yet no household hung mourning banners—a stark contrast to the scene when the late Duke passed away years ago.

Yet the bustle at the Song residence was identical to the Jin State Duke’s funeral.

She was right—all the ministers had come. Families like the Yangzhou Wan clan, related to the Songs, naturally attended in full force. Eldest Sister Song Shuying wept uncontrollably, while her husband, Wan Sheng, hesitated to comfort her. Other prominent southern clans also attended, including Luoyang officials who brought their families. Yinping Wang, accompanied by his children, stood with Fan Yucheng, their gazes toward the Song family members indiscernible—whether mocking or sympathetic.

...The Fang family had also arrived.

Fang Xianting, dressed in mourning attire, stood among the guests, surrounded by other influential ministers. All bowed to her and the young emperor upon their entrance, except for Fang Xianting, who cast a concerned glance at her before bowing. She didn’t return his gaze—not only because their current “strained” relationship made interaction inappropriate, but also because her thoughts were entirely focused on the person lying in the coffin above.