FYM - 151

Following the unexpected death of Chancellor Song Dan, the political landscape of Jinling inevitably underwent significant changes.

Before Emperor Renzong’s passing, he had appointed five regents in his will. Now, with one of the five gone, leaving only four, the balance of power between the Luoyang and Jinling factions naturally suffered a considerable blow. Observers across the court and countryside speculated whether the current Empress Dowager would elevate her uncle to fill her late father’s position. After months of waiting, the position of Chancellor remained vacant, revealing that this de facto ruler currently had no intention of promoting her maternal relatives.

Meanwhile, the powerful families of Jiangnan, witnessing how she had metaphorically stabbed her own family to death, understood they could not expect any extralegal pardons. One by one, they reluctantly relinquished vast tracts of land accumulated over decades, hastily gathering funds to pay their fines as demanded by the Ministry of Revenue. Within three months, the court collected an astounding 1,537,600 strings of cash—equivalent to a season’s tax revenue from the final years of the Taqing era.

Beyond immediate financial benefits, the redistribution of land brought about greater stability for the populace. Refugees migrating from Jiangbei were finally allocated farmland according to household size, effectively solving the resettlement issues that had long troubled the court. Local uprisings gradually subsided, and no large-scale conflicts erupted.

Simultaneously, the new officials personally selected by the Empress Dowager during her examinations did not disappoint. Besides Xu Zongyao, who excelled in investigating land and population, Jia Xin, appointed as Deputy Minister of Revenue in Jinling, also performed commendably. He demolished half the city walls within Jinling, shortened the nightly curfew by two hours, and significantly promoted commercial development. These reforms gave Jinling, the hastily established new capital, a prosperity reminiscent of the former eastern and western capitals.

For stabilizing the hearts of the court and people, however, the most critical factor remained the outcome of the northern battlefield.

No one wished to remain a small court confined to Jiangnan—not even the young emperor, who had yet to assume full power, harbored ambitions to reclaim the Central Plains and restore the old capital. Ever since the land investigations in Jiangnan yielded substantial results, he eagerly anticipated declaring war on the Turks and reclaiming lost territories, daily itching for battle.

The Marquis, having sworn an oath to the people by the Yangtze River in Yangzhou, naturally regarded the northern return as a top priority. The Zhou Dynasty had gone too long without good news; a major victory would alleviate many existing internal contradictions and boost morale while suppressing potential unrest across the regions.

“You mean to declare war on Chang’an this time?”

Occasional whispers echoed in the Watchtower. Even when alone, Song Shuyan and Fang Xianting inevitably discussed the foremost matter of state.

“Mm.”

He responded. The night wind atop the tower was cold, but she liked sitting by the window. He wrapped her tightly in a thick blanket, frequently checking her hand temperature while holding her.

“In the Taqing era, wars were mostly defensive. Now, with the new policies showing promise, Xie Ci and Jiang Chao have temporarily stabilized the Eastern Turks. Our westward expansion is feasible. Recapturing Jingji Circuit would greatly alter the situation, stabilizing both court and country.”

Chang’an, the Western Capital, lies within Jingji Circuit. Capturing it would not only secure the hearts of the people but also provide a strategic foothold to oversee Guannei. By then, Zhong He and Wei Zheng could be pushed back to Longyou, and the Turkic forces driven to the northern desert. Even if unification couldn’t be achieved, the conflict could be contained to the northwest, significantly easing the court’s burden.

“Besides, there are several frontier commanders…”

Fang Xianting’s voice grew somber, his brows slightly furrowed.

“Previously, Shi Hong and Du Zexun caused trouble, which I used as an opportunity to pacify the south. However, the northern generals have yet to pay homage to you and the Emperor in Jinling, which is unsettling… Since the Taqing era, the seats of Shuofang and Hexi have retreated inward. This campaign intends to primarily use troops from these two regions, conveniently testing their loyalty to the court.”

His thoughts stretched far and wide, as if everything concerning the nation lay within his plans. She felt reassured yet couldn’t help but pity his exhaustion. Occasionally, she revealed a hint of girlishness, nestling in his arms and saying, “What you say is right… but I still can’t bear to let you go to war.”

She had her concerns.

Certainly, she knew he was a capable general from a prestigious military family, and advancing north was the inevitable trend. Yet he had just handed over command of eighty thousand elite troops to her, and the newly increased tax revenue wasn’t enough to eliminate all his worries. She feared he might find himself in peril, and if ultimately isolated…

He understood her worries. However, the situation was ever-changing, and peace with the Eastern Turks might not last. If he didn’t seize this chance to push forward in the northwest, finding a similar opportunity later would be difficult. Hesitation would squander the moment; in turbulent times, everyone gambled with danger.

“Don’t worry…”

He gently kissed her forehead, his soothing words gentle and calm.

“The situation has improved much since last year. You have more people around you now, so I feel more at ease being away.”

Indeed, more people had gathered around her.

Among the civil officials were Jia Xin and Xu Zongyao; among the military officers were Jiang Chao and the Lou brothers. Speaking of the Lous, their performance during the land investigation was commendable. Lou Feng personally led troops to various counties to enforce confiscations, even confronting several powerful clans militarily. The common folk cheered, and discussions about the Lou clan were no longer entirely negative. Over time, the name of the Lou family in Guannei would surely revive.

“But your side has fewer people…”

Song Shuyan sighed, thinking that now Jiang Chao and Lou Feng were with her, and his elder brother Fang Yunchong had gone south. Who could he rely on for this campaign?

“I have my plans; no need for you to sigh and lament here.”

He chuckled, pinching her cheek affectionately. His gaze turned solemn as it fell upon the lights outside the Watchtower. She knew well that the man embracing her now had never belonged solely to her.

“What plans do you have…”

She muttered petulantly under her breath, refusing to repeat herself when he asked what she had said.

As the court busily prepared for the northern campaign, departments like the Ministry of War and Revenue were overwhelmed. However, noblewomen unrelated to these matters remained undisturbed. With the New Year approaching, households frequently visited each other, and gatherings abounded. Jinling buzzed with laughter and joy, devoid of any trace of sorrow or anxiety.

Recently, the household of Chief Secretary Fan held a celebration for the fourteenth birthday of his sixth daughter. Almost every prominent lady and young miss in the new capital attended, including members of the Song family, who had long been at odds with the Luoyang faction. Their arrival drew considerable attention and gossip.

The Song family’s status in court was now delicate. After Lord Song’s passing, their influence plummeted, and even their reputation couldn’t match that of Grand Tutor Chen Meng, whom they once despised. Coupled with their public fallout with the Empress Dowager during the land investigation, they would have become utterly insignificant if not for their remaining title as maternal relatives. The only one maintaining some dignity was Miss Song Shuqing. Her standing came not from her family but from choosing the right husband, Jia Xin. Now, she accompanied her birth mother, Lady Wu, to social events, far outshining the once-disgraced Lady Wan, who had caused a scene in the mourning hall.

Another unexpected guest was County Princess Wei Lan.

She had long avoided such lively occasions, and the noblewomen knew she had lost face after failing to secure a marriage with the Marquis of Yingchuan. Human nature rejoices in others’ misfortunes; the ladies who once envied her publicly tugging at the Marquis’s sleeve now mocked her failed engagement. However, mindful of her father, Prince Yinping, who was in power, they maintained a polite facade.

Wei Lan understood these undercurrents but paid them no heed. Her purpose today was singular. Sitting quietly, her eyes scanned the banquet until she found a lone woman drinking in the corner, glaring enviously at the radiant wife of the Deputy Minister of Revenue.

—Ah.

Found her.

Wei Lan smirked, gracefully pouring herself a glass of fruit wine and gliding toward the woman. Her beautiful dress shimmered like clouds at sunset. Even if gossiped about behind her back, she remained the epitome of elegance and nobility. Song Shuqian noticed someone beside her and thought, “Strange,” wondering which noblewoman would deign to speak with her, notorious and disreputable as she was.

“Why is Miss Song hiding here alone? Shouldn’t you mingle more?”

Her light, teasing words floated down, but the address “Miss Song” left the other at a loss. She was long married, now addressed as the disgraced “Lady Wan.” The carefree days of being a young miss seemed eons ago, and hearing it now filled her with bittersweet nostalgia.

“You…”

She looked up hazily at Wei Lan, taking a moment to recognize her. Feeling inferior, she quickly lowered her head and said, “Your Highness shouldn’t address me so… I’m no longer Miss Song.”

Wei Lan smiled, unbothered, and sat beside Song Shuqian, draining her cup of wine. Her tone was somewhat flippant: “The Empress Dowager’s power is immense. She can drive your father to death, exile your brother, humiliate your mother… but can she strip you of your identity as ‘Miss Song’?”

These words, though light, stirred a tempest in Song Shuqian’s heart. Her drunken haze cleared, and she looked at Wei Lan with panic: “What do you mean, Your Highness? I don’t understand.”

Wei Lan smirked condescendingly, her eyes reflecting pity and understanding: “It seems Miss Song’s spirit has been ground down over the years, or perhaps you’ve been terrified by the one in Fuqing Hall. Have you no courage left to seek justice for yourself?”

Justice?

Song Shuqian trembled, frozen under Wei Lan’s sympathetic gaze. She had been suppressed for so long that her bold, fearless youth felt like a past life.

“What do you want from me?”

She straightened, meeting Wei Lan’s gaze in the dim corner. The latter’s playful demeanor vanished, her beautiful eyes now icy and sharp.

“I merely wish to inquire about an old matter from Miss Song…”

Her voice carried an inexplicable allure.

“Perhaps the insults we’ve endured… can be avenged through this.”