FYM - 153

—Chen Meng certainly knew everything, because the late emperor had been fully aware of it all ten years ago.

The world often criticized Emperor Renzong as mediocre; during his ten-year reign, wars remained unresolved, and he died still bearing the title of the “emperor who lost territories.” The decade of Taqing was marred by warfare, far from the prosperity and peace of the Linghe and Yuanzhang eras. Yet few understood the immense hardships he endured or the painstaking efforts he made to maintain the facade of order and dignity.

—He never trusted anyone easily.

Emperor Ruizong’s favoritism toward the Zhong family and his wavering between嫡 (legitimate) and庶 (concubine-born) heirs had kept him in constant peril until his thirties. His frail body and even the sole heir he sired bore a shameful origin—negation, suspicion, ridicule, humiliation… not a single day passed without these painful shackles.

The Fang family was indeed his salvation.

The late Duke had risked his life to secure his position as crown prince, and Fang Xianting, a childhood acquaintance, had always protected him. Yet they allowed Fang Ranjun to betray him, severing their marital ties—a wound that forever pierced his heart, teaching him that even the Fangs wouldn’t grant him everything he desired.

So… what about the Songs?

Song Dan and Song Bo were opportunistic and disloyal, willing to abandon others for self-preservation. If not for the defeat at Shangxiao Valley that forced the court to flee south, how would he have consented to a marriage alliance with them? At that time, the Song family had only two daughters of marriageable age—the elder sought refuge in Yangzhou under her maternal family’s protection, leaving only the youngest, Song Shuyan, suitable to become his new empress.

How could he not investigate her background? The Song brothers believed they had covered their tracks perfectly, but everything left traces—he was the emperor, and with diligent inquiry, he uncovered remnants of past connections in Jiangnan. For instance, Wang Xu of Xuanchou once sought to marry Song Dan’s youngest daughter but was rebuked by the Marquis of Yingchuan, leading to disaster for his father. The governor of Qiantang had arranged accommodations for the late Duke’s wife in Yuhang, even visiting the Qiao family and conversing warmly with commoners. Miss Song had resided in Yingchuan for some time, and many witnessed her familiarity and closeness with the Jiang family…

At this point, wasn’t the truth glaringly obvious?

Honestly, he didn’t care whom Yizhi wished to marry. By then, he was already “dead,” making further investigation meaningless. However, he needed Song Shuyan to marry into the palace to secure the Song family’s support. Thus, during their conversation by the Qingxi River, he employed some tactics on her.

He mentioned Yizhi, watching as the hard defenses in her eyes crumbled bit by bit. The Fang family of Yingchuan always had this ability to make others devoted to them unconditionally. He was an emperor, never loving anyone throughout his life, and his relationship with Song Shuyan was purely one of mutual interest. Yet when he saw the light in her eyes upon hearing Yizhi’s name, something stirred within him—perhaps longing, perhaps envy…

He couldn’t define it. Perhaps he merely hoped someone would remember him fondly after his death. Yizhi possessed many things he lacked: a father who, though strict, always cared for him deeply; a robust, enviable health; and… a lifelong companion who would stay by his side until death.

These were delusional thoughts. He knew he couldn’t demand everything. After finalizing the marriage agreement with the Song family, he immediately returned to the Eastern Capital to deal with the mess that could hardly worsen. The Turks and rebels advanced step by step in the northwest, southern tribes and Tibetans in the west grew restless, and dark clouds loomed. At that time, he truly believed he would become the last emperor of Zhou.

And just when he was most desperate… Yizhi returned.

Like a divine prophecy descending from the heavens, he once again saved the crumbling dynasty from destruction before the eyes of the world. The emperor was but a weak figurehead, left waiting in the opulent imperial city while the Fang family sacrificed themselves to save the nation. From some unknown moment, the surname “Wei” no longer symbolized supreme honor and dignity but became associated with base desires and shameful defeats.

He didn’t feel ashamed of being saved by Yizhi. Since the moment he was embroiled in the succession struggle, the Fang family of Yingchuan had continuously saved his life. But what was he to do with the newly wed empress? He clearly knew that the moment she heard of his survival… she was eager to leave.

…She should leave.

She was so young, so beautiful. She deserved a bright, vibrant life, not to be trapped in this lifeless palace. No one would choose him over Yizhi—not even himself. He yearned to live Yizhi’s life, to become a hero admired by all and remembered in history, rather than a pitiful, ineffectual “sovereign” overshadowed by capable ministers.

Yet, he couldn’t let her go.

The nation was on the brink of collapse, and even Yizhi might not reverse the tide and preserve the dynasty. He didn’t know when he might need the Song family to flee south. The empress’s position could only belong to a Song daughter. Besides, how could he release her? The selection of an empress was no trivial matter. He had already brought her to pay homage to heaven and earth, to visit the ancestral temples, and to meet the officials. The world wouldn’t accept another empress mysteriously leaving the palace. The pardon granted to Fang Ranjun was not available to everyone.

Moreover… he had to plan for after his death.

Yizhi had an excellent eye for people. Within a few days, he understood why he was smitten with her—she was a very intelligent woman, grasping many things without needing them spelled out. Better yet, her temperament was calm and detached, free from greed and ambition. She treated Xi’er well, perhaps because she, too, had been unloved in her childhood home and thus empathized with his struggles in the palace.

He thought she might be suitable material for wielding power behind the curtain.

The heart of an emperor is as deep as an abyss. Sometimes, seemingly ordinary moves hide infinite intentions. His reasons for choosing Song Shuyan were manifold: besides being Song Dan’s daughter, he also knew her strained relationship with her family. He wouldn’t leave his kingdom vulnerable. A queen closely tied to her maternal family would eventually bring troubles from external relatives. Her isolation made her the most manageable and useful pawn.

The only complication… was her past affection for Yizhi.

He actually trusted Yizhi… There would never be more loyal subjects than the Fang family of Yingchuan. They could sacrifice their lives for their sovereign without hesitation. Many loyal souls had died for the country, wrapped in horse hides. Therefore, he didn’t expose this old affair, confident that Yizhi had his own principles. Even if he cherished and longed for her, he would never do anything harmful to the imperial family or the nation’s safety.

He was right… but also wrong.

They met in the plum grove. As expected, Yizhi didn’t attempt to take the empress away, but his gaze changed. He could sense the hidden restraint and suppression within it. Having known each other since childhood, he understood him better than anyone else. He knew his heart was struggling fiercely. Perhaps his feelings for her weren’t just pure romantic love but also the last vestige of warmth after the loss of both parents.

And he understood best how to truly extinguish the other’s desires.

The Fang family was invincible—they wielded power that intimidated the world, authority second only to the throne, and a reputation for utmost purity. Trying to subdue them with brute force was a fantasy. The only chains that could bind Fang Yizhi were those of loyalty, conscience, and human sentiment. Only he could sever his own forbidden thoughts.

Thus, he deliberately said those words to him later—

“I’ve never admired anyone in my life, but she makes me feel good… Yizhi, your sister is right. People should marry those they fancy, or they are doomed to a lifetime of unhappiness.”

“I will treat her well… raise the crown prince with her, ensuring he doesn’t repeat my mistakes. Naturally, I will teach her well, allowing her to rule behind the curtain after my death and uphold the nation…”

“I need her very much.”

“The whole world… needs her very much.”

He presented the greater good of the nation, even claiming to have developed feelings for the empress. Then, seemingly casually, he mentioned his sister, intending to emphasize the Fang family’s debt to him. He wanted Yizhi to understand that he couldn’t touch that woman. Even a fleeting thought was a grave sin. He couldn’t betray him, the name “Fang” he bore, or… himself.

He succeeded.

Yizhi gradually distanced himself from the empress. The subtle unrest in his eyes turned into complete stillness. He knew Yizhi had given up rekindling their past. Yet, he couldn’t help but repeatedly confirm this. He often invited him to banquets and games in the palace, especially calling on the empress during wartime. He coldly watched them probe each other, advancing and retreating, each suffering and yearning for the other. Sometimes, he felt stifled, other times a sickening sense of satisfaction.

—Did he feel guilty?

Perhaps… Yizhi had known him since childhood and saved him countless times from life-threatening situations. Their relationship wasn’t just about strategy and calculation but also contained rare moments of genuine sincerity, a luxury for any emperor.

Yet, he never regretted it.

Yizhi had enough. He was far more pitiful and contemptible than Yizhi. Who could understand his pain and bitterness? He, too, had great ambitions and boundless aspirations but was born into a turbulent era, with a frail, detestable body. Glory and ease belonged to others, and Yizhi seemed to have it all. Perhaps, deep down, he envied him. No one willingly added colors to already splendid brocade. He was just a mortal with worldly desires, how could he escape such conventions? Besides, he had personally witnessed Yizhi’s most humiliating years, bullied and humiliated by his father and the Zhong family. Sometimes, shared hardships weren’t seen as favors by a sovereign but as unfathomable transgressions and offenses.

In this conflicted state, he sank deeper day by day, watching everyone torn apart by regrets. Their imperfections were the greatest comfort to him, telling him that he wasn’t the only one destined to lifelong helplessness. Those who seemed far stronger than him were equally fragmented and failed.

This twisted pleasure consoled him for many years. During this time, he cultivated an innocent woman into a puppet to shield Xi’er from harm. Everything seemed to be progressing as he hoped. Yet, the passage of time gradually made people increasingly insatiable.