FYM - 156

“The elders at home must still be waiting. How could I keep you here for long?”

She only shook her head and smiled, concealing her sorrow well—after her father’s passing, the Song family had undergone a dramatic upheaval. Her second brother had taken his birth mother, Lady Wu, to live with him. They must have agreed to spend New Year’s Eve together, and returning now was already quite late.

“I just wanted to see you. Now that I’ve seen you,” her smile was faint, as beautiful as the blooming plum blossoms in the garden, “Brother and Sister-in-law, take Han’er back soon. The December wind is cold; be careful the child doesn’t catch a chill.”

Song Mingzhen and Lou Tong exchanged glances, both looking somewhat troubled. Song Shuyan noticed their concern, her smile deepening slightly, saying, “Go back. When Sister-in-law safely delivers, I want to be the first to hold the baby.”

This brief meeting ended. Song Shuyan stayed alone in the pavilion for a while longer before gathering the strength to leave. Looking up, she saw the distant Watchtower again, unintentionally staring blankly. But there wasn’t much sadness—she had always been strong, and being alone wasn’t unbearable.

Turning away from the plum grove, everything was perfect that night except for the lack of snow. The ground was scattered with fallen petals, remnants of flowers, unfortunately buried on the eve of the New Year. She didn’t know when she would become one of them. Turning around the tallest tree, she saw the man in its shadow. He must have waited for her a long time, his deep purple official robes covered with fallen petals. Hearing her approach, he turned to look at her. This seemingly aloof person had always responded to her every request.

“...Didn’t you leave the palace?”

She approached him, asking this question without much thought, her tone complex and hard to decipher—perhaps a little annoyed, perhaps a little aggrieved.

He understood everything, knowing he was the only one who could make her act petulantly. The mole at the corner of his eyes spoke volumes, and no one else would ever know this man’s attentiveness and gentleness.

“It’s New Year’s Eve tonight,” he replied, “I came to keep you company.”

Keeping company?

She was suddenly struck, her eyes instantly reddening. Not wanting to reveal her sudden sentimentality, though she knew any pretense was futile before him. He sighed, finally stepping out of the shadows to embrace her. His deep purple sleeves were filled with the cold fragrance of plum blossoms. Only in these unnoticed places could they find solace.

“You still have me…”

He told her.

“Shuyan, I won’t leave.”

Those words were ambiguous yet cunning, exposing her inner fears and vulnerabilities. New Year’s Eve was indeed a demanding festival, making those alone feel even more out of place.

“What do you mean, won’t leave…”

She spoke awkwardly again, not knowing why she became so capricious in front of him.

“You’re leaving the court again, yet you say these empty words to deceive me.”

She knew what he meant but deliberately misinterpreted and complained. He laughed, his voice low and pleasant. Years ago on the official road in Shangzhou, they were separated by a window, but now he was finally very close to her ear.

“I don’t want you to go…”

Her emotions surged. Her attachment to him had never diminished. She tightly embraced him, like holding onto the last piece of floating wood before drowning.

“I’m really… very afraid of you leaving…”

Her body trembled slightly. Though parting was routine, it still hurt deeply each time. She hadn’t improved at all, even more fearful and uneasy than when they parted in Qiantang. He had consoled her many times recently, and now there was nothing new to say to comfort her. In the end, he resorted to discussing the situation, the crudest form of consolation.

“You should know how different this campaign is. Xie Ci coming to Jinling is also a help to me…”

During the Taqing era, wars were frequent, mostly defensive and exhausting. This northern campaign, however, was an offensive war declared by the court against rebels and barbarians, with more preparation and forethought than before. Xie Ci had once received military aid from the Fang family in Youzhou and held respect for them. His willingness to personally come to Jinling for the New Year celebration played an invaluable role in stabilizing the northern situation.

“The Fang family’s loyalty is paramount, and the Marquis has remarkable integrity. However, the division and unification of the world are unpredictable, sometimes beyond human control…”

Xie Ci once frankly told Fang Xianting.

“With the power of Yingchuan and the Marquis’s prestige, if you seek independence, millions will follow. Since there are no houses that can last a hundred generations or dynasties that can endure forever, if you can sever all ties, you will surely see a new horizon.”

“I lack the Fang family’s loyal heart and have no attachment to the Zhou dynasty. Change of dynasties is common, and the Wei surname may be nearing its end… But I, along with everyone else, respect the Fang family. Now, I promise you: if you have thoughts of establishing a new realm, the Xie family will follow unwaveringly. As long as you remain loyal to the Wei dynasty for one day, Youzhou will remain part of the Zhou territory without rebellion.”

This two-region commander, dominating the north, was ambitious but markedly different from Shi Hong and Du Zexun—he had the courage and blood to resist foreign aggression and a sense of right and wrong. Though his words were not pleasing to Fang Xianting, he still earned some special regard.

“If that’s the case…” he simply replied then, “I can trust my back to you.”

By now, he had no time to scrutinize the purity of loyalty from officials. Territorial stabilization was urgent, and as long as the Xie family remained obedient, he cared little about their motives for following the court’s orders. Yet, he gradually felt an indescribable danger—once, no one doubted the Fang family’s loyalty. Now, Xie Ci could openly speak of ‘dynastic change’ and ‘establishing a new heaven,’ suggesting perhaps due to the southern campaign, people now suspected his loyalty to the imperial family.

The unease weighed heavily in his heart, overshadowed by guilt and regret over past events. He dared not imagine his father’s disappointment and pain seeing today’s Fang family under his governance treading such a misguided path. His father spent his life defending the pure reputation of the Yingchuan Fang family, while he let it be tainted, impossible to cleanse.

“Third Brother…”

Her voice suddenly reached him, like a gentle hand slowly pulling him back from mid-air—she was frowning at him, concerned despite her earlier petulance. Perhaps his momentary confusion hadn’t escaped her notice. There was always a nearly mystical bond between them.

He kissed her, tenderly yet urgently. Tonight, she wasn’t the only one feeling lonely; leaving her, he too didn’t know where to go—they consoled and warmed each other. A mundane kiss was like kindling a fire. Sometimes feeling driven to a dead end, and sometimes feeling like they themselves abandoned smooth paths to collide with obstacles together.

“Yingying…”

His voice changed, the unique nickname telling her he was moved—she was fully pleased, unable to suppress a contented sigh in his arms, though her heart was still parched, her trembling hands gripping his robe tightly.

“I promised Xi’er to stay up with him tonight…”

She spoke words of refusal but kept seeking his kisses, leaning on his shoulders.

“…I, I should go.”

How untimely, yet neither expected to spend the night together. Momentary indulgence was confined to fleeting pleasure in shadowy corners, all dignity and composure far removed from them. He steadied his breathing, hugging her tightly, his hands clasping her slender wrists securely. At that moment, he clearly didn’t want to let her go—whether out of protection or possession, he didn’t want her spending the night with anyone else.

“…Go.”

Yet he released her, gently smoothing her slightly disheveled hair before parting. She was dazed from his kisses, her gaze misty like fog. Falling petals seemed to understand her reluctance, clinging to his robe, occasionally landing in his hair, reminiscent of their time in Qiantang.

She tiptoed, reaching to brush it away, not finding nostalgia for Qiantang dreams worthwhile this time, perhaps because that separation was too painful, and now, as he was about to leave the court again, it felt ominous.

“You must write to me…”

She commanded, her tone firm, yet her expression fragile, on the verge of tears.

“No long gaps between letters, no talk of military affairs alone—write daily, write interesting things…”

Hearing this, he still smiled, finding her childish, his loving eyes full of tenderness. His voice was soft like a dream: “I’m going to war, where would interesting things come from?”

“Write about boring things too—”

She insisted, not thinking herself unreasonable.

“Write about when you rise, when you sleep, how you eat, how you march… everything in detail, send letters back to Jinling daily!”

She seemed determined to get his promise, hoping this time would differ from ten years ago. He sighed, agreeing to all, not mentioning that during continuous marches, there might be no time to write a single word.

“I don’t want any ‘Ode to the Luo River Goddess’ or ‘Spring Mountain Gaze’…”

She returned to his embrace, listening to his real heartbeat.

“Victory or defeat, glory or disgrace, returning to the capital, revival… none of these matter.”

“I have only one wish: that you stay alive.”

“You’ve deceived me once…”

“Third Brother… you can’t break your promise again.”

…That New Year’s Eve ultimately saw no snowfall.

The plum blossoms bloomed to their peak, yet not a single branch was planted by him for her. They hid among colors that didn’t belong to them, with only their sorrowful dependence to trace and document.

“I know…”

He could only respond thus, aware that her life was tied to the blade’s edge.

—but you should know too.

…I never wanted to deceive you.