FYM - 160

Thus, everyone nodded in agreement. The young emperor on the throne was overjoyed at the thought of leaving everything to Marquis Fang. However, the person behind the curtain was deeply troubled, knowing she absolutely could not do this.

...She couldn’t push him out alone.

Ten years ago, Lou Xiao disobeyed orders, and he risked his life entering Shangxiao Valley to protect the people from the barbarians’ blades. Now, facing a similar predicament, she instinctively knew what choice he would make.

—But the situation in Jiangnan had changed.

The commoners were willing to forsake the lands north of the Yangtze rather than be dragged back into war. “Returning to the old capital” was an overly inflated illusion—it was no longer about the gain or loss of a single city. This illusion tightly bound everyone while providing leverage for the enemy to constrain and coerce them. The court was being roasted over a fire; every move forward or backward would bring calamity.

...How could he possibly bear this impossible burden alone again?

She was different.

She was merely an outsider, a tool to pave the way for the young emperor, a puppet to shield the dynasty from disasters. If someone had to bear the blame and resentment of the masses, she was the most suitable and appropriate choice.

“...Grand Tutor is mistaken.”

She spoke, her weak feminine voice standing firm amidst the golden hall.

“The northern expedition and returning to the capital are matters of great importance, how can they be entirely decided by a single minister? While battlefield strategies may change frequently, the principles of governing a country remain constant.”

“Those who follow the righteous path receive much assistance; those who stray from it receive little. If our dynasty sacrifices countless lives for the sake of one city, it’s only natural that the people will abandon us. Our dynasty will not engage in cruel, inhumane, shallow-sighted actions, nor leave a disgraced name in history.”

At this point, there was a slight movement behind the curtain, followed by the sound of jade pendants chiming. To everyone’s surprise, the female officials lifted the curtain, revealing the Empress Dowager’s true countenance. Civil and military officials hastily lowered their heads, not daring to look directly. Even the young emperor rose in surprise, respectfully moving forward to assist her. Step by step, she descended the imperial steps, personally extending her hand to help Grand Tutor Chen Meng rise. Chen Meng looked into her eyes, his aged gaze hiding profound sharpness.

“I shall order Marquis Fang to prioritize the lives of the Qizhou populace, abandoning Chang’an and returning to court...”

Song Shuyan met his gaze without flinching.

“...I wonder what Grand Tutor thinks?”

...What does he think?

Chen Meng’s expression remained impassive, but his thoughts were already tangled and layered.

—What result did he most desire?

Reclaiming the Central Plains and expelling the barbarians was undoubtedly the best outcome. But everyone knew Zhou’s national strength was too weak to sustain another northern campaign. Fang Xianting had already endured tremendous hardship; if not for intercepting Zhong He’s grain convoys twice, the army might have starved to death. Yet human miracles have limits. With the hearts of Jiangnan already in turmoil, reclaiming lost territories might take years or even decades. Hence, the future of a strong minister like Fang Xianting became especially important.

If he successfully reclaimed Chang’an, the Fang family’s prestige would reach unprecedented heights. Who could guarantee he wouldn’t amass power and seize the western capital to usurp the throne? The barbarians’ balancing act at this moment might not entirely be a bad thing for the court—If Fang Xianting advanced, he would personally slaughter the Qizhou populace, ruining his reputation and losing all he had achieved. If he retreated, the anger of failure would fall upon the Yingchuan Fang family, allowing the emperor in Jinling to rest easy. After a year, with a new commander leading the northern expedition, the nation’s core would be more secure.

Yet now, the Empress Dowager intended to shoulder the blame for Fang’s retreat.

They were truly interesting, always willing to sacrifice themselves for each other. Their love was eternal, more dramatic than any folk opera—but what did they think of the late emperor? What did they think of the current emperor? Zhou belonged to the Wei family! It belonged to all the people! A mere pair of adulterous lovers dared to speak of righteousness, using it as a tool to display their affection!

Every extra word dirtied his mouth! Every extra glance stained his eyes!

Chen Meng’s heart fluctuated several times. His expression towards Song Shuyan remained calm—she didn’t understand that from the moment she betrayed the late emperor and committed adultery with Fang Xianting, they became inseparable. One’s guilt would heavily fall on the other’s shoulders, waiting to be settled when the truth came to light.

“What Her Majesty says is very true...”

He lowered his eyes and bowed to this impure, unchaste woman, calculating the timing of the final reckoning in his heart.

“On November 16th of the second year of Guangyou, after nearly a year of arduous warfare, the northern expedition finally returned to the court.

Though Chang’an was not reclaimed, Jinzhou, Liangzhou, Shangzhou, and Puzhou had returned under Zhou’s rule. Zhong Ji, son of Zhong He, was killed, and the pseudo-dynasty severely damaged. By any measure, this battle was a great victory. However, the hearts of Jiangnan had been worn down by over two hundred days of heavy taxation and labor. As the imperial army entered Jinling, the roadsides were unusually silent and desolate, no longer bustling with the eager anticipation that greeted Marquis Fang in the past.

Everyone had numb eyes, watching the weary soldiers return with empty gazes. Every step they took trampled the wealth and food they had exchanged with blood and tears. Every soldier who died was an innocent child they had raised.

They had given everything... but what was the result?

Year after year of endless wars, time and again returning empty-handed... Chang’an was so close, why abandon the once easily attainable old capital? That was the dragon vein of the Central Plains! That was where the royal aura resided! Without Chang’an, how could we talk of a great victory? How could we discuss the revival of the nation?

Everything they had was wasted!

The culprit was the little Empress Dowager of the Song family inside Tai Cheng! Women governing ultimately lacked propriety compared to men’s wisdom, bravery, and decisiveness. Scared by a few threats from the barbarians, she hastily recalled the Shenlue army, clearly hindering Zhou at this critical moment!

Alas! Pain!

After the pain surged anger. Everyone felt betrayed, unaware that the root of this madness lay in the boundless fear within their hearts—if they could never reclaim Chang’an? If the vast Central Plains no longer belonged to the Han people? If one day the barbarians crossed the Yangtze and Jinling ceased to exist?

...What should they do?

Who... could protect them one last time?

The world inside and outside the palace gates was vastly different. The court and the commoners were not the same—they would never admit that the northern expedition of the second year of Guangyou was a heartbreaking near-defeat. Instead, they grandly prepared a celebratory feast to honor the return of the four northern states to Zhou’s territory.

That night, the Qian Ding Palace was brightly lit, and civil and military officials clinked glasses like during the New Year celebration. The Empress Dowager and the young emperor attended, but the returning Marquis had not yet appeared. It was heard that after entering the city, he went directly to the Marquis’s residence, closed the door, and refused visitors. Perhaps he also viewed today’s events with shame and wouldn’t attend the banquet.

Song Shuyan knew... he didn’t want to come.

Ever since she issued the decree ordering him to abandon Chang’an and return to court, he stopped sending letters beyond official reports. Only a few days ago did a rare letter arrive, containing just a short line—

“The return date is set, no need to welcome me.”

She didn’t know what “no need” meant. Perhaps he was angry, dissatisfied with her forcing him to return south by recalling the Shenlue army. Or perhaps he was afraid, unwilling for her to see the disappointment and resentment in the eyes of the commoners by the roadside—she was in pain and panic. Nearly a year of separation was too long; she really felt she couldn’t hold on anymore.

But she still listened to him, letting only the young emperor reward the three armies during the day. As he grew older, she intended to gradually return governance to him. Fucheng Hall was far from the palace gates. She could only hear the thunderous cheers of the three armies greeting the emperor but couldn’t catch a glimpse of the face that haunted her dreams every night.

At that moment, sitting amidst the gold and jewels of the palace, she was the last person in the world who hadn’t reunited with him. The warmth in her heart had long cooled, leaving only loneliness surging as fiercely as when she first married into Luoyang—she didn’t know where to find him or how to seek answers. In the end, he always made decisions between them. Ten years ago on the river, he chose to separate; in Qiantang, he chose to stay together. Ten years later here, he remained free to come and go. The person trapped by the palace walls was always her alone.

But in the end... he came.

From the cold night outside the bright lights, from the empty imperial courtyard under the moonlight, the noble purple robe symbolized the highest honor of authority. At that moment, it strangely appeared desolate—he had grown very thin, almost as thin as when she saw him again in the Luoyang Palace. His stern gaze carried an indescribable coldness. Reflecting carefully, he was indeed far removed from the youthful heir of the Duke of Jin who once said, “A golden bridle restrains a fine horse, a brocade belt holds a dragon sword.”

There was a sudden silence in the great hall. Perhaps the ministers felt a subtle fear at that moment. Only Prince Yinping sneered contemptuously, his gaze briefly meeting the composed Grand Tutor hidden in the shadows. Song Shuyan didn’t notice these details; her heart tightened the moment she caught sight of his robe corner out of the corner of her eye. His thinness pained her, and the obvious dullness in his eyes made her feel helpless and on the verge of tears.

...Third Brother.

She called out loudly to him in her heart, though she didn’t know what calling him would accomplish. People say, “Words choke before tears flow,” but she wasn’t allowed to shed tears. She watched him kneel, saw the young emperor awkwardly award him honors, saw him emotionlessly repeat the promise he made since the late emperor’s time—”refusing promotion.” Everything was the same as before, yet somehow gradually becoming unrecognizable.

He didn’t look at her, and she no longer had the energy to explore the reasons behind this avoidance—she just wanted to embrace him, desperately, forcefully, hysterically, disregarding propriety. Someone in this world needed to sincerely celebrate his return, whether he brought back victory or not, whether he himself was sad or happy.

“I’m a bit drunk, I need to change clothes...”

She heard herself tell the young emperor beside her, her voice trembling slightly, already somewhat inappropriate at that moment. She thought the person sitting below must have understood her implication, but she didn’t know if he would meet her as she wished.

“If I return late... Your Majesty can dismiss them yourself.”