FYM - 161

The side hall was enveloped in silence.

She dismissed her attendants and retreated alone into the shadows beyond the door. The only source of light came from the faintly swaying palace lanterns hanging beneath the eaves outside. The biting cold wind of late autumn howled incessantly, as if someone were sobbing softly by her ear.

She felt the chill deeply. The unheated palace in this season was like an icy dungeon. She wasn’t afraid of the dark or solitude—what she feared most was that the person she had waited so long for would not come. And yet, she also feared his arrival, dreading that the frost in his eyes had grown too thick for her remaining warmth to melt.

Until—

A faint creak.

She heard the almost imperceptible sound of the door opening, followed by soft footsteps gradually approaching her. The dim glow of the palace lanterns outside cast a hazy light, revealing the deep purple sleeves of the man and the small mole beneath his eye, resembling a teardrop. Her hands trembled violently, her tongue frozen stiff as though numbed by the oppressive cold.

“Third Brother...”

That was all she could call him. The hateful darkness obscured his face from her view, but he didn’t need her to speak. In the next moment, he suddenly leaned down and fiercely pressed his lips against hers. His strong hands tightly gripped her lower back, making her feel as though she might be crushed under his weight.

...A violent kiss!

So silent, yet so dangerous. This sudden intimacy was the very essence of despairing madness. Her back was slammed hard against the wooden door behind her, and the man’s nearly uncontrollable force caused her sharp pain. She couldn’t help but recall the drunken, chaotic kiss over a year ago at the plum pavilion. He had discarded the imperial decree of betrothal on the ground, treating her like a dying beast without an ounce of pity as he tore into her mercilessly.

She couldn’t resist him. When he forcefully ripped open her robe, her throat could only emit suppressed gasps. He didn’t speak to her—only his eyes, burning with intensity in the darkness, remained fixed on her face. Without warning, he pinned her against the door again, shamelessly lifting her skirt. His desire was overwhelming, leaving her powerless to withstand it.

“Third Brother—”

She called out to him in panic, her hands desperately reaching back, hoping he would pull her close. But he paid no heed, instead lowering his head to brutally and chaotically kiss her neck. His ragged, uneven breaths made her unable to tell whether she felt cold or hot—finally, she managed to grab hold of his arm, wanting to turn and see his face, but he held her captive, leaving her unable to move. Waves of unbearable pain and overwhelming pleasure crashed over her simultaneously, forcing her moans into shattered fragments.

And then, finally, he...

“Ahh—”

She cried out involuntarily, feeling a surge of heat flood through her body. His hand gripped her waist tightly, not allowing her even the slightest struggle. Her vision blurred with kaleidoscopic colors; even the swaying palace lanterns outside seemed indistinct. Yet it wasn’t over—after a brief pause, the storm of passion began to rage anew.

She couldn’t bear it anymore. The doorframe thudded repeatedly with a dull sound. If any palace attendant were to pass by, they would discover their secret—one that could cost them their lives. But he seemed utterly indifferent, lost in this crumbling, desolate world, intent on capturing her completely. His unrestrained kisses were like the branding mark of an impending apocalypse, hinting at the inevitable end awaiting them both.

When it was finally over, she was utterly drained, unable to stand. He relented, mercifully pulling her into his arms—not with the same ferocity as before, but gently, carefully, almost tenderly.

She cried, tears streaming ceaselessly, one drop after another falling onto his chest. He shuddered as though burned, arching his back slightly. His deep eyes, hidden in shadow, reflected not a flicker of wavering light.

“Yingying...”

He finally spoke her name again, his voice low and pained, nearly breaking. She couldn’t tell if he, too, was shedding tears in that moment.

“...I’m sorry.”

...Sorry?

She didn’t understand why he apologized. Was it for his earlier brutality? Or for the outcome dictated by societal judgment—an inevitable defeat even in victory? They hadn’t done anything wrong, so why did he keep apologizing, over and over, to someone who had done nothing?

She cried harder, though she was already emotionally hollow. Her weak arms eventually wrapped around his neck, clinging to him as her heart shattered into pieces within his secretive embrace.

“Don’t say sorry anymore...”

She shook her head desperately in his suffocating embrace.

“...Never say sorry to anyone else again...”

His breath grew colder and hotter at the same time. The bare skin of her shoulders felt a fleeting wetness, sharp with pain. Deep down, she had always been willing to spend her life depending on him in some forgotten corner of the world. Yet she knew full well that he could never remain unscathed while watching the floodwaters rise below the mountain.

“Come away with me tonight...”

His whisper lingered in her ear.

“Yingying... I’m tired.”

It was a night as absurd as a dream.

They had both fled early from the treacherous golden halls of intrigue, the pitch-black night serving as perfect cover. Together, they passed through layer upon layer of palace gates, racing toward the world beyond the high walls. Beneath the city gate, they saw ZHUO Ying, waiting like an old friend they hadn’t seen in ages.

Her second brother was there too—the Golden-armored Imperial Guard Commander, who should have been stationed by the Empress Dowager’s side, now aiding an outsider in helping her escape the palace gates. His gaze was complex—part pity, but mostly worry and disapproval.

“Third Brother...”

He hesitated, looking at Fang Xianting, who only silently took the reins from his hand. Song Shuyan kept her head lowered, avoiding her brother’s eyes. After being helped onto the horse by her lover, she heard him address her second brother: “I’ll bring her back before dawn... Thank you.”

Her second brother didn’t respond; his furrowed brows already revealed his stance. But neither of them turned back—perhaps even knowing that ahead lay an abyss, they were still determined to fall together irredeemably. ZHUO Ying let out a loud neigh in the chilly wind, its sound piercing the silent night. All the guards at the gates knew it was the Lord’s horse, none daring to block his path or peek at the cloaked woman seated before him.

Thus, they rode freely outward, the imposing walls of Tai Cheng gradually fading behind them. Song Shuyan had never expected to leave those gates again in her lifetime—she had long considered the palace her tomb. Yet now, the vast expanse beyond the high walls unfolded easily before her eyes. The moon above was unusually bright, and the cold wind blowing against her face carried an unprecedented freshness.

She felt both fear and curiosity, much like a caged bird facing an open door for the first time, unsure of what to do. The galloping hooves echoed in her ears, quickening the rhythm of her heart.

“Are you afraid?”

He asked, his hand firmly encircling her waist. In that moment, she felt transported back to the times when they rode together through the deep forests of Mount Li. There was none of the anxiety or resentment from those days—only rare exhilaration and a misplaced sense of liberation.

“I’m not afraid—”

She shouted her answer to him, her smile growing brighter the farther they moved from the palace gates.

“Can it run faster?”

She was referring to ZHUO Ying. The perceptive creature seemed to understand, letting out a neigh before speeding up even more. She nearly fell off its back but was steadied by the man behind her, laughing even more joyfully. The towering palace gates shrank into a tiny black dot behind them, disappearing entirely in the blink of an eye.

“Where are we going?”

She turned to look at her beloved. Even through the veil of her hood, she could clearly see the handsome features of the man. This sudden recklessness felt like a runaway elopement, reckless and unconcerned about consequences. He was the only companion willing to challenge fate alongside her.

He didn’t answer, simply guiding the horse toward the bustling streets and lights outside Tai Cheng. The exquisite and elegant Jinling City remained untouched by war—a haven amidst chaos. Since the new policies, most of the city walls had been dismantled, and curfew hours shortened by two full hours. People went about their business, free to come and go until late into the night, greatly benefiting commerce in Jiangnan. However, the Northern Expedition had drained the nation’s resources. Farmers had no grain left to harvest, merchants possessed nothing, and ordinary people were emaciated, struggling to find even one decent meal. How could they afford to enjoy themselves in the lively markets of the southern capital?

ZHUO Ying gradually slowed its pace, allowing Song Shuyan to take in the bleak reality of the human condition. It was ironic—she had governed behind the curtain for two years and accompanied the late emperor to familiarize herself with local conditions for six or seven years prior. Yet this was her first time stepping into the marketplace since entering the palace. The words and actions of those in power were both thunder and rain, capable of bestowing blessings or destroying peace with a single thought.

She often felt she had done her best, reflecting on her governance without finding significant regret or error. Yet the people were suffering, their plight worsening day by day. She remembered clearly—the years of Linghe, everyone had bright eyes, believing in better days despite individual hardships. That light had vanished now. Today was a knife-edge, tomorrow perhaps a fiery inferno. Everyone’s faces bore the numbness of merely getting by, tinged with the bitter knowledge of impending catastrophe.

A wave of guilt surged within her, accompanied by an even stronger sense of helplessness. She didn’t know what else she could do. Reflecting on the past, she wondered which steps she could have taken differently. Perhaps she truly was incapable, unable to shoulder the burden of leading this ill-fated nation further. Behind her, silence reigned. The man beside her had always shared her thoughts; seeing the same sights, his reflections likely mirrored hers. But they were both exhausted, unable to offer comfort to each other. Empty words could be spoken a hundred or a thousand times, but in the end, what use were they?

So they spared no effort, choosing instead to ride silently through the streets. The Qingxi River flowed quietly through the city, its banks illuminated by dazzling lights. No matter the era, there would always be those with wealth and abundance. Only then did Song Shuyan truly understand—it wasn’t just this tarnished city of Jinling that she disliked, but the cold, detached nature of human relationships hiding behind its glittering facade. The turbulent memories of her youth in the Song family were merely insignificant indices; everywhere else would be the same.

Her chaotic thoughts ebbed and flowed until the crowd dispersed as midnight approached, gradually restoring calm. The sound of the night patrol’s drums signaled the closing of an unprecedented night.