FYM - 164

“So, you’re leaving?”

Her emotions were a tangled mess—grieving over the weight of reality while secretly reveling in the faint hope of a miracle.

“We’ll leave together... and never look back on these matters again?”

He fell silent once more. The room was pitch dark, his eyes reflecting the pale gray glow of the snow outside.

“At the very least, you should leave...”

He finally broke his silence.

“The young emperor has grown up enough to take back control. Even if there are initial bumps, Grand Tutor Fan is there to guide him. You’ve already carried him through the hardest times; it’s time to let him walk his own path.”

“You don’t need to shoulder anything for me anymore...”

“Shuyan... enough.”

…He understood everything.

She had thought he might resent her forcible recall of Shen Lue from exile, but how could he not see that this was her way of taking responsibility for the failure of the northern campaign before the world? It wasn’t so much about shielding the young emperor as it was about protecting him at all costs.

But—

“You want me to leave alone?”

Song Shuyan pushed herself up from his embrace, her voice incredulous.

“After all we’ve been through together, do you really think I’d selfishly cling to life while abandoning you?”

“Fang Xianting, what do you take me for?”

She had mastered the art of shifting titles too, letting him know just how resolute and defiant she was. In the dim light, he couldn’t make out her face, nor could he tell if tears were brimming in her eyes.

“Or maybe… just gamble with me this once…”

The next moment, she threw herself back into his arms, her thin hands clutching him tightly as though he were her last lifeline.

“I won’t drink that medicine… and you won’t have to make a choice…”

“If nothing happens, we’ll keep going as we always have…”

“And if I truly become pregnant…”

“…will you take me away with you then?”

It was the heaviest snowfall Jinling had seen in decades.

From midnight to dawn, the flakes grew thicker and larger, blanketing the city in frosty white. In just one night, both the prosperity and decay of the southern capital were hidden beneath the snow.

He sent her back amidst this blizzard. The biting wind felt like poisoned knives slicing through their skin, accompanied by the thunderous gallop of Zhuoying’s hooves. Song Shuyan sat silently, gazing ahead into the storm. The familiar walls of Tai Cheng Palace were now within sight.

Her second brother was already waiting at the palace gates. When he saw them return, his expression was complex—part relief, part deepening anxiety for someone else. Song Shuyan said nothing, only avoiding Fang Xianting’s hand when dismounting and letting her brother help her down instead. Snowflakes landed heavily on the ramparts, and she prepared to step back into the unbreakable prison that awaited her.

“Shuyan…”

Her brother noticed something amiss in her demeanor. He looked between her and Fang Xianting but didn’t know what had transpired between them earlier. He didn’t understand how luxurious and fleeting a single night of freedom had been for her, nor that the question she posed to him still lingered unanswered.

She turned and walked away, the gaping black palace gates swallowing her whole. As she passed through the swirling shadows of falling snow, her body was once again covered in white. She wasn’t afraid of the cold—she had accepted this fate ten years ago. A night of stolen bliss was hers, and such nights always ended far too quickly.

“…Shuyan.”

But he still held her back.

A faint sigh drifted off in the freezing wind. His deep eyes reflected the thin layer of snowlight under the palace gates. Everyone believed this man was invincible, but only she knew that the one who carried firewood for others was about to freeze in the storm.

“As you wish…”

He slowly approached her, his lowered brows betraying a reluctant compromise. Yet, beneath the heavy darkness, there was a faint glimmer of hope, as if even he briefly believed they might find a narrow, winding path forward.

“If this is truly our fate… Yingying, let’s go.”

His voice was so soft, barely audible, yet it struck her heart like rolling thunder. In the snowy night, she hadn’t sought some roaring fire. The faintest flicker of flame was what made her believe in its warmth most.

She smiled, but tears streamed down her gaunt cheeks. At that moment, she didn’t care that her second brother was watching. All she remembered was to throw herself back into his arms with all her strength. They clung to each other in a world blanketed in white, as though the endless snow bore witness to their innocence. Song Mingzhen, watching this scene that should have seemed scandalous, found himself mourning for the two most innocent souls in the world.

“Don’t leave me behind…”

Her sobs were heart-wrenching. If she hadn’t chosen to stand by his side, she wouldn’t be trapped in this desperate dead end. But she loved him without reservation, and because of him, her fragile, icy heart became unbreakable and perpetually ablaze.

“Third Brother… don’t ever leave me again.”

The snow fell thickly, and the night grew deeper. The darkness before dawn was suffocating. No one noticed the shadowy figures standing atop the towering city walls, ghostly and menacing, with murderous intent lurking in the deepest shadows.

“Your Majesty, this old servant did not deceive you…”

Chen Meng’s voice sounded as though it came from the depths of hell, aged and brittle against the howling wind.

“The Empress Dowager and the Marquis have long been entangled… They’ve betrayed you and deceived the entire world.”

The snow grew heavier. The young emperor’s eyes reflected the blurry figures embracing tightly below the walls. His numbness made him appear vacant, as though this sudden truth had utterly shattered him.

“Your Majesty…”

Wang Mu shed tears, his heart aching for the ruler he had raised since childhood.

“They are nothing but treacherous adulterers, unworthy of the late emperor’s dying trust or Your Majesty’s complete reliance!”

“They don’t deserve your sorrow—”

The young emperor showed no reaction, as if he hadn’t heard a word. His face was deathly pale in the snowy night, as though every last drop of blood had been drained from him.

“Yes, they don’t deserve it…”

Chen Meng sighed deeply, his gaze filled with pain as he looked at the young emperor.

“The Empress Dowager is not of your bloodline, incapable of being eternally united with Your Majesty. And the Marquis is not of your surname—he who dares to touch the late emperor’s wife today may tomorrow take even more that belongs to Your Majesty.”

At this, he paused slightly, seeing the young emperor’s eyelashes tremble faintly. Then, turning his head toward the shadows, he lightly beckoned.

“Liaoliao zhe e, fei e yi hao, ai ai fu mu, sheng wo qu lao… Those who can remain by Your Majesty’s side forever will always be those bound by blood. They will never harbor ill intentions, nor will they betray you cruelly.”

These profound words scattered into the wind and snow. A figure deeply resented by the young emperor emerged from the shadows—a gaunt, pale face worn down by years of confinement in the cold palace, stripped of any remaining traces of femininity. She looked like an old woman, trembling humbly as she reached out to her child born after months of pregnancy.

“Xi’er…”

She called to him, her voice full of emotion, her eyes shining brighter than ever before. Perhaps she knew this was her chance to replace that usurping Song woman and return to her son’s side. Years of grievances melted away; all she wanted now was for this child to call her “Mother Consort” sincerely.

“She doesn’t want you, Mother Consort does… Mother Consort will never leave you, nor will she ever betray you…”

“Xi’er, look at me… Look at your Mother Consort…”

She repeated the title incessantly, clumsily and awkwardly. The young emperor’s expression grew increasingly complicated. Slowly, he turned his head, his hollow gaze falling on the face of his birth mother. In that moment, he recalled the “Empress Dowager” who had been by his side day and night since Taiqing Year Three—so radiant and beautiful. And now… she was cradled tightly in another man’s arms.

…Why?

Mother…

…Why do you abandon me too?

You know how much I despise betrayal. That woman who bore me was condemned for infidelity, and I hated her for over a decade… And you? What are you doing?

Back in Luoyang, you promised to stay by my side forever and asked me to teach you how to be a mother. You had so many choices… Why did you choose betrayal?

He looked again toward the palace gates. Below the walls, the couple clung to each other like inseparable mandarin ducks. The woman who had struggled fiercely even under his light embrace in Fucheng Hall now rested so docilely in another man’s arms. Under the reflection of the snowlight, he even saw her close her eyes, leaning in to ask for a farewell kiss.

…And that man?

He was the righteous and upright master of the Yingchuan Fang clan, the trusted regent entrusted by his father to serve him faithfully for life, the man he deeply trusted and admired. Yet here he was, holding his empress dowager tightly, as if she belonged to him, as if…

The young emperor stared unblinkingly at the scene unfolding before him. His hands clenched beneath his dragon robe, veins bulging, nails digging deep into flesh, drawing fresh wounds. Yet he felt no pain—or perhaps he relished the torment. His face was ashen, the night’s snow unbearably cold.

“Your Majesty…”

“Xi’er…”

The people around him gathered close, treating him as the most precious person, the most important being in the world. But his eyes remained fixed on the distant figures until they reluctantly parted, until his personally appointed Imperial Guard escorted the Empress Dowager away, disappearing into the flurry of falling snow.

Only then did he slowly withdraw his self-destructive gaze. His birth mother stood behind him, still staring humbly, hoping he would soften and call her “Mother Consort.” Wang Mu’s concern was genuine, fearing the young emperor might collapse completely.

He felt only numbness. Blood dripped from his palms, falling onto the thin layer of snow atop the ramparts, blooming like plum blossoms. Once the purest and whitest symbol in his eyes, they were now stained with mud, dirty and defiled.

Chen Meng watched the young emperor he had raised, witnessing his heart being mercilessly crushed into dust and scattered by the wind. He saw his bones broken inch by inch, his tendons severed one by one. He saw the final flicker of hope in his eyes extinguish completely, leaving them empty, cold, and desolate.

And then…

…Hatred and bloodlust surged without end.