FYM - 165

That heavy snowstorm continued intermittently until the first month of the new year.

People often say that auspicious snow foretells a bountiful harvest, but such an anomaly was rare in Jiangnan. Rivers and lakes froze over and remained icy for days; thick layers of snow accumulated on roads and fields. Some regions even suffered disasters, forcing the imperial court to provide relief. The already depleted national treasury was now completely drained, leaving the palace unable to afford even a modest New Year’s Eve banquet.

Song Shuyan was overwhelmed by the mounting crises. After the Lunar New Year, petitions from regional commanders requesting grain and military funds flooded into the Ministry of Works. The court, already stretched thin, had no solutions. Even Xu Zongyao, the usually resolute Chief Secretary, couldn’t help but sigh heavily while attending to her duties at Fengyang Palace.

“Your Majesty…”

Xu Zongyao’s voice carried both trepidation and hesitation.

“Given the circumstances… perhaps it is time to allow the regional commanders to raise their own provisions.”

This proposal—allowing regional commanders to self-fund—had been raised before during the rebellion led by Shi Hong and Du Zexun in the south. Fang Xianting had staunchly opposed it, fearing that granting military leaders financial autonomy would lead to them growing too powerful and slipping out of the central government’s control. But now, if they refused to grant them financial authority, several armies would soon be without food or clothing. Who would then guard the borders? Should they simply allow barbarian invaders to march unopposed toward the capital?

She couldn’t answer. At that moment, she chose silence—a silence that spoke of compromise and defeat. Xu Zongyao understood. Their sovereign, strong-willed as she was, did not wish to resort to desperate measures like drinking poison to quench thirst or cutting flesh to treat wounds.

“It’s only temporary…” he lied, knowing full well that reclaiming power once ceded would be impossible. “Once this year’s crisis is resolved, we’ll reclaim financial authority next year—”

—Reclaim?

Granting power was easy; reclaiming it was far harder. Once tigers and wolves tasted the sweetness of meat, how could they ever return to being docile lambs penned within fences? Feeding the fire to extinguish it would only result in burning oneself alive. The nation would crumble under her hands.

“Order the Ministry of Revenue to deliberate further on methods to increase taxes,” she murmured, lowering her eyes slightly. Her voice was softer than usual. “In a few days, we’ll discuss it again at court. If there are no objections, implement it as soon as possible.”

Increase taxes…

It was indeed the most straightforward solution. However, with grievances already brewing among the people of Jiangnan, the unprecedented natural calamities only worsened matters. If they imposed additional taxes now, burdening the common folk even more…

“The regional commanders’ demands for provisions essentially amount to extorting the populace,” Song Shuyan explained when sensing Xu Zongyao’s hesitation. She clearly regarded him as a trusted advisor, willing to take the time to address his doubts. “Rather than adding fuel to the flames of public discontent, it’s better for me to shoulder this sin alone.”

…She was right.

If they allowed the regional commanders to levy taxes independently, the opportunities for corruption and falsified reports would be endless. The common people might lose even more, enriching only the local officials. If these commanders grew stronger and later attempted to rebel and splinter the state, the court would have to send troops to suppress them. Endless warfare would only bring more suffering to the people. Increasing taxes, painful as it was, was the least damaging option available.

“Your Majesty…”

Xu Zongyao felt sympathy for this woman once again. Song Shuyan, however, was aware of her own selfishness and sometimes felt guilty about this minister’s pure-hearted loyalty. She had already begun contemplating leaving Jinling with Fang Xianting. That reckless night lingered in her mind, and she found herself constantly paying attention to her body. In moments like these, one could be most honest with oneself. Beneath her anxiety and uncertainty, she realized her deepest desire remained unchanged: to have a child with him. Knowing it was impossible yet still hoping… perhaps she truly was deluding herself.

But she reasoned that if she were to leave, she couldn’t leave behind a mess for Xi’er to clean up. She wanted to shoulder as much blame as possible for him, paving the way forward so he wouldn’t stumble. Deep down, she had come to regard that child as her own kin. Whatever she could do for him… she would give her all.

Before the Lantern Festival in the first month, the decree to increase taxes spread rapidly across Jiangnan. The people groaned under the weight of their grievances, accusing the court of incompetence and shamelessness. Unable to pacify the Central Plains externally and preying on its citizens internally, the snowstorms were seen as divine punishment. If the regent empress dowager—the one wreaking havoc on the nation—was not removed, Zhou would inevitably collapse under the weight of her moral bankruptcy.

Such slander filled the streets. It was as though everyone had personally witnessed the empress dowager’s litany of crimes. No one bothered to investigate the truth behind the scenes. Perhaps, in such turbulent times, merely surviving intact was considered a blessing.

The winds within Tai Cheng shifted direction. Palace attendants speculated that the empress dowager’s reputation was irreparably tarnished. Her maternal clan, the Songs, had also fallen out of favor. Clearly, her position wouldn’t last long, and she would struggle to maintain influence in the imperial palace. Rumors circulated that the young emperor, who had always been close to her, now rarely visited Fucheng Hall, preferring instead to dine frequently with his birth mother, Consort Dong, at Xicui Palace. Believing the empress dowager’s withdrawal from power imminent, many servants avoided currying favor with her.

Song Shuyan heard about the young emperor spending more time with Consort Dong. While she was pleased that their mother-son relationship was improving, she also thought her earlier decision to allow Dong Xian to light lanterns and pray for the emperor had been correct. When she eventually left, the child wouldn’t feel entirely alone.

Though reluctant to disturb their familial joy, the recent surge in administrative duties weighed heavily on her. Fearing that Xi’er might struggle to manage affairs after her departure, she sent a palace maid to summon the young emperor to Fucheng Hall for a conversation. Unbeknownst to her, the expression of the servant standing behind her held an indescribable subtlety.

The young emperor arrived at Fucheng Hall late in the evening.

Song Shuyan had waited for him most of the day, thinking that even if he was enjoying time with his birth mother, three or four hours was excessive. Naturally, she asked why he had taken so long.

The young emperor’s reaction was unexpected. The sixteen-year-old now resembled a fully grown man—tall, angular features, bearing no resemblance to the boy she once knew. Upon hearing her question, he abruptly raised his head, his expression mocking and resentful. Only then did she notice the dark circles under his eyes, his cheeks sunken deeply from exhaustion.

“Late?”

His sharp tone cut like a blade.

“Aren’t you displeased when I enter Fucheng Hall? Have you ever hoped for my presence before?”

“My mother, the Consort, is different from the Empress Dowager. She wants me by her side—does the Empress Dowager forbid even that?”

His sudden flare of anger was baffling. Song Shuyan listened, bewildered, unsure how to respond. In her eyes, Xi’er had always been gentle and obedient, never speaking to her harshly. Yet here he was, addressing her as “Empress Dowager,” using the cold pronoun “you.” Had reconciling with his birth mother meant he no longer wished to call her “Mother Empress”?

“Why do you speak this way, Your Majesty?”

She furrowed her brow, reasoning that blood ties between mother and son ran deeper than any outsider could match. Though she didn’t expect gratitude from him, she hoped they could part amicably. Her tone remained gentle, carefully coaxing him.

“I merely asked. You and the Consort are mother and son—it’s natural for you to spend more time together…”

Unexpectedly, this concession failed to appease the young emperor. He looked down at her, hearing her placating words while recalling her betrayal behind closed doors. How dare she stand before him pretending to be a mother? And what about her behavior with that man? How submissive and pitiable she must have appeared!

Suddenly, he recalled the night she had closed her eyes in the snow outside the palace gates, waiting for someone else’s kiss. Fury surged through him, and he fought the urge to tear her apart. The dignity of a king and the desires of a man nearly drove him mad. Suppressing the urge to destroy everything, he averted his gaze, refusing to meet her eyes.

“What did you summon me for?” he demanded coldly.

Song Shuyan knew the young emperor’s inexplicable anger hadn’t subsided, but she lacked the energy for a lengthy discussion. With a resigned sigh, she said, “Regarding the matter of withdrawing from governance, I thought it best to discuss a few final points with Your Majesty…”

“Withdrawal?”

Wei Xi raised his eyebrows, visibly startled. Since the previous emperor’s death, the empress dowager had governed for over two years. The Guangyou Reforms bore her mark, and she had made critical decisions regarding military campaigns. Now, suddenly, she spoke of “withdrawing”—did she intend to cease involvement in state affairs entirely?

“Yes,” she nodded, her expression infuriatingly calm. “Your Majesty has grown up. With the post-northern campaign situation stabilized and no immediate prospect of further war, it seems an opportune time for me to step aside and return governance.”

She looked up at him, studying his features, feeling a faint sense of satisfaction.

“The late emperor entrusted me with great responsibilities, fearing Your Majesty’s youth might leave you vulnerable to manipulation. Over these two years, I’ve stabilized the southern capital and implemented reforms. Though mistakes were inevitable, I’ve managed to preserve the dynasty’s stability for now. I believe I haven’t entirely failed him.”

“I lack the talent or ambition of Empress Lü or Empress Wu. I only hope Your Majesty will assume personal rule soon and achieve the revival of our great cause. The road ahead is long, and Your Majesty must walk it step by step.”

Her words were composed, effortlessly relinquishing the immense power she had once painstakingly assumed. The late emperor, entrusting her with everything, likely never expected her to perform so admirably.

…But Wei Xi saw things differently.

—Withdrawal? Return governance?

Are you truly returning everything to me, or are you abandoning me for another?

Or are you feigning innocence, believing this act of apparent detachment will earn my forgiveness?

Fury surged within him, his dull eyes quickly turning crimson. He stepped forward, grabbing her hand with crushing force, his presence menacing like a feral wolf.

“And what about you?”

He demanded harshly, struggling to hold back tears threatening to spill.

“You… don’t want me anymore?”

She understood him well, seeing through his aggressive facade to the vulnerability beneath. To her, he was still a child lacking companionship and affection. In the past, she had given him what he needed; now, it was time for his true mother to guide him forward.

“I…”

Her self-reference shifted back to “I,” speaking as a mother to her child. But he suddenly wrenched his hand away, unwilling to hear another word from her. She stumbled, falling to the ground. Startled by his own violence, he hesitated briefly before turning and rushing out of Fucheng Hall, his steps hurried and chaotic—as if driven by fear.

Song Shuyan watched him leave, powerless. A wave of dizziness swept over her.

She placed a hand over her lower abdomen… feeling a faint, lingering pain.