FYM - 166

…She was pregnant.

In truth, Song Shuyan wasn’t particularly surprised by the result. She knew they had been too reckless that night, and her irregular menstruation over the past two months had already served as a warning. More importantly, deep down, she had a premonition—they would have a child. Heaven wouldn’t always be cruel to them; it would soften its heart and show them mercy this time.

She didn’t dare call in a physician from the Imperial Medical Office, so the next day, she asked her second brother to find a doctor outside the palace to examine her pulse. The diagnosis confirmed what she had suspected—the fall hadn’t harmed the child, but the pregnancy was somewhat unstable. She needed medicine to stabilize it and would have to avoid overexertion and stress, focusing on rest and recuperation for the coming days.

She felt a mix of emotions—fear, joy, and disbelief. The thing she had longed for had finally come true, and while she was overjoyed, she couldn’t help feeling a sense of unreality. Her emotions seemed to grow fragile all at once. In that moment… she desperately wanted to see him.

…Fortunately, he came to her that very night.

Perhaps he had already heard the news from her second brother earlier, for when he arrived, he seemed unusually hurried. Though it was nearing the fifth month, the night breeze remained cool. Inside the desolate and ancient Wangshan Pavilion, where no lights could be lit, his arms enveloped her warmly and gently as always.

“I’m pregnant…”

She whispered softly into his embrace, her hand clutching his robe trembling slightly.

That night, he was exceptionally silent, his emotions tangled in ways she couldn’t fully comprehend. After an indeterminate period of silence, she finally heard him say, “The doctor said you’ve disturbed the fetus, so you’ll need to take care of yourself… Once you’ve reached three months and your condition stabilizes, I’ll take you away.”

These were the words she had waited so long to hear. Now that they had finally come, her unease only grew. She clutched his robe tighter, as if gripping her own heart, and whispered hesitantly, “Can we really just leave like this?”

“Third Brother… can we really?”

Perhaps she was still thinking about the young emperor’s reaction the day before, or the unstable situation in the country after the tax increase. Or maybe she had simply been confined for too long, and the prospect of freedom left her feeling lost and unsure.

“Don’t think about these things. Just focus on taking care of yourself.”

He consoled her, perhaps with warmth and tenderness. After a pause, his voice dropped even lower, and he loosened his embrace slightly. “And our child.”

…”Child.”

For a moment, she froze. She had never dared to hope for anything beyond fleeting moments of intimacy with him. In fact, he had long decided to remain childless, leaving the inheritance of the Fang family to his nephew. Yet now, she could so vividly feel a tiny life growing inside her—fragile, vibrant, and undeniably real.

Her gaze softened. In the darkness, she couldn’t see his face, but at that moment, she believed he must have felt pure joy. She gently touched the back of his hand, and even that fleeting intimacy felt eternal.

But then he suddenly became overwhelmed with emotion, lowering his head to kiss her deeply. His passion was intense and utterly unexpected, catching her off guard. Though she was momentarily swept away, her thoughts quickly returned to the child within her. For the first time, she resisted his demands, whispering softly, “The child…”

His breath immediately caught, tinged with a kind of obscure restraint and pain. She didn’t know what he was thinking in that moment, but his gaze in the darkness was one she found incomprehensible yet deeply moving.

“We’ll leave next month…”

She barely heard his voice, low and almost indistinguishable.

“Though Qiantang is your favorite place, it’s too close to the southern capital and might attract unwanted attention. It’s better to head north to Yingchuan instead… It will be safer there. The Fang family will surely protect you.”

He spoke quickly, clearly having made these arrangements long ago rather than deciding on the spot. Looking back, she realized he had already resolved to send her away, regardless of whether she was pregnant or whether she herself agreed. But at the time, she didn’t realize this, believing he was simply honoring their so-called “gamble.” Nestled in his embrace, listening to his steady heartbeat, her earlier unease and sorrow seemed to fade somewhat.

“Yingchuan…”

She repeated softly, memories of her first visit there surfacing in her mind. All she could recall was an overwhelming expanse of white snow, followed by endless waves of pain. There, she had witnessed countless heart-wrenching partings and reunions. Yet, strangely, she didn’t dwell much on revisiting that place.

But this time, he would be with her. With him by her side, everything would be different. She trusted him more than anything else in the world. At that moment, she pushed aside her lingering unease and replied, “Alright… I’ll do as you say.”

His arms tightened around her slightly, perhaps sensing her complete trust in him. Beneath the flowing moonlight, they leaned against each other. She thought that all she had ever sought in life was this simple, quiet peace.

“I’ll protect you…”

He whispered in her ear, though even without saying it, she had never doubted that he would ensure the safety of everyone around her.

“Shuyan… you will definitely be safe.”

The great river rolled eastward. The so-called divide between north and south was merely a fabrication of human speech. Chang’an and Jinling were not so far apart. In this bleak and desolate world, both places shared the same decay.

“Ji’er—Ji’er—”

Heart-wrenching cries echoed intermittently from deep within the palace. Everyone knew it was Zhong He, the regent king, driven mad by the pain of his son Zhong Ji’s murder. The imperial palace was overgrown with weeds, and even Ganlu Hall, once belonging to Emperor Ruizong, no longer resounded with the music of pipa and dance. This western capital, Chang’an, which the people of Jiangnan regarded as the heart of their nation, had long become a dead city.

“Uncle…”

A shadow approached Zhong He amidst the flickering palace lanterns. Still disheveled, gaunt, and pale, Qin Wang Wei Zheng, who once had piercing eyes like a hawk, now appeared hazy and worn, though his gaze remained sharp enough to discern many truths.

“Let’s surrender…”

He knelt before his uncle, shedding the ridiculous dragon robe he wore. His expression was one of unparalleled ease and relief.

“You and I have been forced to slaughter cities alongside the barbarians, branded as千古罪人 (eternal sinners) in the eyes of the world… Tuo Na may have used lives to temporarily repel Fang Xianting, but he will never hold Central Plains for long…”

“Uncle… we were wrong…”

“It’s time to stop.”

In the soft, humid winds of Jiangnan, early spring carried a biting chill, while in the bleak northern plains, the cold cut to the bone. The ruined palace resembled a desolate graveyard, fit only for the eternal sleep of decaying corpses.

“Bastard—”

A frenzied roar erupted, accompanied by the sharp sound of a slap. Zhong He, previously immersed in grief, flew into a rage upon hearing the name “Fang,” his eyes bloodshot and bulging, looking like a pitiful demon.

“How dare you mention him in front of me—”

“He killed Ji’er—I will kill him to avenge Ji’er—”

Suddenly, he lunged forward, drawing his sword and slashing wildly through the candlelit hall. An old bronze tree lamp was shattered into pieces, falling to the ground with piercing, discordant sounds.

“Ahh—”

Wei Zheng watched numbly until Zhong He, exhausted, collapsed to his knees, his frail body curling tightly into a ball. His intermittent sobs sounded like those of a dying beast, filled with despair.

Wei Zheng understood… His uncle’s apparent grief over his son’s death was, in reality, nothing more than the panicked howling of a cornered man. Those driven mad by greed had slaughtered entire cities. By now, who cared about the lives of others? All he cared about was himself. Twisted madness turned men into beasts, violating morality and reason.

“Does Fang Siqi think his son will win?”

Zhong He continued to rant.

“Delusional!”

“Even if I lose, Fang Yi will have no escape either!”

“He will die! He will die for my Ji’er—”

“Hahahaha…”

Maniacal laughter echoed through the vast hall, overlapping echoes reminiscent of the grand chorus of ministers during the height of the empire. But Wei Zheng felt as though he were surrounded by a thousand ghostly shadows, and his uncle’s eerie laughter sent a stronger wave of dread through him.

“Fang Yi… he…”

Wei Zheng began hesitantly, fear creeping into his voice. His uncle suddenly looked up at him in the darkness, a grotesque grin spreading across his grief-stricken face. Perhaps in the throes of collapse, everything seemed inverted, and madness reigned supreme.

“He’s going to die…”

“He spent his whole life serving Wei Qin… and now he’s going to be killed by his own son…”

He seemed to find immense satisfaction in this thought.

“In the past, I sent countless secret letters to Jinling, urging Wei Bi to ally with me. He never responded… But now they’re the ones begging me…”

“Fang Yi will never understand why they want to kill him… He and the Fang family of Yingchuan… will be obliterated without a trace…”

“Hahaha… Hahahaha…”

He laughed as if gasping for breath, mocking others’ clean deaths with his own filthy last breaths. At one point, Wei Zheng felt an unprecedented surge of anger and horror, breaking through ten years of carefully maintained pretense. He grabbed his uncle Zhong He by the collar and shouted, “What are you planning to do!”

“What more do you intend to do to this world before you’re satisfied—”

His voice was laced with blood and tears, but Zhong He continued to laugh maniacally, deaf to his words. The howling northern wind threatened to tear apart the remaining eaves of the palace—or perhaps it didn’t matter, for this absurd world was already scarred beyond recognition, barren and lifeless.

“‘Like frost piercing a jade tower, or plum blossoms steeped in snowy winds…’”

Zhong He recited softly, reviving an old poem in this unrecognizable former capital. Anyone who heard it would say it was the most brilliant satire of all time.

“He gained so much in life… but in death… he will lose everything…”

“He will die in disgrace… Everyone who once relied on his protection will abandon him… They will trample him into the mud… His infamy will be remembered for thousands of generations…”

“He will descend into hell before me!”

“Even in death, I will drag them all down with me—”

“The only regret is that Fang Siqi died too soon…”

“He won’t see… what becomes of his son and his Fang family in the end…”

“Hahahahaha…”

Bang—

A loud crash suddenly came from behind them. The dilapidated carved window had finally been blown apart by the violent cold wind. Endless darkness loomed outside, swallowing everything with ferocity. No matter how those trapped within struggled, they could not see its end.

Wei Zheng slumped to the ground, his face ashen.