FYM - 169

“It’s nothing,” her second brother’s tone carried a hint of resignation. “It’s just that it knows its master won’t take it this time, so it’s throwing a tantrum again.”

A tantrum?

It had always been prone to them—its temper was so bad that even from a young age, people had to indulge it. Only around him did it show any obedience, and when necessary, it would even humble itself. But this time, it seemed futile. She knew he had decided against taking it because of its age, choosing instead a younger, stronger horse for the campaign. Before leaving, he had entrusted it to her, instructing her to take it back to Yingchuan with her.

It didn’t know his mind was made up, thinking that being allowed to leave Jinling with him meant everything was fine. However, upon arriving in Yangzhou, it saw him switch horses and went berserk in the middle of the encampment. Hearing the commotion, she opened the carriage window again and saw several burly soldiers surrounding it. It kept kicking and struggling, but unlike in its prime, it no longer had the strength to resist. Soon, it was restrained, its reins pulled taut, holding it firmly in place. Its mournful, indignant neighs pierced the snowy white landscape, inexplicably bringing tears to her eyes.

“Let it go—”

She couldn’t bear to see it humiliated and shouted an order. Almost at the same moment, he hurried over. The snowstorm obscured his figure, but Zhuoying, as always, was the first to sense his presence—it strained toward him, its body, which had momentarily given up, now writhing violently again. From inside the carriage, she saw him extend his hand toward it, and the soldiers around it immediately understood, releasing Zhuoying and stepping back.

Finally, it staggered to its feet and ran toward him, a streak of deep black against the vast expanse of snow. He seemed to understand its struggles, gently stroking its coat, no longer as sleek and glossy as it once was, his expression as tender as it had always been. They were companions who had faced countless life-and-death situations together—perhaps many times they had thought they would die alongside each other.

No one spoke. For a moment, the only sound on the riverbank was the falling snow. Jiang Chao, Lou Feng, Lou Wei, Fang Yunhui, Song Mingzhen—all these men who had been on the battlefield stood by watching. The parting of warrior and steed might be the most poignant farewell in their eyes.

“It’s not that I won’t take you…”

Everyone heard the Marquis speak softly to Zhuoying, as if it weren’t an animal but an old friend he had known for years.

“It’s just…”

He trailed off, and it let out another long, sorrowful neigh. A divine steed indeed understands the heart—perhaps at that moment, it didn’t want to make things difficult for him. Yet it refused to leave, repeatedly lowering its head to nuzzle his hand. Perhaps it wasn’t afraid of being abandoned; it simply lamented that it could no longer save his life in moments of dire peril.

Song Shuyan couldn’t bear to watch any longer and quickly shut the carriage window. After some time, the sound of footsteps crunching through the snow reached her ears outside the carriage. She knew it was him coming to bid her farewell through the window.

“After I leave, Jiang Chao and Lou Feng will escort you across the river…”

His voice drifted low into her ears, reminiscent of that year when they first met, and he had said, “It’s nothing” through the snow-covered window.

“Yingying… take care of yourself.”

Inside the carriage, she saw his shadow, like snowflakes drifting in and then scattering away. Everything seemed to return to the beginning, except the address had changed from the distant “Miss” to “Yingying.” She smiled. With her second brother’s help, she slowly stepped down from the carriage. The three armies stood solemnly by the great river, hundreds of ships and thousands of sails witnessing the iron horses and icy rivers. He stood in the snow waiting for her, kneeling before her as he had done countless times before. Tens of thousands of soldiers behind him knelt as well, as if these men, ready to sacrifice their lives for the nation, were still inferior to her, a useless puppet.

“You wish to help others cross the river, and for the world, this is a profound act of kindness…”

She looked down at him and smiled, her falling tears glistening like snowflakes.

“But if this boat carries only you, ahead lies boundless green waves… Yet if shared with others, it may find its path blocked by chains across the river.”

The familiar words drifted in the wind, and the scene of their departure from Chang’an a decade ago replayed in her mind. The same river flowed eastward, and this moment of separation was no different from then. The only difference was that the speaker had changed from him to her. Thus, causes and effects reversed, and her sorrow was deeper than ever before.

“Everyone has only one boat…”

“Could it be… you don’t want to go somewhere better?”

He understood every word, and all her fragmented past memories remained etched in his heart. At this moment, his expression was both dazed and nostalgic. Perhaps the ten-year dream was truly long, and he too missed the girl who once insisted on seeing him off at the ship’s bow.

“This subject indeed has many places I wish to visit…”

He smiled at her, rarely breaking protocol to look directly into her eyes.

“‘To entrust one’s fleeting life to the vast universe, as insignificant as a grain of sand in the boundless sea, to lament the brevity of our existence, and envy the endless flow of the Yangtze River’… To know something is impossible yet strive for it is not for personal gain but to live without regret after introspection.”

“To see flowers bloom amidst willows, and spring mountains beyond flat fields… Even if I never have the fortune to visit them personally, I shall harbor no regrets.”

He was meticulous by nature, and hearing her mention the “crossing the river” story, he responded with a similar reference to “spring mountains.” In his eyes, she saw the clearest and most expansive scenery. Beyond their intimate moments, her respect for him had never been less than her love.

“Alright…”

She smiled through her tears, unsure what she was agreeing to. In silence, he slowly rose and, under the watchful eyes of thousands on the riverbank, extended his hand toward her—

Gently… brushing away a flake of snow from her temple.

For a moment, she was stunned. The biting wind and snow drowned out any gasps or murmurs from the crowd, but these trivialities no longer mattered. She should empty her heart to cherish the one and only bold gesture he had ever made toward her—he was kissing her, with his gaze, with his breath, with the last lingering warmth in his heart.

“Yingying…”

He whispered softly in her ear, his smiling eyes a mesmerizing guide. At that moment, she understood it was his way of repaying her. It wasn’t just her who couldn’t bear to see him burdened by frost and snow—he too couldn’t bear to see even a trace of vicissitude in her hair.

“…I’m leaving.”

…It was a protracted war.

No one anticipated how long it would ultimately last. Smoke from battles filled the Central Plains, and the south of the Yangtze was not spared either. Compared to this unprecedented calamity, even the decade of turmoil since the Taiqing era seemed trivial. Dark clouds loomed over the city, and the storm raged fiercely. The machinations of human hearts dragged everything into the abyss of hell.

“I don’t want to hear any of this—”

Unfortunately, many initially failed to see the direction things were heading. The young emperor in Tai Cheng even refused to listen to military reports, fixating instead on the Empress Dowager’s departure from the palace.

“You only said she was going to see off the troops, but you didn’t say she was leaving Jinling! Three days have passed, and she hasn’t returned. Doesn’t this make our imperial family the laughingstock of the world?”

Furious, he smashed the entire Fucheng Hall into chaos. The trembling palace attendants had already fallen silent, kneeling in fear. Wang Mu and Chen Meng, accused by him, remained calm, while Consort Dong, recently elevated in status, hurried forward to quell the emperor’s anger. She dismissed the servants and tried to hold her son’s hand, saying, “Xi’er, don’t be angry. It’s not worth ruining your health over such a shameless wretch. She must have eloped with Fang Xianting. They—”

“There’s no room for you to speak here—”

But the young emperor didn’t accept her comfort. His fury only grew as he violently shook off her hand. The young ruler now resembled a wounded lone wolf, preferring to lash out in anger rather than admit that even now, he couldn’t tolerate a single insult against that woman.

Dong Xian was so frightened that she stumbled backward and fell to the ground, yet the emperor showed her no pity. He took two steps forward, grabbed Grand Tutor Chen Meng’s arm, and demanded loudly, “I’m asking you! Why didn’t you report that she was leaving Jinling?”

“Why should we report it?”

Compared to the emperor’s agitated loss of control, Chen Meng’s expression was eerily calm. His brief counter-question was neither humble nor arrogant, carrying an almost condescending authority.

“What would reporting it change?”

“Would it change the fact that she and Lord Fang were having an affair?”

“Or their plot to betray the late emperor and Your Majesty?”

“The ones who want to leave can never be stopped. Cutting water with a sword only makes it flow faster. Prolonged pain is worse than short-lived suffering!”

Each sharp phrase pressed closer, his cutting words only fueling Wei Xi’s growing shame and anger. His face twisted almost unrecognizably as he said, “But now she’s gone! Are you telling me to just let her go? Everyone will know of her betrayal of the late emperor! How can my father rest in peace in the afterlife!”

His beautiful excuses were all false. In truth, there was no late emperor in his heart—only resentment for himself. He envied Fang Xianting, envied him to the point of madness! He had taken the woman he loved most in this life, even impregnating her!

—How dare he?

How dare he!

She should have been his!

She should have stayed by his side forever, never leaving!

“Isn’t this good?”

Chen Meng countered with another question.

“Your Majesty and the rest of us have endured this for so long. Isn’t it all for the sake of exposing their sordid secrets at the perfect moment?”

“The Fang clan has lost the people’s support! The accusation of adultery with the Empress Dowager will be the final straw that breaks them!”

“The common folk might forgive a once-meritorious general who has fallen, but they will never forgive a traitor who harms the nation!”

His voice grew louder and louder, excitement building in his eyes. Perhaps from the moment Emperor Renzong passed away, he had borne the heavy responsibility of protecting the young lord and eradicating the Fang clan. At times, he thought this mission impossible, but now, with hope so close, he finally saw the light that would allow him to fulfill his duty to the late emperor.

“Your Majesty will become the true Son of Heaven—”

“No more regents pulling strings behind the curtain! No more powerful ministers exerting pressure! From now on, you will rule as you see fit, commanding the world without depending on anyone else’s approval!”

What a beautiful vision it was—as if killing those two would clear the path for a bright future. Yet amidst this almost fanatical proclamation, the young emperor collapsed to his knees. Overcome with pain, he bent over, and Wang Mu, alarmed, tried to help him up. But he only broke down in front of his ministers, tears streaming down his face.

“But I don’t want to lose her…”

This weak admission was defeat. He couldn’t believe he loved her to such a pitiful and laughable extent. The intense pain made him wish to tear out his own heart and burn it to ashes in fire.

“I… I still want to see her one more time…”

Dead silence filled the hall. The palace where her presence once lingered had been destroyed by his own hands. The faint fragrance of qiongying drifted away. No matter when he reached out, he was destined to grasp nothing.

“She will come back…”

In his collapse, the Grand Tutor gently embraced him. His aged hands were so frail and powerless, yet his tone was resolute and unwavering.

“This old servant promises Your Majesty…”

“…She will definitely return.”