FYM - 175

When the news of Yingchuan Marquis Fang Xianting’s rebellion and subsequent death at the hands of his clansmen reached Yingchuan, the plum blossoms in the Central Plains had not yet withered.

It was the end of February, and the spring chill in Jiangbei had not yet subsided. Sometimes, cold rain would fall at night, and the servants of the Fang family’s old residence often grew worried, knowing that the noblewoman who had recently taken up temporary residence was pregnant and could not withstand even the slightest mishap.

“Miss Song, please be careful—don’t catch a chill in the wind…”

They all called her “Miss Song,” though more than half of them knew she was the empress dowager of Zhou, infamous across the land for “corrupting the imperial harem” and “bringing calamity to the nation.” Yet since no one mentioned it, she saw no need to dwell on it either, living as though deaf and blind, maintaining peace with everyone.

—Yingchuan was beautiful.

A decade ago, during their hurried visit, everything in memory had been vague and unclear. Only now did they realize how magnificent the mountain scenery here was—rugged and perilous, unlike the softness of Jiangnan, the silent peaks exuding an aloofness that made people hesitate to approach. Inside the manor, however, things were rather monotonous, likely because its owner had not returned for so long. There were no delicate or beautiful flowers planted; every morning when the windows were opened, all that greeted the eye was a hardy expanse of green.

…Yet she liked it here.

She no longer had to wear the overly heavy phoenix robes and ceremonial headdress, nor adorn herself with intricate jewelry. No one knelt before her, kowtowing and shouting “Long live!” She no longer needed to feign authority or engage in endless diplomatic maneuverings. She was simply herself—a woman who, due to her pregnancy, went without makeup daily. When she wanted quiet, she could remain silent all day; when lonely, she could chat idly with lively maids. If homesickness overwhelmed her, she could freely inquire about the man from the elders of the household—here, everyone knew he belonged to her, and she no longer needed to carefully conceal her feelings.

Perhaps because everything felt so perfect, even the child in her womb seemed reluctant to disturb her—he was very quiet, almost motionless each day. She had heard that other women suffered greatly during pregnancy, unable to sleep or eat properly, and assumed she would endure similar hardships. But in reality, she felt no discomfort, everything proceeding as usual, as if she weren’t pregnant at all.

“Madam is only slightly deficient in qi and blood; consuming more nourishing tonics will suffice.”

This was what the doctors who came daily to take her pulse and examine her always said. She trusted them implicitly, dutifully drinking the bitter, unpalatable medicinal soups every day, her entire focus on this unborn child she had never met. She imagined what he might look like, whether he would resemble him or herself, completely unaware of the subtle expressions that crossed the faces of those doctors as they came and went. She didn’t realize how pitiable she appeared to others.

—Her only worry was Zhuoying.

The horse had never been separated from Fang Xianting since it was young. Now, knowing he had gone to war, it felt abandoned. The servants said it mourned daily in the stable, refusing water and food, seemingly determined to starve itself to death.

She couldn’t bear it and often visited. The divine steed truly possessed spirit—it only allowed her near after his departure. If anyone else approached, it would fiercely struggle and kick, but when she came, it would gently lower its head, allowing her to stroke it. It would also reluctantly eat a few bites of the food she offered.

She was both delighted and heartbroken. Occasionally, she would lead it up the mountain for walks. Sometimes it would nudge her arm, signaling for her to climb onto its back, but she always refused, fearing harm to the child. After many refusals, it stopped asking. Its once-bright, obsidian-like eyes grew increasingly dim.

“He didn’t abandon you; he just didn’t want you to get hurt…”

She sat beside it on a gentle hill, conversing with it as if consoling a friend.

“If you continue to starve yourself like this, he’ll surely be heartbroken when he returns.”

It gazed at her, only turning its head toward the distance when she paused, emitting mournful whinnies that scattered in the biting wind. Perhaps it only showed such emotion when reminded of its master—later, it gradually calmed down, as if finally accepting its fate. It began to acknowledge that it could no longer accompany him on distant campaigns and instead waited alongside her for the traveler’s return.

Until that day—the terrible news arrived.

She had long grown accustomed to hearing bad tidings. Ever since stepping into the palace upon her marriage, ominous reports had never ceased. At first, the signs were always the same: those around her would carefully avoid her gaze, their looks tinged with pity. By now, she no longer knew what there was left to pity. Her heart felt as though it had been violently torn open, yet she couldn’t feel a trace of pain.

“…What?”

“Something’s happened again?”

The word “again” carried a bitterness that brought tears to her eyes. Yet she asked with a faint smile, perhaps already knowing the answer, merely waiting for the final confirmation.

“No—this can’t be true—”

To collapse first, however, was Lou Feng. This general had abandoned his rank in Jinling to escort her to Yingchuan. For a month, he had rarely appeared before her, but that day, he caused quite a commotion, drawing everyone’s attention. Clearly, he had received news of Chang’an before her.

“The lord cannot possibly be dead—”

“Zixing is his younger brother! How could he personally kill his own elder brother—”

…”Dead.”

“Killed.”

These words were familiar to her. In chaotic times, life and death were common occurrences. She suddenly felt dazed, unable to recall who exactly the “lord” referred to in their words. As for “personally killing his own elder brother”—it all seemed like a vague, absurd tale.

“I must go to Chang’an to find them—”

“To ask Fang Si directly!”

He seemed to have lost all composure, turning abruptly and striding toward the gate. None of the manor’s servants could stop the tall, imposing general—they all scattered, murmuring helplessly.

…Fortunately, Jiang Chao arrived at that moment.

As the commander of the Qianji Office, he had been absent from Yingchuan these days, leading troops to quell civil unrest elsewhere. His elaborate arrival today was likely due to hearing rumors from the west. However, his expression was neither hurried nor panicked—it seemed laden with… a sorrow that had settled deeply over time.

“Yuanjing…”

“…Don’t go.”

That sigh carried profound meaning, landing in Song Shuyan’s ears as convoluted and obscure. Some sounds were stuck in her throat, unable to emerge, as if someone had tightly gripped her neck and forcefully submerged her head in water.

“Why—”

“Why are you stopping me?”

“They say the lord intended to seize Chang’an and declare independence—they say he had long colluded with the rebel king—”

“Do you believe them?”

“Or did you already know this was a setup!”

She should have been grateful that someone could still speak for her. Every word Lou Feng shouted in accusation was what she had been silently screaming in her heart. Jiang Chao, on the other hand, had already firmly pressed down on the man’s shoulders, as if suppressing her own unbridled madness and loss of control.

“Because it was his decision—”

Jiang Chao’s voice suddenly rose, and for a moment, it seemed he might burst into tears.

“Yuanjing…”

“…He never had any other choice.”

—No one in the world knew the pain and shock Jiang Chao felt upon hearing all of Lord Fang Xianting’s plans before his departure to war.

“Why didn’t the lord summon the Qianji Army to accompany him to Chang’an? Though Fourth Young Master is skilled in battle, he is not as reliable as the former Divine Strategy Army.”

The Hall of Qianji was dimly lit by flickering candles, its eight concealed doors tightly shut. He sat opposite Fang Xianting, puzzled as to why the latter insisted on sending the most elite troops to quell civil unrest instead.

“Moreover, the emperor has already harbored murderous intentions toward the Fang family. Wei Bi and Zhong He have long colluded through secret letters. This journey…”

Everyone knew the Divine Strategy Army was the predecessor of the Qianji Office, but few remembered that this office was responsible for “overseeing confidential military affairs.” Beyond warfare, it also handled matters of secrecy and would not remain oblivious to events within the court. Although Wei Bi believed his collusion with Zhong He was perfectly concealed, traces were inevitably detected by the Qianji Office. Thus, from the beginning, they knew the purpose of raising an army in Chang’an was not to contend with Jinling but secretly targeted the Fang family. The only mystery was the reason behind it.

Fortunately, the young emperor’s depth of scheming was shallow. After Fang Xianting returned from his northern campaign, his hatred for him became increasingly difficult to conceal. Sensing something was amiss, Fang Xianting investigated further, uncovering many things. Just as Emperor Renzong had once unearthed his past affair with Shuyan in Jiangnan over a decade ago, he too could summon those involved to reconstruct the truth of many events.

“My lord, Your Excellency…”

The governor of Qiantang, over sixty years old, had knelt in the Hall of Qianji to beg forgiveness, likely fearing retribution.

“Emperor Renzong indeed inquired about Your Excellency’s affairs in Qiantang and questioned the Wang family of Xuanchou regarding their son’s conflict with Your Excellency in Jinling. I dared not deceive His Majesty and thus reported everything truthfully! I stated that Your Excellency and the late Duke’s wife personally visited the Qiao family… and… interacted with their female relatives…”

That was enough. Memories of the past, numerous and intricate, ultimately resurfaced in a cruel and brutal form.

—So the late emperor… knew everything.

He knew of their love, even their near-marriage. Yet he still brought her to Dongdu and, after his return, feigned ignorance as if nothing had changed. How did he view them? How did he coldly observe their agonizing meeting when inviting him to the palace for a game of chess? He thought there was at least some camaraderie between them beyond their roles as sovereign and subject, but in truth… imperial hearts are merciless.

This was rather ironic, considering he had spent his entire life safeguarding the imperial family, and Shuyan had sacrificed her freedom for the throne, only to be the ones most suspected by the late emperor. It turned out the so-called “Five Regents” were never impartial protectors; they were traps set specifically for him and her.

“My lord…”

Jiang Chao called out to him anxiously, perhaps fearing he couldn’t bear the sudden revelation of the truth. In reality, at that desperate impasse, he no longer had the luxury of dwelling on past grievances, focusing instead on securing a little more survival for those around him.

“The bones of eighty thousand heroes of the Divine Strategy Army should not be buried in vain on the battlefield. Moreover, after my departure, the nation will still need a fighting force. Leave it to you to command elsewhere.”

He answered calmly. As the saying goes, the greatest sorrow is a heart that feels nothing. At that moment, his heart truly no longer stirred. Jiang Chao, however, paled at the mention of “after my departure,” unable to comprehend why the lord would utter such horrifying words.

“Since Jinling and Chang’an have conspired together, their aim is to cut off our retreat. Zhong He knows his end is near, and because his son was killed by me, he seeks mutual destruction. He will become Jinling’s weapon, and after this battle, there will be no hope of survival.”

“After prolonged warfare with our dynasty, the Tujue face internal fractures and collapse. Their current goal is peace, though they fear Jinling’s retaliation afterward. This time, Wei Bi must also have dealings with them. Borrowing barbarian forces to create chaos is merely a diversion. Once our forces are divided, they will trap and kill me.”

He spoke so calmly, as if discussing not his own life or death but the grand trends of the world, which to him were as clear as ink on paper.

“What should we do?” Jiang Chao was deeply troubled, his voice strained and distorted as he asked loudly. “Our enemies outnumber us tenfold, and we are surrounded on all sides! If during the war the emperor cuts off our supplies, then—”

He stopped himself, unwilling to imagine the worst-case scenario. The next moment, he raised his eyes to look at Fang Xianting, a flicker of resolve passing through them as he continued: “My lord has labored his entire life for the royal mandate but has been betrayed by the imperial family to this extent… Why continue to care for old ties now? Might as well…”

He made a gesture of “kill.”

Jiang Chao was a man of sharp resolve and bold action; otherwise, he wouldn’t have bonded with Xie Ci in Youzhou. Indeed, everyone knew that without the Fang family, Zhou would have collapsed long ago during the Taiqing era. Even in this extremely unfavorable situation, if Fang Xianting wished, he could still carve out a bloody path to survival.

But…

Fang Xianting smiled faintly. The so-called tale of the “Frost Jade Tower” was no mere fabrication. Plum blossoms fell thickly on his chest amidst the snow-laden wind. Perhaps future generations would never imagine the pure, serene moonlight that once graced the rotten and absurd end of an empire.

“‘When I departed, the millet and sorghum were in bloom; now as I return, rain and snow cover the roads…’”

He seemed lost in some memory, reciting the elegy sung by ten thousand soldiers of the Divine Strategy Army as they perished in the flames of Shangxiaogu. Some truths needed neither elaboration nor hearing; perhaps his life was both a reluctant acceptance and a willing embrace.

“A decade of war began due to the selfish desires of one surname. Now that it has come to this, why continue for the sake of one person’s survival?”

He shook his head and turned to look at the Taicheng shrouded in night outside the Hall of Qianji.

“Speaking of loyalty and righteousness is boring. Without my father, I wouldn’t have endured this long. I’m not as selfless or great as you think. I simply don’t want the deaths of our ancestors to seem trivial and laughable.”

“This time, the court kills me, publicly claiming I harbored disloyal intentions. But in truth, the path upheld by the Fang family no longer aligns with the prevailing trends. Returning the capital after the northern campaign is hopeless for the next thirty years, and advocating war has become an outdated, opposing current. Alas, since Taiqing, the notion of reclaiming the Central Plains has been widely known. The court ultimately needs one person’s death to appease the people’s resentment over negotiating peace with the barbarians.”

“The Fang family has long been criticized. After Guangyou, I held immense power in court… Being the scapegoat isn’t entirely unreasonable.”

He was excessively clear-eyed, understanding that beyond hidden grievances, there were principles governing his life and death. Though the young emperor might be stubborn, those advising him knew the stakes. Both the Grand Tutor and Wei Bi understood that advocating peace would be the inevitable trend. If they didn’t find someone to die in the emperor’s stead, the collapse of the state would be imminent.

“But does my lord not care for the Fang family?”

Jiang Chao’s heart ached, feeling unprecedented injustice for a person and their clan.

“How many loyal ministers are there in Yingchuan? They are all steadfast patriots! And what of the countless innocent women and children? If my lord falsely confesses and is killed, how can the Fang family escape this calamity!”

Treason punishable by extermination of nine generations… The Fang family of Yingchuan would be uprooted, rivers of blood flowing.

“Therefore, the only one who can accompany me to Chang’an is Zixing.”

Unexpectedly, Fang Xianting replied quickly. Jiang Chao realized then that before entering the Hall of Qianji, he had already meticulously considered everything.

“I am the head of the Fang family, and all actions taken by Yingchuan are under my orders—they were deceived by me and unaware of my ambitions to seize Chang’an and hold power. Until the day the city fell and my treachery was revealed, they only then learned of my grave disloyalty and insidious intentions.”

“As long as Zixing personally kills me and offers Chang’an to the court, even if Jinling still harbors thoughts of annihilating the Fang family, they won’t act immediately… As for future maneuvering, my elder brother will handle it upon his return to court.”

Jiang Chao: “…”

Silence spread throughout the shadowy hall. Jiang Chao no longer knew what else to say—he had served as a brave general in Hedong during his youth, repeatedly thwarting Tujue invasions at the crucial Taiyuan fortress. For years, he had quietly accumulated strength, believing himself unparalleled in loyalty and righteousness. Hearing the lord’s words today, he instantly realized his own insignificance—things the world coveted, like fame and fortune, were as light as feathers in his eyes. Even the only calculation of his life… was to save others by pushing himself into an abyss.

“Additionally, there is one more matter… I wish to trouble you with it.”

Amidst the shock, the other party suddenly spoke again, his voice growing softer, tinged with an unusual subtlety and gentleness.

“Shuyan… she cannot remain in the palace. Since they have decided to kill me, they surely won’t let her live either. Afterward, please escort her to Yingchuan with Yuanjing. Once the war ends, protect her and help her return to civilian life.”

This was an explicit admission of his “affair” with the empress dowager before the world, carving another deep scar of guilt onto himself. Jiang Chao furrowed his brows, unsure how to dissuade him further.

However—

“Why you and Yuanjing?” He was confused. “The Middle Captain is the empress dowager’s brother and naturally closer to her… What if, after the fact, the empress dowager is heartbroken? This humble servant fears…”

He feared he wouldn’t be able to comfort… that pitiful woman who had gained nothing in her life, perpetually losing everything.

“Ziqiu is indeed close to her, but he loves her too much.”

He smiled faintly, his eyes flickering with a rare glimmer when speaking of that person.

“After my death, my remains will likely be sent back to Jinling. She is a stubborn person and will probably insist on seeing me… Ziqiu can’t resist her, and he’s prone to emotional decisions—it’s better left to you, who is more reliable.”

“He also has a wife and two children. They shouldn’t lose their lives over this irreversible matter.”

At this, he sighed lightly, perhaps thinking of their siblings’ bond and still feeling uneasy. He had already given up so much, yet there remained a lingering trace of warmth and selfishness, reluctant… to fade away.

“He truly did his best—”

All memories of the past receded. At this moment, Jiang Chao still gripped Lou Feng’s shoulders tightly—but in reality, the latter no longer needed to be restrained. From the moment he revealed all of Fang Xianting’s premeditated plans, he had been stunned into silence, unable to struggle.

Everyone was silent, even the servants who had never met the lord since entering Yingchuan shed fearful tears. The stifling silence was a profound despair, leaving everyone unable to recover from the tremor of that moment.

Until—

“Miss Song—”

A sharp-eyed maid suddenly gasped, covering her mouth.

“You… you’re bleeding—”