FYM - 67

After the court session ended and the ministers dispersed, the emperor summoned Marquis Yingchuan to the front hall of Zichen Palace.

“This is the longest we’ve been apart...”

Upon entering the palace, Wei Qin hastily excused Fang Xianting from formalities and ordered Wang Mu to bring a seat. Sitting beside his old friend, his expression softened considerably, revealing a rare moment of relaxation and peace.

“It has been over a year since the Fang family returned to Yingchuan... Yi Zhi, you’ve kept me waiting.”

He had indeed waited anxiously, as he had always regarded the Fang family as his closest confidants. Since the passing of the former Duke, he had lived in constant unease. If not for Fang Xianting sending other members of the Fang clan back early to protect him, his anxiety would have been even greater after the former emperor’s death.

Fang Xianting also held deep concern for the new emperor. Beyond their roles as sovereign and subject, they shared a bond forged through childhood and mutual support. Now, he responded with equal sentiment. Wei Qin then ordered someone to bring tea for him, and subsequently asked: “I heard you stayed in Jiangnan for more than half a month. What was the reason?”

Mostly, it was due to personal matters. However, given the current national turmoil and his recent period of mourning, it seemed inappropriate to publicly discuss his relationship with Shuyan. After some deliberation, Fang Xianting replied: “The Song brothers have taken refuge in Jinling but still hold considerable prestige among scholars. I went to Jiangnan to invite them to serve Your Majesty.”

This was a reasonable explanation. However, Wei Qin’s expression darkened, and his voice grew colder: “The Songs... Before Lord Fang passed away, he entrusted the governance of the court to those two brothers. Yet, at the slightest reprimand from my father, they fled like frightened birds. Now that I have ascended the throne, why would I need their service? Let them retire quietly in Jiangnan!”

Clearly, he still harbored resentment towards the Song family, angered by their lack of support during his most difficult times. Normally, Fang Xianting would not involve himself in such matters, but now, thinking of Song Shuyan...

“The Songs are of scholarly lineage and were unjustly implicated and punished by the former emperor,” he subtly defended them. “Now that Your Majesty has ascended the throne, ushering in a new era, the court needs capable individuals. If...”

He left it at that.

Indeed, the previous court had been divided between the Fang and Zhong factions. With a new emperor came new ministers, and the Zhong faction was naturally being purged. Currently, almost half of the court had been dismissed, leaving few usable talents. If the emperor could let go of his grudge against the Song family...

Wei Qin sighed, acknowledging the logic in Fang Xianting’s words. After a moment of contemplation, he waved his hand and said: “These appointments are secondary. The most pressing matter now is your expedition westward with General Lou Xiao...”

He took a deep breath, his expression becoming uneasy again. After weighing his words, he continued: “Yi Zhi, you should know that I regard you as a brother. Naturally, everything centers around you... But General Lou Xiao is venerable and experienced. For this campaign, I have appointed him as the chief commander, with you as his deputy. You...”

This statement was overly considerate.

The Grand General position was second rank, while the Commander of the Western Expedition was third rank. This meant that for this campaign, Fang Xianting would be subordinate to Lou Xiao, needing to follow his orders on the battlefield. Although the Fang family of Yingchuan was preeminent, Fang Xianting was only twenty-two. General Lou Xiao had once been on familiar terms with Fang He, so how could he possibly bow to a younger generation member like Fang Xianting?

“Your Majesty speaks too highly of me,” Fang Xianting quickly interjected, understanding the implication. “The loyalty and bravery of the Lou family of Guannei are unparalleled. General Lou Xiao is also my elder. Appointing him as the chief is entirely appropriate. I will dutifully adhere to my role and follow all arrangements.”

Upon hearing this, Wei Qin exhaled deeply, patting Fang Xianting’s shoulder and repeatedly saying “good.” He then sighed: “You always consider the bigger picture and understand the pros and cons. With you, I can rest assured...”

Halfway through his sentence, he grew worried again. After a pause, he added: “However, there is another difficulty with this military campaign...”

Even without the emperor mentioning it, Fang Xianting understood—the issue lay in the procurement of military funds.

Members of the Fang family were spread throughout the government, especially within the Ministry of War, which was under the jurisdiction of his uncle, Fang Lian. Thus, despite being outside Chang’an recently, he was aware of the numerous difficulties the court faced in raising provisions—during the late years of the former emperor, extravagant construction projects had drained resources. Multiple eastern tours alone had cost a fortune, not to mention the repeated renovations of palaces and the construction of new Taoist temples. Over the years, hundreds of millions of coins had been spent. To guard the borders, the court established ten military governorships. Due to the Zhong faction’s interference, efforts to reduce the power of these governors had been ineffective for many years. These generals not only held military power but also controlled regional finances, leading to successive declines in tax revenues submitted to the central government, clearly enriching themselves through corruption.

In addition to human mismanagement, natural disasters compounded the issues. For instance, the flood in Dizhou caused significant losses to the court. All these factors stacked up, leaving the new emperor facing an empty treasury upon his ascension, with no money available. This rebellion would mobilize 250,000 troops, consuming vast amounts of resources daily, likely lasting at least half a year. The required military funds...

Fang Xianting furrowed his brows, unable to ease his sovereign’s burden in this aspect. The Fang family was a military lineage; matters involving taxation and new policies still needed the consideration and handling of civil officials.

“I originally didn’t want to burden you with these matters before your departure, but you must be aware of the funding situation...” Wei Qin sighed deeply. His already frail body, weakened by illness, seemed to grow even weaker this year, perhaps already feeling the immense weight of imperial responsibility. “Military campaigns are fraught with difficulties. If possible, I hope you can achieve a swift victory—the court cannot afford a prolonged conflict. If it exceeds nine months, it might...”

Nine months was not impossible, but Fang Xianting wondered what might happen if the Zhong faction were pushed into a desperate situation...

A very ominous thought flashed through his mind. His eyes momentarily revealed a hint of gravity. Observing the emperor’s evident unease, he ultimately suppressed his inner concerns and bowed his head, replying: “...Your humble servant will do his utmost.”

Wei Qin nodded, seemingly reassured by a single promise from the Fang family. Finally relaxing his slightly clenched left hand, he said to Fang Xianting: “That’s good... I await your triumphant return and trust that you will not disappoint the people.”

The emperor’s trust was an honor for any minister. Nevertheless, Fang Xianting couldn’t help but think of the former emperor while standing in the Chang’an imperial palace. Now, Wei Zheng had fled to Longyou with intentions of rebellion, using the banner that accused the current emperor of patricide and usurpation. He firmly believed in Wei Qin’s benevolence and integrity, but...

A faint trace of doubt lingered in Fang Xianting’s heart, though the current situation made it impossible to voice. After a moment of silence, he bowed to the emperor and said softly: “Your Majesty, I will soon lead the troops to battle. Before departure, may I request to visit the Empress?”

The Empress...

She was his full sister... Fang Ranjun.

Upon hearing this, the emperor’s expression tightened. The long-standing troubled couple had worn each other down to exhaustion. His tone grew wearier, but he finally nodded at Fang Xianting, saying: “Go... It has been a long time since you last saw her.”

The Qingning Palace, where the Empress resided, was not far from Zichen Palace. Fang Xianting could see the eaves of the palace after walking north along the palace path for less than a quarter of an hour.

It was already late February. Although the climate in the Central Plains was cooler than the blossoming Jiangnan, signs of spring were emerging. The imperial palace was particularly vibrant with flowers, yet the Empress’s quarters appeared desolate. The courtyard was filled with a cold green, devoid of any floral colors.

He frowned as he slowly entered. The palace maids sweeping the courtyard recognized him and hurriedly bowed. Some had accompanied the Fang family’s eldest daughter into the palace from the former Duke’s residence. Upon seeing him, their emotions were especially stirred, calling out “Young Master” with tears in their eyes.

He excused them from their courtesies, already feeling a sense of desolation. Gently pushing open the door to enter the palace, the once magnificent building now felt lifeless. The interior was cold and silent, devoid of any sound. Moving from the outer hall to the inner chambers, he finally spotted a familiar figure by the window—thinner and more frail than when they last met a year ago at their father’s memorial. The luxurious phoenix robe seemed unable to drape properly over her gaunt frame, as if she were merely a wandering soul trapped in a dying shell.

“Sister...”

He couldn’t help but call out softly.

Technically, it was improper. He should kneel and address her as “Your Majesty,” or even “Elder Sister” as they did at home. Yet, for some reason, he called her in such an intimate way, perhaps knowing how much she suffered and pitying her more than he did at Lishan.

Her response was slow, as if she hadn’t heard anyone calling her. After a long while, she turned around sluggishly. Her once beautiful eyes now appeared lifeless, like a stagnant pool. She stared blankly at him for a long time, seemingly unable to recognize him.

“Sister... It’s me.”

He took another step closer.

She struggled to discern him for a while. Her rigid face, encased in a hard shell, finally cracked open, allowing her to see the outside world and recognize the person standing before her. He saw her eyes gradually redden, tears silently welling up. There was little sorrow left; the intense emotions of joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness had long been consumed by the endless passage of time.

“Yi Zhi...”

She called out to him, her voice hoarse. As she staggered towards him, her steps faltered, lacking strength. He moved forward to support her, but she had already stumbled into his arms. Up close, he felt how thin she was—almost skeletal, as if a gust of wind could blow her away.

“It’s me...” A moment later, he felt a pang of bitterness, his heart heavy as if weighed down by a boulder. “Sister, I’ve come to see you.”

She was beyond speaking, burying her face in his chest and crying—suppressed, stifled sobs, like a fish gasping for air out of water, unable to make a sound in its most painful moments.

“Yi Zhi... I... I...”

She couldn’t form coherent words, her speech fragmented. He guessed she was pleading for help. At that moment, he held her tighter, his voice low: “I’m here to save you. Before Father passed away, he left instructions for me to seek an imperial decree from His Majesty after he ascended the throne, to release you from the palace...”

“It will all end soon... Just hold on for a little longer...”

He spoke quickly, perhaps inwardly fearing it might be too late. She hadn’t heard good news in so long; he wanted to give her some relief. But after he finished, her breathing grew heavier. Her hand gripping his robe tightened until her knuckles turned white. Her emaciated appearance was startling.

“Father—”

She wailed desperately, like a trapped beast, reminding him of his mother’s near-madness with grief at their father’s memorial a year ago.

“Father is dead—he’s dead—”

“I killed him... Yi Zhi... It’s my fault, my fault that he died under the former emperor’s humiliation...”