FYM - 82

— She really should go out for a walk.

This was the ancestral land of his clan, filled with scenes tied to his memory. Moreover, she had always worried that Lady Jiang was forcing a smile and pretending to be calm, unwilling to see her left alone without support.

Thus, later on, despite her frail health, she often accompanied Lady Jiang as she visited households across the city to offer condolences. After the snowfall, Yingchuan resembled a city in mourning, blanketed in white. The widows and mothers who had lost their husbands and sons were perpetually teary-eyed, and every household they entered echoed with heart-wrenching sobs.

“Madam—”

Everyone reached out to Lady Jiang, pouring out their grievances without reservation. On each tear-streaked face Song Shuyan saw despair, but never once did she detect even a trace of resentment or blame. Perhaps it was because everyone understood that the Fang family had suffered the greatest loss, yet they had never held themselves above others, always bearing hardships before anyone else.

Even half-grown children wept—after wiping away their tears, they picked up weapons too heavy for them, vowing to avenge their fallen fathers and brothers. Generations upon generations were born, grew up, fought, and died… an endless cycle repeating itself.

She had never witnessed such scenes before. The lands of Jiangnan were always filled with songs of orioles and flowing streams, even during these turbulent times remaining prosperous and peaceful. Her own family, the Song clan of upright scholars, had never experienced such valor and bloodshed. Perhaps it was only at this moment that she truly understood why the late Duke had insisted on sacrificing himself. Peace and stability were the most precious things in the world, yet so few people truly grasped this truth.

…

“…As long as I take one step forward, many will benefit from that step. Therefore, there’s no need to weigh gains and losses—just move forward with determination.”

…

His words echoed in her ears once more, but the scenery before her eyes had shifted from the lush mountains beneath Yuhuang Mountain to the swirling snowflakes in the city of Yingchuan. Her heart gradually felt desolate, and it was only after he was gone that she truly understood his heart.

I seem to love you even more because of this.

…But I also know this is what they call delusion.

As the year drew to a close, an unexpected visitor arrived at the old residence of the Fang family. The carriage entered the city quietly, unnoticed. It was only later revealed that the visitor was none other than Empress Fang Ranjun, Lady Jiang’s legitimate daughter and the current empress of Zhou.

Song Shuyan had only seen her twice before: once during the winter hunt in the seventh year of Yuanzhang and again at the late Duke’s memorial hall. She vaguely remembered that the Crown Princess back then bore a resemblance to Fang Xian Ting, perhaps six or seven parts alike. Now, after several years, streaks of white hair were visible, and her once youthful appearance now seemed aged and weathered. Last year, while in Jiangnan, Song Shuyan had heard rumors that the empress had contracted a strange illness, and the emperor had graciously allowed her to recuperate at Lishan Palace. Counting the time since then, more than a year had passed. Now that she had returned to Yingchuan, could it mean…

She had always been prone to overthinking, but when Lady Jiang met her daughter, her heart felt empty. Perhaps reunions after long separations were always bittersweet, a mix of joy and sorrow. As mother and daughter embraced tightly, even the maids watching nearby couldn’t help but tear up.

“Ran’er… my Ran’er…”

Lady Jiang finally shed tears. At that moment, she seemed both heartbroken and, strangely, at peace. Song Shuyan watched them, feeling as if she were seeing her own grandmother. She thought that if her grandmother could reunite with her loved ones somewhere in this world, it would surely be like this—a flood of tears and overwhelming emotions.

She excused herself, leaving the family to their reunion. That night, however, a maid from the empress summoned her for an audience. She complied, braving the cold, only to find the empress sitting under the eaves, gazing at the falling snow. Her gaunt profile resembled her mother’s. It seemed that in the Fang family, not just the men sacrificed themselves for the nation—even the women endured immense suffering.

“Your humble servant pays respects to Her Majesty the Empress.”

She bowed deeply.

The night snow fell heavily, bringing biting cold. When Fang Ranjun turned to look at her, she may have offered a faint smile. “Now that I’m home, I am merely my mother’s daughter, no longer the empress. Miss Song, there’s no need for formalities—please sit.”

Her tone was earnest, and the way she said “I” was particularly relaxed. Song Shuyan, seeing her features so similar to his , finally rose and took a seat beside her.

“Do I look much like Yi?” she asked, seemingly aware of what Song Shuyan was thinking. Her weary eyes appeared even dimmer than before. “You’ve been staring at me.”

“Yi…”

That familiar name still stung. She realized she still couldn’t bear to hear his name. Her voice cracked slightly as she replied, “Your humble servant trembles in fear… There is indeed some resemblance.”

Fang Ranjun gave another faint smile, tinged with melancholy this time. Then, reaching out to catch a few falling snowflakes, her voice sounded ethereal. “It’s only the shell that resembles him. I can never measure up to him.”

It was a difficult statement to respond to, but fortunately, she didn’t expect her to. Speaking of those who had passed inevitably brought memories of the past, and time only added layers of lamentation.

“He was far more accomplished than I, more resilient… Father taught us both many things. I’ve wasted my life, achieving nothing, while he remained steadfast, never slacking… He was like Father, but in the end, he wasn’t Father…”

She shook her head, perhaps dissatisfied with her own rambling. After a moment, she turned to look at Song Shuyan again, her expression softer.

“He spoke of you,” she said.

Ah…

The softly falling night snow settled gently on her heart. Song Shuyan felt her palms grow cold, but Fang Ranjun’s voice retained a trace of warmth. “He said he had met a woman he admired, and after the war ended, he planned to marry her… He said you were wonderful, that he liked you very much.”

Despite months of reminiscing about him without pause, hearing someone mention him now still brought tears streaming down her face. In truth, the distance between her and him had been so small—just a fraction more fate, and perhaps…

“Miss Song…”

Fang Ranjun sighed, her gaze gradually filling with sorrow and pity.

“Yi didn’t have many happy days in his life, but thankfully, he went to Qiantang with you, fulfilling one last wish…” She slowly reached out to wipe away Song Shuyan’s tears, her palm icy cold. “Mother says you are deeply sentimental, unable to let him go… I understand how cruel it is to part ways so suddenly when feelings run deep. But worldly matters are often predestined. The sooner you let go, the sooner you’ll find peace.”

She paused briefly, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“I once loved a man too, doing many foolish things for him…”

“As children, we were inseparable, growing up together. After entering the Eastern Palace, palace walls separated us, and we became strangers… Father scolded and punished me repeatedly, urging me to let go. Yi also sternly advised me to turn back, but I refused to listen. In the end, I made a grave mistake.”

“I caused my father’s death, allowing him to suffer humiliation at the hands of the late emperor. The Fang family, once known for having ‘nothing to hide from the world,’ lost its reputation because of my fault… Now, looking back, what is love? So-called passion and hatred are all just empty dreams.”

She spoke on, her unpainted face taking on an almost otherworldly hue. Song Shuyan felt a void in her heart, unsure why this near-stranger was confiding in her so openly, yet also sensing a shared connection with someone who had transcended worldly concerns.

“…Have you let go?” she asked, setting aside the usual distinctions of rank and propriety in that moment.

Fang Ranjun looked at her evenly, as if she too had broken free from her cage.

“Perhaps,” she answered. “At least… I’m not as stubborn as I once was.”

—Who could argue otherwise?

Since leaving the palace last year, she had secluded herself at Lishan. By the end of the seventh year of Yuanzhang, the unfinished Daoist temple there had been completed, and she had taken refuge within, studying under the guidance of a Daoist master. Time flowed differently in the mountains—one day there felt like a thousand years in the mortal world. All the chaos outside seemed to fade in an instant, and she realized that her past joys and sorrows were but grains of sand in the vast river of red dust.

Su Jin had come to visit her.

Emperor Wei Qin was a benevolent ruler, and despite years of entangled grievances, he had spared Su Jin’s life. Stripped of his official position, Su Jin spent his days waiting at the foot of Lishan, hoping to see her.

How absurd were the affairs of mortals? During the winter hunt, they had risked everything to meet, defying all obstacles. Now, with no barriers left, they lacked the strength to stay together. Perhaps she knew that she carried the weight of her father’s life and the honor of the Fang family on her shoulders, making her and Su Jin destined to remain apart.

And so, they faced each other daily—one on the mountain, the other below—seemingly unrelated yet as if they had already grown old together. Perhaps this was the mystery of yin-yang and Daoist philosophy: the Dao as Taiji, the heart as Daji, two aspects of one essence, unified in chaos.

“Forget him soon…”

That was Fang Ranjun’s final advice. Her eyes, so similar to Fang Xian Ting’s, seemed to pierce through life and death, gazing into the depths of Song Shuyan’s heart.

“If Yi were still here… he wouldn’t want to see you trapped in grief for so long.”

More than a month passed, and the Lunar New Year approached, yet Yingchuan showed no signs of celebration.

A great calamity loomed over the Central Plains. If not for Fang Xian Ting leading the Shenlü Army to annihilate fifty thousand Turkic soldiers in a single battle, severely weakening the Hu invaders, the Western Capital might already have fallen into enemy hands. However, after his death, no one in the army could shoulder the burden alone, and the situation on the battlefield remained dire. Rumors spread that the emperor was preparing to relocate the capital to Luoyang. If the Xie family in the north failed to hold off the Eastern Turks, then…

Yet Lady Jiang no longer seemed consumed by these bleak clouds. After consoling the families of fallen soldiers, she personally took charge of preparing for the New Year at the old Fang residence. Song Shuyan received a letter from Jinling—her uncle, acting on behalf of her father, urged her to return home soon. She ignored it, casually burning the letter, yet still wondered whether her prolonged stay at the Fang residence was appropriate.

“Don’t dwell on these thoughts. Stay as long as you wish,” Lady Jiang said, knowing her concerns and immediately offering comfort. “This year, both you and Ran’er are with me. Let me feel as though I have two daughters…”

She smiled warmly, as if gradually emerging from the pain of losing her son. Turning her head, she instructed the servants to prepare fireworks, planning to celebrate properly at home.

“To usher in the new and bid farewell to the old, to welcome the New Year is to embrace renewal,” she said candidly, her words betraying no hint of weakness. “Let all the bad things remain in this year. Once the Lunar New Year passes… may every day bring good fortune.”

The household staff, weary of hardship, followed their mistress’s orders and organized a grand New Year’s Eve feast. The Fang family members in Yingchuan gathered to celebrate and stay up late, hoping that past misfortunes would not repeat and that both family and nation would see better times ahead. Together, they drove away evil spirits, honored their ancestors, cleaned the house, and offered tea. They raised cups in silent prayer, their smiles cautious and deliberate, as if aware that the fragile peace before them was as delicate as a cicada’s wing, and that harsher storms awaited them in the future.

“Sending off the cold with the last snow, welcoming the new year with early plum blossoms…”

Lady Jiang seemed a little tipsy, her eyes reflecting the dazzling lights of countless lanterns, shimmering with unshed tears.

“I only wish… that all of you may enjoy peace and happiness year after year.”