FYM - 85

“How could Father think like that! How could he so easily let that wretch off—”

No sooner had Song Shuqian returned to her room from the main hall than she erupted in a tantrum, furious that her father hadn’t ordered a harsh beating for her fourth sister to vent their anger. Lady Wan, her mother, also furrowed her brows, but beneath her frustration lurked a deeper unease. She had no time to comfort her daughter and simply said, “Your father has his own considerations. If we are to send Fourth Miss to the palace eventually, we can’t go too far now…”

At this, Song Shuqian immediately perked up.

“Does this mean Father has made up his mind? I won’t have to enter the palace?”

—What glorious news!

Song’s third daughter wasn’t entirely foolish; when it came to her own fate, she still exercised some caution. After all, what kind of throne was the empress’s seat these days? Though it sounded prestigious, in truth, once the gates were breached, she would be the first to die for the imperial family. Whether she’d even leave behind a decent corpse was uncertain.

And what kind of husband was His Majesty? He wasn’t tall or handsome, and his health was frail. Back in Chang’an, she had heard rumors that the Crown Princess from the Fang family had failed to conceive because the prince himself…

Though Song Shuqian was nearing nineteen—an age where highborn ladies considered her a fading flower—her pride remained sky-high. She wanted to gamble on her future! She insisted on finding the best, most respectable man to marry. Afterward, she vowed to live a vibrant, joyful life, making everyone secretly envy her and say, “She truly married the best.”

Lady Wan understood her daughter’s thoughts well. Over the years, Shuqian had grown increasingly stubborn, almost obsessive. Any man who didn’t measure up to Lord Fang Xian Ting was unworthy of her notice; her standards had soared impossibly high. Lady Wan didn’t want to force her, knowing that pushing someone as headstrong as Shuqian too hard would only lead to disaster. Yet, with the emperor’s search for a new empress underway, one of them—either her or Fourth Miss—would inevitably have to marry into the palace.

But today, Song Shuyan clearly appeared ill. She was gaunt, pale, and even seemed mentally unwell. If she were truly afflicted with madness, how could she enter the palace? And if she couldn’t, then what about her Shuqian?

“Mother would never let you suffer in the palace…” Lady Wan sighed anxiously, pulling her daughter into her arms and gently stroking her thin back. “But if your father has made up his mind, Mother…”

That trailing sigh felt like a dagger to the heart. Song Shuqian, long trapped in a precarious limbo, was stretched taut like a bowstring ready to snap—even the slightest touch might break her.

“No—I won’t marry—”

As expected, she screamed shrilly again, creating an unbearable racket. But the maids and servants in the room had grown accustomed to such outbursts.

“I’ll never marry that sickly emperor—I won’t die with him—”

“Father can’t make me—He can’t—”

Yet, no matter how loudly she protested in private, none of it mattered when push came to shove. Song Shuqian had already stormed to her father multiple times, hoping he’d give her a definitive answer. But Song Dan remained inscrutable, refusing to reveal which daughter he favored for the ill-fated role of empress.

“I heard Father mention that Uncle seems more inclined to send you, Sister…” The children of the second branch casually dropped this tidbit during a conversation with Song Shuqian. “They’re worried about Fourth Miss’s unruly nature and disrespect toward elders, fearing she might cause trouble in the palace…”

These words struck Song Shuqian like a knife, leaving her shocked and seething with indignation. What did they mean, “unruly nature and disrespect toward elders”? So someone as rebellious as Fourth Miss could escape, while someone as obedient as her had to…

Father… How could her father do something so cruel and absurd!

Song Shuqian’s world collapsed completely. For the first time, she tasted the same despair her fourth sister must have felt—nowhere to turn for justice. After a violent outburst of tears in her room, she spent her days drowning in alcohol, determined to outdo even her sister in reckless behavior.

Lady Wan tried repeatedly to console her without success. In desperation, she wrote to her eldest daughter, Song Shuying, in Yangzhou, asking if she could take her younger sister in for a while—it would be better than letting her wreak havoc in Jinling every day. Her eldest daughter, ever thoughtful and dependable, agreed to take on the responsibility despite her recent childbirth and lingering weakness. She replied that her sister could stay in Yangzhou for as long as needed, adding that this gesture might win their father’s sympathy.

Thus, Song Shuqian boarded a carriage and set off for Yangzhou, Lady Wan’s maternal family home. The courtyard there buzzed with relatives eager to curry favor with the Song family. No one judged her for being a nearly nineteen-year-old spinster; instead, they flattered her endlessly with sweet words, finally lifting the spoiled young lady’s spirits somewhat.

Her sister treated her with particular care. Now, aside from caring for her two-month-old fourth child, Lun’er, she forced herself, despite her postpartum weakness, to visit Shuqian daily. The sisters drank tea, embroidered, and chatted, passing the days in a manner reminiscent of their carefree days in Chang’an.

“Sister, you truly have such good fortune, living a life like this…”

Song Shuqian sighed deeply, feeling that everything about her sister’s life was perfect—she had four children, two boys and two girls, all adorable. Her in-laws, part of Lady Wan’s family, doted on her like their own daughter. Her husband, strikingly handsome, remained devoted to her, with no concubines or maidservants encroaching on their relationship. No matter how busy he was, he always made time for his wife and children, even coming personally to fetch her if she stayed late chatting.

“You will find happiness too…” Song Shuying gently patted her sister’s hand, her voice infinitely tender. “The war against the rebels continues, and things may not be as dire as you imagine. Even if you enter the palace, Father will ensure you’re taken care of. He won’t let his daughter suffer…”

After a pause, she cautiously added, “His Majesty is the true dragon emperor. When he was crown prince, he was known for his virtue and kindness. There’s no reason he wouldn’t treat his new empress with respect… He might not be a bad match.”

—But these words failed to resonate with her sister.

True dragon emperor or not, who knew how long he would remain on the throne? Even if the Turks didn’t overthrow him, his frail health likely wouldn’t last much longer. If he died prematurely and entered the imperial mausoleum, wouldn’t she, as empress, be left widowed at an early age?

Shuqian had come to realize that life was ultimately about fairness. Take someone like Yi, whose unparalleled advantages and noble status had earned him divine jealousy, leading to his untimely death on the battlefield. By comparison, her brother-in-law, though not of illustrious lineage, lived a stable, peaceful life, free of calamities. Moreover, he was considerate and attentive, qualities that could make any woman happy and content.

“Sister speaks so beautifully—why don’t we trade places?” Shuqian joked bitterly, burying her face in her sister’s lap, unwilling to look up. “You go to the palace and become that empress, and I’ll stay in Yangzhou to care for your husband and children. Wouldn’t that be perfect?”

She spoke lightly, and Song Shuying laughed it off as playful banter. Neither took it seriously, and the sisters continued chatting until the sun dipped below the horizon. Later, after the hour of Xu, Wan Sheng finally came to fetch his third sister-in-law. Still as handsome and elegant as ever in his thirties, he spoke softly to his wife: “You promised me yesterday to take care of your health, but today you skipped meals. Even Lun’er is less troublesome than you…”

Such gentle reproaches melted hearts. In her husband’s presence, Song Shuying became as shy as a maiden, raising her eyebrows coyly to scold him before defending herself: “I ate enough at lunch—I just wasn’t hungry tonight…”

He sighed, affectionately flicking her nose. Their love was enviable, and watching them stirred something deep within Song Shuqian. For some reason, her brother-in-law seemed bathed in a warm glow, irresistibly inviting.

“It’s my fault for losing track of time, Brother-in-Law. Don’t blame Sister,” she leaned in, speaking in a voice that unconsciously softened. “Next time I’ll be more mindful. I promise not to worry Sister.”

Wan Sheng turned to her, his expression as gentle as ever. “Third Sister should also eat on time. I’ve heard from the servants that you haven’t been eating much lately. Could it be that our dishes aren’t to your liking?”

That single address—”Third Sister”—sent shivers down her spine.

Song Shuqian grew dizzy, inexplicably recalling Fang Xian Ting calling Song Shuyan “Fourth Sister” in that same tender, affectionate tone. Upon reflection, all her sisters had experienced a man’s devotion—except her.

Overwhelmed by self-pity, Song Shuqian’s heart sank into bitterness. Looking at her brother-in-law, she felt like drifting weeds yearning for the shore, instinctively wanting to draw closer.

“No, no…”

She had already begun to blush.

Meanwhile, Wan Sheng’s polite remarks were just that—his attention remained fully on his wife. After exchanging a few pleasantries with Third Sister, he bid her farewell, his figure still as elegant and refined as ever as he half-embraced his wife and departed.

Song Shuqian leaned against the doorframe, gazing after them dreamily. It took her a long while to finally tear her eyes away. That night, lying alone in her bed, loneliness and desolation crept back into her heart. The unmarried noblewoman’s defenses crumbled, and she yearned for a kind, tender man to embrace her warmly.

—He must be handsome, he must be gentle, he must…

Her thoughts swirled, the blurry image in her mind shifting between her beloved Yi and her brother-in-law. The latter filled her with panic and guilt toward her sister, but gradually, a bolder idea surfaced stubbornly in her mind—

If she were no longer a virgin…

…Would she be spared from marrying into the palace?