FYM - 89

The main hall of Binwei was cold and austere. Song Dan sat rigidly in the master’s seat, his brows furrowed deeply as he gripped the letter tightly, veins bulging on his hand. His mind churned with turbulent emotions.

Lord Fang… Lord Fang…

“Boji, what do you think about…” Lady Wan, seated beside him, cautiously observed her husband’s expression, her tone equally tentative. “Should we… send someone to inform Fourth Miss…”

Zhui’er knelt in the hall below. Upon hearing this, she frantically nodded, tears streaming down her face as she cried out loudly: “Please, Master, have mercy! Our young miss had a betrothal with Lord Fang—now is the time for them to…”

Before she could finish, Song Bo, seated next to Song Dan, slammed the table and stood up abruptly. “Elder Brother—this cannot be done—”

Song Shuqian, the married daughter who rarely spoke, sat quietly at the lower end of the hall, almost as if trying to burn a hole through the thin sheet of paper in her father’s hand. She simply couldn’t believe that Lord Yi, whose death had been announced last October, was now reportedly alive after half a year—and not only that…

“Master Song—”

At the same time, Ding Yue, standing in the hall, bowed deeply to Song Dan, his expression earnest and voice trembling with emotion. Gone was the calm and composed demeanor he had displayed when he first arrived at the Song household two years ago.

“My lord has survived against all odds and will soon return to court. In the coming days, news of this will also reach the Eastern Capital. I humbly ask that you…”

I humbly ask that you…

…What?

—Could they possibly recall Song Shuyan?

The emperor had already issued an edict to the entire realm, announcing his intention to take Miss Song as his new empress. Now, she was already clad in the phoenix robe, aboard the official ship bound for the imperial palace. Once inside, the wedding ceremony would be completed with the emperor. How could there be any room for reconsideration or breach of contract?

…That would be defying the imperial decree.

Ding Yue himself dared not continue. Song Dan remained as cold as frost, silent and unyielding. Zhui’er, seeing the dire situation, grew frantic and blurted out recklessly: “But our young miss will eventually find out—she’ll know Lord Fang is alive—”

“She has endured so much suffering. All she has left is the hope of being with Lord Fang—”

“Please, Master, grant her this wish… Our young miss… she has nothing left…”

Her voice broke into sobs, tears flowing like a fountain. Every word was heartfelt and sincere. Yet, to those in the hall, her pleas were utterly meaningless—what of her suffering? What of having nothing left? That was her fate! It was her destiny to be forever separated from Lord Fang of Yingchuan. Should the Song family risk their lives to fulfill her happiness?

Utterly absurd!

Song Dan shut his eyes tightly, and when he reopened them, all traces of hesitation were gone. Slowly, he flipped the letter over and placed it on the table. He stared coldly at Ding Yue and said: “If Lord Fang returns, it will indeed be a joy for the realm. However, my daughter has already departed for Luoyang to enter the palace as empress. Past matters must be severed cleanly—today’s events never happened. If you truly wish to protect your lord, you should not bring further trouble upon him.”

This statement carried deep implications, leaving Ding Yue speechless, unable to argue further. Amidst the silence, Song Bo exchanged another glance with his elder brother, then gestured for the servants to escort Ding Yue away. Song Dan’s stern gaze swept across the hall, and he declared in a low voice: “The honor of the new empress must not be tarnished. Any leak of this news will bring disaster upon the entire Song family. If even a whisper escapes, the Song household—will face execution without mercy.”

The weight of the word “execution” silenced everyone in the hall. The servants and attendants dared not utter another word. Only Zhui’er, overwhelmed by anger and grief, continued to protest. As she wiped her tears, she scrambled to her feet and rushed toward the door, her mind fixed on one thought—I must tell the young miss!

Lord Fang is alive! He didn’t die!

He will come back for her! She cannot marry anyone else!

“Stop her immediately—”

A furious roar erupted behind her—it was unclear whether it came from Song Dan or Song Bo. The servants, who had inadvertently overheard the family’s secrets, were already terrified. Seeing an opportunity to redeem themselves, they sprang into action. They pounced on Zhui’er, the older maids gripping her arms with surprising strength, pinning her down completely. She was quickly dragged back to the hall and forced to kneel before the masters, who glared at her menacingly. This only made her realize how pitiful and tragic the young miss, who had sacrificed everything for her family and country, truly was.

“How dare you treat her like this—”

Zhui’er’s face was pressed hard against the ground, but even so, she couldn’t stop herself from shouting angrily.

“What crime has she committed? How has she wronged any of you—”

No one answered. The cries of a mere servant weren’t worth the noble family’s attention. Song Dan merely frowned and ordered her to be locked in the woodshed. Beside him, Lady Wan and her daughter wore cruel, smug smiles. Zhui’er struggled fiercely, her anger granting her a brief surge of unexpected strength. Somehow, she broke free from the maids’ iron grip and bolted toward the door. But amidst the chaos, she tripped—

She inevitably stumbled forward, her peripheral vision catching the sharp corner of a nearby table—

A dull pain—

“Ah—”

The crowd gasped in alarm.

The ship sailed northward, cutting through the water, while Song Shuyan remained unaware of the turmoil unfolding in Jinling behind her.

…She had a dream.

In the dream, she saw an incredibly lush plum grove. The largest tree had gnarled branches and a cloud-like canopy of blossoms. A gentle breeze carried the faint fragrance of the flowers, scattering petals like snow. The scene was even more vibrant and elegant than the plum trees she had seen on the island in Lake Shihan two years ago.

Under the tree stood a man. Hearing her approach, he turned and called her name: “Shuyan.”

At that moment, her ears went silent, and the world seemed to expand infinitely. One instant, she was miles away from him; the next, she stood close to his shadow. Truly, it felt as ephemeral and surreal as a dream.

“…Third Brother.”

She called out to him.

He smiled faintly, his features vivid and lifelike, just as handsome and composed as ever. Standing casually with his hands clasped behind his back, he said: “In a few months, it will be the season for qiongying flowers. I had planned to take you back to the Western Capital to see the plum trees we planted two years ago. Now, it seems that won’t be possible.”

His tone was light, as if he were merely chatting idly. Yet, she felt her nose sting and her eyes well up with tears. Even now, her battered heart could still bleed.

“I’m going to Luoyang…” she told him, her voice heavy with sorrow. “…I’m entering the palace.”

His silence stretched long. The small mole at the corner of his right eye, so tear-like, betrayed his emotions. Then, he gently pulled her into his embrace, his hands resting warmly around her waist, just as they always had.

“It seems I’ve returned too late…”

He replied, his voice soft as a sigh.

“…It seems I’ve failed you.”

His voice, like falling snow, drifted away. When she looked up, she saw flower petals landing in his hair. The world was shrouded in mourning white, yet she alone stood radiant in her phoenix crown and red robes. She knew she was guilty, yet only in his presence did she feel wronged. The pain and resentment she had suppressed for so long suddenly burst forth as tears soaking his chest. Never had she so desperately wished to die in this man’s arms.

“I’ve missed you so much…”

She told him in despair, clutching the hem of his robe and sobbing uncontrollably.

“I… I want to find you…”

She wasn’t sure if he had shed tears then. Perhaps not—such a resolute and restrained man would never show weakness before his beloved. After all, he was just an ordinary man with feelings. Yet, he brushed away the petals that had fallen onto her hair, mirroring a heartbreaking scene from Qiantang. Perhaps he truly didn’t want to owe her anything, which was why he settled even this small debt before their final parting.

“I will always watch over you…”

He promised her, his figure fading like spring moonlight on a river. She stumbled after him, chasing desperately, but in the end, all she grasped was a cold, empty void.

“…Forever watching over you.”

When she opened her eyes, all she saw was the lavish, enclosed cabin of the ship. Palace attendants surrounded her on all sides, likely startled by her tear-streaked face. They carefully attended to her, speaking sweet words to coax a smile from the new empress. They praised the emperor’s devotion, mentioning how he had specially built a magnificent Jade Consort Garden in the Luoyang palace, where gardeners nurtured various plum trees with great care. Such thoughtfulness, they said, was enviable.

She heard none of it. Her mind replayed his image from the dream again and again. Deep down, she somehow knew this was their final farewell. As long as she never forgot, it could count as eternal companionship. But alas, dreams dissolve in the ripples of the night. Once the ship docked, the illusion shattered completely. She was finally escorted through the towering gates of the Eastern Capital, her phoenix crown gleaming under the banners and ceremonial guards. All shallow ties were severed, never to be mended.

The streets stretched endlessly, crowded with people. Countless citizens of Luoyang lined the roads, craning their necks for a glimpse of the new empress. To her, every face appeared dull and numb, no different from the grieving widows and children in Yingchuan. Majestic music filled the air, echoing to the heavens. At the end of the ten-mile-long bridal procession stood the golden, dazzling gates of Shangyang Palace. Emperor Wei Qin, dressed in his ceremonial robes, personally led the officials to greet her, extending his hand like an iron curtain of fate that could not be refused.

That palace gate was the dividing line between freedom and imprisonment. A single step forward meant lifelong confinement and solitude; a step backward meant wandering without refuge. She had never had a choice, perhaps only this one point was comparable to him. Step by step, she walked forward. With each step, countless memories collapsed within her, sharp knives piercing her soles until blood seeped out. Yet, she remained expressionless, walking resolutely ahead, her figure overlapping with his distant, galloping silhouette.

Finally—

…Her pale hand fell into the emperor’s palm.

He cast a deep, heavy glance at her, mixed with both solemnity and joy. Then, he personally led her by the hand, walking side by side into the opulent imperial palace. Together, the emperor and empress paid homage to heaven and earth, ancestors, and received the blessings of ministers and the masses.

At that moment, Yingying died. Her ashes were buried under the tallest plum tree in her dream. From then on, the sun would rise and set, day and night would alternate, and all traces of her existence would fade as if she had never been. But cruelly, just then, a frost-laden wind blew again, its remnants whispering the cold joke of fate. Beneath the imperial steps, a man stumbled toward the Mingtang Hall, his face alight with wild joy.

“Your Majesty—”

The voices of the ministers echoed through the palace like roaring waves, clear and deafening, yet she could barely make sense of them.

“Victory! Victory!”

“Heaven protects Great Zhou—Lord Fang has returned! He has defeated the Turks in Jinzhou with his army—”

“The Eastern Capital—is safe—”