FYM - 96

That was likely in the autumn of the third year of Taiqing.

In June, the emperor and empress’s grand wedding brought a rare joy to the Eastern Capital. The following month, a great victory in the northwest drove the Turks back, giving the dynasty teetering on the brink a brief respite. Commoners rejoiced with tears of happiness, scholars penned countless odes to celebrate, yet she alone felt as though she had fallen into an icy abyss, shivering without end. She couldn’t fathom why fate treated her so cruelly.

...It rained continuously in Luoyang during the days he returned.

By late September, the frosty rains of deep autumn made it clear that the climate of the Eastern Capital wasn’t much milder than Chang’an. At the time, she had just entered the imperial palace and lacked political power. During the court celebrations, she wasn’t even permitted to leave the inner palace to catch a distant glimpse of him.

“Your Majesty…”

Chaohua and Xixiu had been attending her since then, both clever and considerate maids personally selected by Wang Mu, the emperor’s trusted eunuch, and sent to the Empress’s quarters. They likely noticed her unusually pale demeanor and offered to summon a physician from the Imperial Medical Office.

They were good attendants, but they couldn’t replace Zhui’er, who had been so close to her heart. They knew nothing of her tangled past with him, nor could they truly strategize on her behalf. Knowing she couldn’t reveal her vulnerabilities to outsiders, she simply replied, “It’s fine,” and added, “…I merely miss my brother. I wonder if he has also returned to court with the army.”

Everyone in the Empress’s quarters knew her origins and that she had a noble-hearted older brother who had left his scholarly pursuits to join the military. Having achieved great success against the Turks, he was sure to be rewarded and promoted soon.

Chaohua and Xixiu smiled at this, comforting her by saying General Song would surely receive blessings for his triumph. She forced a stiff smile in response, her heart already drenched in bitterness. That night, the emperor came to dine with her. His long-ill face glowed with the joy of victory, and throughout the meal, he spoke of him incessantly. Each mention of “Yi Zhi” felt like poisoned arrows piercing her, leaving her wounded and shattered.

“Your Majesty…”

She finally interrupted him, her hands trembling uncontrollably beneath the table.

“Your humble servant… wishes to see her brother.”

Wei Qin showed no displeasure at her breach of etiquette. His usually dull eyes were unusually bright today. Hearing her words, he nodded apologetically, saying: “You’re right. I forgot to consider your feelings—surely you haven’t seen your brother in over a year. Tomorrow, I’ll permit him to visit you in the inner palace. Rest assured, he is well, and I won’t skimp on his rewards…”

These were deeply considerate words. No wonder his posthumous title would be Renzong, the Benevolent Emperor. A single character encapsulated his life—he was kind and generous to both the court and the harem.

She bowed to thank him. Sure enough, early the next morning, Chaohua came to report that General Song had arrived. Turning, she saw her second brother step into the room. Even though she had braced herself, seeing him still struck her like a tidal wave, overwhelming her emotions.

“Shuyan…”

Her brother’s eyes were already red. The man, hardened by the harsh winds and sands of the northwest, now appeared more valiant and composed than before. Yet, upon meeting his youngest sister, he couldn’t help but pull her into a tight embrace. This violated protocol, but the palace attendants, noticing Chaohua’s discreet signal, tactfully withdrew. Only when they were alone did Song Shuyan dare to collapse into tears in the arms of the last blood relative who truly cared for her. Her sobs were hysterical, piercing her soul, leaving her too weak to maintain any pretense.

“They forced you into this…”

He voiced her anger for her, but even here, within these walls where every sound was monitored, he had to lower his voice helplessly.

“How could Father do this to you… He, he…”

But she no longer wanted to hate anyone. After the tumultuous highs and lows faded, only desolation remained in her heart. Now, her sole obsession was with him. Clutching her brother’s robe, she looked up and asked: “Third Brother… Where is Third Brother?”

This question seemed unanswerable, for even her second brother began to tear up. He struggled to speak, unsure whether it was out of reluctance to recall or simply couldn’t bear to tell her those words.”

“Third Brother, he…”

Even his lips trembled as he spoke.

“…He has lost everything.”

The vague statement was unclear, yet she understood its meaning all too well. She, too, had lost everything, and had even witnessed firsthand all that he had lost.

“I want to see him…”

In the end, those were the only words she could muster. Her fingers clutched her brother’s robe so tightly that her knuckles turned white, as if she might snap them off at any moment. Song Mingzhen, almost fearfully, gripped her hands and carefully pried each finger loose. How deeply he felt for her injustice? Everything had been fine in Qiantang just three years ago, and now…

“All right, all right… Brother will help you find him…”

He promised her solemnly, driven nearly mad by his own anguish.

“There must be some resolution between you and Third Brother.”

—But how could that be easy?

Once inside the palace gates, the world became an ocean of depth. How could an empress easily meet with an external minister? Those four towering palace walls were impossibly high, blocking out the sky and making one feel perpetually on the verge of collapse and escape.

…Yet, in the end, he did come to see her.

The emperor and Lord Fang of Yingchuan were as close as brothers. After their great victory, the emperor often invited him to Guanfeng Hall for long discussions. That day, her second brother again visited the inner palace. In front of the palace attendants, he mentioned wanting to take her to Yufei Garden. Once they were alone, he whispered in her ear: “Hurry… Third Brother is waiting for you.”

The day was overcast, and the cold of Luoyang’s late autumn was biting. But her heart burned fiercely. At first, her steps were hesitant, but soon she ran heedlessly, like a moth drawn to flame, unwilling to let the dream fade.

—She found him quickly.

The flowers of September hadn’t yet bloomed; the plum trees in the garden stood bare. Amidst the sparse greenery, where could she find fragrant blossoms? There he stood beneath one of the withered trees, his silhouette overlapping with the dream she’d had aboard the ship heading north to Luoyang. At one moment, he finally turned to look at her, and the once-decayed mountain scenery suddenly sprang back to life, as if in a mirage.

“…Third Brother.”

She called to him softly, afraid even her breath might shatter the fragile dream. Her body trembled violently, and she heard sharp, discordant noises ringing in her ears.

…He had changed.

In Chang’an, he had been the elegant and charming heir of the Duke of Jin, drawing admiration at Lishan’s winter hunt. Later, in Jiangnan, he resembled the willows by the riverbank, his smiling eyes carrying a reserved warmth. Now, all of that was gone. His once-deep eyes were dull and vacant, and his excessive thinness made him seem unable to fill out his purple official robes, symbols of his rank.

The jade tower had collapsed; the snow-laden winds were piercing. It turned out he was not indestructible after all.

Yet, she still loved him… Just as she had willingly offered him a token of spring mountains when he rejected her from afar on the ship. Now, she wanted to embrace him, even if only to tell him… there was still someone in the world who would stand by him through life and death.

Unbeknownst to her, tears streamed down her face. Her trembling, stumbling figure must have looked pitiful and disheveled. Those few steps felt like traversing thousands of miles. With all her strength, she reached him, but just as she was about to embrace him, he took half a step back.

It was a venomous thorn piercing her heart, instantly sealing her fate. Tears felt so hollow and powerless, even she felt their inadequacy.

“It’s not like that…”

She shook her head desperately, though she didn’t know what she was saying.

“Third Brother… It’s not like that…”

Her chaotic pleas made no sense. His deadened eyes reflected only vast desolation. She felt both anguish and fear, wanting to tell him she had never coveted the position of empress, nor had she ever betrayed him. She simply… She simply…

The sharp ringing turned into deafening roars, each labored breath feeling blood-soaked. The world spun, reality overturned; her vision was a kaleidoscope of light and shadow. Some things couldn’t be explained, especially not shamelessly claiming everything she had done was for him during such a heartbreaking moment. In the end, she was powerless, throwing herself into his arms, calling out “Third Brother” again and again.

Third Brother.

Third Brother.

…Third Brother.

This time, he didn’t avoid her, but neither did he embrace her tenderly as in her dreams. His emaciated body no longer carried the warmth and breadth of their time in Qiantang. The autumn rain fell simultaneously, chilling the frost-covered ground and filling her with indescribable despair.

“Shuyan…”

It was his final act of mercy, not addressing her as “Empress” but directly pushing her into the bottomless abyss. Yet, even the sweet way he used to call her now felt desolate and sorrowful. She realized that pain had no bounds, and numbness couldn’t mask the brutal tearing of flesh and bone.

“But I… have nothing left to give you.”

Ping—

A faint, brittle sound suddenly rang in her ear, quieter even than the increasingly violent rain. Later, she realized it was one of the white jade combs she had carefully pinned to her hair, now shattered on the ground, along with the fleeting dream they had shared in Qiantang.

Heavens knew… they had never had much time together to begin with. Now, this rare, precious embrace was bitter and hard to swallow. It turned out the warmest and coldest places in the world were one and the same—the illusory, mirage-like embrace of the man she adored so deeply.

—Compared to that, what were these faint regrets now?

Empress Song gently raised her wine cup. Beside her, Wang Mu had discreetly poured the wine. Outside the hall, the dazzling fireworks illuminated the night, reminding her that it was another New Year’s Eve, seven years later. He still sat not far from her, seemingly only separated by a few steps of the imperial platform, yet in reality, it was as if they were divided by towering mountains and endless peaks. The fleeting glance from moments ago had vanished without a trace, but she could still contentedly regard it as his best New Year’s gift to her.

Tilting her head back, she drank the cup dry. The fleeting drunkenness seemed to resonate faintly with him. Seven years ago, the question she couldn’t answer already had an answer, but she hadn’t been able to voice it then—she had never needed him to give her anything. Past experiences had taught her to find solace on her own. She only wished to stay by his side a little longer. Now, it was simpler… She only hoped he would remain safe and prosperous.

Third Brother.

Do you think… this can be called greed?