FYM - 97

On the fourth day of the first lunar month in the first year of Guangyou, the New Year’s holiday came to an end, and all officials returned to court to pay their respects to the emperor.

The Prince of Yinping, who had not been seen since being publicly reprimanded by the Marquis, finally appeared today. He looked noticeably thinner, standing silently outside the Ming Hall awaiting the morning audience without speaking to anyone. His intimidating aura kept others at bay, and no one dared approach him except for a few from the Jinling faction, who were already on bad terms with him. For instance, Song Bo, accompanied by his eldest son Song Mingran, deliberately walked back and forth in front of him twice, visibly angering Wei Bi until his face turned as dark as the bottom of a pot.

At the stroke of the morning hour, members of the Fang family began arriving. More than ten high-ranking officials were present among them. Their patriarch, Fang Xianting, walked steadily to the forefront of the assembled ministers without so much as glancing sideways. Even without uttering a word, his presence silenced everyone. At that moment, the Prince of Yinping’s expression grew even darker, but under the persistent urging of his colleagues, he reluctantly raised his hand in a distant salute toward Fang Xianting, bowing slightly and addressing him: “… My Lord.”

This was clearly an act of submission, and now it was up to the other party to accept or reject it. The officials watched silently, holding their breaths. After a brief pause, the Marquis turned his head to look at Wei Bi. After a moment of silence, he gave a slight nod, responding: “Prince of Yinping.”

… It was accepted.

Ministers from both the Luoyang faction and the neutral camp let out sighs of relief, while those from the Jinling faction felt dissatisfied. They thought the Marquis was too merciful; it would have been more satisfying if he had simply stabbed Wei Bi to death. But as these thoughts swirled in their minds, the imperial eunuch emerged from the Ming Hall to summon the officials for the audience. Reluctantly, they set aside their distractions, straightened their caps, and entered the hall.

As for the most pressing matter to be discussed after the start of the new year, it was evidently still the long-delayed plan for the southern migration.

The two factions had debated this issue for a long time, and continuing to attack each other in court was becoming tedious. Moreover, everyone knew that whether, when, and how this matter would proceed ultimately depended on the imperial family and the Five Regents. Thus, no one was surprised when, after the court session, the imperial eunuch announced that only those five individuals would remain behind for further deliberations. The rest of the officials bowed and withdrew.

Song Dan, the patriarch of the Song family and one of the Five Regents, had been dispatched by the late emperor to Jinling to prepare for the southern migration before the emperor passed away. Since he was currently not in Luoyang, his younger brother Song Bo temporarily took his place. The Minister of Rites, though perceptive, belonged to the civil service and should have stood alongside Wei Bi and Fan Yucheng on the left side of the Ming Hall. However, assessing the situation, he decided it was better to align himself with the Marquis and silently moved to the right side of the hall. This left Chen Meng, recently promoted from Crown Prince’s Tutor to Grand Tutor, standing between the two factions.

“The late emperor spent years planning the southern migration, and now that the great war has just ended, the timing is ripe. We should not delay any longer.”

The young emperor sat upright on the throne, but the person truly speaking was still the Empress Dowager behind the curtain.

“I intend to move the capital to Jinling this month. What do you, my loyal ministers, think?”

—”What do you think?”

The leaders of the Luoyang faction had already written their refusal on their faces but dared not speak out rashly due to the Marquis’s presence. Seeing an opening, Song Bo stepped forward, bowed to his niece, and hastily said: “Your Majesty, since the eighth year of Taiqing, the Ministry of Works and the Ministry of Rites have been preparing for the southern migration. Now, we have enough carts, ships, and provisions ready, and the old palace in Taicheng has been renovated. All we need is your decree, and we can immediately move the capital to Jinling.”

This eager display irritated the Luoyang faction. Wei Bi couldn’t help but let out a heavy snort before speaking: “It’s easy for Minister Song to speak lightly, but does he realize how complex and far-reaching the relocation of the capital is? It’s not as simple as moving the Empress Dowager and Your Majesty to a new imperial palace. Goods and supplies can be transported, but what about fertile land? The people rely on the mountains and rivers for sustenance. How will northerners survive in Jiangnan? If we can’t properly resettle the populace, we cannot bring them across the river. A sharp decline in population will make tax collection difficult. What then?”

“What Prince Yinping says is correct…” Fan Yucheng chimed in, playing good cop to his colleague’s bad cop. His tone was gentle yet filled with concern, seemingly expressing genuine worry for the country and its people. “Moreover, Your Majesty has just ascended the throne, and the hearts of the people are unsettled. Moving the capital hastily could harm the state. Now that the Marquis has returned victorious and the situation is temporarily stable, it would be wiser to remain in the Eastern Capital and plan for westward expansion.”

Their performance was seamless, and while it stemmed partly from self-interest, it also held some truth. However, the person behind the curtain was not deceived and calmly responded: “The southern migration has been meticulously planned for years. The regions south of the Quzhou-Jianzhou line have been reorganized to facilitate settlement. While some population loss is inevitable, shortening the defensive line will allow the court to focus its resources. What does Lord Fang think?”

Her words were measured and dignified, leaving Song Bo, listening below, deeply impressed. Seven years ago, his decision to support his niece had been the right one. Shuyan was intelligent, patient, diligent, and studious, having learned governance from the late emperor for years. Now she commanded the court with confidence, and in a few more years, once her position was firmly established…

“The southern migration should not be delayed any further.”

Lost in thought, the Marquis finally spoke, his voice steady and his demeanor calm, exuding more authority than the arrogance of his youth.

“Although we won the great battle last year, the lands west of Xizhou have been reduced to ashes, and our troops are exhausted. Currently, the treasury is empty, and our military strength is diminished, making westward expansion impossible. The Xie family in Youzhou likely cannot withstand the Eastern Turks. It would be wiser to seize the momentum of victory and move south across the river to ensure the safety of the Empress Dowager and His Majesty.”

Before Song Shuyan could respond, the young emperor loudly exclaimed, “Good!” and added: “I believe now is the perfect time for the southern migration! If we wait for another war to break out, won’t we be caught off guard? The imperial family must maintain its dignity and order before the people!”

Though his words revealed his youthful naivety, they clearly showed the emperor’s bias. The two senior ministers of the Luoyang faction exchanged silent curses and signaled to Grand Tutor Chen Meng, hoping he would speak up. But the old fox, accustomed to playing peacemaker, remained neutral. Forced to act, Wei Bi had to speak again: “So we’re just going to abandon the lands north of the river? Hand them over to the rebel kings, Zhong He, the Turks, and the Tubo?”

“Eight years ago, the Marquis sacrificed himself to save the people. Are you now abandoning them?”

“They are waiting for the royal army! They don’t want to be abandoned by the court!”

His barrage of questions was sharp, but it was clear he was using the “emotion” card—a weightless matter to most, yet to the Fang family of Yingchuan… it was as heavy as Mount Tai, impossible to sever.

Behind the curtain, Song Shuyan’s brows furrowed slightly. From the corner of her eye, she saw Fang Xianting’s growing melancholy—she knew him too well. Though outwardly he appeared expressionless, she understood… it wasn’t like that.

“The court will instruct all prefectures to escort the people south. Anyone willing to join will be provided for,” she said, her voice cooling noticeably, revealing rare flashes of anger. “Protecting the nation and its people is not the sole responsibility of one person. If Prince Yinping truly cares about the state, he can stay behind and defend the Eastern Capital on behalf of the Empress Dowager and His Majesty.”

Her words were sharp, her temper flaring even more than when Wei Lin had once pointed an arrow at her. Yet she cleverly phrased the offer as acting on behalf of “the Empress Dowager and His Majesty,” subtly downplaying her protective intent toward him. Wei Bi and Fan Yucheng failed to grasp her true meaning, but he understood. His deep, cold eyes briefly met hers through the pearl curtain, clearer and more penetrating than the barrier between them.

Song Bo, privy to their past, was now trembling with fear, worried that the Luoyang faction might notice something amiss and use it to attack the Empress Dowager. Hastily, he interjected: “The Empress Dowager speaks wisely—currently, all regions in Jiangnan are prepared to accommodate over 600,000 northern refugees. In a few months, there will be additional capacity. The provincial governors will do their utmost to assist the court.”

Song Shuyan softly acknowledged this. To the Luoyang faction, this was blatant evidence of nepotism and political interference. Moments later, they heard the “fox spirit” say: “In that case, let’s arrange everything as soon as possible. We’ll depart south after the Lantern Festival.”

After a pause, she asked: “What deployments does the Ministry of War have in mind?”

This question was directed at Fang Xianting. He lowered his gaze slightly, his composed demeanor exuding calmness. After a moment, he solemnly replied: “The 80,000 imperial guards of the Eastern Capital will accompany the Empress Dowager and His Majesty southward. The forces of Yingchuan will split into six routes to assist the people in crossing the river. As for me…”

He hesitated briefly before continuing: “I request permission to lead 50,000 troops north to Youzhou to aid the Xie family in resisting the Eastern Turks. Once the situation stabilizes, I will return south to report.”

This meant… another campaign.

—How many days had he been back? Counting from the 29th day of the twelfth month, it had only been six days. He had just repelled Zhong He and Jiankun in the west, and now he was heading east to fight the Turks… He wasn’t invincible with three heads and six arms, so how could he…

Underneath her ornate robes, Song Shuyan’s hands clenched slightly. Before her eyes flashed memories of their parting ten years ago. Her throat, usually steady, suddenly tightened with unshed emotion. Opening her mouth would reveal the turmoil within, but before she could react, the young emperor exclaimed in astonishment: “Lord Fang is going to lead troops again? Then… then who will protect me and Mother? Besides you, I don’t trust anyone else!”

Though childish and awkward, his words revealed the emperor’s profound trust in a single minister. Fang Xianting’s stern features softened slightly, perhaps seeing traces of the late emperor in Wei Xi’s face.

“The grand relocation of the court will inevitably leak out, and the enemy will surely act. Staying behind for a few more days to cover the rear is for the sake of stability…”

He answered patiently, showing no hint of disrespect despite addressing a half-grown child.

“As for protecting the throne, Generals Lou and Song are still here. They are loyal and steadfast men who will safeguard His Majesty’s safety.”

He was a peculiar man—cold and fearsome when brooding, yet gentle and reliable when he softened his tone. The young emperor, initially terrified, calmed down after being reassured and murmured: “Well… but you must return to court soon…”

This was also what his mother wished, though she understood his tenderness far better than her son did. Bound by invisible chains, she couldn’t utter a single word. Yet he seemed to sense her unease. After responding to Wei Xi, he subtly glanced toward the curtain, like a feather brushing against her heart, leaving her both satisfied and yearning for him even more.

She lowered her eyes, waiting for the trembling pleasure to rise and then subside. The fleeting aftereffects were intoxicating, offering her the sweetest indulgence and the deepest sorrow.

“Then we shall follow your advice.”

She finally spoke again, suppressing every ripple of emotion. No one knew how intensely she longed for him, just as no one knew how reluctant and fearful she was each time he left.

“The Empress Dowager and I will go to Jinling first… and await Lord Fang’s triumphant return.”