FYM - 99

The cycle of cause and effect never fails. On one side, Lou Wei, the young general who had his shoulder dislocated, was bedridden for over half a month, unable to move. On the other side, Wei Lin, the heir of the Prince of Yinping, who had once acted arrogantly and was publicly punished with sixty military strikes, was in a similar state—unable to rise from his bed. The Marquis had originally ordered a full hundred strokes, but Wei Lin fainted after just thirty, and by sixty, his body was bloodied and unrecognizable. This sight stirred his father, Wei Bi, into a tantrum in the court. In the end, it was only through the Empress Dowager’s intervention that the remaining forty strokes were waived. After being carried home, Wei Lin remained unconscious with a high fever until the third day of the new year when he finally regained some awareness.

The Prince of Yinping had many children, but Wei Lan, his fifteen-year-old youngest daughter, was the only one who shared the same mother as Wei Lin. She adored her older brother dearly and frequently visited him during these days. With a bowl of porridge in hand, she coaxed him to eat while knitting her brows in complaint: “That Marquis is simply too overbearing. Father serves alongside him as one of the Five Regents. Even if he doesn’t respect my father, he should at least show deference to the imperial family. Moreover, neither the Empress Dowager nor His Majesty decreed punishment. How dare he…”

Wei Lan was born late in her parents’ lives and had always been doted upon. During the reign of the late emperor, she was even granted the title of Princess of Yong’an due to her father’s merits—a rare honor in the entire Eastern Capital. She was indeed accomplished, having studied diligently under tutors since childhood, excelling in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. Her appearance was striking—her delicate eyebrows like autumn water, her fair skin accompanied by a gentle breeze. She was both tender and elegant, yet dignified and poised.

“He will get what he deserves sooner or later.”

Wei Lin felt that his sister’s words struck a chord in his heart. Lying face-down on the bed, his buttocks beaten raw, only his mouth remained defiant and full of vigor.

“Just because he holds military power, he dares to act so tyrannically. He accuses me and Father of treason? Fang Yizhi is clearly eliminating his rivals. One day, he will betray the late emperor and devour that foolish, ignorant little emperor in the palace!”

These words were outright treasonous. Wei Lan felt uneasy but continued coaxing her brother to drink the porridge. After a pause, she added, “Still, Father and you did go too far before. That Empress Dowager has raised and educated His Majesty, and she is the legitimate daughter of the Song family patriarch of Jinling. We should show more respect in the future…”

“Respect her?”

Wei Lin’s tone was laced with disdain and sharpness, his anger still fresh.

“Her nurturing care is not the same as giving birth. How much weight does that carry? Those weak, bookish officials of the Song family are nothing. Father and I are sparing her life only because we are pressured by the Fangs. Otherwise…”

A flash of cruelty crossed his eyes, and his expression turned venomous. Wei Lan, however, seemed thoughtful. Stirring the hot porridge gently, she frowned and asked, “But why is that Marquis so protective of her? The Fang and Song families aren’t particularly close. This…”

“He isn’t protecting the Song girl, nor is he acting out of respect for the Song family,” Wei Lin replied decisively, not delving deeper into his sister’s line of thought. “One reason is to follow the late emperor’s will, and the second is to seize power under the guise of righteousness!”

This explanation made more sense. Wei Lan nodded and stopped asking further questions. A moment later, a servant reported that their father had returned from court. Soon after, Wei Bi personally entered his eldest son’s room. Wei Lan rose to greet her father, while Wei Lin immediately asked, “How was it? Did Fang Yizhi give you trouble during today’s court session?”

Wei Bi sat beside his son, his expression as dark and menacing as his tone. “He didn’t dare openly challenge me, but he supported the Jinling faction in pushing for the southern migration…”

Wei Lin’s expression changed upon hearing this. In anger, he slammed his fist onto the bed, shouting, “They’re so impatient! Are they determined to fight us from Luoyang to the bitter end?”

This outburst startled Wei Lan, causing her to accidentally knock over the bowl of porridge in her hands. Her father quickly checked if she was hurt, then pulled her to sit beside him, sneering, “Fight to the bitter end? It’s too early to say that.”

His words carried endless implications, leaving both his children confused. Wei Lan cautiously asked, “Father, do you mean… the southern migration still won’t happen?”

Wei Bi threw his head back and laughed, patting his daughter’s hand and praising her intelligence. Wei Lin, though pleased, couldn’t shake his doubts. On the day of the late emperor’s funeral, their Luoyang faction had already shown their teeth to the world. They had narrowly failed to kill the Song girl. Now that Fang Xianting had returned, how could they possibly stop the court’s momentum for the southern migration?

Though he said nothing, his thoughts were clear to his father. Wei Bi smiled faintly, stroking his beard slowly as he said, “Fang Xianting may wield immense power and control the emperor, but under heaven… is there truly nothing he fears?”

“Fear…”?

Wei Lin fell silent, pondering for a long time but unable to think of anything in the present that could restrain the seemingly invincible leader of the Five Regents. His father continued to smile silently, the gloom in his eyes colder and darker than the biting winds of Luoyang after the New Year.

Seven days later, war broke out again. The Marquis would personally lead fifty thousand troops north to Youzhou to assist the Xie family in repelling the enemy. By protocol, he must inspect the troops beforehand, and the emperor was to personally see him off.

The candles in Jishan Palace were extinguished early the night before, but Song Shuyan tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Outside the bed curtains, the night was thick and impenetrable. Once dawn broke, that person would leave the capital again, with no certainty of when he would return.

It was a terrifying thought. Even the late emperor often worried about such matters. She remembered that a few years ago, when his illness wasn’t as severe as it later became, he would invite the Marquis of Yingchuan to Guanfeng Hall the night before major military campaigns for games of Go and drinks. The palace lights would burn all night, bright and dazzling like daylight.

She was greedy. Even though she knew long ago that her past connection with him was severed forever, she couldn’t help but find ways to see him. Time in the deep palace was long and arduous. Looking back, without something to look forward to, she might not have endured. At the same time, she was timid, fearing that others might discover her feelings for him and bring trouble upon him. Thus, she didn’t dare to visit the late emperor under false pretenses every time. In seven years, she had done so only three times. In her otherwise dark memories, these moments stood out as rare flashes of brightness.

He enjoyed drinking, while the late emperor, due to his frail health, could only drink tea. The mingling aromas of tea and wine created an ethereal atmosphere, transforming the opulent hall into something akin to a hermit’s hut. Each time she visited, the emperor greeted her with a smile, his interest undiminished. Waving her over, he would say, “Empress, you have nothing to do tonight? Then come and watch my game.”

The emperor always addressed her as “Empress,” a title that conformed to propriety and suited their distant yet respectful relationship. Though it usually felt appropriate, hearing it in front of him made her ears sting. Every time he heard that word, he would rise and bow to her with icy politeness, as if the only thing he could say was “Your Majesty.”

She had to accept it gracefully, sitting calmly beside the emperor while pretending to casually observe the black-and-white chessboard where sovereign and subject played. Occasionally, she would make a move for Wei Qin, sometimes correct, sometimes not. He never reproached her for mistakes but always praised her lavishly for correct ones. He would laugh and say to the other man, “My empress is brilliantly intelligent. Today, she might crush Yizhi completely.”

…Crush him?

No… she would never do that.

He was always taciturn, his expression indifferent even in response to the emperor’s cheerful banter. Yet Wei Qin seemed unperturbed. Later, he added, “However, her greatest talent lies in painting. Her brush brings life to stone and gold, especially her depictions of horses, which are exquisite. If the opportunity arises, you must see them.”

He spoke with enthusiasm, unaware of the history between the two people across the chessboard. Her sole teacher had been someone he personally found for her. And the horses she painted… were meant to convey her longing for him during those war-torn days.

She didn’t remember how he responded then, perhaps only a brief “As per Your Majesty’s will.” Afterward, even if there was anything else, she couldn’t bear to listen. Seven years later, everything was even less satisfactory. He still had to go to war, but she could no longer invite him to stay overnight in the palace for candlelit conversations as the late emperor once did.

—The only advantage now was that she could openly bid him farewell.

On the twelfth day of the first lunar month, the weather was neither rainy nor sunny. The skies over the Eastern Capital were overcast, and the spring chill bit sharply. Together with the young emperor, she watched him inspect the troops in the imperial courtyard. The soldiers’ armor gleamed coldly, exuding a fierce and stirring martial spirit. Even Wei Xi, a child, was swept up in excitement, his small face flushed red. Seeing Lord Fang kneeling in full armor before him, he joyfully jumped off the dragon throne to help him up.

“My lord, there’s no need for such formalities. Just win many victories for me!” he exclaimed, tightly gripping his hand. His eyes, so similar to the late emperor’s, sparkled with childish fervor. “I trust you! All the people of the empire trust you!”

The word “trust” carried great weight. Though the one who uttered it might not have given it much thought, the leader of the Five Regents, who held life-and-death authority in Zhou, treated it with utmost seriousness. After a moment, he slightly turned his head to look at the Empress Dowager behind the emperor.

“Even when commanding troops afar, the sovereign’s orders remain as heavy as Mount Tai,” he solemnly declared. His fleeting glance carried the weight of flowing years. “If Her Majesty or Your Majesty require my presence, you may summon me at any time. I will return without fail.”

Those final four words, cold and clear, resonated in the ears of everyone present. The ministers understood the Marquis’s intentions. The officials of the Luoyang faction had already been subdued, heads bowed and eyes lowered. But Song Shuyan’s heart remained inscrutable. She knew that with him around, she would be safe and secure. Yet she worried about the battlefield, where swords and spears showed no mercy, and feared he might be taken away from her once again.

“The ten regional commanders each have their duties. This battle will primarily rely on the two towns under the Xie family’s jurisdiction.”

Her expression was impassive as she spoke, masking the molten lava of her emotions with the coldest admonishment. Still, her peripheral vision caught sight of his horse, Zhuoying. Seven years ago, the defeat at Shangxiaogu had left this once-famous steed severely injured. Though it was now in its prime, it was no longer the spirited creature it once was.

“After the southern migration, many matters will still require Lord Fang’s assistance. Remember not to overstep your bounds and return to Jinling promptly to stabilize the situation.”

Her disguise was becoming increasingly convincing. Even he had to admit that the ethereal maiden who danced beneath the flowering trees seven years ago had grown into a true Empress Dowager. A general’s fate was to spend a lifetime clad in armor, serving the ruler. His fortune lay in being able to protect not only the nation but also a cherished old friend.

“I humbly obey the Empress Dowager’s decree.”

He bowed deeply, the faint warmth in his eyes dispersed by the cold winds of Luoyang. A moment later, he turned and walked away from her once more.