PM - 57

Fu Wei knew his surrender wasn’t because he agreed with her actions but because he couldn’t bear to let go of the bond they’d shared for years.

Sometimes, emotions can save one from loneliness; other times, they become shackles. She felt a pang of guilt for using such tactics to bring him back. When he finally bowed to her, the bitterness in her heart overflowed.

She hesitated, gently shaking him. He knelt and set her down. The elevated walkway was windy, and she gathered her sleeves. “Do you remember what I said to you on the Shangsi Festival when I was nine? I hoped we could always be together—it came from the bottom of my heart. Back then, naive as I was, I even thought that if I were to marry, it would have to be you...” She smiled shyly. “That was a childhood dream. Telling you now is to let you know I’ve never given up on you. Even if you hate me or resent me, I still want to keep you by my side.”

He nodded—he understood. Some things just slip away. If those few years hadn’t been absent, perhaps the situation would be vastly different now. She was still here, but her heart belonged to someone else. He accepted defeat, content to stay by her side.

“In this world, only the Chancellor can truly protect you. Now that you’re with him, I think you’ve made the right choice.” He forced a smile, pretending to be magnanimous.

But she shook her head. “My being with him isn’t because he can protect me. You know how ruthless I am. Without emotional burdens, I might do even better. But now, I hesitate. So does he. Perhaps love isn’t meant for people like us. You don’t understand—how painful it is to scheme against someone you love. Yet, knowing the pain, I still can’t let go. You and him—you’re the hardest people for me to part with. One is like a sibling, the other deeply understands me. In this life, aside from power, I may not deserve anything else. With you both here, at least my life feels somewhat complete. So please indulge my greed—stay with me forever.”

Standing under the lamplight, the tassels of her crown fluttering, she looked exceptionally vivid on this cold winter night.

Everyone has selfish desires, including himself. Despite his struggles, he couldn’t help yearning for her. Her choices aligned with the path of an emperor. Though he couldn’t fully agree, he absolutely understood. It wasn’t easy for her—men who became emperors faced countless challenges, let alone her, a young woman.

He pursed his lips, his gaze lingering on her face. He wanted to tell her—she had the Chancellor in her heart, and he had her in his. They should leave each other’s affairs alone and move forward without hesitation, protecting her no matter what. But he couldn’t say it aloud. He feared that if she knew his feelings, they wouldn’t even be able to remain friends. What then? All he could do was smile repeatedly, his heart bristling with thorns. Murmuring, “You don’t need to ask me to stay—I have nowhere else to go.”

Fu Wei misinterpreted his words, feeling even more ashamed. “It’s my fault that I’ve pushed you into this.”

He denied it. “Even if I could go anywhere, I’d still end up here. If you hadn’t protected me during those perilous times, I would have perished in the Wuling case long ago. You haven’t wronged me—it’s I who’ve been ungrateful, who feel indebted to you.”

As they both reflected, they fell into an awkward silence. Standing face-to-face, both felt trapped. Fu Wei tried to break the tension. “Do you remember the Mars Retrograde last summer?”

He nodded. “I was still in the prison of the Court of Judicial Review then. I heard two guards talking about it and felt anxious but couldn’t come to your side.”

She sighed. A vast mist, blown away by the wind, leaving emptiness behind. “Today marks half a year since then. I’m glad I’m still alive, and the Chancellor remains in power. But I feel like I’ll never escape the shadow of Mars Retrograde. There will always be threats because of my origins... I have weaknesses. To protect this secret, I have to keep killing. If it ever comes to light, the consequences would be unimaginable.”

Looking down at her, he said softly, “From now on, I’ll guard this secret for Your Majesty. I don’t ask for anything else—just for you to live, reigning supreme over Great Yin.”

Fu Wei’s eyes welled up, speechless. Reaching out, she grasped his hand. His large, warm palm enveloped her hands. “The wind is strong here. Don’t catch a chill—let’s return to the imperial quarters.”

She walked ahead, and he followed at a respectful distance—the perfect balance of submission and protection from a close minister. The night was clear, stars reflecting off the remaining snow. She crouched under the corridor, pointing to the sky. “Look at that bright star!”

Following her finger, he vaguely recalled their childhood—two aimless souls often stargazing on winter nights. They had relied on each other as children—why couldn’t they continue to do so as adults?

He pulled her raised arm back. “The wind is getting into your sleeves.”

She glanced back, her face bearing a carefree smile. “I always feel my sleeves are too big—they only catch wind. Maybe I’ll have someone make me a pair that doesn’t let the wind in. Who knows, maybe I’ll fly away!”

He chuckled at her childishness, coaxing her back to the private chambers.

Two days later, during the court session, many trivial matters were resolved. Finally, Lord Gai’s issue was brought up.

The young emperor sat before a black lacquered screen with silver hooks, slowly opening and closing the bamboo slips in her hands. “What do you all think? Lord Gai has guarded the northern frontier since Emperor Wen’s time, and I’ve relied heavily on him. A few days ago, this memorial reached me, shocking both me and Father-Chancellor. Lord Gai has been a marquis for twenty years, with deep roots. I fear that offending him now would lead to trouble on that Qin Road. How would the court respond?”

She deliberately spoke in reverse—if she outright declared her intent to crush him, it might sow doubt among the officials. Showing some apprehension instead united them in purpose, prompting others to speak on her behalf.

Indeed, the Imperial Censor stepped forward with his tablet. “Shuofang is far from the capital. Lord Gai is a regional overlord, capable of declaring independence behind closed doors. It’s no surprise he’s close with ministers under the Chanyu’s court. After repeated battles, mutual respect is natural. Setting aside other issues, just consider the Qin Straight Road—it harbors malicious intent. Having served in court for years, how could we not investigate? This road was completed six months ago, coinciding with the Mars Retrograde—a sign of brewing conflict. The fact that a report has surfaced now is already too late.”

“Your Majesty governs with benevolence and filial piety, unwilling to resort to arms unless absolutely necessary. We understand Your Majesty’s intentions. However, the state is at a critical juncture. Continued moderation will only destabilize the court and unsettle the people. Please, Your Majesty, do not hesitate further. This matter must be investigated thoroughly—we cannot allow loyal subjects to suffer injustice nor let villains roam free. With Lord Gai holding significant military power, how to suppress a rebellion, should it occur, is the pressing issue.”

All eyes turned to the Chancellor, who remained seated in meditative stillness, seemingly oblivious to everything.

The young emperor leaned toward him humbly, addressing him as “Father-Chancellor.” “What do you think, Father-Chancellor?”

The Chancellor finally responded in a measured tone: “Military matters fall under the Grand Marshal. As the Capital Garrison Commander, I’ve arranged defenses around the capital since receiving the report. Even if a surprise attack occurs, we can hold out for seven to ten days.”

The officials instantly felt reassured. The Chancellor was indeed the pillar of the court, steadfast as ever. Despite frequent disagreements, his presence in critical moments was deeply comforting.

The principle of “one emperor, one set of ministers” was universally understood. Personal grievances could be set aside temporarily—unity against external threats was the best way to protect oneself.

The Grand Marshal had already coordinated with the Chancellor. Whether or not war was imminent, making preparations first would deter the regional lords from rash actions.

The Grand Marshal bowed. “Your Majesty, I’ve already dispatched garrison troops for defense. However, mobilizing the army requires Your Majesty’s tiger tally.”

The young emperor nodded. “Then take the tiger tally and secure full control over the Shuofang line. I wish to avoid war to prevent civilian suffering, but if it becomes unavoidable, we must endure the pain.”

The entire court erupted in agreement. She glanced furtively at the Chancellor, who met her gaze. Even without smiling, his tender eyes were enough to drown her. Her cheeks flushed, wondering why his gaze made her blush. Her once-thick skin, it seemed, couldn’t withstand love after all.

She gave a slight cough and shifted her gaze. “There is one more matter. This morning, I received a report from the magistrate of Fucheng County. The Princess Dowager’s procession passed through Changqu when her carriage overturned into the canal. By the time her attendants rescued her... it was too late. Upon hearing the news, I was overwhelmed with grief. Regardless of Lord Gai’s actions, the Princess Dowager was still my aunt. Just days ago, Princess Langlang drowned—a loss that deeply saddens me...” She shed tears softly in the hall. “I wish to posthumously elevate Princess Langlang to the rank of Imperial Princess. Does anyone object?”

The Counselor rose and bowed deeply. “The passing of the Princess Dowager and Princess Langlang is regrettable, but let us not forget that divine justice reigns above. If Lord Gai rebels, his wife and daughter will suffer the consequences—not Your Majesty. Please grieve no more. In light of the current situation, I believe we must not elevate Princess Langlang. To put it plainly, if the father rebels and the daughter is made an Imperial Princess, such chaos would undermine all principles of governance.”

The young emperor wiped her tears. “Your meaning is clear—this cannot be done?”

The Counselor affirmed, “Absolutely not.”

She sighed and nodded. “You are right—I did not consider this carefully enough. However, I find it hard to believe that such coincidences happen naturally. Could someone be manipulating events behind the scenes, using the death of the Princess Dowager to confuse us and provoke Lord Gai into rebellion sooner?”

These words reignited the nearly frozen court. Someone murmured, “Fucheng falls under Prince Jing’s territory...”

“Prince Jing has long harbored disloyal intentions.”

She leaned back against the armrest, satisfied. Glancing at the Chancellor, she saw the corners of his lips slowly rise—he admired her subtle insinuations.

The emperor was cunning, never showing mercy when consolidating power. What Fu Wei was doing was what every ruler throughout history had done—only most targeted their brothers, while she targeted her uncles. Emperor Wen had seven sons: the late emperor, Crown Prince Jiang, Prince Jing, Prince Yan, Prince Jing, Prince Linzi, and Lord Dingcheng, who never ascended to princedom. Prince Jing was a good-natured man, but the other four uncles were far from simple. Having lost the power struggle to the late emperor, they now schemed relentlessly against her. If she hadn’t grown up, who knew when another “escort the sovereign into court” drama might unfold?

These issues needed to be resolved gradually. Feudal lords holding power was never a good thing. She exhaled deeply. “Regarding the case of arms trafficking in Shu reported by Prince Jing, I have ordered Wei Shixing to investigate. Now, with the sudden death of the Princess Dowager, perhaps the cases can be combined. What does Father-Chancellor think?”

“Yes,” the Chancellor replied, straightening himself. “I will immediately send an urgent order to the Vice Minister of Justice.”

“These are turbulent times. May the court and the people unite as one. I cannot endure any more losses—they are all my closest kin. Why must it come to this?” Rising from her throne, the young emperor walked out of Deyang Hall, hands clasped behind her back.

Deyang Hall was in the Northern Palace, not far from Empress Dowager’s Yong’an Palace. These past two days had been bitterly cold, and the Empress Dowager’s headaches had returned. After adjourning the court, Fu Wei decided to visit her.

The Empress Dowager lay in bed but quickly sat up upon seeing the young emperor enter. “I understand Your Majesty’s heart—there are countless matters of state. You needn’t visit me specifically.”

Fu Wei accepted the medicine brought by the attending eunuch and offered it respectfully. Smiling, she said, “No matter how busy, I cannot neglect my mother. Once you recover, my heart will be at peace.”

The Empress Dowager finished the medicine and leaned back on a cushion. Speaking with the young emperor, her face showed pity. “Her daughter left first, and she followed soon after—she won’t be lonely on the journey to the underworld. I once advised her not to leave the capital so hastily, but she wouldn’t listen. Such cold weather—the further north, the colder it gets, making teeth chatter. No wonder the axle broke.”

Fu Wei didn’t comment, only murmured, “It was her fate—to face calamity together as a family.”

“Lord Gai plans to rebel again...” The Empress Dowager shook her head. “Why can’t they live peacefully?”

Fu Wei smiled. “After all these years, haven’t you seen through the pursuit of fame and power? Who doesn’t want to climb higher? Princes and lords stand just a step away from the throne. It’s not only Lord Gai but others as well who harbor such ambitions.”

The Empress Dowager looked helpless. “Your Majesty works tirelessly. The more you experience, the clearer the nature of men becomes. The descendants of the Yuan family were born to bear burdens. Even at sixteen, the late emperor was already fighting in wars. You work harder than he ever did. Once you get through this, things will improve.”

Hearing her speak of the late emperor this way, Fu Wei couldn’t help but smile. Feelings, after years of sedimentation, grow richer. Now, in the Empress Dowager’s heart, the late emperor wasn’t a sovereign but a departed husband. Despite his flaws, he remained cherished—never forgotten for a moment.

The two sat facing each other in the inner chamber. Fu Wei served tea, creating a warm, familial atmosphere.

After a long silence, the Empress Dowager asked, “How are the preparations for the three departments progressing?”

Fu Wei replied, “Almost complete within the Scholarly Pavilion. They are talents selected from the Imperial Academy, greatly aiding me.”

The Empress Dowager nodded. “Do not favor scholars over warriors; balance is key.”

Fu Wei agreed. “Many of the imperial guards come from military families. We are assessing them to assign positions in the northern and southern armies.”

The Empress Dowager smiled gently. “I have someone—a great-grandson of Lord Mao. Please grant him an official position.”

Lord Mao was the Empress Dowager’s late father and the late emperor’s father-in-law. If this person was Lord Mao’s great-grandson, then he was the Empress Dowager’s grandson. It was natural for her to seek an appointment for him. Over the years, the Liang and Lou families had faced suppression, with few members remaining in court. Moreover, this was the Empress Dowager’s first request—it was difficult to refuse.

“Does Mother have a specific position in mind?”

The Empress Dowager spoke slowly. “The Tiger Elite and Feathered Forest are the emperor’s guard units. I wish him to protect Your Majesty’s safety—those positions are ideal. There is a Lieutenant General position in the Feathered Forest Supervisory Office. What does Your Majesty think of this role?”

This posed a dilemma for Fu Wei. A Lieutenant General ranked at 2,000 shi, overseeing the Feathered Forest cavalry and palace security—an important position. If it were a nominal title, granting it would be straightforward, even as a favor. But this was a crucial role, and appointing an inexperienced youth directly to such a rank would likely cause resentment.

She hesitated. “Appointing officials at 2,000 shi requires the use of the imperial seal and approval from the Chancellor. If it were a supervisory position in the Feathered Forest, I could handle it immediately.”

The Empress Dowager murmured, disappointment evident in her expression. “It seems I’ve caused trouble for Your Majesty. Never mind—if it cannot be done now, we can revisit it later.”

Fu Wei felt deeply embarrassed but couldn’t outright refuse. She said, “Please don’t rush, Mother. Let me think of a solution.” After exchanging a few casual words, she excused herself from Yong’an Palace.

She decided to visit the Chancellor’s office—to ask for a favor and secure the Lieutenant General position for the Empress Dowager. Thus, she made her way through the side corridors, crossing half the palace complex to reach the Southern Palace. Upon entering, the Chief Secretary greeted her respectfully. “Such cold weather—did Your Majesty not send for a palanquin?”

She hummed in acknowledgment. “Is Father-Chancellor here?”

The Chief Secretary shook his head. “The Chancellor went out to attend to matters. When he returns, I will inform him immediately.”

Curious, Fu Wei glanced at the mountain of documents on the desk. “With so much paperwork, why must he go out on official business?” Perhaps momentarily struck by whimsy, she teased, “Could it be a rendezvous with a beauty? The Chancellor is getting older—it’s about time he settled down.”

Though spoken in jest, the Chief Secretary froze. “Your Majesty’s foresight is uncanny.”

Uncanny foresight? Her smile faltered. “Truly?”

Unaware of the relationship between the Chancellor and her, the Chief Secretary replied frankly, “A messenger reportedly delivered a letter from an old acquaintance. The Chancellor hurriedly left upon receiving it.” A man nearing thirty, regardless of his responsibilities, marriage was an urgent matter—even the emperor shouldn’t ignore such human concerns.

Fu Wei was stunned. An old acquaintance? Hadn’t Princess Chaisang passed away? How many old acquaintances did he have? Forcing a smile, she said, “Well, well... As he grows older, it’s only fitting...” Exiting the Chancellor’s office, she paused and turned back to instruct, “I have no pressing matters. Inform the Chancellor there’s no need to rush back. With his myriad duties, it’s rare he finds leisure—let him handle his personal affairs first.”

The Chief Secretary acknowledged, and she feigned grace, smiling as she exited through Haomen Gate.

What a sly old fox! With her around, why meet some old acquaintance! Furious, she paced the corridors, suddenly remembering to send Jianye to investigate where he had gone. Upon returning, Jianye shook his head like a bell. “Even the Chief Secretary didn’t know. He only saw a carriage parked on Zhuque Avenue, and the Chancellor hurriedly boarded it.”

The young emperor sneered. “He boarded it? The Chancellor’s confidence is remarkable—what if it’s a trap set by political enemies to lure him in and take his life?”

Jianye stood dumbfounded. “Shall I order the imperial guards to search the city?”

Search for the Chancellor? For what purpose? To catch him in adultery? She didn’t have time for such trivialities. Besides, he was too clever—something urgent must have arisen for him to leave so hastily.

She slowly walked back, muttering, “There are piles of documents awaiting me in Luqin Palace. Unlike the Chancellor, I have no romantic encounters—I still have work to do... Let’s wait. Once he finishes his business, he’ll return to the office naturally.”

But she grew restless sitting in Wend Palace for half the day. By evening, he still hadn’t returned.

Anxiety began to gnaw at her. What could it be? Had he really met an old flame? With no one to ask, she stormed off to Changqiu Palace in frustration.

Changqiu Palace was eerily quiet. Aside from a few eunuchs standing under the eaves, everyone else had been dismissed due to the Empress’s illness. Entering the inner chamber, she found Lingjun wrapped in a crane cloak, reading by the warming stove. Seeing her, he quickly stood. “Why has Your Majesty come?”

She replied, “To see you.” If the Chancellor could meet an old acquaintance, she could certainly visit her Empress.

Lingjun, however, eyed her suspiciously. “You seem displeased—are you angry?”

Bottling her emotions for so long, her face nearly stretched to her navel. Finally, she kicked over a nearby jade armrest. “You’ve been under the Chancellor’s tutelage for so many years—have you ever heard of him having a romantic interest?”

Lingjun was startled. “The Chancellor is virtuous—I’ve never heard of any romantic interests.”

“What about Princess Chaisang?”

Lingjun hesitated. “She passed away.”

Fuming, she wanted to cry. “Then how did another ‘old acquaintance’ appear? Could Yuan Huan have come back to life?”

Lingjun scratched the back of his head uncertainly. “Perhaps she returned through possession...”

Fuming, she stamped her foot and smashed the jade pendant in her hand into pieces.