"Help me."
After reading the letter, Song Zhiluan restlessly placed it back into the letter box, locked it, and without even taking her medicine, hurried into the palace by carriage.
It had been a long time since she last saw the young man standing in the hall. The words she had rehearsed countless times were cautiously disguised as a tentative inquiry: "Your Majesty, the Princess Manor was completed last year, and the tomb of the former King of Xiyi is nearly finished. My sister, with her invaluable status—you wouldn’t stand by and watch her forced to be buried alive, would you?"
It was common knowledge among the court officials that Song Huaizhang’s health was frail. Despite his abundant harem, he had no heirs. Ministers had repeatedly urged him to designate a successor to prevent internal strife, but he always defied expectations, narrowly escaping death time and again.
The Song Huaizhang before her, aside from his sickly aura, already bore traces of Song Dingyuan in his features.
He had likely received the news earlier than she had and understood her purpose for coming.
"Now is not the time."
"What do you mean, 'not the time'?" Song Zhiluan’s expression turned wooden, her nails nearly drawing blood.
Since reading her elder sister’s letter, her hands had not stopped trembling. Her sister, always the most composed and resilient, had left tear stains on the letter. Song Zhiluan dared not imagine the dire straits her sister was in now. "My sister is only four years older than me, yet she is already a mother of two. How dare those barbarians demand that my elder sister and her unborn child be buried alive? Even if you disregard sibling affection, shouldn’t you at least consider the dignity of our Jiang Dynasty?"
Song Huaizhang coughed a few times and rebuked her in a low voice: "Xiao Luan. She is not only our elder sister but also the Princess of Chaoyang, the wife of the King of Xiyi. Since she has entered Xiyi, she must abide by their customs. Dignity? Only strength commands dignity! If we confront them, we must be fully prepared. Otherwise, we would only be offering our face to be trampled upon—that would be the true loss of dignity!"
Song Zhiluan fell silent, trembling all over, her eyes filled with sorrow.
At that moment, Song Dingyuan’s words abruptly echoed in her mind.
["Xiao Luan, this is the best solution. Sacrificing her alone can ensure the people live in peace, free from the horrors of war. Anyone in Father’s position would not retrieve a princess sent for political marriage to satisfy personal desires. You are still too young and naive."]
["Anyone."]
It felt like a nightmare.
Suddenly, Song Zhiluan understood.
So, this was the hidden meaning in Song Dingyuan’s words.
She stared at Song Huaizhang, slowly stepping back as if her soul had left her, and spoke no more.
What "once the Princess Manor is built, we will bring our elder sister back"?
Her brother was truly his father’s son. How could she have dared to place her hopes in him?
Song Zhiluan stepped out of the Hall of Mental Cultivation.
The pitter-patter of rain echoed in her ears, and the cold wind seeped through her collar and wide sleeves, raising goosebumps on her skin.
High upon the distant terrace, she thought she heard faint sobs.
When had her brother become like this?
At last, Song Zhiluan recalled the memories she had deliberately buried.
That year, when Song Dingyuan took her brother and sister away from Changbai Slope, her sister had come to find her. But during the year they went missing, her brother, like their father, had sent no one to search for them.
When they reunited, her brother had wept bitterly, and his old illness flared up again.
And so, Song Zhiluan had always made excuses for Song Huaizhang: he could not defy their father’s orders; he wanted to save them but was powerless; he had more important matters to attend to.
For so many years, she had deceived herself until she truly believed it.
The familial affection they spoke of felt terrifying to Song Zhiluan. This imperial household, where she had no one to rely on, seemed as sinister as a haunted realm.
Song Zhiluan recalled that day of raging warfare, when the palace gates swung open and the noble bones were trampled upon the heavenly streets.
Beneath this very palace where she stood, her sister's bones were buried.
Heavy snow fell that night.
Song Zhiluan's illness struck without warning. Her internal organs felt as if they had sunk into an ice cellar. She struggled to breathe, yet her body burned with a frightening heat.
After lying in a daze for days, she awoke to the sound of her own heartbeat just as Xie Yujin entered with medicine.
Song Zhiluan gazed at him listlessly, her eyelids lifting weakly. Her body felt as heavy as if weighed down by stones.
Amid her chaotic consciousness, one thought took root and sprouted in her mind.
She drank the medicine quietly without complaint, watching Xie Yujin as if he were her only lifeline.
"Xie Yujin, can you help me?"
The young man's hand rested on her back, slightly cool.
"His Majesty refuses to help me, but you will, won't you?" Tears silently traced down her temples. "She's calling for help. I want to save her."
Xie Yujin remained silent.
Song Zhiluan's eyes reddened, hot tears welling up. She clutched desperately at his sleeve, having never begged anyone so humbly before. Her voice thickened with nasal congestion, "Please help me."
The sky had deepened to dusk. Withered-leaf-like light slanted through the window lattice, falling across half her face and clearly illuminating the tear tracks.
Xie Yujin stood against this light, his expression unreadable.
A year later.
War erupted at the border.
Song Zhiluan followed the border situation more closely than anyone. Books about Xi Yi increasingly filled her chamber.
As Xie Yujin was excessively busy, she seized opportunities to learn about court developments from Xu Yaochen.
"Xi Yi grows increasingly ambitious now, repeatedly testing our borders in alliance with Great Qi from the north. Although His Majesty hasn't given his consent, many military officials from the previous court wish to annex Xi Yi. It's not impossible to bring Princess Zhaoyang back."
At Guo Gong Fu, Song Zhiluan looked across at Xu Yaochen. "What is Prime Minister Xu's stance?"
Xu Yaochen accepted her offered tea. "My father has always advocated avoiding war. Despite Xi Yi's repeated provocations this past year, the pro-war faction remains small in court, and His Majesty shares this view."
Disappointment flickered in Song Zhiluan's eyes after he spoke.
In the sweltering heat of August, Xu Yaochen noticed Song Zhiluan still clutching her hand warmer, her face pale. "Has your recent medicine been ineffective?"
Before he finished speaking, Song Zhiluan coughed several times, her flushed cheeks bearing a sickly hue.
"Just old troubles," she said, her words catching as if choked. "Let it be."
Xu Yaochen had a maid drape a cloak over her shoulders. "Excessive worry hinders recovery. Your Highness should take better care of your health."
"I know."
"Additionally," he hesitated before continuing, "Your Highness, General Xie… may not be as completely trustworthy as you believe."
A scraping sound came as Song Zhiluan's fingers traced the patterns on her hand warmer. "What do you mean by that?"
"Just a reminder. Xie Yujin cannot be judged by ordinary standards. His stance is precarious. If Your Highness places all hope in him, the outcome may not meet your expectations."
The matter concerning Princess Chaoyang had become a lingering worry in Song Zhiluan's heart, and she could no longer bear further disappointments and delays. Her current state resembled a withered leaf, uncertain when it might fall.
Xu Yaochen suddenly rose and knelt before Song Zhiluan, pressing his forehead firmly against the ground.
"Your Highness, if you seek someone in this court whom you can trust completely, then this humble official would rather die than betray you."
"Xu Yaochen, I have been married to him for years. I know what kind of man he is better than you do."
Song Zhiluan's tone turned cold, a precursor to her anger. Xu Yaochen knew well that speaking these words would inevitably provoke her temper, yet he still shook his head at her and pressed on with his remaining question.
"Your Highness, do you truly understand General Xie?"
Xu Yaochen watched as Song Zhiluan turned her face away. "People are often blinded by their affections, overlooking many details. General Xie… is the one who shares your pillow. It is natural for you to trust him, but if you dream different dreams while sharing the same bed, and you stake all your hopes on him, I fear you will only end up heartbroken once again."
"Enough." Song Zhiluan stood abruptly. "If you do not wish to help me, you can say so directly. By speaking to me like this now, are you trying to drive a wedge between me and Xie Yujin?"
Xu Yaochen also rose to his feet. "This humble official…"
"This princess knows you have always held prejudices against Xie Yujin. I have no time to listen to such words now. Please leave."
"Does Your Highness believe I say these things for my own sake?" A self-mocking expression appeared on Xu Yaochen's face, his white robes fluttering. "I do admire you, but I am not a petty man who would take advantage of another's misfortune. In your eyes, is Xie Yujin the only one worthy of trust? We grew up together since childhood, yet now my words carry no weight with you at all?"
The air fell silent instantly.
For a long while, the only sound between heaven and earth was the rustling, rustling of falling leaves.
Tranquil sunlight filtered through the lush, swaying crabapple tree, falling upon the glazed tea tray.
Song Zhiluan sat with her back to him, slightly lifting her eyelids.
"Do not speak such words again in the future."
Although Xu Yaochen had entered officialdom as a Hanlin Academy scholar and had the support of Xu Xiang in court, he still could not sway court affairs like Xie Yujin. Perhaps one day Xu Yaochen might become a chancellor of state, but her elder sister could not wait that many years.
She had waited for years, and this was her final opportunity.
Who else could she turn to for help?
Only Xie Yujin.
She could only trust Xie Yujin.
Xu Yaochen left the Guo Gong Fu and remained silent all the way back to his residence.
Outside his residence, lanterns cradled flickering flames, reminding him of the time at the foot of Qing Shan when his father, Xu Qingqu, sat in the host's seat, his face clearly illuminated by candlelight.
That night, as the troops were being organized, the encampments of the Emperor and Crown Prince were on the left, while their own tents were positioned immediately to the right of Xie Yujin's.
Xu Qingqu was still young then, and his expression turned grim as he read the intelligence in his hands.
Xu Yaochen approached with tea and asked his father what had happened.
Xu Qingqu gazed toward the right. "We have won the battle of Mo City."
"General Xie has achieved victory? Then Father should be pleased. Mo City is a major frontier town. For the Northern Dynasty to lose it is like having a piece of flesh bitten from their heart."
"Indeed." Xu Yaochen gazed at his father's contemplative face. After a long moment, his father finally handed him the document in hand, stood up, and clasped his hands behind his back, saying, "Yao'er, in the future when you and Xie Yujin serve together at court, be careful not to offend him. Despite his youth, this man is ruthless and profoundly cunning. Given time, once he attains high position, who knows what storms of blood and strife will sweep through the court."
Xu Yaochen received the document as his father continued, "In serving as an official, what matters most is to assess the situation and adapt accordingly."
Throughout his years in office, Xu Yaochen had always kept these words close to heart.