Song Yu asked in shock, “Why is that?”
Are you stupid?
Cheng Yunxiang rolled her eyes inwardly, then said, “Your Majesty, have you seen the regional maps? They record mountains, rivers, troop deployments, and population distribution…”
No matter how mediocre Song Yu might be, he had been raised as a crown prince, and he possessed at least this much awareness. He immediately understood, his face turning pale. “The ministers nearly misled me.” At the banquet for Gao Yao today, a group of officials had urged the Ministry of Revenue to hand over the maps to Beicang as soon as possible, without mentioning any consequences. A bunch of fools who cared nothing for the fate of the state.
After a moment of frustration, he hesitated again. “But I have already ordered the Ministry of Revenue to compile and copy the maps overnight for Beicang. If I go back on my word now, what should I do?”
He was clearly afraid of giving Beicang grounds to blame him.
Seeing his spinelessness, Cheng Yunxiang felt anger rise in her chest. Yet she could neither hit nor scold him, so she turned to her elder sister and began to cry silently. “Sister, do you wish to become the next Lady Dingxiang?”
Time to apply some strong medicine.
Cheng Zhixiang trembled as if struck by lightning. Collapsing into Song Yu’s arms, she burst into tears. “If that day ever comes, I would rather die with my honor intact than live in disgrace…” She had no intention of submitting to that old Emperor of Beicang, Pei Hui.
Her tearful display stirred a trace of courage in Song Yu. He said in a deep voice, “Zhizhi, I will summon Lord Pan to the palace at once and order him not to hand over the maps under any circumstances. Will that suffice?”
Cheng Zhixiang lifted her tearful face. “Your Majesty treats me so well.” Then she cast Cheng Yunxiang a subtle glance: Will that work?
“Your Majesty,” Cheng Yunxiang said, wiping her tears, “you can claim that the maps are outdated and need revision by the Hanlin Academy. Delay them under that pretext until they are completed.”
This was both the truth and a reasonable excuse.
“Yes, yes,” Song Yu said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “We’ll say that I’ve only recently ascended the throne and the maps haven’t yet been updated…”
Then, after turning the matter over in his mind, he asked, “Yunniang, who told you about this, and who sent you to inform me?”
This was clearly not something a sheltered young woman could have devised on her own.
Cheng Yunxiang had no intention of hiding it. “It was Fu Xian, Commander of the Imperial Guard.”
The emperor and consort exchanged startled glances. “How do you know him?” Fu Xian had only been in Lin’an for a few days.
“I have no prior acquaintance with him,” Cheng Yunxiang replied. “He came to visit me today and spoke of this matter. I share his view that the maps must not be given to Beicang, so I came to inform Your Majesty.”
She had no intention of concealing it. Even if Song Yu had not asked, she would have brought it up herself, both to speak well of Fu Xian before the emperor and to pave the way for his future advancement. The higher he rose, the more useful he would be to her sister.
She added, “For someone so young to possess such insight is truly rare.”
Song Yu’s expression grew slightly complicated, his tone somewhat disordered. “Mm… the Fu family…”
Surprised by his reaction, Cheng Yunxiang dared not say more. “It is late. Your Majesty, Sister, I will take my leave.”
Seeing that it was already dark, Song Yu ordered a carriage to escort her out of the palace.
After alighting from the carriage, she carried a lantern back toward Lianyuan. Just as she was about to close the gate, she noticed a tall figure standing across the road. Turning back, she called tentatively, “Lord Fu?”
Fu Xian stepped forward in response.
She leaned closer and whispered, “His Majesty has agreed, but…” Whether he might change his mind under pressure from the court tomorrow was uncertain. Song Yu was known for his pliant nature.
“Thank you, Daoist Cheng,” Fu Xian said.
Since Song Yu had agreed, the matter was already seventy percent certain. Cheng Yunxiang smiled. “Is your thanks merely words?”
Fu Xian met her gaze. “What would Daoist Cheng have me do?” He had brought gifts, yet she refused them. No wonder soldiers said that a woman’s thoughts were the hardest to understand.
Cheng Yunxiang shook her head. “I was only joking. I wish General Fu steady advancement and, one day, the highest rank among ministers.”
Only then would he be worthy of being useful to her.
Fu Xian cupped his hands in thanks, though there was little genuine gratitude in his expression, as if he did not particularly value the things other men sought above all else: meteoric success and supreme power.
His purpose in coming to Lin’an was singular, a matter that had weighed on the Fu family for over a decade: to persuade Song Yu to send troops and reclaim Yingtian City, which the Fu family had lost.
To achieve that, he needed someone who could persuade, even pressure, Song Yu. In that regard, he thought highly of Cheng Yunxiang.
…
The next day, in Mingluan Hall, Song Yu went in circles, lamenting how newly enthroned he was, how he had never even seen the maps, how the Ministry of War was understaffed, how no one had thought of them, and even how several volumes had been burned during a fire in the late emperor’s reign.
In short, there were no ready maps to copy for Beicang. They would have to wait. As for how long, that was uncertain.
Gao Yao, who had come to demand the maps, was so enraged by his evasiveness that he nearly stormed out several times, only to be stopped by Fan Ying, who played along with the emperor. “Soon, soon…”
Gao Yao’s face darkened, but he said nothing.
Meanwhile, a faction of officials led by Yu Dayou, a Secretariat Drafter of Later Yue, feared that Gao Yao might report back unfavorably. They surrounded Hao Sheng, Vice Minister of the Ministry of Revenue, pressuring him to produce the maps immediately. A fierce argument broke out, with sleeves rolled up and tablets waved, on the verge of descending into a brawl.
In a sudden impulse, Song Yu cast a glance toward Fu Xian, who stood unnoticed at the back of the court.
Fu Xian stepped forward, parted the crowd, and seized Yu Dayou, pulling him out. His elbow appeared to brush against Yu Dayou’s chest, and he said politely, “Lord Yu, you are disturbing His Majesty. My apologies.”
Suddenly, Yu Dayou cried out and collapsed. “My bones are broken!” he wailed in agony.
Fu Xian’s subtle yet decisive move stunned the court into silence. Some dared not breathe, others thought Yu Dayou deserved it, some criticized Fu Xian for lacking the refined bearing of his grandfather Fu Yuan, and still others stirred trouble by urging impeachment. In any case, the matter of the maps was forgotten.
Song Yu had long wished for someone to deal with these old ministers who constantly invoked the late emperor’s wisdom. Being soft-spoken, he was easily cowed in argument. Now that someone had acted on his behalf, how could he possibly punish Fu Xian? He merely said lightly, “Young and hot-blooded, Lord Fu sometimes misjudges his strength. Take Lord Yu to the Imperial Medical Bureau and treat him well…”
He nearly smiled as he spoke.
With this disturbance, Gao Yao’s plan to obtain the maps fell through. Realizing it would not succeed, he dropped the matter and focused instead on finalizing the annual tribute before returning.
At last, Fu Xian felt at ease.
Afterward, he told Xiao Jiu, “Besides practicing martial arts, you may visit Ganquan Temple more often.”
Cheng Yunxiang, this Daoist priestess, was capable. He wished to establish ties with her quickly.
Xiao Jiu scratched his head. “…All right, Young Master.” Ganquan Temple seemed far more interesting than the Fu residence. He didn’t mind going often.
Fu Xian ruffled his hair and gave him a handful of copper coins. “Bring some fruit when you go. Don’t go empty-handed.”
Xiao Jiu’s eyes lit up at the money. He could even buy roast chicken on the way. Thinking of the golden, glistening roast chickens of Lin’an, he swallowed eagerly.
…
That night, Gao Yao departed for Yanzhou. As he left Lin’an and looked back at the prosperous Jiangnan for the last time, ambition surged in his heart. With a weak ruler like Song Yu, Heaven truly favors my lord. One day, I will return with Beicang’s victorious army and set foot in Lin’an again.
With that thought, he headed north, taking with him three hundred thousand taels of silver, five cartloads of silk, and the portrait of Princess Kuaiji, Song Hui.
As soon as Gao Yao left, Song Yu and his ministers breathed a sigh of relief. They believed that with this year’s tribute delivered, they could enjoy at least a year of peace.
That night, music filled the palace without end.
Outside, under a moonless sky, the dark waters of West Lake reflected faint echoes of the palace music. Soon, banquets arose throughout the city, music and laughter boiling over.
Past midnight, in Mei Manor on Wuliu Lane, candlelight flickered. Its master, Mei Yan, was not feasting but discussing strategy with his adviser Zhao Cheng.
Having failed in his attempt to marry Cheng Yunxiang, Mei Yan refused to return to Yanzhou with Gao Yao. Instead, he chose to remain hidden in Lin’an.
“Later Yue intends to marry Princess Kuaiji, Song Hui, to you,” Zhao Cheng said. “Will you accept?”
Mei Yan tapped his fingers lightly on the table. “Since they have already paid tribute, let the matter drop.”
“I will wait for her.”
The one he wanted to marry was Cheng Yunxiang, not Princess Kuaiji.
Zhao Cheng hesitated. “I will send word back to Yanzhou and have them decline. We’ll say the Third Prince is still young and will discuss marriage once the Cheng girl returns to secular life.”
Mei Yan looked at a letter from Yanzhou bearing the hand of Chancellor Zhang Xiliang. After reading it several times, he said in a low voice, “His Majesty intends to establish the First Prince as Crown Prince.”
He had also been promised that upon returning to Yanzhou, his identity would be formally acknowledged. Though named Pei Jin by Pei Hui twelve years ago, he had never been entered into the imperial genealogy and remained largely unknown.
Zhao Cheng’s expression changed. “If a Crown Prince is to be established, Yanzhou will be thrown into turmoil.”
The First Prince, Pei Tai, was mediocre, far inferior to the Second Prince Pei Shu and the Fourth Prince Pei Huan. Their factions would not yield easily.
“Will we be drawn into the succession struggle?” Zhao Cheng asked after a long pause. “Perhaps we should request to return to Yanzhou?”
They had long-established networks here and would still receive intelligence after returning.
“Cheng Yunxiang has entered religious life to pray for her sister. At least three to five years, perhaps longer, before she marries,” he continued. “Why the urgency?”
Mei Yan’s gaze darkened.
It would be best to return to Yanzhou first, contend for the throne, and only then claim her.