“If they only intend to demand tribute through a marriage alliance, that would still be manageable,” said Pan Renzhi, the Right Chancellor. “What I fear is that they may suddenly march their army to the city walls and start a war…”
What they want this time may be far greater, perhaps the entirety of Later Yue. Even more than the greedy demands they made years ago. Or worse, they might send envoys to negotiate and lull the court into a false sense of security while secretly advancing their troops, striking when no one is prepared.
“To my mind, we might as well submit in advance,” Song Yu said dejectedly. “Better that than let countless lives be lost in war.”
Later Sui had already fallen, and without question, they would be next.
They could not win.
Sooner or later, Yue’s lands would be handed over to the Pei clan of Beicang. Why let tens of thousands of soldiers die for nothing? Rather than live in constant fear, it would be better to relinquish the imperial title early, submit to the Pei clan, and offer annual tribute in exchange for peace in Jiangnan.
“Your Majesty…” Xie Qi, Minister of Personnel, said in grief and indignation, “I would rather not end up like the nobles and officials of Later Sui, forced to leave Jiangnan and be relocated north. If Your Majesty submits, the Emperor of Beicang will surely move the entire court north. I would rather resign and live in seclusion.”
Who knew how they would be treated there, at the mercy of others. He would rather die in Jiangnan than go.
As he spoke, he covered his face with his sleeve and wept aloud.
Song Yu was swept up in his grief, his heart twisting as fear and despair consumed him.
“Your Majesty, perhaps we should wait until the Beicang envoys arrive and hear their terms,” Liu Yi, Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, said. He did not agree with surrendering at the slightest disturbance.
Beicang had only just swallowed Later Sui. Even a python must take time to digest its prey, so the likelihood of another immediate southern campaign was low. They still had time to strengthen their forces. If war did come, victory or defeat was not yet decided, so it was unwise to give up prematurely.
Song Yu rubbed his temples, troubled. “The Emperor of Beicang has always waged war unpredictably. Who can say their army will not arrive tomorrow?”
No one understood better than him how much the Beicang emperor coveted the lands south of the Yangtze. Back in the second year after Beicang was founded, the late emperor had secretly sent trusted guards into Yanzhou to gather intelligence. According to their reports, the Pei clan had long been preparing for a southern campaign. Details were scarce, as their officials were tight-lipped, but one thing was certain: with their military strength, they could sweep through Jiangnan at any moment.
Song Yu had no desire to be taken north either, which was why he preferred early submission, hoping to live out his days peacefully in Jiangnan.
Pan Renzhi added, “Your Majesty, the old General Fu Yuan who guards Xiangyang is both brave and resourceful, and General Wei Hu excels in unconventional tactics. Perhaps they could hold back Beicang’s forces.”
Song Yu shook his head. “General Fu is sixty-seven this year, and General Wei is seventy-three…”
From the once-great Fu family, only Fu Xian remained, a nineteen-year-old not yet come of age. His father, Fu Changlin, had taken his own life after losing the Battle of Yingtian twelve years ago. The family was left with only the old and the young, hardly reliable in war.
As for Wei Hu, though capable, he was long past his prime. He had already retired but was reinstated after the loss of Yingtian. All three of his sons had died defending Chuzhou, and his grandsons, though numerous, had never taken up arms and instead spent their days idling in Lin’an.
If war broke out, it would already be a blessing if these aging generals did not defect to the Pei clan and hand over the cities.
There were no longer any generals capable of standing against Beicang.
Liu Yi spoke again after some thought. “Your Majesty, I still believe Beicang will not rush into war at this moment. Their envoy may well be here for tribute, just as before. If we offer them sufficient silver and goods, perhaps we can avoid conflict for now.”
His words steadied Song Yu’s heart. “That would be best.”
Later Yue was still wealthy. Using money to appease their northern neighbor and prolong the dynasty was the most cost-effective solution. What he feared most was the envoy demanding outright submission.
With no better plan, the court could only wait and see.
By evening, Song Yu had yet to return to Jiaofang Palace.
Seeing the sky darkening, Old Madam Cheng said, “Zhixiang, it’s getting late, we should return. If anything arises, send word home.”
Chen Baomiao held her younger daughter’s hand, her voice tight. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll send Yunxiang to Ganquan Temple.”
Cheng Zhixiang closed her eyes briefly and nodded, then had Kong Yu bring out gifts for them to take back. “Grandmother, Mother, Yunxiang, send my regards to everyone at home.”
“Next time you come, bring Hanxiang and Lixiang too,” she added.
Old Madam Cheng nodded. “Since you like the company, we’ll bring them next time.”
Cheng Zhixiang stood beneath the eaves, watching their sedan chairs disappear through the palace gates.
Outside the southwestern palace gate, they encountered a young military officer in red court robes. His bearing was cold and composed, his steps steady and forceful. Seeing them, he immediately stepped aside.
As Cheng Yunxiang acknowledged him politely, a mocking voice rang out behind them.
“Well, if it isn’t the newly appointed Commander Fu.”
It was Yu Dafeng, a mid-ranking court official. His tone was sharp with disdain.
Fu Xian returned the greeting calmly, his expression unchanged. “Lord Yu.”
Yu Dafeng sneered, complaining about a relative who had been beaten by the Imperial Guard.
Fu Xian did not bother to engage, walking past him into the palace.
Infuriated, Yu Dafeng muttered bitterly, “The son of a defeated general, and yet he holds office…”
At the mention of the past, Fu Xian’s family tragedy resurfaced, yet his expression remained composed. “Then perhaps Lord Yu should advise his associates to behave. The Imperial Guard does not spare anyone.”
Yu Dafeng was left speechless.
The Cheng women overheard everything, their hearts chilled by the phrase “son of a defeated general.” Memories of the fall of Yingtian surfaced, but none felt inclined to speak.
Back at the Cheng residence, Yunxiang fell asleep in the carriage.
Chen Baomiao looked at her daughter’s peaceful face, both pained and comforted.
When they arrived, she lightly pinched her nose. “Yunxiang, we’re home.”
Yunxiang woke, smiling drowsily.
“You heartless little thing,” her mother scolded gently. “You’re going to the temple tomorrow, and you can still sleep so soundly.”
Yunxiang only smiled.
Inside, the family gathered. Cheng Ping listened to the news and, after a moment’s thought, clapped his hands. “Good, good…”
Though he had once hoped Yunxiang would marry into a powerful family, this arrangement also had its advantages.
Dinner was served, and afterward, Old Madam Cheng distributed the palace gifts.
Later, in her room, Yunxiang’s maids began to cry silently, fearing her future marriage would be affected.
Yunxiang, however, simply wanted to laugh.