Chapter Twenty: Sovereign and Minister

When Song Ci fell into a coma for an entire day and night after receiving her imperial commendation, the whole capital of Shangjing was abuzz with the news. The sworn enemies of the Song faction eagerly hoped she would pass away, for if that happened, Prime Minister Song would be compelled to observe mourning.

Alas, things did not unfold as they wished.

The moment news spread that Song Ci had awakened, those keeping watch at the Song residence wasted no time in spreading the word.

At the next morning court session, officials crowded forward to congratulate Song Zhiyuan, some even considering what gifts they might send.

Minister Fan Zhang, the Left Chancellor, stepped up with a smile and cupped his hands in greeting. “It is truly joyous news that the Grand Lady Song is well. Prime Minister Song, you must finally be able to eat and sleep in peace. Even my own heart, which has been anxious for so long, can finally be at ease.”

His mother hadn’t died, so he had no choice but to set his mind at rest.

Song Zhiyuan responded with a half-bow and a gentle smile. “You are very kind, Minister Fan. I have heard that Grand Lady Fan has recently caught a chill and fallen ill—how is her health now? She is even older than my own mother. The weather in April is fickle, and the elderly must be tended to with great care.”

If my mother’s health is poor, do you think yours is any better? Your mother is older than mine, as are you yourself, so perhaps you should worry about your own family.

Fan Zhang’s smile faltered slightly, and he replied, “Indeed, that is so.” In his heart, however, he cursed the man a hundred times over—forty years old and still so brash.

Not far off, a white-faced, beardless eunuch carrying a Buddhist whisk approached with a cheerful expression.

“I greet both of you, honored ministers.”

This was Steward Zhou, the emperor’s most trusted eunuch. Even Song Zhiyuan and his peers were obliged to show him respect. Seeing that he offered a bow, they returned the gesture.

“Prime Minister Song, His Majesty requests your presence in the Imperial Library for council,” Steward Zhou announced with a smile.

Song Zhiyuan hurriedly agreed, took his leave from Minister Fan, and followed the steward away. Their conversation about the Grand Lady Song drifted away on the wind.

Minister Fan’s smile faded somewhat, and he gave a cold snort.

“Minister, Song really is basking in his success,” muttered Wang, one of the Ministry of Works’ officials, as he came forward and watched Song Zhiyuan’s retreating figure.

Fan Zhang shot him a glance, folded his hands into the wide sleeves of his official robe, and replied coolly, “Young men in high office are bound to be a bit arrogant.”

“It’s such a pity this time. I had thought…” Wang’s words trailed off as Fan Zhang silenced him with a sharp glare. He glanced nervously around and forced a stiff smile.

Fan Zhang said, “Let’s continue this discussion at home.”

“Yes, Minister.”

In the Imperial Library, Song Zhiyuan bowed to the Emperor Chu, who wore informal imperial yellow robes. Once the emperor bid him rise, Song Zhiyuan straightened and stood to the side.

“Yunzhi, is the Grand Lady truly well again?” the emperor asked, using Song Zhiyuan’s courtesy name.

Song Zhiyuan replied with a smile, “Thanks to Your Majesty’s great fortune, my mother has awakened, her mind is clear, though she still needs to recuperate.”

The emperor had already learned the truth from Director Lu, but hearing it from Song Zhiyuan himself set his mind at ease. He nodded, “That is good to hear. I had feared it was my fault that I brought misfortune to my aunt.”

Song Zhiyuan’s heart skipped a beat. He quickly replied, “Your Majesty overpraises us. With Your Majesty’s boundless good fortune, we as your subjects are already deeply grateful to share in just a trace of it. There is no question of lost blessings.”

“We are alone here—you needn’t be so formal,” the emperor said, a trace of helplessness in his tone. “I can call your mother ‘aunt’; I thought you’d understand.”

Song Zhiyuan felt even more constrained, and raised his head to respond, “Your Majesty, the distinction between ruler and subject must be maintained. Neither I nor my mother wish to give others the slightest opportunity to speak ill of Your Majesty. My mother’s recent collapse was, in part, due to overwhelming joy, and in part…” He paused, a hint of bitterness crossing his face. “In part, it was because her health was already ruined many years ago.”

On hearing these words, the emperor’s thoughts were instantly carried back to those most arduous and fearful years.