Chapter 338

…

Meng Xiang, though once Empress, was a woman of great misfortune.

It was widely known that appointing Meng Xiang as Empress was not due to Zhao Yu's personal feelings, but a political arrangement orchestrated by Gao Taotao—Gao Taotao, seeking to consolidate the Old Faction's power, selected Meng Xiang, whose background was steady and free of clear factional ties, as Empress.

Zhao Yu himself strongly resisted this marriage; he favored Liu Qingjing, who catered to his tastes, and remained cold and distant toward Meng Xiang.

This loveless marriage left Meng Xiang isolated and unprotected from the moment she entered the palace, deprived of even the most basic shelter from her husband.

Liu Qingjing, emboldened by Zhao Yu's favor, grew arrogant and repeatedly openly challenged Meng Xiang's authority as Empress; later, she fabricated a false accusation, inventing a witchcraft case to slander Meng Xiang as having used dark magic to curse the Emperor, aiming directly at her position as Empress.

Zhao Yu, without thorough investigation, immediately believed Liu Qingjing's words and used this as grounds to depose Meng Xiang, banishing her to the Cold Palace.

This deposition not only stripped Meng Xiang of her status and position, but also cast her from the clouds into the dust, making her a victim of political struggle and her husband's favoritism.

Historically, though Meng Xiang was reinstated twice afterward, she could never escape the shadow of being a deposed Empress, living her entire life under the chain reaction of Zhao Yu's cruelty.

As a husband, Zhao Yu gave his wife Meng Xiang neither the respect nor protection she deserved; instead, he became the one who hurt her most, making her tragedy begin with marriage and permeate her entire life.

Even more pitifully, Meng Xiang's only daughter died young; historically, she had no children at all.

If any ordinary woman had faced her husband's cruel deposition, her daughter's early death, and over twenty years of solitary confinement in a Daoist nunnery, she would likely have been crushed by fate's hammer, withered in resentment, or sunk into despair.

But Meng Xiang did not.

After the Jingkang Humiliation, facing a shattered Shanhe and a leaderless realm, she chose to forget the pain inflicted upon her by Zhao Yu and the Song Chaoting, prioritizing the greater good; she emerged, issuing edicts in her capacity as Empress Yuanyou, calling upon regional forces to come to the Emperor's aid, openly supporting Zhao Gou's ascension and providing the most crucial legitimization for the Southern Song regime's establishment.

Soon after the Southern Song's founding, when Zhao Gou refused to resist or avenge the humiliation, fled southward night after night, indulged in revelry, favored eunuchs, and administered rewards and punishments unjustly, leading to the mutiny of Miao Fu and Liu Zhengyan—who forced Zhao Gou to abdicate and enthroned his three-year-old son Zhao Fu as Emperor in an attempt to seize control of the court—she stepped forward again: accepting the rebels' "plea," she assumed the role of Empress Dowager and presided behind the curtain to stabilize the rebel forces; secretly, she contacted generals like Han Shizhong and Zhang Jun outside the capital, transmitting edicts summoning loyal troops and planning a counterattack; she firmly rejected the rebels' demands to execute senior ministers, preserving the core strength of the Southern Song court. Ultimately, Han Shizhong and others led troops to suppress the rebellion, Zhao Gou was restored to the throne, and the Southern Song regime was saved from collapse.

After the Miao-Liu Mutiny, the Jin forces continued their southern advance; Zhao Gou fled southward, and Meng Xiang was forced to follow the exodus—from Yangzhou to Yuezhou, then to Wenzhou—traveling thousands of miles in hardship and displacement, yet even in her most desperate circumstances, she maintained composure, helping Zhao Gou stabilize the Southern Song regime.

Throughout Meng Xiang's life, though pushed into the abyss by her husband's indifference and the turmoil of her age, she never bowed to fate, never drowned in personal sorrow; instead, she forged extraordinary resilience and wisdom through suffering, and at the nation's hour of crisis, shouldered the fate of Great Song alone, becoming the anchor that held the dynasty together, repeatedly pulling Great Song back from the brink of destruction.

Even if he were not Emperor of Great Song, Zhao Yu held great fondness for Meng Xiang.

Moreover, Zhao Yu was Emperor of Great Song; faced with Meng Xiang, who owed Great Song nothing and whom Great Song owed dearly, how could Zhao Yu not hold her in the highest regard?

He still remembered: the first time Zhao Yu saw Meng Xiang, she was like a wild orchid in a secluded valley, solitary and detached; though in hardship, she still radiated a moving grace.

At that moment, Zhao Yu had already been moved by Meng Xiang.

But reason told Zhao Yu he could not pursue Meng Xiang—it was dangerous and not worth it.

Now, Empress Dowager had given Zhao Yu this opportunity, and the spring drug had amplified his desire—what more was there to say?

The process need not be detailed.

Only the result matters: under Zhao Yu's ravishment, Meng Xiang, that wild orchid of the secluded valley, bloomed fully.

Zhao Yu suspected that, under the drug's influence, Meng Xiang harbored thoughts of revenge against Zhao Yu's cruelty; otherwise, the usually cold and dignified woman would never have behaved so unrestrained, even surpassing Liu Qingjing in frenzy…

More than two hours later.

The drug's effect passed; Zhao Yu and Meng Xiang calmed down. Zhao Yu held Meng Xiang, who faced away from him; the two most familiar strangers did not know what to say.

Explain?

At this point, how could Zhao Yu and Meng Xiang not know what had happened?

After silence stretched on for an unknown length, Zhao Yu broke it first, caressing Meng Xiang's silk-like skin with reluctant tenderness as he said: "I will take responsibility for you; I will not abandon you as Emperor Zhezong did."

Upon hearing this, Meng Xiang's body trembled noticeably, then settled back into stillness.

Clearly, though she had spent years in the Daoist nunnery, Zhao Yu's cruelty remained a barrier Meng Xiang could not cross.

After a long while, Meng Xiang spoke slowly: "Your Majesty must forget today's events, and devote yourself wholly to being a good Emperor—for the state and the people."

Zhao Yu wished to say more, when a weak, breathless cough came from within the inner chamber.

Meng Xiang, who had been lying quietly in Zhao Yu's arms, upon hearing Empress Dowager's voice, immediately shoved him away in panic, fumbling frantically to dress herself.

Zhao Yu saw that now, not only was Meng Xiang's face flushed, but her snow-white skin was entirely crimson.

Perhaps, if there had been a crack in the floor, Meng Xiang would have plunged into it without hesitation.

Zhao Yu had never imagined Meng Xiang could be so endearing; he lay still, watching her scramble to dress.

Too flustered, Meng Xiang did not notice until she had nearly finished donning her extremely elaborate attire that Zhao Yu had not moved at all—he had been lying there, watching her dress.

Meng Xiang panicked and urged: "Why does Your Majesty not change your clothes?"

Zhao Yu sat up, spreading his hands, and lied without a blush: "When have I ever dressed myself? How could I know such a lowly task?"

Meng Xiang could not help suspecting Zhao Yu was teasing her, yet he had lived since childhood with servants feeding him and dressing him—perhaps he truly could not dress himself.

Crucially, Empress Dowager was about to enter; Meng Xiang dared not gamble.