Three days later, Emperor Shunyuan finally issued an imperial decree permitting Princess Zhaoyue to marry into the Tatar lands as part of a marriage alliance.
A few brief lines determined the fate of his fourteen-year-old daughter.
He summoned Zhaoyue once more to his bedside. His thin, withered fingers brushed over her twin buns, while his face wore its usual kindly smile. In a gentle voice, he said, “Zhaoyue, you are a golden branch and jade leaf of our Great Qian, and your father’s pride. Now, at last, you have the opportunity to serve your family and your country. You are no different from generals who ride across battlefields or worthy ministers who govern the realm. What rests upon your shoulders is the burden of peace between two nations, carrying the hopes of countless people. Do you understand?”
Zhaoyue stood beside the bed. She did not throw herself into his arms and act spoiled as she usually did, nor did she look at him with sparkling eyes.
She merely stood there in silence, like a new shoot breaking through the earth for the first time and catching sight of the world’s true face.
She realized that affection was not always genuine affection, nor was severity always genuine severity. Beneath every outward appearance lay weight and calculation she could not yet comprehend.
She nodded softly, lowering her lashes to conceal her melancholy. Yet she said nothing of the conversation she had had with the Crown Prince that night.
She might have been innocent, but she was not foolish. Some things needed only the slightest hint to be understood, only the lightest touch to become clear.
Seeing this, Emperor Shunyuan smiled in satisfaction. “You are the daughter I cherish most. I will certainly prepare the richest dowry for you and hold the grandest ceremony, so that you may depart for the northern deserts in all splendor and dignity. If there is anything else you desire, simply tell your father.”
Zhaoyue blinked her dark eyes. Her fingers clenched tightly around her sleeve as struggling emotions surged within her. At last, she could not help blurting out, “I can’t bear to leave Father Emperor or Mother Consort. Do I really have to marry?”
The smile on Emperor Shunyuan’s face vanished at once. With a trace of scrutiny in his voice, he asked, “Did your mother consort say something to you?”
Zhaoyue shook her head, her small body trembling faintly.
“What an honor this is!” Emperor Shunyuan’s voice rose. “For generations to come, the histories will record your name. You alone are worth an army of a thousand thousand men!”
Zhaoyue nodded immediately. This time, she did not hesitate.
When their conversation ended, she left the Hall of Mental Cultivation quietly and wordlessly. Her skirt swept over the threshold without making the slightest sound.
Leaning against his bed, Emperor Shunyuan realized belatedly that Zhaoyue had not clung to him and acted coquettishly that day. She had not called him “Father Emperor” in her sweet voice, nor had she tugged at his arm and begged him to spend time with her.
A flicker of melancholy passed through his heart, only to settle quickly back into calm.
Children of the imperial family all grew up this way. He himself had done so, and so would his children. Each had a fate of their own. It was decreed by Heaven; even an emperor could not change it.
Emperor Shunyuan had assumed that, after the decree was issued, Consort Zhen would once again come before the Hall of Mental Cultivation to weep and make a scene, kneeling there without rising. Yet this time, she seemed to have accepted it overnight.
A few days later, Consort Zhen entered the Hall of Mental Cultivation with measured grace. She wore a crimson palace gown, a jade-and-emerald lotus hairpin set at an angle in her hair, and cloud-patterned satin boots beneath her feet.
She personally brought him a bowl of chilled snow fungus soup, sprinkled with a few fresh lotus seeds to cool him down and cleanse his palate.
Holding the porcelain bowl, Emperor Shunyuan studied her suspiciously.
Yet she merely lowered her gaze slightly, looking overcome with shame. Her voice was soft as silk. “Your Majesty, I was narrow-minded and ignorant before. Zhaoyue has been given the opportunity to serve Great Qian; as her mother, I ought to be happy and proud, rather than adding to Your Majesty’s troubles. These past few days, I have reflected on it again and again, and the more I think, the more ashamed I feel. I have hardly dared to face Your Majesty.”
Something stirred in Emperor Shunyuan’s heart. He reached out and lightly patted the back of her hand. “It is good that you understand my intentions.”
It seemed to him that Consort Zhen had returned to the version of herself he liked best: gentle, obedient, and sensible.
And so, the matter of the marriage alliance appeared to pass without further incident.
Consort Zhen clasped his hand in return, her slender fingers intertwining with his. “Zhaoyue has a destiny of her own. My duty is simply to raise her to adulthood. Your Majesty is the one I can rely on for the rest of my life.”
Emperor Shunyuan sighed and slowly nodded.
“But there is one matter for which I hope Your Majesty will grant permission,” Consort Zhen said, seizing the opening.
“Oh?”
“Zhaoyue is my only daughter. I wish to personally oversee every arrangement for her marriage alliance.”
At this point, how could he refuse? “You are her mother. It is only natural. Granted.”
Consort Zhen smiled radiantly, warmth and tenderness flowing through her eyes.
Only after Emperor Shunyuan had fallen into a deep sleep did she silently withdraw.
The moment she crossed the threshold of the Hall of Mental Cultivation, the smile vanished from her face. A flash of icy hatred passed through her eyes, only for her expression to become blank and composed once more as she turned and returned to Yikun Palace.
With Consort Zhen personally handling the arrangements for the marriage alliance, there was suddenly far more room for delay.
From the patterns on the princess’s dowry hairpins and the size of the pearls, to the backgrounds of the accompanying maids and the martial skill of the guards—even the timber used for the dowry chests and the axles of the carriages—Consort Zhen inspected every detail herself, demanding perfection to an almost exacting degree.
At the slightest dissatisfaction, she ordered the item remade. And just like that, a month passed.
Wanye was growing frantic from his prolonged stay in the capital, but there was nothing he could do. After all, Consort Zhen was the princess’s mother. With her daughter being married off to a distant land, it was only reasonable for a mother to take particular care in preparing her dowry.
Everyone believed that this marriage alliance—decreed by the emperor, agreed upon by both nations, and seemingly free of all obstacles—would surely proceed smoothly.
No one could have imagined that the complication would come from Nanping, thousands of miles away.
When Aluchi, in his great tent on the northern steppes, learned that an envoy from Nanping had arrived from afar, he was utterly dumbfounded.
Nanping’s arrival instantly transformed what had been a straightforward marriage alliance into a tangled and complicated affair.
Aluchi was brutal by nature and utterly untrustworthy. He had never truly intended to form a marriage alliance with Great Qian. He merely meant to use it as a pretext to wring gold, silver, grain, and supplies from Great Qian, allowing his forces time to recover.
Once Great Qian’s border commanders had let down their guard completely, he intended to lead his troops south, break into the Central Plains, seize cities and territory, and claim those prosperous, warm lands for himself.
But he could never reveal these calculations to Nanping’s envoy.
The Nanping envoys had come this time firmly convinced that the Tatars were secretly seeking a marriage alliance with Daqian in order to submit to the empire, freeing Daqian to focus its efforts on Nanping.
They intended to sabotage the marriage, while also sending the Tatars a warning: there would be no good ending for anyone who opposed Nanping.
Aluchi was not an easy man to deal with. Relying on the vast distances of the northern desert—and knowing that Nanping’s armies could never reach this far—he treated the Nanping envoys with outward courtesy, but in truth left them cooling their heels without the slightest consideration.
Unexpectedly, within two days, trouble erupted inside the Tatars’ own ranks.
Another tribe of considerable strength suddenly challenged him. Then, in the dead of night, they launched a surprise attack on his great tent and slashed his left arm with a saber.
Caught off guard, Aluchi immediately shifted his focus to suppressing the internal rebellion.
But once he was injured, the tribes he had kept under harsh control for years also began to stir. One after another, they sought to seize the opportunity to eliminate him and carve up his territory.
After ten days of bitter fighting, the northern desert ran red with blood. Aluchi managed to quell the rebellion, but only barely, and at a terrible cost. The tribes, already suffering from the bitter cold and famine, were now in an even more desperate plight.
It was amid this chaos that his favored concubine came sobbing into his tent. She threw herself against his knees, her voice sweet and coquettish yet tinged with fear.
“Khan, don’t you find it strange that the Nanping envoys arrived at such an odd time? Judging by the travel time, they must have set out for the northern desert just as Wanye arrived in the capital of Daqian. At that point, Daqian had only just learned that we were seeking to marry Princess Zhaoyue. So how could Nanping have known already? It seems the only explanation is that Wanye leaked the news!”
She raised her head, tears shimmering in her eyes, and stroked her slightly rounded belly.
“Think about it, Khan. The moment he left the northern desert, rebellion broke out. Can that really be a coincidence? Wanye is no longer young. I fear he has long been unwilling to remain beneath you. That alone would not matter much, but I’m afraid…” Her voice trembled. “I’m afraid that if anything were to happen to you, I would become Wanye’s woman. I can’t bear to lose you, Khan—and the child in my womb cannot bear to lose his father either.”
Her words pierced straight into Aluchi’s heart like a poisoned thorn.
Among the Tatar tribes, stories of sons murdering fathers and younger brothers killing elder brothers to seize the khanate had never been uncommon.
The scheme to pretend to seek a marriage alliance, lull Daqian into complacency, and later sacrifice the princess as a rallying symbol had also been Wanye’s idea.
Shanyu… Xi… Du… Jia…
Could it be that Wanye’s true intention had never been to deceive Daqian, but to use Nanping—or the internal rebellion—to eliminate his father once and for all?
Aluchi also remembered how, ever since his favored concubine became pregnant, his principal wife had grown increasingly displeased. And the look in Wanye’s eyes had gradually lost the reverence it once held.
The thought made Aluchi forget the pain in his arm and the exhaustion weighing on his body. He immediately ordered the Nanping envoys to be brought into his tent.
He intended to interrogate them personally and find out whether Nanping had already joined forces with Wanye.
However, the Nanping envoys’ tent was already empty.
Once they had confirmed that rebellion had broken out and that their bribes had done their work, they had taken advantage of the night, slipped away, and fled.
The figures of the Nanping party galloping out of the northern desert at full speed, however, were seen clearly by the scouts Daqian had dispatched beyond the frontier.
The scout rode through the night back to the frontier and reported the news to the commanding general.
Upon hearing the secret dispatch, the general was profoundly shaken. He could not help exclaiming again and again, “Just as the Marquis predicted—Nanping has indeed been colluding with the Tatars and has long been in contact with them! Quickly! Send an urgent dispatch to the capital by eight-hundred-li express!”
The courier received the urgent memorial from the border and spurred his horse onward. Hooves shattered the dust as he raced south, covering a thousand li without rest.
That day, Wanye finally could not contain himself. For the tenth time, he paced outside the Eastern Flowery Gate, asking the guards to announce him within and pressing them to say when, exactly, all preparations for the princess’s marriage alliance would be complete.
The Tatars had spared no expense in this surrender. If they failed to take the princess back with them, they would lose both bride and army alike—and have no way to answer to Aluchi.
He waited outside for quite some time before a leisurely reply finally came from within: the Noble Consort was personally arranging winter garments for the princess. The northern desert was bitterly cold, and she could not bear for her youngest daughter to suffer from the chill beyond the passes.
“We Tatars have the finest felt and the warmest furs!” Wanye declared, thumping his chest, his voice rough and hoarse.
The eunuch from the Directorate of Ceremonial merely inclined his head, wearing a bland, noncommittal smile. “Your Excellency, please do not be impatient. Everything is nearly prepared. Our dynasty’s dowry is generous, and there are many items to be brought along. Would that not also be a good thing for the Tatars?”
The reasoning was sound enough. Wanye could only force down the impatience in his heart and clasp his fists in acknowledgment.
Just then, a small red-lacquered sedan chair rolled up before the Eastern Flowery Gate. A servant swiftly brought over a mounting stool. The curtain lifted gently, and that unforgettable official stepped out.
Wen Zhuo wore a clear vermilion official robe, an ivory tally hanging at his waist and a ceremonial tablet in his hands. His posture was upright, his expression solemn.
The hem of his robe stirred faintly in the breeze. Though he had the lean, refined appearance of a frail scholar, there was an unyielding strength to his bearing—an aura that made others wary of meeting his gaze.
Wanye’s eyes immediately fastened upon Wen Zhuo. Born on the grasslands, he had grown up among fierce horses and hunting falcons, accustomed to taming creatures of strength and spirit. Yet at the sight of Wen Zhuo’s cool, detached expression, an indescribable restlessness rose within him.
He stepped forward and gave a Tatar salute, clasping his fists. His dark-red lips curled into a smile. “May I ask this lord’s name?”
Spring warmth had already come to the capital, and the first hints of summer heat lingered in the air. Yet Wanye still wore the Tatars’ heavy leather boots and lambskin robe, carrying with him the rank, musky smell of sweat and animal hide.
Wen Zhuo lifted his eyes and gave him a faint glance. He had intended to walk straight past, but then reconsidered. Wanye was already a dead man.
For a man about to die not even to know his enemy’s name would be rather pitiful.
So Wen Zhuo halted and turned back. A meaningful smile touched his lips. “Wen Zhuo, courtesy name Wanshan.”
With that, Wen Zhuo turned and walked into the Forbidden City without looking back.
A gust of wind swept past, lifting the dark strands by his temple. A faint, elegant scent of medicine drifted on the breeze and slipped into Wanye’s nostrils.
Without thinking, Wanye reached out, making a grasping motion toward the direction in which Wen Zhuo had disappeared. A predatory smile spread across his face.
Wen Zhuo hurried to the Hall of Coolness. The moment he entered, he saw that all the Grand Secretariat ministers had already assembled.
Emperor Shunyuan was dressed in informal robes, without his ceremonial crown. His sash hung loose, making it clear that he had risen hastily from his couch. Weariness and frailty seemed to permeate his entire person.
Shen Zheng stood waiting at his side. His eyes met Wen Zhuo’s only briefly.
In the instant Wen Zhuo lifted his gaze, his expression changed to one of utter bafflement. “Your Majesty has urgently summoned us to the hall. Has some grave matter arisen?”
Gu Weizhi cooperated flawlessly, leaning forward with an anxious look. “Your Majesty, this minister has heard that the Office of Transmission has delivered an urgent report.”
Emperor Shunyuan covered his mouth and coughed twice. Then he abruptly shoved a sealed memorial from the frontier across the desk, roaring, “Read it yourselves!”
Wen Zhuo stepped forward to take it. After swiftly scanning its contents, his face changed at once. “Nanping actually dispatched a secret envoy all the way to Tatar, where he remained for several days before departing in high spirits?”
Xue Chongnian drew in a sharp breath. “Nanping and Tatar—how did they become entangled with one another?”
Emperor Shunyuan pressed one hand to his forehead, his face dark with anxiety. “Having read this secret memorial, what are your thoughts?”
Seeing that Emperor Shunyuan had taken the bait, Shen Zheng spoke at the opportune moment to guide him further. “Father Emperor, your son has recently been studying the *Thirty-Six Stratagems*. It says: ‘When circumstances constrain and positions are fixed, profit is sought from what is near, while harm is kept at a distance; fire above, water below.’ Judging from the present situation, if Tatar were to form an alliance with Nanping, the benefits to them would far exceed those of an alliance with Great Qian. From this, it follows that Tatar’s submission and its dispatch of envoys to propose a marriage alliance were nothing more than empty words meant to deceive us—to lull the court into complacency. In truth, they intend to join forces with Nanping, supporting each other like the horns of an ox, isolating our Celestial Dynasty before seizing the chance to attack from north and south, gradually devouring Great Qian’s territory!”
Emperor Shunyuan had already been deeply troubled. With Shen Zheng laying the matter bare, he was immediately shocked and frightened. “The Crown Prince speaks with reason…”
The ministers in the hall all felt their hearts tighten.
Previously, more than half the court officials had supported the proposed marriage alliance. Now that this affair appeared to be part of a Tatar plot, those who had strongly advocated the match found themselves in an awkward position.
After pondering for a moment, the Minister of War attempted to salvage the situation. “Your Majesty, there may be some hidden circumstances or misunderstanding in this matter. Nanping must have learned that Tatar intends to submit to our dynasty, and, fearing that our court would then be free to focus all its strength on a southern campaign, dispatched someone to sow discord in an attempt to ruin this marriage alliance. This minister humbly asks Your Majesty to summon the Tatar envoy into the hall for questioning, so that the truth may be ascertained. We must not lightly abandon this sound policy for securing the borders. Should amity be broken and the frontier be engulfed in war once more, the manpower and resources required would amount to no less than tens of millions!”
Emperor Shunyuan’s brows drew tightly together. For a moment, he found it difficult to decide.
From the corner of his eye, Wen Zhuo glanced at the Minister of War and saw through his intentions at once.
His lashes lowered, he shook out his wide official sleeve, then rose calmly to his feet and declared without the slightest courtesy, “My lord minister’s argument is utterly impossible.”
The Minister of War raised his brows. “Academician Wen, you—”
Wen Zhuo said, “The Tatar memorial of submission was presented to the court on the eleventh day of the fourth month. If Nanping had only learned of it afterward and then dispatched envoys to ride north day and night, judging by the post-road schedule, by the time their emissaries reached the Tatars, our marriage alliance would already have been a settled matter. Any attempt to sow discord would have been futile. Yet Nanping’s envoys have appeared beyond the frontier at precisely this moment. This proves that the two sides had been secretly in contact long before; this was by no means a spur-of-the-moment provocation. In this minister’s judgment, it was likely not Nanping that took the initiative to stir trouble—it was the Tatars who first formed a clandestine alliance with them.”
The Minister of War was left speechless, his face flushing red.
Indeed, there was no way Nanping’s intelligence could have traveled vastly faster than that of Great Qian. The only explanation was that the Tatars had proactively informed Nanping of their plan to seek a marriage alliance, and that the two sides had long since reached an understanding.
Having learned of this, Nanping had neither sent troops to harass the southern border nor attempted to obstruct the alliance. Instead, it had remained unusually quiet—further proof that this had been a plot directed against Great Qian from the very beginning.
Luo Mingpu looked from one person to another, utterly bewildered. Only yesterday, Shen Chen had discussed with him how, now that Consort Zhen had fallen from favor and Noble Consort Liang was enjoying the Emperor’s favor, they might exploit the situation to drive a wedge between the two women and bring Consort Zhen over to their side. Who could have expected that today, the marriage alliance would be on the verge of collapse?
Gu Weizhi hurriedly rose to his feet. “Your Majesty! It is not too late to mend the fold after the sheep are lost. You must not send Princess Zhaoyue into the dragon’s lair and tiger’s den!”
Xue Chongnian followed at once. “Your Majesty, please issue an edict at once to arrest the entire Tatar envoy delegation! This minister is willing to personally interrogate the case and see that they are punished according to the law!”
Yet Emperor Shunyuan remained silent, his fingers clenched tightly around the armrest of the throne.
For an emperor to reverse his decree so soon, and publicly admit that he had been deceived by barbarians, was a matter that deeply damaged both his dignity and imperial authority.
He was enraged by the Tatars’ audacity, but unwilling to confront this humiliating reality.
Shen Zheng watched his hesitation and, after a brief pause of surprise, immediately understood the source of his stubborn silence.
In his studies of history, he had seen countless people of later generations blindly worship feudal emperors, even fantasizing about returning to a certain age so that they might cross paths with those brilliant figures who shone from the pages of written history.
But now that he truly stood within this world, he understood all too clearly: emperors were, in the end, merely human—and humans twisted by power, steeped in darkness and selfishness.
The restraints of morality had always applied only to ordinary people, never to the Son of Heaven.
Shen Zheng inclined his head slightly, thoughtfully offering him a way out. “Father Emperor, our border troops were alert this time and uncovered the Tatars’ treacherous scheme in good time. The court officials, with their keen discernment, have jointly exposed the evidence of Nanping’s secret dealings with these barbarian tribes. With Father Emperor’s wise and decisive judgment, you may seize the initiative and bring them under control. Not only will our dynasty retain all the tribute they have offered, but we will also avert a calamity that might have imperiled the realm and spared the frontier from grave danger. Once this achievement is proclaimed throughout the land, the people will surely praise Father Emperor’s penetrating foresight.”
Emperor Shunyuan slowly lowered the hand he had been pressing against his forehead. He turned to look at Shen Zheng in surprise, meeting the sincere, solemn gaze in his eyes.
The humiliation and hesitation in his heart vanished in an instant, replaced by relief and warmth.
He raised a hand and gripped Shen Zheng firmly by the shoulder. At last, satisfaction appeared on his face, and his voice was cold and forceful. “Good! Arrest every Tatar envoy immediately. Behead them publicly as a warning to others, and announce this matter far and wide to intimidate our foreign enemies! Let the Crown Prince personally oversee this affair.”
Shen Zheng cupped his hands in salute. “Your son obeys Your Majesty’s decree.”
