Gaochang lay at the midpoint of the Silk Road, connecting all directions. To the west lay Yanqi, Kucha, Shule, and other regions; to the east lay Yizhou, and after crossing eight hundred li of the desolate Moheyan Desert was Yumen Pass, with Guazhou and Shazhou further east. Currently, with the Hexi region under Northern Rong’s control, trade routes were heavily restricted, and Gaochang’s commerce had declined accordingly. Previously, there had been rows of inns and courier stations built along the oases, merchants from various nations rubbing shoulders, and singing girls and musicians performing whirling dances. Now, caravans traveling between the Central Plains and Western Regions were rarely seen; most merchant groups departed directly westward from Gaochang, Yizhou, and other such places.

The weather was cooling—the perfect season for merchant caravans to travel.

To avoid Northern Rong’s attention, Yaoying’s group disguised themselves as silk merchants, with several large carts fully loaded with goods. These goods not only concealed their identities but could also be sold locally upon reaching Gaochang, with the proceeds used to curry favor with Gaochang’s nobles and officials.

Old Qi traveled with Yaoying. Having wandered the outer regions for many years, he spoke several foreign languages and kept well informed.

Along the way, Yaoying asked him about prices for silk fabrics, jewelry, and jade in Gaochang. Having worked as a steward before, he knew a little about everything and answered thoroughly.

Their companion Sudan Gu remained silent and mysterious, seemingly only responsible for keeping watch, while Yuanjue handled all other matters.

Yaoying felt Bisuo hadn’t been wrong—Sudan Gu was indeed peculiar in temperament, rarely conversing with anyone and never removing his mask.

The guards didn’t dare disturb him; when they needed to report something, they told Yuanjue directly, who would then relay it to him.

That agile grey eagle continued following them, its massive wings occasionally passing overhead, casting shadows below.

From the royal court to Gaochang, the terrain sloped from northwest to southeast. They first crossed a large expanse of undulating hills with difficult roads, and then the land gradually leveled out. After following the mountain foothills for several days, an endless plain appeared before them, crisscrossed with gobi desert and dunes, with oases of varying sizes scattered like stars among them.

As the court attendant had said, just days after the weather turned cool, signs of snowfall appeared. Fierce winds raged, the weather grew gloomy, and leaden clouds loomed overhead. Traveling through the vast wilderness, they heard only the ghostly howling of wind and wolves. The world around them was desolate and barren; only when approaching oases did they occasionally spot traces of other caravans.

Yaoying was grateful she had prepared thick fur robes in advance, and the guards had followed her instructions to bring winter clothing. Coming from the Central Plains, they couldn’t endure severe cold and wrapped themselves in layers of fur like zongzi dumplings each day.

Within days, the temperature plummeted. Fierce winds carried snow particles that struck their faces, forcing everyone to don masks against the wind and snow as they struggled forward through the storm.

When a waystation providing lodging and meals for merchants appeared in the vast Gobi desert, everyone couldn’t help but cheer, spurring their horses forward.

Yaoying looked back; Sudan Gu remained at the rear of the group, a solitary rider, his figure isolated.

Throughout the journey, he either scouted ahead alone or silently followed at the back of the group. After traveling together for over ten days, Yaoying still hadn’t spoken with him.

Several clear cries rang out in the wind as a grey eagle dove down, circling and swooping around Sudan Gu.

Sudan Gu raised his arm, and the eagle immediately landed on his left forearm.

Yaoying’s brows furrowed slightly; she had seen the eagle land on Sudan Gu’s arm several times over these days.

The waystation was built in Shazhou, quite rudimentary—just a few earthen houses, though they were kept very clean. The innkeeper, a brown-haired and brown-eyed foreigner, had already eagerly come out upon hearing the approaching hoofbeats. Seeing that Yaoying’s group rode fine horses, he became even more enthusiastic, personally bringing hot water and soup.

The main hall had a fire burning in the stove, its furnace glowing red. After dismissing the innkeeper, everyone removed their masks and gathered around the stove for warmth, with two guards standing watch by the door.

Yaoying drank a bowl of hot soup, her hands and feet warming somewhat, and looked around.

Sudan Gu had disappeared somewhere.

Except for Yuanjue, everyone else feared him. Whenever he was present, even the most lively and active Xie Chong didn’t dare speak loudly.

He probably knew people feared him and thus always kept to himself.

Yaoying asked Yuanjue: “I’ve seen a grey eagle these past few days—that’s the Buddha’s Son’s eagle, isn’t it? Why is it following us?”

Yuanjue started, then answered with a smile: “The King is in seclusion. This eagle follows us so that if the Regent needs to report urgent matters to the King, it can deliver messages. When well-trained, eagles can serve as scouts.”

Yaoying nodded and continued: “Did the Buddha’s Son train it?”

Haidu Aling’s Abu had been caught and raised by him in his youth. In the Northern Rong, it was quite an achievement for a teenager to tame an eagle. He was very proud, always saying Abu was one in a thousand, a divine eagle.

Yuanjue said: “When the King was young and confined to the Buddhist temple, this eagle was injured and fell from an earthen cliff. The King happened to save it and asked someone to return it to its nest… But not only did they not return it, they nearly squeezed it to death. So the King kept it by his side to care for it, saving his food to feed it. After that, it became the King’s eagle.”

Yaoying sighed deeply at the story.

On the day Tanmoluojia was born, an unusual phenomenon appeared in the holy city—the evening clouds filled the sky. He was the posthumous son of the previous royal court ruler, becoming the new ruler at birth. Each generation of royal court rulers was accompanied by various legends at their birth. At that time, someone had coincidentally offered the legendary udumbara flower to the royal court, said to symbolize the Buddha’s incarnation. Combined with the monk’s prophecy, rumors spread that he was the reincarnation of Ananda.

At that time, the nobles who controlled the court didn’t want Tanmoluojia to receive the people’s love, so they confined him to a Buddhist temple right after his birth.

While in confinement and barely able to care for himself, he had still saved his food to feed an eagle—truly a compassionate heart.

Yuanjue, also moved by the past events, pointed to several nearby guards and said with a smile: “Bore, these guards, and I were all orphans with nowhere to go, sold as slaves to nobles. When serving the nobles, we accidentally made mistakes. The nobles flew into a rage and had us publicly flogged in the square, intending to beat us to death. It was the King who saved us, and gave us commoner status—our names were all given by the King! Most of the central army guards are noble-born like General Ashina, only we few came from among the common people.”

His face was full of smiles, his tone showing undisguised pride and worship.

The nearby guards also grinned, speaking one after another with animated expressions, eagerly telling stories of how Tanmoluojia had helped the common people.

Xie Chong, Xie Peng, and the others could now understand some of the foreign language and listened with great interest, constantly asking questions.

Having traveled together for over ten days, the group had grown familiar. Speaking of Tanmoluojia made the atmosphere even more harmonious as they chatted and laughed merrily.

But Yaoying’s heart suddenly skipped a beat as she listened.

The greatest conflict between Tanmoluojia and his ministers lay in his lack of discrimination between noble and common—he viewed every citizen as his subject. But unlike the Central Plains, the royal court had no Confucian teachings, and no deeply rooted concepts of loyalty between ruler and subject. The nobles could buy and sell slaves, and each great noble owned land and all the people on it, similar to feudal lords. In the nobles’ eyes, the common people were their slaves.

So when the Northern Rong came into force, the nobles’ greatest concern wasn’t the people’s survival but whether they could preserve their family wealth. Just as during the Central Plains’ chaos, some great families had instigated wars and colluded with foreign enemies to protect family interests.

Ten years ago, when the Northern Rong army pressed the border, the nobles promptly abandoned the city. Without Tanmoluojia’s presence, the four armies would never have turned back to defend the holy city.

This was probably also why Tanmoluojia had fallen ill—he not only had to intimidate powerful enemies but also guard against internal threats.

In the end, he had exhausted himself, like a candle burning to ash.

Yaoying fell into thought for a moment, then covered her face with a veil, ladled a bowl of soup, took several softly baked flatbreads, and left the hall. Looking around, she indeed spotted that tall figure on the second-floor corridor.

Throughout their journey, whenever they stopped to rest, Sudan Gu would always keep watch from a place with a wide view.

Though he killed without mercy, emanated murderous energy, and had a fierce presence that no one dared approach, Yaoying felt surprisingly secure traveling with him.

She carried the soup bowl up to the second floor.

As she turned the corner, suddenly a sharp cry rang out as the grey eagle leaped down from above, lunging at her fiercely, its huge wings carrying a predatory wind straight toward her face.

Yaoying hurriedly protected the soup bowl as she stepped back, stumbling and falling backward.

A dark figure flashed past as a hand reached out, catching her shoulder and helping her steady herself. Through the thick fur robe, the arm that pressed against her was firm, the embrace ice-cold, without a trace of warmth.

Yaoying, still holding the soup bowl, fell back against Sudan Gu’s chest. She glanced back at the stairs below and let out a relieved breath, her heart still pounding.

If she had fallen from the second floor and broken an arm or leg, how could she continue to Gaochang?

Thinking she had regained her balance, Sudan Gu quickly released his hold.

Yaoying was still looking at the stairs below, not yet recovered from the shock, when the sudden loss of support caused her to sway with momentum, and she couldn’t help letting out a soft cry.

Sudan Gu froze for a moment, then extended his arm again.

Afraid of spilling the soup, Yaoying fell back against him, feeling his body tense. Somewhat embarrassed, she turned to face him and quickly steadied herself, this time standing firmly, still holding the soup bowl.

She held up the bowl, raised her head to look at Sudan Gu, and blinked, her thick long lashes fluttering as she said with a smile: “General Su, would you like something to eat?”

Sudan Gu withdrew his arm, his jade eyes beneath the mask glancing at the soup in her hands.

Yaoying had been protecting the bowl with her sleeve; the soup was still steaming hot, wisps of vapor rising from the snow-white broth where torn pieces of flatbread floated, soaked translucent in the soup.

Sudan Gu neither spoke nor made any move to take the bowl.

Yaoying extended both hands forward slightly: “This soup warms the stomach and drives away cold. Please have some, General. We don’t know when we’ll next see an inn ahead.”

Sudan Gu’s gaze fell to her fingers—she had rushed to bring the soup while hot, and her delicate fingers and palms were red from the heat.

He silently accepted the bowl.

Yaoying then produced several round flatbreads to give him. These were the ones she had asked Xie Qing to bring; briefly warmed by the fire, they were crispy outside and tender inside. Yuanjue and the others had just been praising how delicious they were.

Sudan Gu took the soup and flatbread, then turned and walked away.

Yaoying couldn’t help but smile, looking toward the platform where the grey eagle perched by the wind, its wings drooping, its sharp eyes coldly fixed on her.

It had given her quite a fright earlier!

She softly asked Sudan Gu: “General Su, may I feed it some dried meat?”

She had seen Yuanjue, Sudan Gu, and other guards feed the eagle. Though proud, it wouldn’t randomly scratch people.

Sudan Gu turned to look at her once, his expression hidden behind the mask.

Yaoying had already pulled a small piece of dried meat from her sleeve and stood before the eagle, her face eager, black eyes bright and shining.

As if it hadn’t just frightened her moments ago.

Sudan Gu said: “It nearly made the Princess fall.”

Yaoying smiled: “It was keeping watch for the General. I came uninvited, so it wanted to warn you—that’s why it scared me.”

Sudan Gu looked at her for a long moment, then nodded.

Yaoying’s face lit up with joy as she stepped forward, holding out her palm to the eagle and asking softly: “Would you like this?”

The eagle gave her a disdainful look.

Yaoying patiently coaxed in a gentle voice: “I haven’t thanked you yet. You’re much more magnificent than Haidu Aling’s Abu.”

The eagle seemed to understand her words and proudly fluttered its wings, its sharp beak gently pecking at her outstretched fingers, causing slight pain.

Yaoying didn’t pull away, keeping her palm open.

The eagle snatched the dried meat from her palm.

Yaoying watched the eagle, secretly pondering: both the Northern Rong and the royal court-trained messenger eagles. Here, eagles were kings of the high skies—messenger pigeons meeting messenger eagles would surely be hunted. If only she had her messenger eagle.

She wondered if the well-connected Hu merchants could help her buy some messenger eagles.

She leaned against the earthen platform, playing with the eagle while lost in thought. The eagle remained aloof, barely acknowledging her except to tug at her sleeve impatiently after finishing the meat in her palm, urging her to produce more.

Yaoying dared not feed it too much, showing her empty palms to indicate she had no more.

The eagle lifted its talons and walked away.

Yaoying smiled and turned to look at Sudan Gu.

He stood with his back to her, drinking the soup without making a sound. The soup that the guards had praised so highly, he drank as plainly as if it were water.

Yaoying stared at his back for a long while until suddenly a distant sound like raindrops of horse hooves approached.

Looking toward the sound, she saw dust rising in the eastern direction as about a dozen fast horses galloped toward the inn, their riders wearing thick fur robes and masks, making it impossible to identify them.

Sudan Gu was instantly alert, putting down the bowl and standing at the platform to peer into the distance.

“They’re Northern Rong people.”

Yaoying’s eyelids twitched: “How does the General know they’re Northern Rong?”

Sudan Gu’s voice was hoarse and dark as he said: “The sturdy horses they ride are from Northern Rong horse farms.”

Yaoying’s heart sank slightly.

The Northern Rong occupied vast grasslands rich in water and grass, including several of what had been Northern Mo’s largest horse farms, breeding strong, healthy horses for Northern Rong cavalry. Sudan Gu spoke with such certainty; that he couldn’t be mistaken.

Sudan Gu made a gesture to the guards below, who understood immediately and rushed into the hall to remind everyone to cover their faces and prepare to depart.

Everyone had finished eating and drinking, and quickly rose to pack their belongings and leave the inn.

The Northern Rong people approached rapidly, reaching the inn in moments.

The lead man removed his mask, spitting out sand from his mouth. He was robust, built like a bull, with curly shoulder-length hair and light brown eyes. Wearing a fur robe and leather boots, he dismounted while grumbling complaints about the weather.

The courier station had no back door. Yaoying, Sudan Gu, and the others kept their heads down while arranging their belongings. The Northern Rong people, assuming they were ordinary merchants, barely glanced at them as they passed by. One impatiently urged the innkeeper: “Do you have anything to eat? Just make sure it’s hot and bring it quickly!”

The innkeeper repeatedly agreed.

Yaoying mounted her horse, her gaze falling on the robust man before her expression changed and she quickly looked away.

She maintained her composure and rode to Sudan Gu’s side, saying softly: “General Su, that man is the Northern Rong’s young prince.”

Sudan Gu glanced at her.

Yaoying lowered her voice: “He’s Wahan Khan’s most beloved youngest son, who usually stays at the royal tent. The General may not have met him, but I can confirm I’m not mistaken.”

Sudan Gu made a sound of acknowledgment.

The group departed the inn inconspicuously, their figures melting into the vast snow and wind.

Yaoying’s heart felt heavy.

Why would the young prince appear here? Could this have any connection to Haidu Aling?

…

As Yaoying and Sudan Gu departed from Shazhou toward Gaochang, a thousand li away in the endless Gobi desert, another group was advancing toward Yizhou.

As the carriage traveled along the rugged mountain road, the woman inside, unable to bear the jolting, lifted the curtain and asked her escort: “How many more days until we reach Yizhou?”

The guard bowed: “Princess, please endure for a few more days. We’ll reach Yizhou soon, and you’ll be able to meet Princess Imperial Yiqing.”

Hope appeared on the woman’s face as she lowered the curtain and withdrew into the carriage.

She would soon meet her aunt.

The guard slowed his pace, deliberately falling behind.

Another guard from behind rode forward to join him.

Speaking softly in dialect, the guard said: “Find a chance to send word back that Princess Fukang is nearly at Yizhou. We’ve gained Princess Fukang’s trust. When we reach Yizhou, we’ll find ways to discover Princess Wenzhao’s whereabouts.”

The other guard looked troubled: “Everywhere is sealed off now, with checkpoints guarded like iron barrels. How can we send word back to Chang’an that Princess Wenzhao might still be alive?”

The guard sneered: “You are wooden-headed! How did the Northern Rong people secretly communicate with Princess Fukang? We’ll use their people to relay the message!”

The other guard suddenly understood and nodded in agreement.