What Li Xuandu did for the rest of that night, Pu Zhu scarcely knew. She slept, and it was the deepest sleep she had had since they first set out on this journey. The next morning she woke very late, with a mild headache lingering from the night’s drinking.

Li Xuandu was already gone. Luo Bao told her Prince Qin had been invited early that morning by a group of Que noblemen to join a hunting party.

A little later, Madam Wu also sent someone to invite her over. By evening the two returned. After changing clothes, they went together to visit the King of Que. When they arrived, they encountered Li Tanfang — she had just brought medicine and was attending to the King as he took it. Seeing Li Xuandu and Pu Zhu arrive together, she sat with them for a brief moment and then quietly withdrew.

The King of Que treated her kindly. But Pu Zhu was well aware she was an outsider and ought not to linger too long. She stayed and kept the old man company for a short while, fulfilled her filial duties, then withdrew first — leaving him alone with his grandson.

Li Xuandu returned deep in the night. Pu Zhu had long since gone to bed and feigned deep sleep, not rising. He seemed afraid of waking her, entering softly and quietly.

He was troubled by something. When Pu Zhu woke partway through the night, she sensed he was still awake — though he was not tossing or turning.

She guessed his preoccupation must have something to do with Que.

Just as the Emperor could not possibly trust the people of Que, the people of Que could not possibly turn a blind eye and do nothing in the face of threats from the Emperor. Rebellion or flight — those were the only two paths.

Clearly they had chosen flight. In her previous life, when Jiang Shi died suddenly and the attack was launched, the whole clan had migrated west.

This was no small matter. Pu Zhu believed the King of Que and his people must have been making preparations and planning in advance for a long time.

But what troubled her was this: if they had prepared in advance, why had the Que people’s situation been so chaotic at the outset of the westward migration in her previous life?

Even if Jiang Shi’s death had come suddenly, if there had been a contingency plan in place, things should not have been so rushed.

And when speaking of Que and Li Xuandu, it was impossible not to think of Li Tanfang.

So many years had passed, and yet here she was — a woman of her age, still unmarried. What she was waiting for was plain as day.

In the past, when Li Xuandu and Que had had little opportunity to communicate — even if there had been correspondence, it must have been very infrequent — there would hardly have been chances to discuss such a matter. But now that he had come in person, even if nothing could be said openly, surely it could not go unmentioned in private.

He had been so busy these past days, out early and back late. He could not have spent all of it on leisure — beneath the surface, he must have been planning the westward migration with his mother’s kinsmen.

Such a momentous affair, affecting hundreds of thousands of the Que people, with all its detailed plans — he would never reveal a single word of it to her.

But the matter of his cousin was different. Pu Zhu waited calmly for him to bring up the subject of his cousin himself. When he did, she would negotiate her terms.

Their days in Que were few. Not because the Emperor refused to let them stay longer — in fact the Emperor had shown exceptional grace, saying that Prince Qin had been apart from his mother’s family for many years and, for the sake of family bonds, granted them permission to remain longer.

But just before they had departed, Jiang Shi had casually let drop a remark: she had received a letter from the Grand Princess, who missed Huaiwei and hoped he would return sooner rather than later. So she asked Li Xuandu to come back when there was nothing pressing, in order to escort Huaiwei back to Western Di as soon as possible.

Pu Zhu had pondered the starkly different attitudes of the Emperor and Jiang Shi toward this matter.

The Emperor’s thoughts were obvious to her if not to others — he clearly wanted her to stay longer to spy on the movements and communications of the Que people and Li Xuandu.

Jiang Shi’s attitude was more subtle. Had she let slip this remark out of genuine carelessness, or had she already become aware of something? After all, the longer Li Xuandu lingered in Que, the more “evidence” those with ulterior motives could find to exploit. Was she using Huaiwei as a pretext, asking Li Xuandu to return “when there was nothing pressing” — so he could leave sooner?

Once Jiang Shi had spoken, the Emperor naturally deferred.

The King of Que’s birthday had passed. Which meant Li Xuandu would be setting out to return in three days.

Two of those days had already flown by in the blink of an eye. Pu Zhu watched from the sidelines as he went out early and came back late, and still he had not brought up the matter of Tanfang.

Could it be that he had already quietly settled things with his mother’s family without going through her?

This thought was quickly dismissed.

Given the state of their current relationship, he had no need to go around her on such a matter.

Whatever else she was, in the eyes of outsiders, she was the Princess Consort of Prince Qin. If he hid things from his consort and privately made promises to another woman, what did that make of that woman?

Not respecting her was one thing — he would not disrespect his mother’s family.

Only one day remained. Pu Zhu found it puzzling that he still had not said anything. But she continued to wait patiently, estimating that at the latest, tonight he would find her and bring up the matter of one day taking his cousin.

Today was the last full day of their stay — they would leave tomorrow. There had been an arrangement made: Li Xuandu would take her to pay respects at the cenotaph his mother, the Que Consort, had in her home kingdom.

He had risen early and was waiting outside. When Pu Zhu had finished washing and dressing, she walked out.

Li Xuandu stood in the middle of the courtyard path, Luo Bao beside him. Luo Bao saw her emerge and lowered his voice: “Your Highness, the Princess Consort is ready.”

Li Xuandu acknowledged and turned his face slightly.

Knowing she would be visiting the Que Consort’s cenotaph, Pu Zhu had prepared in advance. Today she wore a plain satin robe the color of pale moonlight. For warmth, she had fastened on a cloak trimmed with white fur at the edge of a lake-blue fabric. No powder or rouge touched her face. She stood on the steps — her complexion luminous and clear, her manner quiet and graceful — looking somewhat different from her usual self.

“I have kept Your Highness waiting.”

Pu Zhu saw him look at her and spoke one polite phrase, her tone perfectly ordinary.

He gave a nod and withdrew his gaze from her, turning at once to walk out.

Today, aside from the two of them, Madam Wu and Li Tanfang were also to accompany them to pay their respects. When a maidservant came to report that the Prince and Princess Consort had come out, Madam Wu brought Li Tanfang out as well, and they met outside the gates of the royal palace.

Pu Zhu greeted the two women and then pointed to her own carriage and invited Li Tanfang to ride with her, smiling: “His Highness rides a horse rather than a carriage — I am alone in mine. Cousin, if you do not mind, you are welcome to ride with me.”

Li Xuandu, still standing beside her, quickly glanced at her — his expression unreadable.

Li Tanfang declined graciously: “It would be my honor — but the road is not short, and should Elder Brother need a carriage at some point along the way, he may not be comfortable. Thank you, Princess Consort — I will ride with Aunt instead.”

Pu Zhu smiled. “That works too. I shall get in then.”

She did not wait for anyone to help her, turned on her own, stepped onto the mounting block set in place, and climbed into the carriage, bending to take her seat.

Li Tanfang and Madam Wu also got into their carriage. Li Xuandu mounted his horse and rode in front, leading the escort as they set out.

The winter sun was warm and brilliant. Within the town, the people came and went in steady streams, the atmosphere peaceful and harmonious everywhere, nothing different from any ordinary day.

After the carriages left the city, they came to the royal mausoleum located in the mountains to the north of the city.

They entered on foot. The group walked to the cenotaph of the Que Consort, which was set among the burial places within the mausoleum. Pu Zhu followed Li Xuandu and together they presented incense and paid their respects.

Madam Wu also led Li Tanfang in paying their respects. The two of them had simpler rites than the Prince and Princess Consort. They finished first and withdrew.

Madam Wu led Li Tanfang to wait in a resting pavilion nearby outside the cenotaph. She looked toward the two figures paying their respects side by side ahead of them, then glanced at her niece. She saw Li Tanfang staring into the distance as if absorbed in thought, her complexion a little pale — clearly she had not slept well the night before. Feeling a pang of tenderness for her, she said softly: “You help me with so much every day, managing affairs inside and outside the royal palace so carefully. You are already weary, and now with Grandfather’s old wound flaring up, I hear you even personally decoct his medicine and attend to him every day. This ought to be my duty as an aunt — yet once again you are the one doing it. Your aunt feels quite ashamed. You are not made of iron either — from now on let me handle this. Rest properly. Take care not to wear yourself out.”

Li Tanfang said: “Aunt, do not reproach yourself. Mother is gone, and all the affairs inside and outside the royal palace fall entirely on Aunt’s shoulders — the help I can provide is limited. Attending to Grandfather is even more my duty as his granddaughter. My only worry is Grandfather’s health — I can only hope the old man recovers soon. Such an outcome would be not only my blessing, but the blessing of all Que.”

The King of Que’s health was indeed declining day by day. If he were to pass, what that would mean for Que — even though Madam Wu was merely a woman of the household, she understood it well.

Her brows knit together. She looked again at the silhouettes of Prince Qin and the Princess Consort ahead, her misgivings growing. She thought for a moment, then leaned close to Li Tanfang’s ear: “Should your aunt seek out the Princess Consort for a talk?”

She was concerned for her niece. She had asked Li Siye about the situation earlier and learned that he had already raised the matter of the marriage with Li Xuandu, and that Li Xuandu had asked for a few days to think it over — saying that since it concerned his cousin’s entire life, it was no small matter, and he needed to consider it carefully. This had left Madam Wu feeling uneasy.

Over these past two days, she had been quietly observing Li Xuandu. And now tomorrow he would leave, and he still had not given an answer — which only deepened her misgivings.

Clearly, Li Xuandu was still hesitating.

In Madam Wu’s view, from his own perspective alone, he had no reason to hesitate.

Thinking it over from every angle, the difficulty likely lay with the Princess Consort herself.

The Li dynasty’s Emperor might be wary of Que, but normal commerce between the two countries had not been severed. Year round, merchants traveled continuously between Que’s capital and Chang’an, and they were the finest source of the latest news from the capital for the people of Que.

Madam Wu had long heard it said that Prince Qin Li Xuandu doted greatly on the Princess Consort — that he had openly carried her in his arms to see her into her carriage in front of everyone. Reportedly the news had spread throughout Chang’an, and everyone had gossiped about it over tea and meals.

Madam Wu had not dared share this piece of news she had heard with her niece, and had suppressed it all along. Now having laid eyes on the Princess Consort in person — finding her indeed beautiful — her worries grew more acute.

Madam Wu looked again at the figure ahead and continued in a whisper: “Your aunt is a little concerned, and wants to take the opportunity of today to sound out the Princess Consort’s thoughts. Do not worry — the day you and your father arrived in Que, he asked the Prince in private whether any precautions needed to be taken with the Princess Consort. The Prince said she was one of us. That what is said here can be said.”

Li Tanfang gazed toward the direction of the cenotaph, absorbed in thought for a moment, then said: “Thank you for your concern, Aunt. It would be better if Aunt did not get involved in this matter. Earlier I had arranged to take the Princess Consort on a tour. I will invite the Princess Consort now. Aunt may return to the city ahead — there is no need to wait for us. When we have finished our walk, I will return with the Princess Consort.”

Though Madam Wu outranked Li Tanfang in generation, in many matters she needed to consult her niece. Without Li Tanfang’s agreement, Madam Wu was helpless. She let out a sigh and agreed.

Pu Zhu followed Li Xuandu in paying her respects with reverence. Once done, seeing that he was still kneeling before the name tablet of his mother, unmoving for a long while, she did not wish to disturb him, and quietly withdrew first. Madam Wu came forward with a smile to welcome her into the nearby stone pavilion. Hearing that Li Tanfang wished to invite her on a tour, she agreed at once.

She waited in the pavilion for a short while, listening to Madam Wu describe the scenery of the surroundings. At last she saw Li Xuandu walk over.

Li Tanfang smiled. “Elder Brother, I had wanted to take the Princess Consort on a little tour a few days ago, but the Princess Consort was always occupied. The weather today is fine and the scenery nearby is lovely — so just now I invited the Princess Consort along. What does Elder Brother think?”

Li Xuandu seemed to startle slightly, and quickly looked toward Pu Zhu.

Pu Zhu said: “It would be my pleasure.”

Li Xuandu seemed somewhat reluctant — but in the end, he finally said: “All right. Just remember to come back early when you’re done.”

Whether this was addressed to Pu Zhu or to Li Tanfang, there was no way to tell. Perhaps it was addressed to both.

Pu Zhu did not respond.

Li Tanfang said: “Elder Brother need not worry. We will just stroll nearby and not venture far.”

Li Xuandu gave a nod. He called Ye Xiao over, gave him instructions, and then looked toward Pu Zhu.

She was chatting cheerfully with Li Tanfang beside her, their manner warm and easy. She did not look at him again.

He paused for a moment, then turned and walked away.

Madam Wu accompanied him and left first to return to the city. Making their way down the mountain toward where the carriages and horses were waiting, Madam Wu watched him as they walked. She saw him silent the whole way. When they were nearly at the foot of the mountain, unable to suppress it any longer, she brought up in a casual, conversational manner some amusing anecdotes from his childhood visits to Que.

Li Xuandu smiled. “I was young and ignorant then — only interested in getting into mischief. How you must have laughed at me, Aunt.”

Madam Wu waved this away. “How can the Fourth Prince speak so formally? When it comes to close and distant relations in this world — aside from one’s father’s family, who compares to one’s mother’s family? This is also the Prince’s home. So many years have passed and we finally managed to bring you back — we thought this time you might be able to stay a few more days. Unexpectedly you must leave again tomorrow. Your grandfather’s health is worse by the day, as you know. Once you leave, by the time we meet again, there is no telling when that will be…”

Madam Wu grew momentarily sad, pulled out her handkerchief, and dabbed at the corners of her eyes.

The mountain steps ahead were damaged. Li Xuandu reached out to steady Madam Wu: “Aunt, be careful.”

Madam Wu stopped walking. “Fourth Prince — since we are all family here, your aunt wishes to say something. If it is misspoken, please do not blame her.”

“Please speak, Aunt.”

“Tanfang has known the Fourth Prince since childhood — what manner of person she is, the Prince should know well. She has not had an easy time these years, waiting for the Prince. Do not let her down.”

Li Xuandu was silent for a moment. He helped Madam Wu over the damaged steps, then said: “The fault is mine — it is because of me that my cousin has let her youth slip away waiting. I do owe her an answer.”

Hearing him say he owed an answer, Madam Wu finally let some of her worry ease, and quickly added: “The Fourth Prince need not be too hard on himself — this was not your fault either.”

Li Xuandu gave a faint smile, helped Madam Wu into her carriage, then mounted his own horse and escorted them back to the city together. Midway along the road, a rider came galloping toward them from the opposite direction — one of Li Sida’s subordinate officers. Seeing Li Xuandu, the officer spurred his horse hard to close the distance and called out loudly: “Your Highness! Something has happened! The Di kingdom’s cavalry is launching a surprise attack!”

Li Xuandu’s expression immediately turned grave. He dismounted and asked for the details.

The officer reported: just moments ago, scouts had detected movement — a large force of Di kingdom cavalry was advancing from the north, appearing to be the troops of Dongdi’s Left General. Their numbers were great, estimated at no less than ten thousand. With cavalry speed, they could arrive within as little as one or two hours. Li Sida had already organized troops to march out of the city to engage them, and had sent this man to immediately notify Li Xuandu and urge him to return to the city at once.

Over the past several decades, with the Di kingdom and the Li dynasty at peace, though the Di people would still occasionally send cavalry to harass Que’s borders, these were mostly scattered raids — at most a few hundred riders, taking what they could if they had the upper hand and withdrawing if they did not.

This time, with cavalry numbering ten thousand, it was an attack of no small scale — nothing like the ordinary raids of before. It looked very much like there would be a real battle.

Madam Wu’s head emerged from the carriage, her voice full of alarm: “What is to be done? Those accursed Di people! No — I must go at once and call Tanfang and the others back to the city!”

Li Xuandu stopped her. “Aunt need not go back — I will go and collect the Princess Consort and my cousin.”

With him going personally, Madam Wu was reassured.

Li Xuandu immediately ordered someone to escort Madam Wu back to the city, then turned his horse around and galloped back the way they had come.

On the mountain, Li Tanfang led Pu Zhu on a tour of the area, telling her of the local customs and scenery of Que. As the sun gradually moved westward toward evening, the two of them finally circled back to the stone pavilion beside the Que Consort’s cenotaph.

Li Tanfang invited Pu Zhu into the pavilion to rest, then came again to the cenotaph of her aunt and knelt to bow once more.

Pu Zhu sat in the stone pavilion and watched Li Tanfang make her second offering. She saw Li Tanfang finish, rise and come out, and then dismiss all the attending maidservants and women along with Ye Xiao and the others. She came back to the stone pavilion, stood before Pu Zhu, and performed a formal bow with a respectful expression.

Pu Zhu rose to stop her. “Cousin, what does this mean? You are older than I am — were it not for my relationship to Prince Qin, I ought to be calling you elder sister. What is more, this is not our first meeting — why stand on such ceremony again? You must have walked a good deal. Come and sit down to rest your feet.”

Li Tanfang said: “The Princess Consort is above me — Tanfang would not dare. The reason I have kept the Princess Consort here is that there is one matter I wish to explain to the Princess Consort.”

Pu Zhu slowly sat back down. “What matter?”

Li Tanfang said: “The matter concerns Prince Qin.”

Pu Zhu said: “I am listening.”

Li Tanfang bowed her head slightly at first, and did not speak immediately. After a long moment, she finally raised her eyes and said to Pu Zhu, slowly: “This matter is difficult to broach by its very nature, and even more so ought not to be discussed in such detail between you and me. But these are extraordinary times, and I have no alternative but to act in an extraordinary way. If I offend in any way, I ask the Princess Consort to forgive me. In all honesty — my father spoke with Elder Brother these past two days regarding matters between Elder Brother and myself from the past. I expect the Princess Consort has also heard something of this. I will not elaborate further before the Princess Consort today. The Princess Consort is a person of remarkable intelligence — in front of the Princess Consort, I will not conceal things. I have remained unmarried all these years — it is indeed on account of Elder Brother…”

Pu Zhu looked at her with an expressionless face.

“I acknowledge it — I cherish feelings for Elder Brother, and my lifelong wish is to be at his side. But I ask the Princess Consort to understand clearly — this is by no means my reason for brazenly coming to say these things to the Princess Consort today. The reason my father brought this up with Elder Brother also stems from other considerations.”

She paused, and switched to calling Li Xuandu by his title Prince Qin, her expression growing serious: “His Highness Prince Qin’s current circumstances — I need say no more, for the Princess Consort surely understands better than I do. His Highness is a filial son of the late Emperor and a loyal subject of the Li dynasty — yet there are those who will not allow him to be either a filial son or a loyal subject. Our Que faces the same predicament. In those days our grandfather was fortunate enough to give some assistance to Empress Dowager Jiang Shi, was granted the Li surname, and had our aunt taken as a consort — for our Que, this was a tremendous honor, and there was never the slightest treasonous intent. To see things come to such a pass as today is a matter of helplessness — everything we do is only for self-preservation. To say that His Highness and our Que have become inseparable — one flourishing means all flourish, one falling means all fall — I trust the Princess Consort would agree.”

Pu Zhu still said nothing.

Li Tanfang continued: “Princess Consort, I will not deceive you — within our Que, there are divisions. Regarding what path to take in future, my uncle and my father hold opposing views. With Grandfather’s health declining by the day, my greatest fear is that if Grandfather passes, my uncle will refuse to submit to my father, and Que will fracture and weaken from within. That would be the most terrifying outcome of all. In that case, there would be no need for anyone else to strike — we would start fighting amongst ourselves first. But if His Highness were to forge a marital alliance with me, my uncle would certainly defer to His Highness.”

“His Highness, too, has no way back now. Marrying me would be beneficial not only for Que’s future — it would also benefit His Highness himself greatly. A marriage alliance would earn the trust of our Que’s noble families, letting them know he will certainly stand on Que’s side in future. Not only that — His Highness would also gain the full and wholehearted support of our Que people, from the highest to the lowest, willing to be at his disposal. If he ever wishes to plan and accomplish great things in future, it is not without hope!”

“This is what I wished to discuss in detail with the Princess Consort. What does the Princess Consort think?”

When she had finished, she exhaled a long breath and fixed her gaze on Pu Zhu.

Pu Zhu finally understood why, in her previous life, the Que people’s situation had been so chaotic at the outset of the westward migration when the Emperor struck.

It must have been just as Li Tanfang feared — Que had experienced internal problems at the time, and Li Xuandu had happened to be gravely wounded. It must have been afterward that Li Xuandu pulled the Que people back together, led the remaining survivors in a successful westward migration, and thus averted the catastrophe of the clan’s extinction.

Thinking of it this way, everything made sense.

Her reason also told her that everything Li Tanfang had said was correct.

Among men of this world — setting aside a father like her own — what man of any standing spent his whole life with only one principal wife?

And Li Xuandu cherished this cousin of his.

Setting aside the emotional dimension, looking solely at Li Xuandu’s trajectory in her previous life — he had used the strength of the Que people, after leaving with them, to eventually return and quell the chaos, becoming Emperor in the end. And of course, taking Li Tanfang as his consort followed naturally. That was the path he walked.

At present he had no desire for the throne. But once the winds of change rose, when one was swept into the whirlpool, pressed to that final step, one would go ahead and do what had to be done.

To speak honestly — in this moment, Pu Zhu felt a flicker of admiration for the Li Tanfang before her.

No wonder Jiang Shi had praised her as a woman of far-reaching vision.

If not for concern about the threat Li Tanfang’s future position might pose to her own — Pu Zhu almost felt this woman was a kindred spirit.

Allowing Li Xuandu to take this cousin of his — the threat was obvious.

Not only did the cousin possess vision, virtue, and the power of her family’s backing — most importantly, she also had Li Xuandu’s feelings for her.

Compared to her, Pu Zhu was at a disadvantage in every respect.

Pu Zhu quickly suppressed the sensation that had suddenly surged within her — like a giant hand squeezing all her internal organs together — and drew a quiet breath, steadying herself.

No matter how great the threat, those were matters of the future, and she could deal with them when the time came. The prerequisite for everything was that this man could become Emperor. If he could not even pass the current trial, what use was there in talking about future possibilities?

Besides — though she was indeed still too weak at present, with nothing but a little foreknowledge and two empty hands — if because of that she were afraid of Li Tanfang, she would no longer be herself. When she had been in He Xi back then, she could have married a man who loved her completely and lived out her days in peace and tranquility. Why had she not?

Pu Zhu held Li Tanfang’s gaze and finally spoke: “Everything you have said, I agree with. Coincidentally — one night I had a dream. I dreamed I had fallen into misfortune, and it was you who came to my rescue.”

Li Tanfang seemed to understand at once. She immediately knelt before her and bowed to the ground with full and reverent courtesy, saying: “My aunt is close by. I am willing to swear before my aunt’s spirit in heaven — the Princess Consort is Elder Brother’s wife of first rites. I will serve the Princess Consort as I serve Elder Brother. If I ever go back on this, may heaven bring calamity upon all the people of Que.”

A smile spread across Pu Zhu’s face. She rose from her seat and stepped forward to help her up, saying: “From this day forward you and I are our own people. You need not stand on such ceremony with me.”

…

Li Xuandu stood at the bend in the mountain path, not far from the stone pavilion, and listened to every last word of her exchange with Li Tanfang.

Ye Xiao waited for a moment, then drew closer. He saw him tilt his face slightly upward, eyes closed toward the sky. He stood on the mountain path as the heavy shadows of late afternoon sun gathered and fell over him — his silhouette like a stone statue, utterly still.

Ye Xiao grew somewhat anxious in his heart and could not help but speak up: “Your Highness, if we do not return to the city, I fear there may be danger.”

Li Xuandu’s eyes opened abruptly. He said quietly: “Take your men. Get the two of them back to the city immediately — no delay.”

He turned around, and with great strides descended the mountain path. His silhouette quickly disappeared into the gathering dusk at the end of the mountain trail, vanishing from sight.