What followed brought no further mishaps. The party left the sand domain behind them, and after rounding a great sand dune, the landscape before their eyes began to slowly change.

Above, the sky was blue with white clouds; in the distance, mountain ranges wound their way across the horizon. Streams gurgled and flowed, growing fuller as they went, with dense stands of moisture-loving trees lining both banks. Underfoot, the vegetation was no longer the monotonous sea buckthorn and saxaul scrub — amid the lush reeds, red willows, and towering Euphrates poplars, the startled shapes of wild donkeys and gazelles could be seen bounding past from time to time.

The sight lifted everyone’s spirits, and even the hardships of the road seemed easier to bear. The party pressed onward along the riverway without pause, and after a long journey of nearly two months, they arrived at last at Wulei.

Wulei lay two to three thousand li from Yumen Gate, with fertile soil, situated in the heart of the Western Regions. During the previous dynasty, the cultivated garrison lands of Quli had been established to its east, a river lay to the south, several vassal states that had once fully submitted to the Central Plains lay to the west, and to the north one could monitor the movements and intelligence of the Eastern Di and the many vassal states under their control. Its position was uniquely advantageous, and so it had been designated the seat of the Protectorate. During the present dynasty, in the years of Mingzong’s reign when Pu Zuo, the Left Associate Colonel-General, had traveled back and forth to the Western Regions, the court had also sent personnel to be stationed here as an advance post in preparation for formally establishing the Protectorate.

Though it was common knowledge that the matter had later come to nothing — with the successive departures of Pu Zuo, the Left Associate Colonel-General, and Emperor Mingzong, the court had lost interest in the Western Regions, and several years later this place had been attacked, the advance post destroyed, and that small military garrison stationed here wiped out to the last man — when they actually entered and saw the abandoned farmlands choked with wild grass and the remnants of the watchtower walls in wretched disrepair, the excitement that had gradually built up over finally being able to end the long march faded away. At last they found the site of the outpost.

The outpost sat on a height of land elevated above the surrounding terrain. The earthen fort was still standing, but the walls had collapsed, the whole place was a picture of desolation, and a dead silence lay all around — not a single human figure in sight.

It was clear the place had been abandoned for many years.

Not only Li Xuandu — when they saw this sight, even the convict soldiers who had been compelled to follow all the way here fell silent, and not a word was spoken.

Li Xuandu stood quietly outside the collapsed gate of the earthen fort for a moment, then turned and divided the men into two groups: one sent out to survey the surrounding situation, and one left behind to clean up the campsite.

Ye Xiao received the orders and set about his work.

The layout of this earthen fort was much like many relay stations and garrison posts along the frontier — a square enclosure with high surrounding walls, the front used for offices and the back for quarters, with a watchtower. Only it was considerably larger, with the addition of barracks for troop accommodation.

The soldiers left behind began clearing out the barracks on the right side of the fort that had originally housed the garrison troops. Luo Bao, A’Ju, and Nanny Wang and the others found the official quarters at the back, and immediately set about sweeping and cleaning the space, laying out sleeping mats so they would have somewhere to rest for the night.

Along the road here, they had passed through a number of small kingdoms, and the local commoner dwellings they had seen were mostly built from whatever materials were at hand — walls formed from branches and plastered over with mud, roofs thatched with reeds, the whole structure open to the four winds.

But the buildings left here were different. They appeared to have been built by the soldiers who had come here in those earlier years, using methods modeled on the construction of the Great Wall. The walls were made of sticky mud mixed with tough grass and red willow branches, tamped down repeatedly. The surface was pitted and uneven and not particularly attractive, but the walls were thick and solid enough. Apart from the front gate and the main hall used for official business — which had been deliberately damaged during the attack and had largely collapsed — the several rows of rooms in the back that had by luck survived, though also dilapidated with doors and windows gone and nothing but shells remaining, still had their basic structures intact. After a bit of cleaning up, they would be livable enough.

A’Ju, worried about Pu Zhu, cleared out a room and urged her to go rest first.

Food was a serious matter, and it was impossible to get all the rooms sorted out in a single day. Once they had seen to the lodgings for their own small group, A’Ju and Nanny Wang made their way to the kitchen at the very back and continued tidying it urgently, hoping to get a fire going as soon as possible to heat water and cook a meal.

Pu Zhu rested briefly in her room, washed her face, and was just about to go check on the kitchen when she heard a sharp cry coming from that direction — it sounded like Nanny Wang. She gave a start and immediately ran over with Luo Bao, to find Nanny Wang standing in the courtyard outside the kitchen holding a chopping knife, and A’Ju gripping a wood-splitting axe. The two of them were staring anxiously at the top of a cellar in the ground, which had a large stone placed over it. Seeing Pu Zhu appear, A’Ju pointed urgently at the cellar and gestured for her to quickly leave.

Nanny Wang also called out: “Princess Consort, do not approach! There are bandits hiding in the cellar!”

Luo Bao immediately began dragging Pu Zhu away and shouted ahead that there were bandits, and very shortly Li Xuandu came hurrying over with his men and demanded to know what had happened.

Nanny Wang, eyes wide, said that when she had lifted the cellar cover earlier, she had dimly made out what appeared to be a person hiding below, and afraid that whoever it was would crawl out and do them harm, she and A’Ju had immediately hauled over a stone and pressed it down over the top. Whoever it was should still be down there now.

Li Xuandu looked at the cellar and told Pu Zhu, A’Ju, and the others to move well back. Zhang Zhuo took two men over, heaved the stone aside, drew his waist knife, kicked open the cellar cover with one foot, and bellowed down at whoever was inside: “Who’s hiding down there, you petty thief! The Protector-General, His Highness Prince Qin, is here! Come out and face your death!”

The cellar had been dug deep in its day to store rations for several hundred men. Beyond the area near the opening, it was pitch black a little further down.

Zhang Zhuo shouted his piece and saw no movement from below. He peered down, then turned and reported: “Your Highness, must be a local pilferer who doesn’t understand the language! This subordinate will go light a fire and toss it down and smoke the wretch out — we’ll see if he comes out then!”

“I’ll go, I’ll go!”

Nanny Wang put down her chopping knife and turned to go into the kitchen.

“Wait—”

At that moment, a voice came from below the cellar — and it spoke in Chinese.

Zhang Zhuo was taken aback and stopped. He stared hard at the darkness below.

A ladder was put up, and someone climbed it from below, emerging to reveal a Han-featured middle-aged man of around forty, dressed in local garb. He was gaunt, with high cheekbones, wearing ragged, tattered clothing. His legs were wrapped in fishing nets woven from grass, and his shoes were so worn out that his toes were exposed.

His expression was wary and uneasy. He stood at the cellar opening without immediately coming forward, and his gaze moved slowly around the assembled people, finally coming to rest on Li Xuandu, where it stayed.

“Who exactly are you? His Highness the Protector-General, Prince Qin, is present — why don’t you kneel?!”

Zhang Zhuo barked again and moved to kick at the man’s knees. The big fellow finally came to himself, opened his eyes wide, and asked in a trembling voice that still seemed unable to fully believe what he was hearing: “Protector-General? The Western Regions Protector-General sent by our dynasty?”

Zhang Zhuo frowned: “That’s right!”

The big man, upon hearing this, seemed to be seized by a malarial fit. At first he stood still, motionless. Then gradually his legs began to tremble. A moment later he suddenly threw his head back and bellowed: “Heaven has eyes! The Protector-General has come! This day I have finally waited to see the Protector-General!” Before the words were out of his mouth, he pitched forward and knelt down before Li Xuandu with a great thud. He kowtowed at first, over and over, then slowly came to a halt, and finally, prostrated there on the ground, he let out a wrenching cry of grief.

Everyone watching found his behavior exceedingly strange. A man of seven feet, weeping and wailing like this — it shocked them all.

Zhang Zhuo’s face showed confusion. He slowly held back the foot he had been about to use to kick the man, and stood to one side watching.

Li Xuandu, looking at this man kneeling and weeping on the ground, seemed suddenly struck by understanding, and spoke: “You are one of the advance post soldiers dispatched here in the thirty-seventh year of the Xuanning era?”

The man wept as if he were a heartbroken child. Hearing this, he nodded vigorously and raised his head: “That is right! This subordinate was one of the garrison troops sent here by the court that year to establish the advance post. This subordinate’s name is Zhang Shishan, and I served as Right Lieutenant.” Without waiting for Li Xuandu to ask further, he launched into a recounting of what had happened.

In those days, over three hundred men had come here in total, to cultivate the land and build the fort. The agreement had been that the court would eventually send a Protector-General to formally establish the Protectorate — but year after year, it remained an empty promise. In the early years, envoys still came and went frequently, bringing them news from the capital. Then Emperor Ming passed away, and envoys came less and less often. They dared not abandon their post without orders, and could only go on cultivating the land while continuing to wait. But before any new directives came from the court, one day they were attacked.

On that day, the more than three hundred soldiers fought back with everything they had, not a single man retreating. But they were too few against too many, and all perished.

At the time, Zhang Shishan had been leading a small squad of thirty men outside on patrol, and by luck escaped the disaster, and so had survived.

“Ten years! This subordinate still remembers clearly — when Pu Zuo, the Left Associate Colonel-General, passed through here in those days, he said to this subordinate: be patient and wait; when the time is right, the court will formally establish the Protectorate. He did not deceive me! Today I have finally lived to see the Protector-General arrive!”

Zhang Shishan was so overcome with emotion that his whole body trembled uncontrollably once more.

Li Xuandu was visibly moved, and immediately asked: “And where are the rest of your men now?”

Zhang Shishan’s eyes reddened again. He kowtowed and choked out: “This subordinate was incompetent and failed to protect his brothers! Half a year ago something happened, and now including myself there are only three of us left here!”

He wiped away his tears and continued: “After this place was destroyed in those days, not several hundred li away was the Shangshu Kingdom, which had switched allegiance to the Eastern Di. Though that kingdom has fewer than seven or eight thousand people, it still commands a thousand or two soldiers — and it was they who had sent troops to act as the wolf’s accomplices and kill my comrades. With only thirty of us, we could not hold this place, so I led the others to hide in the dense forest nearby. At the time, the Shangshu Kingdom had also fallen into turmoil — the original king had been killed and the Eastern Di had installed his brother on the throne. The crown prince was very young, only six or seven years old, and came fleeing here with a few loyal attendants, seeking our help. I took him in and hid him with us, doing my best to protect him. That is how we lived, enduring year after year. It might have gone on as a kind of precarious survival — but half a year ago, the Shangshu king learned of the prince’s whereabouts and sent soldiers into the forest to encircle and destroy us. The three of us fled again with the prince. Some of our remaining brothers stayed behind to cover our retreat and died; the rest — more than ten of them — were captured and made slaves. Even if they’re still alive now, their lives must be worse than death…”

As he recounted all this, every face around him showed outrage.

Pu Zhu’s feelings also surged up and down several times. At first she lamented and deeply admired the fate these three hundred soldiers had endured over ten years. Then, as she listened to what came later, she gradually clenched her fist tighter and tighter, until she was furious beyond containment.

“This is outrageous! A tiny little speck of a place like that — how dare they bully and humiliate our valiant soldiers like this!” Zhang Zhuo exploded with rage and kicked the cellar cover flying.

“If you couldn’t fight back, why did you hide for so many years without trying to find a way back home? How could you just let people bully you like this?”

Addressing this Zhang Shishan — a fellow with the same surname — he spoke with something of the frustration of seeing iron refuse to become steel.

Zhang Shishan replied: “The journey home from here is long and distant. We were in hiding every day, never seeing the light of day, without enough to eat — where would we have found the resources to supply ourselves for the road? It did not matter if we died — but there was still the Shangshu prince to consider. Having been dispatched here by the court in those days, we also shouldered the responsibility of protecting the vassal states. Though our ranks were humble and our strength meager, once the prince had come to us, we dared not be lax for a single moment. We could only hope to keep him safe and wait for the court to send a Protector-General as it had promised in those years. Then I would hand the prince over, and I would have fulfilled my duty. Heaven has eyes, and in the end did not make me wait in vain — today I have finally lived to see Your Highness arrive!”

Zhang Zhuo, upon hearing him out, showed an expression of shame. He immediately gave him a deep bow of the hands, then closed his mouth, stepped back, and said no more.

Li Xuandu asked him why he had come here today.

Zhang Shishan said: “Today was by chance the anniversary of the day so many of my brothers perished here in those years. Though I have survived wretchedly, I have never dared to forget the brave souls who went before me. Every year on this day I come back to pay my respects and offer what tribute I can. Just now I spotted Your Highness’s party coming this way from afar, and not knowing who you were, I hid — I never imagined I would end up disturbing Your Highness. I deserve ten thousand deaths for this!”

Li Xuandu stepped forward and with his own hands helped him up from the ground, and said word by word: “What crime have you committed? It is the court that failed you first — it is the court that has let down your loyal and courageous hearts!”

Zhang Shishan was overwhelmed with emotion, immediately pulled himself free of Li Xuandu’s support, stepped back two paces, and kowtowed again respectfully: “From today, this subordinate has a Protector-General! This subordinate swears to serve to the death!”

Li Xuandu helped him up from the ground once more, then asked about the other two survivors and the Shangshu prince. Learning that they were still hiding in a dense forest, he ordered Zhang Zhuo to go and bring them.

Zhang Zhuo immediately received the order and left with his men.

The soldiers discussed what had just happened and slowly dispersed, each returning to their tasks. Li Xuandu’s expression gradually grew more grave. He stood alone in the courtyard for a moment longer, as if turning something over in his mind. Word came that Ye Xiao had returned, and he turned and strode away quickly.

After nightfall, Pu Zhu’s side of things was hastily put in some order, and they were finally able to produce a few dishes from the small camp kitchen that they had not been able to cook in months. Li Xuandu, however, did not return. He had Luo Bao bring her a message saying he had matters to attend to, that he had eaten something at the front already, that she should eat without waiting for him, and to go to sleep early.

Fresh arrivals with such an encounter on top of everything, Pu Zhu knew he must be occupied, and did not go to disturb him. She ate, then worked with A’Ju and Nanny Wang to tidy up the room a little more. Around the hour of Hai that evening, Luo Bao came to report: the remaining two advance post soldiers and the Shangshu prince had been successfully brought in. The prince was fourteen or fifteen years old, with a refined face. There was also a state minister who had protected him when he fled and who, after years of living with Zhang Shishan and the others, could now speak some Chinese. But apparently because he had been in hiding from a very young age, the prince was extremely thin and frail, and very timid — he had been terrified when he saw Li Xuandu, and only after the situation was explained to him at length did he seem to settle down. He had been arranged somewhere to rest.

The place was still very chaotic, but it was impossible to sort everything out in a single day.

Everyone was exhausted. Pu Zhu sent the people around her off to rest. She finished tidying up and lay down herself.

The room she was in was still very sparse — a mud floor, bare yellow mud walls, and even the windows had been pilfered by local people, with A’Ju having blocked them temporarily with cloth. The bed she lay on had been rigged up hastily and did not look particularly sturdy. But after nearly two months of sleeping in tents one after another, now with a sleeping mat that had been washed clean laid out, and a green gauze canopy hung up, she lay down and felt as though she had finally recovered the feeling of sleeping in a proper bed — a faint impression, almost like being home.

She could not fall asleep. While waiting for Li Xuandu, she looked the room over.

Fix up the doors and windows, and then whitewash the yellow mud walls — that would look cleaner.

Water meadows were plentiful nearby, and there was certainly plenty of reed grass. When there was a free moment, cut some reeds and weave a large mat big enough to cover the entire floor. That way not only would the mud floor be covered and kept clean, but in this season it would be cooler to walk on with bare feet…

Li Xuandu had just arrived — what was he busy with tonight?

As Pu Zhu’s thoughts wandered, they turned to Li Xuandu.

She guessed privately that he must be conferring with his subordinates about how to quickly regain control over the Shangshu Kingdom and rescue those more than ten advance post soldiers who had been taken captive.

If it had been up to her, she would have planned exactly the same.

The Shangshu Kingdom was far too close — only a day’s ride on horseback. If he intended to establish himself here, how could he allow a kingdom loyal to the Eastern Di to exist right at his flank? And as for rescuing those soldiers, that went without saying — it was both a matter of justice and the highest priority.

Her guess was correct. Li Xuandu returned late that night to the rear quarters, and seeing that she was still not asleep, he proactively told her that he had already arranged the plan of action — at the fifth watch he would personally lead men out to take the Shangshu Kingdom.

Though it was exactly what she had guessed, Pu Zhu had not expected the plan to be quite so immediate. She could not help being taken aback. She pushed herself up on her arm from the pillow, turned her head, and asked him: “So soon?”

Li Xuandu lay on his back, one arm pillowing his head, and looked up at her: “Yes. This place and that one are too close. We arrived here today, and within a day or two they will know of it. I intend to move quickly and give them no time to prepare.”

The Shangshu Kingdom was a small state, with fewer than ten thousand people and only a thousand or two soldiers. Even though Li Xuandu had only five hundred men under him, Pu Zhu had not the slightest doubt that he could take it.

What she worried about was what stood behind the Shangshu Kingdom — the Eastern Di’s Administrator-General of the Western Regions, who governed the Western Regions on the Di side.

Her father’s journal documented everything in meticulous detail, including a great deal about the Western Regions, and naturally that included their enemies.

Entrenched in the north of the Western Regions was the Kunling King. Below the Kunling King, the Administrator-General of the Western Regions exercised direct control over the vassal kingdoms, collecting their taxes and tributes. This Administrator-General held a position similar in scope to Li Xuandu’s own.

Li Xuandu had only just arrived and had not yet established himself. Striking at the Shangshu Kingdom so quickly — if the other side were to send troops…

She voiced her concern.

Li Xuandu said: “The Kunling King has a grudge against the newly enthroned Eastern Di Khan. This Administrator-General is the new Khan’s man, and he fears the Kunling King may move against him from behind — so he has pulled all his troops back to the north to guard against any move the Kunling King might make. Moreover, the distance between here and there is very great, and this is such a small kingdom. Even if it is lost, it hardly rises to the level of sending troops here to attack. At most he would direct some of the nearby vassal states to come and fight.”

He gave her a faint smile. “Don’t worry — I have my ways of handling this. I should be back within a few days. I’ll leave enough men to guard here, and before I return, don’t go anywhere, just stay here.” He gave her this additional instruction.

“All right, I understand.” Pu Zhu’s worries immediately dissolved.

“Then take care, and I’ll wait for your return. You have to set out at the fifth watch tomorrow morning — it’s already late. I won’t keep you up; go to sleep and build up your energy!” She added the thoughtful final word.

Li Xuandu’s gaze brushed across the faint glimpse of white that had inadvertently slipped from the neckline of her garment as she lay propped on her side, and paused for a moment. Then he turned his face away and murmured: “Right… you sleep too… I’ll go put out the light…”

He moved to get up, but Pu Zhu was quicker: “I’ll do it! Don’t get up!”

Her words matched her actions — she was remarkably agile. She beat him to it, scrambled down, slid her feet into her shoes, padded over and blew out the lamp, then padded back.

Li Xuandu slowly lay back down, face up in the bed. In the darkness, he watched the dim, hazy figure of her lifting the canopy and crawling back onto the bed. Something strange stirred in his heart — a faint, unnamed anticipation, hoping that some small accident might happen the way it had that one time before…

But nothing of the sort happened. She made her way back perfectly smoothly, lay down, settled beside him, and quietly fell asleep.

Li Xuandu felt a trace of restlessness in his heart. At last, slowly, he let out a long breath in the darkness and closed his eyes.

At the fifth watch he was gone. In the days of waiting that followed, Pu Zhu spent each day continuing to tidy the place and organize supplies. At dusk she would climb to the highest watchtower in the fort and stretch her neck to gaze into the distance — and at these times, the young soldiers on guard not far below would start to lose their focus, occasionally stealing a look upward at the graceful silhouette lit by the glow of the setting sun…

On the evening of the third day, Pu Zhu noticed a thin young boy of fourteen or fifteen standing in a corner below the watchtower, with a refined face, wearing tattered and ragged clothing, looking up at her without moving — it seemed he had been watching for some time. When he noticed her looking down at him, the boy appeared somewhat nervous and immediately turned and ran off quickly.

Pu Zhu guessed this must be the unfortunate former crown prince of the Shangshu Kingdom.

She looked in that direction one last time, still saw nothing stirring, and slowly came down from the watchtower to return to her quarters.

That evening with nothing else to do, she and A’Ju went through the silks she had deliberately brought along and selected the most splendid bolt as fabric. Working through the night, they made a fine garment fit for a young man. Early the next morning she sent Nanny Wang to deliver it to the prince, telling him it was a gift of robes from His Highness Prince Qin. Nanny Wang came back and quietly told Pu Zhu that the boy had stroked the fine fabric, taken off his rags, put the new garment on, and been absolutely delighted.

That evening, just as she could not hold back any longer and was about to climb back up to the watchtower to gaze into the distance, she suddenly heard a sound of rapid footsteps outside.

“Princess Consort! His Highness has returned! His Highness has returned in triumph!”

Accompanied by an excited voice, Luo Bao came flying in from outside at a run.

“His Highness has come back with the people of the Shangshu Kingdom — they are here to welcome the prince back to take the throne!”

Pu Zhu’s heart finally settled, and overjoyed, she hurried to the front. She reached the gate and stopped.

From a distance she saw Li Xuandu appear, surrounded by a crowd of people. Though dusty and wind-worn from the road, his eyes were bright and full of spirit. He was laughing and talking freely with a man who appeared to be a Shangshu noble, and walked in together, his figure disappearing into the front hall.

She stood behind the gate, tilted her head and listened to the clamor from the front for a moment, then quietly turned and went back.

The busiest person in the fort that night was undoubtedly Luo Bao, who trotted back and forth between the front and back without pause, constantly relaying the latest news he had picked up to the Princess Consort.

From his vivid and colorful account, Pu Zhu slowly assembled a complete picture in her mind of how Li Xuandu’s expedition had unfolded.

He had arrived at the Shangshu Kingdom and come to the city gate, where he announced his identity with his official seal and issued two commands.

First: the Shangshu king must immediately release all the advance post soldiers who had been captured.

Second: the Shangshu king must personally come out of the city, submit to punishment with a bundle of thorns on his back, and receive him as he entered the city.

The Shangshu king — who had ruled his petty state for years after betraying his elder brother and defecting to the Eastern Di — was entirely unprepared for this. He had never in his wildest dreams imagined that the Li dynasty would suddenly dispatch a Western Regions Protector-General, Prince Qin Li Xuandu. He did not know the measure of the other side, nor how many troops he had brought, and there were no Eastern Di people on hand to lean on. His heart in a flurry, he immediately satisfied the first condition and sent out the more than ten Li dynasty soldiers who had been captured half a year earlier and put to hard labor. But he also sent a message first explaining at some length his reasons for having been forced, against his will, to break with the Li dynasty and defect to the Eastern Di all those years ago, expressing his willingness to repent and submit to the Protector-General’s every command going forward, and saying he was willing to welcome him into the city today — but asked that he bring no more than a guard of ten men at most when he entered.

Li Xuandu agreed to this condition, saying he would bring only two men. But at the same time, he also proposed a new condition: for safety considerations, he required the king to first send a hostage son out.

The second round of negotiations also proceeded very smoothly. When he proposed this condition, it actually convinced the Shangshu king that as long as he agreed to submit now, the other side probably had no malicious intentions toward him. Once he lured him into the city and killed him, sending his head swiftly to the Administrator-General would be a great achievement.

As for a hostage son…

For a long time, to manage their relationships with the Li dynasty, the Eastern Di, and their more powerful and populous neighbors, many rulers of small Western Regions states had made a practice of having as many sons as possible, today sending one here and tomorrow sending one there, playing all sides — it had long since become customary.

He had plenty of sons. He currently had one in the hands of the Eastern Di. Sending another one out now was no problem. If he died, he could always produce more later.

The Shangshu king agreed to the conditions and completely set his mind at ease. After arranging hidden axe-men inside the palace hall, he personally led his son out of the city to receive the visitor.

At the very moment the city gate slowly opened and the king appeared at the gate, Ye Xiao and Zhang Zhuo at Prince Qin’s side simultaneously turned around — each cradling a thousand-jin iron crossbow — and without the slightest hesitation, unleashed a volley of bolts at the Shangshu king and his entourage standing at the city gate. Every bolt took a head.

It was said that the blood mist and shattered brains that erupted were like a dense net, and the wind even carried some of it onto the faces of the soldiers atop the city wall.

The Shangshu officials and the soldiers at the city gate had never witnessed a slaughter of such terrifying power. In an instant the king, the prince, and the state minister who had come out with the king were all killed, their bodies collapsed beneath the city gate. Everyone was scared out of their wits. Without the slightest resistance, they immediately surrendered the city.

According to Luo Bao, when the more than ten rescued soldiers saw the face of Prince Qin, amid their wild joy they all broke down and wept, and the scene moved everyone who witnessed it. And the person who had come here with Prince Qin today was a Shangshu noble, whose purpose was to escort the prince back to inherit the throne and lead the city-state into the Protectorate’s fold from then on.

It was also said that when the city’s people heard the news, every single one of them rejoiced. They came out to pay their respects to Prince Qin one after another. For when they had been under the Li dynasty’s domain, though they also had to provide grain and fodder for passing soldiers and would mutter curses about it behind closed doors, it was incomparably lighter than the extortionate levies and heavy taxes of these past years under the Western Regions Administrator-General’s office. People only understood Li dynasty’s generosity by comparison. And as for the current Shangshu king, they had long been gnashing their teeth in resentment. The moment they heard this news, how could they not burst into celebration?

Listening to it all, Pu Zhu felt her blood run hot. She longed deeply to have been there, resenting that she had not been on the scene to witness with her own eyes all those stirring moments.

Li Xuandu was at the front entertaining the guests, with the food she had prepared over these past few days alongside others. Knowing that they had just arrived and everything was still busy and chaotic, and the fort was short-handed, she told Luo Bao he need not stay with her and to go help out at the front.

Luo Bao agreed and went to the front.

Pu Zhu sat in her room, chin resting on her hand, gazing at the candlelight, turning over the things she had just heard.

Night deepened gradually. The sounds of noise from the front of the fort died down, and presumably the banquet had ended — but for some reason, Li Xuandu still had not come back.

Pu Zhu was just thinking of asking Nanny Wang to go check on the situation at the front when she suddenly saw Luo Bao come running back again. This time he brought bad news: the prince, upon being told he was to return and become king, had wept and wailed in terror, and taking advantage of a moment when the state minister and others had drunk themselves senseless, slipped away on his own. Prince Qin had sent people out to search for him through the night.

Luo Bao reported the news, and without waiting for her to respond, rushed back to the front.

That night, apart from the few Shangshu nobles who had drunk themselves into complete oblivion, almost no one in the entire fort slept. Just before dawn, Ye Xiao finally found the prince near the dense forest where Zhang Shishan and the others had once hidden and brought him back — but no matter how they tried to reason with him, he simply refused to eat or drink, huddled in his room, weeping without end.

Luo Bao said with a heavy sigh: “I can see that even His Highness is getting annoyed! What a strange prince — what on earth does he want? This is such a wonderful thing; other people couldn’t even wish for it. Why won’t he accept it?”

The image of that thin and frail young boy rose in Pu Zhu’s mind. She thought for a moment, then walked out and made her way to the room where the prince was lodged. She found Zhang Zhuo outside, fuming with rage, shouting that he would grab a blade and hold it to the boy’s neck and see if he still dared to shake his head. Just as he was shouting this, he suddenly caught sight of her, stopped short — apparently remembering his own unfortunate incident that people had mocked him about for days — and immediately shut his mouth, turned around, and slipped away.

Pu Zhu came to the doorway. She saw that the prince was still wearing the new garment she had sent him the other day, though by now it had been torn in several places. He sat hunched with his head bowed, shrunk into a corner. Li Xuandu’s expression was dark and overcast. The Shangshu state minister and a few nobles were fretfully surrounding the prince, reasoning and pleading with him — but no matter how much they coaxed and implored, he refused to speak a word and just kept crying.

Pu Zhu beckoned to Li Xuandu. When he came out, she said quietly: “Why not let me try?”

Li Xuandu turned and looked at the prince, hesitated, then nodded.

He had everyone else withdraw, and came out himself, pulling the door shut behind him.

Pu Zhu walked up to the prince, smiled, and asked him why he had run away.

“It doesn’t matter — whatever you’re thinking, just tell me. I won’t laugh at you.” Her voice was gentle.

The boy slowly raised his head, looked at her for a long moment, and finally said quietly: “I’m afraid…” and then began to cry again.

Pu Zhu hesitated a moment, then said: “Are you afraid that someday the Di people will come back and kill you, the way they killed your father, the king?”

Fear showed in the prince’s eyes. He shrank back, nodded through his tears.

Pu Zhu said: “Listen to me — His Highness Prince Qin has come now. He will not leave until you are completely safe! He will stay here and protect you and your city’s people. As long as you sincerely submit to the Li dynasty, he will never abandon you!”

She paused.

“He is the most courageous and most capable man in this world! What you need to do is very simple — just believe in him! As long as you believe in him, he will not fail you or your people!”

Her words landed with conviction, clear and firm.

Outside the door, a figure who had been quietly listening went still, not moving at all.

Inside, the prince stared at her, also motionless.

Pu Zhu looked at the garment he was wearing and smiled again: “Would you like to wear such fine and beautiful clothes all the time?”

The prince looked down at himself, and slowly nodded.

“Believe in him, go back and rule your kingdom well, and from now on you will be able to wear clothes even more beautiful than these every single day.”

The prince’s tears gradually subsided. He hesitated, then said haltingly: “I have an elder sister, a princess. They were originally going to send her to the Eastern Di’s Administrator-General. Could you have His Highness Prince Qin marry her instead? Only then would I feel at ease…”

A brief silence fell inside the room.

Outside, the figure of the man paused once more and actually held his breath almost imperceptibly. After a moment, he finally heard the woman’s voice inside say: “His Highness Prince Qin cannot do that — he already has a wife. If you’re truly worried, you can choose someone else. Anyone here besides His Highness Prince Qin will do!”

The figure outside slowly relaxed.

Inside the room, the prince thought for a moment, and finally said, with some reluctance: “Then the Guard Commander with the scar on his face will do, I suppose!”

Pu Zhu laughed: “Very well — your eye for people is truly excellent. He is also a great hero. If he marries your elder sister, he will protect you well from then on. I will go ask on your behalf right now, so rest easy and stop fretting.”

She soothed the prince a little more, and seeing his mood gradually settle, she rose and walked out.

Li Xuandu, hearing her footsteps coming out, quickly moved to walk away — but he was too late. He turned and saw the door had already opened and she was stepping out, and when she raised her head she saw him standing there.

He stopped in his tracks. Slowly he turned around, met the gaze she directed at him, and said with an expressionless face: “Just let Ye Xiao marry her. It’s time he had a woman and settled down.”