Xie Yuzhang had not sought to rally anyone to her side, yet Wuwei and Prince Tuqi arrived together.

At that moment, Xie Yuzhang was in the midst of admiring the cloud-blossom flower that Ashina had given her — the one sitting in the pot beside her couch.

The flower had come from a Western Region merchant the previous year. Ashina had acquired it and said it would bloom with flowers like white clouds.

Yet the plant had not produced any cloud-like blooms that year, and Ashina had angrily declared that when he next encountered that merchant, he would have him cut down.

Xie Yuzhang had said, perhaps the fault lay with her method of tending the flower.

The original escort list for the marriage alliance had included several gardeners, but she had crossed out all but one. The gardener had come to examine the plant and said he had never seen this variety before. Seeing that Xie Yuzhang had been keeping it in a jade pot inside the great tent, he wondered whether it might be suffering from insufficient sunlight.

Xie Yuzhang then handed the flower over to the gardener to tend. The gardener cared for it diligently, and this year it had indeed bloomed — though not as the merchant had originally described, with white cloud-like blossoms. Before his most recent departure, Ashina had still been grumbling about it: he hadn’t encountered that merchant this time around either, and supposed the man didn’t dare show his face before him — for if he did, he would certainly have him cut down.

Though it had not bloomed into clouds, Xie Yuzhang had placed the flower in a corner of the great tent for her enjoyment.

When Ashina died unexpectedly, the royal tent fell into chaos. The flower sat unnoticed in its corner, and when attention was paid to it again, the attendants exclaimed in surprise: “Look — it has actually bloomed into clouds!”

After the earlier blossoms had fallen, clumps of white, cloud-like tufts had formed in their place — truly beautiful to behold.

What a pity that Ashina had not lived to see it with his own eyes.

Xie Yuzhang was thinking this very thought when Wuwei and Prince Tuqi arrived.

“Baohua, what is happening? Why is everyone saying you intend to return to Zhao?” they asked.

Now that the old Khan was dead, they addressed her openly as “Baohua.”

“Khan. Prince Tuqi.” Xie Yuzhang said. “Your timing is fortunate. I had thought to wait until your coronation celebrations were over before speaking with you, as you seemed occupied these past two days. The matter is this — I am returning to Zhao.”

The two men looked at each other, then spoke in unison: “That cannot be permitted!”

Xie Yuzhang stated her case with perfect composure: “I came here to be wed to Ashina. He is now gone. Naturally, I must return home.”

When faced with someone weak, people naturally grow forceful. When faced with someone forceful, unless one is more forceful than they are, most people instinctively soften their manner.

Princess Xie Yuzhang of Zhao had a strong temperament. From the moment she arrived in Mobei, she had executed her own guard commander, and then compelled the old Khan to expel his nineteenth son, Xia’erdan. She wore the old Khan’s golden blade at her side every day, reminding all that she was not a woman to be trifled with.

When Gulin had tried to take advantage of the moment to humiliate her, she had nearly been cut down by the golden blade for it.

Facing her, the two most powerful men in the Mobei Khanate both softened their tone, speaking with exceptional patience.

Wuwei said: “Baohua, you came as a peace-alliance bride. Although Father Khan has passed away, your mission must still be continued.”

Prince Tuqi said: “Baohua, you are familiar with our customs here. You see — my own mother was first wed to my grandfather, and then to my father Khan. According to the customs of our people, you too should choose a new husband from among us.”

One spoke of “continuation,” the other of “choice.” Both wore gentle expressions and spoke in tender tones. There was a subtle difference in their meaning — yet both pairs of eyes burned with the same scorching intensity.

Xie Yuzhang flew into a fury: “My husband has only just died, and already you would have me wed again? I will not. When a husband dies, a wife observes full mourning of the highest degree for three years. I will observe mourning for him for three years!”

Both Wuwei and Prince Tuqi knew some of the central plains language and were acquainted with central plains customs and culture. Both said at once: “That is quite impossible!”

Xie Yuzhang’s eyes brimmed with tears: “You will not allow me to observe mourning, and you wish to force me to remarry! Are you trying to drive me to my death?”

“Everyone takes advantage of me!” She pulled the golden blade from her waist with a ringing sound and held it across her throat. “Then I would rather follow Ashina into death!”

Wuwei and Prince Tuqi were greatly alarmed. One seized her arm while the other snatched away the golden blade: “Baohua! Do not do anything reckless!”

When the Great National Preceptor Abazha was hastily summoned and arrived, what he saw was Princess Xie Yuzhang of Zhao sitting in the seat of honor with tears on her cheeks, while the two most powerful men in the Khanate stood on either side of her, speaking in soft, soothing tones.

Abazha’s steps faltered slightly. Inwardly, he permitted himself a small, amused smile.

“Uncle! Uncle! You’ve come at just the right moment — please, reason with Baohua for us!” Prince Tuqi looked up and saw him, and called out urgently.

Abazha approached. “What has happened here?”

Once the matter was explained, Xie Yuzhang dried her tears and said: “National Preceptor, you were the one who brought me from Yunjing to this Khanate. You must give me a clear answer on the matter of whether I stay or go.”

Both Wuwei and Prince Tuqi agreed at once: “Quite right — let us settle Baohua’s affairs today!”

Xie Yuzhang said: “When a husband dies, his wife observes the highest mourning for three years.”

Abazha, widely read and knowledgeable, replied: “Even the emperors of the central plains have never truly observed mourning for three full years — they have always substituted months for years.”

Xie Yuzhang said: “Then at least three months.”

Abazha said: “Observe mourning until Ashina is interred.”

Both Wuwei and Prince Tuqi agreed at once: “Precisely — that is just right.”

The Mobei people’s views on life and death, as well as their burial customs, differed greatly from those of the central plains. They had a tradition that could be described as courtship at the graveside.

When a person died, they were first cremated and not immediately buried. “Those who die in spring or summer await the yellowing of grasses and trees in autumn; those who die in autumn or winter await the flourishing of flowers and leaves in the following summer — only then is the burial conducted.” That is: those who died in spring or summer were buried in autumn, while those who died in autumn or winter were not interred until the following summer.

On the day of burial, the ceremony of riding in circles on horseback and cutting one’s face with a blade was performed once more — “as at the time of first death.”

But even this was not the end. The men and women attending the funeral were required by custom to dress in their finest and look one another over. From what the Zhao people had observed over the past several years, it amounted to turning a funeral into a matchmaking gathering.

If a man had taken a liking to a woman at the funeral, the next day he would bring a few sheep to her family and propose marriage — and more often than not, it was accepted.

Abazha said: “Your father sent you to us in marriage in order to preserve the friendship between our two nations. If you simply leave, would you not be seeking to sever that friendship and ignite the flames of war?”

Both Wuwei and Prince Tuqi inwardly praised this uncle of theirs greatly — he was indeed a man of learning and substance. With a single appeal to the greater cause, he had pressed Princess Baohua into a corner.

Sure enough, Xie Yuzhang revealed an expression of hesitation and difficulty, lowering her head and saying nothing.

Abazha continued: “Baohua, having been wed to the Mobei people, you must abide by Mobei’s customs. Choose a new husband. My nephews are yours to select from.”

When Abazha said this, Wuwei revealed a displeased expression, while Prince Tuqi’s eyes burned with intensity.

Yet Xie Yuzhang, after a long silence with her head bowed, said: “If I am to maintain the ties between our two nations, how could I possibly wed anyone other than the Khan?”

Wuwei was overjoyed.

Prince Tuqi’s expression darkened.

Mobei men were direct — joy was joy, anger was anger; if words failed, one drew one’s blade and settled it — they were not practiced in concealing their feelings.

Abazha nodded and said: “Then you shall marry Wuwei.”

Xie Yuzhang raised her head and addressed Abazha directly: “If you wish me to marry, I must first have my conditions agreed to.”

Though the matter concerned Wuwei, she spoke to Abazha. How could Abazha fail to understand her meaning? He immediately replied: “State your conditions. As long as they do not contradict the will of the Eternal Heaven, I will have Wuwei swear before the ancestral spirits.”

Wuwei smiled and said: “Baohua, speak.”

Xie Yuzhang said: “First — I wish to observe mourning for Ashina until the day of his burial.”

Abazha and Wuwei both said at once: “Agreed.”

Xie Yuzhang said: “Second — I represent Zhao. I cannot simply and quietly become the Khan’s wife without ceremony. I want a grand wedding.”

Wuwei had only recently inherited the Khan’s position. Though he had just held a coronation celebration, he also greatly needed other means to display his status and authority as the new Khan. He raised no objection whatsoever, and declared loudly: “I will give you an even grander wedding.”

In truth, Ashina at the time had received Xie Yuzhang during a cold snap and held the wedding immediately — it had been quite rushed, and Ashina could hardly have known then how deeply he would come to cherish her later, so the preparations had been quite simple.

Wuwei was confident he could organize a far finer wedding for Xie Yuzhang — one that would delight her.

Then Xie Yuzhang’s voice suddenly lost its earlier force. It softened considerably as she said: “Third… I… I will not bear children.”

At these words, everyone was struck speechless — Wuwei most of all.

Xie Yuzhang said weakly: “I… childbirth is painful, and I… you already have a son as grown as Dielitele, and many other children besides. I simply do not wish to give birth!”

Her voice had been weak at first, but by the end she seemed to have found her conviction again — like a child who had discovered a justification for something she had done wrong.

The men were all reminded that she and the old Khan had never consummated their union, that she was still a maiden with no experience of such matters. The timidity, the uncertainty, and the touch of childishness that broke through after her forcefulness were truly endearing.

Yet when a man desires a woman, the instinct to father children with her arises naturally. And the people of the grasslands had absolutely no concept of preventing birth — they produced children as prolifically as they could and still felt their numbers were not enough.

Wuwei hesitated briefly, then said: “But in a marriage, children are expected.”

Xie Yuzhang brightened at once: “That is not necessary! Among us in the central plains, a proper wife uses a pregnancy-prevention brew to regulate which women in her husband’s household conceive and which do not. I need only drink that.”

The concept of a pregnancy-prevention brew was utterly incomprehensible to the grassland people, who prized population above all else.

But since such a method existed, Prince Tuqi impatiently urged Wuwei on: “Wuwei, what is there to hesitate about? Look at how thin Baohua is — would giving birth not cost her her life? It was for this very reason that Father Khan never shared her tent!”

Wuwei was not truly in need of more children — the female slaves in Zhadayali’s tent alone had given him quite a few. He hesitated only briefly before saying: “Very well — if she will not give birth, she will not.”

Xie Yuzhang, like a child heartened by an adult’s approval, brightened once more and put forward her fourth condition: “Fourth — I am by nature possessive. Whatever the Khan does elsewhere is none of my concern. But within my tent, none of my attendants are to serve you. You are not to touch them.”

She spoke with the manner she had always carried — the manner in which Ashina’s indulgence had shaped her, making her proud and exacting in precisely this way.

Abazha, however, cast a glance toward a corner of the great tent.

Lin Fei had been sitting quietly in the corner the entire time, head bowed, shoulders hunched, trying to make herself invisible. At this moment, she too lifted her eyes — and met Abazha’s gaze directly.

Lin Fei offered a faint smile, then lowered her head once more.

Abazha withdrew his gaze and, without waiting for Wuwei to speak, answered on his behalf: “This is a small matter. Wuwei agrees.”

Wuwei thought to himself: When exactly did I agree? Uncle, you do agree on my behalf rather quickly.

Xie Yuzhang’s attendants were all quite beautiful — it was a slight pity. But in Xie Yuzhang’s presence, it was indeed a small matter. Besides, he had heard that even his father Khan had agreed to this very condition. He, Wuwei, had inherited his father Khan’s position, and naturally also inherited his father Khan’s breadth of spirit. He said: “Very well. I promise — I will not touch your attendants.”

“Good,” Xie Yuzhang said. “Then swear it before the ancestral spirits. The National Preceptor and Prince Tuqi will serve as witnesses.”

“Once you have sworn your oath, I will become your wife.”