Once all the men had departed, Xie Yuzhang collapsed onto the couch: “I am utterly exhausted!”

Lin Fei suppressed a laugh and had the attendants bring curded milk for her: “Rinse your throat — you spoke so many words.”

Xie Yuzhang gulped it down, set the bowl aside, and lay sprawled on the couch, propped up on one elbow, all semblance of poise abandoned.

“For the next few years, we will simply make do like this,” she said. “Tell Wang Zhong to tighten the training. Wuwei has just inherited the Khan’s position — he will certainly need to fight several battles and subdue several tribes to demonstrate his authority. Let them all go off to fight and kill and make names for themselves.”

After three years of hard effort, the number of soldiers Xie Yuzhang currently considered passably qualified cavalry was just over two hundred. This assessment had been verified by old Ashina himself earlier that year.

Not everyone who undergoes training can become a soldier — some people are by nature only suited to be slaves, the old Khan had said.

Xie Yuzhang had to admit he was right.

Some had been thrust onto the battlefield. Though they had come back alive, they had been broken by fear — back in the capital region, they had done nothing more than garrison duty for a few months each year according to their scheduled rotation, spending the rest of their time farming. Peasants in military coats were still peasants.

The guard unit had undergone quite a few changes in personnel. Those who truly could not manage were assigned to farming duties full-time. But from among the artisans and farmers, young men and adolescents had been selected and recruited, and from among the slaves as well — those who were strong were given the status of freemen and enrolled in the guard.

While they could not be called elite troops by any measure, having several hundred such men was far better than the days when everyone had scattered and she had been able to do nothing but cling to a man’s protection.

Xie Yuzhang understood nothing of training soldiers. Everything depended on Wang Zhong slowly digesting and applying what Li Gu had once forcibly drilled into his head — and the guard unit had finally begun to take some shape.

Wang Zhong deserved no small credit for what had been achieved.

What Xie Yuzhang longed for above all was to build up her forces. She only resented how difficult it was, and understood all the more clearly that the men of this age who commanded great armies were truly exceptional.

“Later, tell Wang Zhong to start training the older boys as well — around ten years of age. In a few years they will be young men, and it will go quickly. Among the slaves, select carefully — still look first for anyone from the central plains, then choose young men. Use the adults for now as well, and as for what comes after… we will deal with that when the time comes.”

Lin Fei dismissed the attendants and sat at the edge of the couch, asking quietly: “Zhuzhu, are you truly ready for this?”

Xie Yuzhang lay propped on her elbow, speaking in a languid tone: “I prepared myself for Ashina. Now that it is the younger Wuwei instead, should not everyone feel this is an improvement?”

She had articulated the attitude of most people around her. The younger attendants probably all felt that Wuwei, being in the prime of his life, would make a far better husband than an old man.

But Lin Fei knew that was not how Xie Yuzhang truly felt about it. The way she looked at Wuwei was far more distant than the way she had looked at the old Khan.

She had only listened to Xie Yuzhang recount what had happened, and in her heart she already thought very little of Wuwei — to say nothing of the fact that Xie Yuzhang had personally lived through the humiliation of being handed away by the very husband she had trusted and relied upon.

“It does not matter, A-Fei,” Xie Yuzhang said lightly. “Whoever I am wed to, it is only a means to an end.”

Returning to Yunjing — that was the ending.

“In this life, if he dares do the same to me again…” But she left the second half of the sentence unspoken, swallowing it back. She looked at Lin Fei and changed course, asking instead: “A-Fei, is there anyone here who has caught your eye?”

She said: “We will be here for several more years yet. If you like someone, go and be with them — do not let your youth go to waste. Only — do not have children. In the end we will leave, and whether you take a child with you or leave one behind, both would be heartbreaking.”

Lin Fei said: “If Abazha were thirty years younger, I would be with him.”

Xie Yuzhang pressed her hand to her forehead: “Please do not!”

Pressing her palm to her forehead and waving her hand in protest, she accidentally knocked a blossom off the cloud-flower sitting at the edge of the couch.

Lin Fei cried out softly and leaned forward: “Did it scratch your hand?”

Xie Yuzhang said: “It’s nothing.”

She picked up the fallen cloud-blossom as she spoke. “What a pity,” she said. Since it had already been broken off, she pinched it between her fingers and pulled outward — drawing out long, soft fibers.

“How soft,” she said with a smile.

Lin Fei let out a curious sound.

“What is it?” Xie Yuzhang asked.

“These fibers are so long,” Lin Fei said. “I have actually long suspected this might be cotton — but the books describe cotton as a tall tree that produces seed pods larger than a palm, nothing so small as this.”

She continued: “Cotton fibers are very short — though they can be used to stuff pillows, quilts, and winter garments, they cannot be spun into thread. These fibers are so long. I wonder whether they could be spun.”

Xie Yuzhang said: “Let us try.”

As she said this, she casually placed the cloud-blossom into Lin Fei’s hand.

The attendants withdrew to their own tents, where they quietly began gossiping about the day’s events. Most found it reassuring that the princess would again be wed to the Khan.

Zi Jin alone was in low spirits. Her tentmate Xun’er asked her: “What is the matter with you?”

Zi Jin said: “Her Highness is the Empress’s legitimate daughter, a great princess of the realm — how can she be so petty-minded?”

Xun’er’s voice shot up several tones: “What?”

Zi Jin was startled and lowered her voice: “Keep it down!”

Xun’er stared at her wide-eyed: “What are you saying? When has Her Highness ever been petty-minded?”

Zi Jin muttered: “I was not talking about money.”

Xun’er asked: “Then what were you talking about?”

Zi Jin said glumly: “Her Highness finally has a young husband instead of that decrepit old man, and yet she will not allow us to serve him. Noble ladies are never so narrow-minded about these things. Never mind Mobei — even back in the palace, the ladies’ attendants were commonly shared among—”

Xun’er’s expression fell flat on the spot. She snapped: “What are you thinking?”

“Her Highness has always protected us,” Xun’er said. “She does not permit the Hu nobles to bully us. When we first arrived in Mobei, the old Khan had not yet come to cherish Her Highness the way he did later — none of us knew what kind of temper he had. We had only heard he killed without blinking. Yet Her Highness endured humiliation and played the coquette with that old man, all to force him to swear an oath not to touch us. Was there anyone more grateful to Her Highness for that than you, at the time?”

“When we had just left our homeland — how old was Her Highness then? Do you not remember? Even then, Her Highness was thinking of how to protect us!”

“What happened today and what happened back then are exactly the same thing. Her Highness’s care for us has not changed by so much as a fraction. Listen to yourself — is what you are saying still the words of a decent person?”

Zi Jin retorted: “I am not saying Her Highness is bad. But you and I can see plainly that we are both almost eighteen now. What becomes of us in the future? Have you ever thought about that?”

Xun’er said: “When the time comes, Her Highness will naturally make arrangements for us. Did she not do exactly that for the older ones?”

“Yes, yes, of course she did for the older ones,” Zi Jin said. “But where are the good men left now? The good ones have all been taken by the older ones! Who else is left for us to marry? Are we to marry Yuan Ling? He is already quite old, and his daughter is older than we are.”

There were only so many Zhao people here, and only so many places to fill.

When Xie Yuzhang’s attendants of marriageable age were released to marry, from Wan Xiu and Yue Xiang onward, one by one they had all been wed to men of standing among the Zhao people.

But while there were plenty of unmarried young men, only so many held positions of rank or distinction. As more were wed off, the ones that remained would more likely than not be common soldiers.

Xun’er was thoroughly exasperated: “The older ones were all inner-chamber attendants, which puts them above us outer-chamber ones to begin with — naturally they married better.”

Zi Jin was unconvinced: “What is wrong with being outer-chamber? Inner-chamber, outer-chamber — we are all respected people in Her Highness’s service! Are we not better off than the others?”

Having said her piece, she lay down without even undressing, pulled the covers over her head, and buried herself underneath.

Xun’er was seething, and silently stewed for a while before, out of regard for the years they had shared this tent together, she issued a warning: “Whatever you want to think in your own head is your business. But do not set your sights on the Khan. If you get that foolish notion into your head, just think about how Ma Jianye died. Is Her Highness the kind of soft woman who lets people walk over her?”

In those days, Ma Jianye had been put to death for his insolent presumption against his master. Everyone had assumed he died at Wang Zhong or Li Yong’s hands. It was only when they asked further that they were stunned to learn it had been Princess Baohua herself who had executed him.

By killing one person to establish her authority, Xie Yuzhang had secured a unique and unchallenged position among these Zhao people far from their homeland. From that point forward, even without the constraints of their home country, no one had dared to affront the dignity of this heaven-favored daughter of Zhao.

Zi Jin shivered under her covers and said in a muffled voice: “I have no such foolish notion whatsoever.”

Xie Yuzhang’s seventeenth birthday passed entirely in plain mourning dress.

Yuan Yu reminded her: “A memorial report on this matter must be submitted to the court.”

But what court was there now? That court and that emperor were currently in the depths of calamity.

Xie Yuzhang fabricated an answer: “The Khan and I wrote a joint state letter — it has already been dispatched.”

Yuan Yu, though puzzled as to why Xie Yuzhang had not said a word to him beforehand, said nothing more, since it was already done. In truth, he did not hold a high opinion of the court that had sent its own legitimate princess to be a peace-alliance bride to the grasslands. Otherwise, why would he have made up his mind to leave the central plains and come beyond the frontier?

He asked no further questions.

In the blink of an eye, the ninth month arrived. Abazha selected an auspicious day for Ashina’s burial.

On the day of the funeral, the ceremonies were performed once more in their entirety. The princes each cut their own faces until blood ran freely, and they wept aloud.

This time there was no need for fire. The old Khan’s ashes were buried in the pit, and heavy stone slabs were laid over them, then covered with a thick mound of earth.

Upon the earth, enormous carved stone markers were erected one by one. These were the Mobei people’s grave markers — their “slaying stones.” The number of markers corresponded to the number of people the deceased had killed in life.

But a single generation’s ruler of the grasslands, Ashina Ashifu, had killed beyond counting — and his grave thus occupied an enormous expanse of ground, becoming a veritable field of stones.

Even so, this could not fully represent the true number he had killed in life. It was rather like the “three thousand fathoms” or “ninety thousand miles” in poetry — an exaggerated figure, simply meaning “a great many.”

Each stone marker was carved into a human form, the proportions wildly distorted, the lines rough and exaggerated. Looked upon all at once, the sight was decidedly eerie and unsettling.

And yet the Mobei people, dressed in their finest, went about the place cheerfully seeking potential partners.

This custom of courtship at the graveside left the Zhao people utterly expressionless.

The new Ashina Khan, Wuwei, his face covered in blood, was nevertheless in excellent spirits, and publicly announced that he would take the Zhao Princess as his Khanate consort.

The Hu people were greatly pleased: “Now the Zhao princess will remain on our grasslands for good.”

The story passed from mouth to mouth: a hundred years ago, it was said, a central plains princess who had been sent here in marriage lost her husband and would rather slash her own face and ruin her beauty than follow the Hu custom of remaining on the grasslands.

Returning to Yunjing — this was what these Zhao people, so far from their homeland, longed for in their dreams.

Prince Tuqi was deeply displeased.

He was several years older than Wuwei, and his own power was by no means weak. His disadvantage lay in his mother’s clan being far less influential. Wuwei had the backing of the Ashide clan, and so the Khan’s position had fallen to him.

His father Khan had told him clearly that among all his sons, it was Prince Tuqi who was truly the most valiant. Yet even his father Khan, who had made the grasslands tremble with his might, had been forced to yield to the Ashide clan, bound to them through generations of intermarriage.

Seeing Wuwei become the center of everyone’s attention, Prince Tuqi’s mood was poor, and his gaze drifted idly about. When it swept over Princess Xie Yuzhang of Zhao, he found — unexpectedly — that Xie Yuzhang was gazing at him through the crowd.

Prince Tuqi was taken aback.

But when he met her eyes, the Zhao princess calmly looked away. Had he been imagining it just now?

Xie Yuzhang had always been proud, maintaining a cool and distant manner even with himself, Wuwei, or Zhan Shilu — the few great princes who held real power. Prince Tuqi was doubting his own perception when his son Nishu leaned close to his ear and said: “Father, Princess Baohua was just watching you.”

Prince Tuqi said, somewhat uncomfortably: “Why would she be looking at me?”

Nishu said: “How would I know? I just noticed her watching you.”

When the funeral — both sorrowful and celebratory — came to an end and they returned to their own tent, Nishu could not resist complaining: “Everything good goes to Uncle Wuwei. He already has so much — why couldn’t he just share the Zhao princess with Father? Really.”

Prince Tuqi rebuked him: “What nonsense are you talking? The Zhao princess came for the peace alliance — of course she can only be wed to whoever is Khan.”

As he said it, he suddenly paused.

When Xie Yuzhang had been asked to choose, what had she said?

“If I am to maintain the ties between our two nations, how could I possibly wed anyone other than the Khan?”

If she had wanted to marry Wuwei, she could simply have said so outright. Why word it that way? It was clear — she had no wish to marry Wuwei, but bearing her duty, she had no choice.

But if she did not wish to marry Wuwei — who might she be willing to marry?

Nishu was still complaining endlessly, feeling that the division of their grandfather’s inheritance had been unjust to their branch of the family.

Prince Tuqi’s patience ran out. He delivered a kick square to the seat of Nishu’s pants: “Get out, get out, get out — do you think I don’t know what you are actually thinking?”

The wretched boy was simply hoping that the Zhao princess would fall to his father first, so that once his father was dead and gone someday, he could inherit her himself.

“Stay away from Gulin — she is your mother consort now!” Prince Tuqi bellowed. “If I see you making eyes at her again, I will cut you down!”

Nishu slunk away sheepishly.

Prince Tuqi’s heart stirred with restless longing, and he found it rather difficult to contain himself.

He tried several times to approach and tease Xie Yuzhang, but she remained as cold and aloof to him as she had always been to everyone else — which left Prince Tuqi deeply disappointed.

Disappointed, but not without hope. In Prince Tuqi’s heart, Princess Xie Yuzhang of Zhao was precisely as she should be — an ice mountain lotus, untouchable and remote.

He only resented that she had been claimed by that unweaned child Wuwei.

What did he deserve? How did he manage to get everything?