Xie Yuzhang’s letter made no mention of herself. Everything she wrote concerned matters of importance.

“Having heard of Your Majesty’s ascension to the throne, and knowing the age of chaos draws to its close, this concubine is filled with boundless joy.”

“This concubine, residing in Mobei, though—” Hu Jin used two nasal sounds to gloss over the half-sentence after “though,” then continued reading— “thinks night and day of her homeland. Upon hearing that war had broken out, fearing Mobei’s soldiers would drive their spears southward, this concubine employed stratagems against the Ashina brothers, and in the end caused the khanate to fracture into four…”

“However, to the north lies the Chulu Khan, still in his prime, and a formidable rival acknowledged by Ashina Silifù. After lying dormant for many years, this sleeping lion has risen in full force — even the khanate’s sixty thousand crack troops were no match for him.”

“If left unaddressed, he will without doubt become a great menace to the northern frontier in days to come.”

“This concubine has weighed the matter thoroughly: with the khanate now split into four, the brothers at each other’s throats, and Your Majesty newly seated upon the imperial throne with powerful armies at your command — the time has come to pacify Mobei.”

“This concubine was once a princess of the former Zhao dynasty, yet the purpose of the marriage alliance was the peace of the Central Plains — not the private interests of the Xie family.”

“Should the royal armies march north, this concubine is willing to serve as a vanguard.”

“This life — holds no regrets.”

In the outer hall of the Zichen Palace, Hu Jin finished reading, carefully refolded the letter, and laid it back upon the imperial desk.

The hall fell utterly silent.

Hu Jin withdrew to his place and swept his gaze around the room.

All present were persons of great importance. The various Chief Ministers of the Council of State were there, as were the five founding marquises. Beyond them stood Chen Liangzhi and various officials including those of the Bureau of Geography.

Chen Liangzhi held the position of Vice Minister of Revenue. The new dynasty was freshly established, and many of the six ministries still lacked their full ministers, so a vice minister served as the highest-ranking official of his department.

The assembled company fell into low murmurs of discussion.

Li Gu raised his eyes. “The Bureau of Geography.”

The director of the Bureau of Geography stepped forward, bowed, and said: “The positions, troop numbers, and deployments of the various factions described in the princess’s letter are consistent with the intelligence we have gathered ourselves — but far more detailed. The relations of closeness and enmity between the factions, which tribe holds a grudge against which, which tribes support one another — all of it is laid out with greater clarity than anything we have managed.”

This affirmed the accuracy of the intelligence Xie Yuzhang had provided.

Li Gu gave a measured nod. “Let everyone speak their views.”

Chen Liangzhi, who could not but understand his sovereign’s mind, lowered his head with a slight smile, then raised it again with composed gravity. “This minister believes that, as the princess states, this is precisely the most opportune moment to pacify Mobei.”

A northern campaign had not originally been the top priority. But now that the Mobei khanate had suddenly shattered into four factions, it had become the optimal choice.

Marching north now was indeed a golden opportunity — better, in truth, than pushing south.

Zhang Gong said: “Yet the people’s livelihoods are in dire straits at present. This is a time for rest and recuperation. As the saying goes, before the armies advance, the provisions must lead the way — and as for those provisions…”

Li Gu said: “There is no need for concern. We have already made preparations.” He then looked toward Chen Liangzhi.

When it came to formulating national policy, Chen Liangzhi was still young, and his seniority and experience fell far short of Zhang Gong’s. But when it came to merchant commerce and the mobilization of supplies and resources, no one in the entire hall could match Chen Liangzhi.

Chen Liangzhi proceeded to recite a clear, precise string of figures.

The five marquises of Hexi all showed expressions of delight. They were soldiers at heart, and their greatest fear was fighting at the front while provisions ran short at the rear. With Chen Liangzhi at hand, they felt genuinely at ease.

The old guard of Yunjing exchanged inward looks of alarm.

Though a new dynasty had been established, and though one understood in one’s mind that many things would be different, those who had long grown accustomed to their positions could not help carrying something of the former dynasty’s ways into the new one.

Extravagance was not acceptable now, no — but the habit of lingering in comfort and making no effort to advance was not something that could be shed in half a moment.

Who could have imagined the new emperor would act with such swift decisiveness? He had entered Yunjing barely a year ago, and yet, without any fanfare, he had quietly assembled all the necessary provisions.

The old guard raised no further objections. They dared not.

The matter of the northern campaign was at last decided as Li Gu had wished.

The only difficulty was that Li Gu wished to lead the campaign himself — yet he was blocked unanimously by every person present. Not a single individual supported him.

“At present, the north is held lightly and the south bears the greater weight. Your Majesty must hold the capital and guard against any movement in Jiangnan that might exploit a vacancy.” Yang Changyuan said.

A chorus of agreement followed.

The five marquises of Hexi all said: “If we were people from the south, and we heard that Your Majesty had left the capital on a northern expedition, we would certainly launch our own northern expedition.”

Chen Liangzhi said: “Although the various Chief Ministers hold Yunjing, the generals mostly followed Your Majesty from the north and are not yet familiar with the southern lands. At this moment, Jiangnan watches with hungry eyes. We beg Your Majesty to remain seated in Yunjing. Our great Mu dynasty has a wealth of capable commanders and generals — why should we fear having no one to lead the fight?”

The “north” he spoke of referred to Hexi, while “southern lands” referred to the area south of the river bank and south of Yunjing.

Yet the true meaning of his words was understood by everyone: the new dynasty had only just been established, and the factions of Hexi, the old guard of Yunjing, and the other several forces had only recently been bound together — they had not yet reached a level of complete trust where, in wartime, none would drag the others down.

If Li Gu were to personally lead a campaign and leave Yunjing at this juncture, and if people from Jiangnan were to attack, there would be no one capable of simultaneously holding down the multiple factions within Yunjing.

The time was not yet right. Li Gu had to remain in Yunjing.

Li Gu’s hand gripped the armrest of the zitan wood chair.

He had a strange feeling — as though some force in the unseen workings of fate conspired, whenever Xie Yuzhang’s affairs arose, to render him powerless.

From the moment he and she had first met, she had stood high above the clouds, beyond his reach. When she was sent away for the marriage alliance, he could not stop it. When at last there had been that one opportunity to bring her back — the Hexi internal uprising broke out.

Every single time, there had been a reason, an event, a force, or a choice he could not resist — and he could only let go.

Even having become emperor, he could not do as he wished.

When it came down to it, he still was not strong enough.

But these repeated misses, these instances of endurance and surrender, had also deepened, time and again, the resolve in Li Gu’s heart — his oath to pacify Mobei.

He did not know that Chen Liangzhi had long since seen through this — and had once lamented to Li Weifeng:

It has already become an obsession.

“Your Majesty.” The five marquises of Hexi stepped forward one by one. “We request the honor of going to war.”

The so-called five marquises were Li Da Lang, Li Wu Lang, Li Qi Lang, Li Ba Lang, and Jiang Jingye.

Li Gu’s gaze moved across the faces of the five men, one by one, in a slow sweep. At last, he spoke. “Jiang Jingye.”

Jiang Jingye stepped forward. “This subject is present.”

Li Gu rose to his feet. “Grand General of Might and Prestige, Jiang Jingye — you shall lead the northern campaign in Our stead. Go forth, and pacify Mobei.”

Jiang Jingye had already raised both hands in preparation for the formal salute and a resounding acknowledgment — when he heard Li Gu continue:

“And escort the former Zhao Princess Baohua — back to court.”

Jiang Jingye froze.

The entire assembly was stunned.

“‘Dispatch a concubine’s lone self to safeguard the realm — who can tell where a general might have been of use.’ [Note] We have been reading of late and came across these lines, and found them greatly moving.” Li Gu stood with his hands clasped behind his back. “The former Zhao dynasty was incompetent — the peace of a nation was entrusted not to a general, but to a fragile woman. Our great Mu dynasty shall never be so again.”

“Jiang Jingye — go and strike Ashina Wuwei, the various tribal kings, and the Tianshan Chulu with all your might. And escort Princess Baohua back to court.”

“Where is the imperial historian? Record this for Us: from this dynasty forward, from Our reign onward, no princess or lady of the imperial clan shall ever again be given in marriage alliance to a foreign land!”

“If there is trouble at the border — we meet them with arms!”

……

……

Li Weifeng had been feeling something was off the entire time. It was not until he had left the Zichen Palace that he figured out what it was.

“Old Chen, Old Chen — something’s not right here!” He pulled Chen Liangzhi aside, away from the others, and lowered his voice. “Wuwei is her husband!”

Chen Liangzhi tucked his hands into his sleeves and asked: “Is he? And so what?”

Li Weifeng was momentarily speechless. He tucked his own hands in as well and said: “Don’t you find it a bit strange?”

Chen Liangzhi smiled. “They used ‘escort back’ already, and ‘return to court’ — taste those words carefully.”

As they walked, Chen Liangzhi mused aloud: “He’s emperor now. What’s wrong with wanting a woman? At least let him have his way once.”

Li Weifeng clicked his tongue and said: “Fair enough. Shiyi is the type who’s always used to holding himself back. Never says a word about it.”

“And it doesn’t obstruct anything of importance,” Chen Liangzhi said. “He has his priorities straight.”

If it truly obstructed anything of importance, Chen Liangzhi would have been the first to step forward and remonstrate.

“Come to think of it, it’s rather interesting,” he added, almost to himself. “This princess and His Majesty seem to be of one mind. Just as he was dozing off, she delivered a pillow at just the right moment.”

“Exactly, I was surprised too,” Li Weifeng said. “Such a delicate little person — you don’t know— oh, you do know, that’s right, you’ve met her. You tell me, a woman so soft and gentle — and she managed to pull off something like this? Remarkable.”

Delicate?

Chen Liangzhi recalled the princess he had seen that day in the khan’s tent.

The princess had met his eyes directly and said: Tell him — I am in Mobei, and he is afar. We look toward each other from a distance, each keeping well, and that is enough.

“Delicate?” Chen Liangzhi said with a sigh. “I did not find her so. Listen to the words of her letter — every single phrase is rooted in a higher purpose and loyalty to the realm. A woman of this caliber could serve even as empress.”

He still had a sentence on the tip of his tongue — “How could you possibly think her delicate?” — but even before it left his mouth, he knew he had already misspoken.

Sure enough, the moment the word “empress” reached his ears, Li Weifeng’s face fell.

Back then, Li Gu had pressed hard for Li Weifeng to marry Zhang Fen — his reasoning being that she was a daughter of a prominent family, came with a generous dowry, and by any measure was a decent match that did Li Weifeng no injustice.

What Li Gu had not anticipated was that when Zhang Fen learned she had been matched by the emperor to Beirong Marquis Li Weifeng, she wept herself to unconsciousness, screamed about hanging herself, screamed about drowning herself. Though the Zhang family ultimately held her down and married her off in tearful reluctant submission, she never stopped nursing the conviction that she had once been destined to be empress.

Li Weifeng’s appearance was not lacking — his features were well-defined and his bearing was martial and imposing. Compared to Li Gu, certainly he fell short.

Had Li Gu only been a shade fairer, he would have fit the mainstream aesthetic preferences of Yunjing — a fine-looking man by any measure.

In status, Li Weifeng could not compare. In appearance, he could not compare. And in manner, he was jovial and informal, lacking the imperial authority and dignified bearing of the Son of Heaven.

Zhang Fen looked down on Li Weifeng in every way, and Li Weifeng in turn had harbored resentment toward her from the start — and with good reason. Everyone knew full well that among the twelve chosen ladies who were all driven from the palace, Zhang Fen had been the most likely instigator.

The two were pressed into marriage and made it through the wedding days; after that, contradictions quickly piled high, and mutual antipathy set in. They had become a thoroughly mismatched couple.

Li Weifeng, enraged, ran to the palace to berate the emperor. The emperor, knowing he was in the wrong, stood there and let himself be showered with spittle, then silently wiped his face and, true to his word, presented Li Weifeng with ten beauties.

When Zhang Fen found out, she immediately smashed a cup and declared she would have all ten beauties driven out and sold off.

Zhang Gong, upon learning of this, summoned Zhang Fen’s father and subjected him to a thorough scolding. Zhang Fen’s father then summoned Zhang Fen’s mother and subjected her to a thorough scolding.

Zhang Fen’s mother rushed to Beirong Marquis Mansion and subjected Zhang Fen to a thorough scolding.

“The emperor himself bestowed these gifts — do you dare sell them!” she said. “If Li Ziyi divorces you, there will be no place for you in the Chancellor’s Mansion either. Your grandfather has said: if there is any more trouble, he will send you to Baochong Nunnery to take your vows!”

Zhang Fen had been born into power, raised in power, and lived by power. The boldness behind all her scenes and tantrums rested on nothing but her grandfather’s authority.

Her grandfather’s word carried more weight than an imperial edict. She swallowed her resentment and made no more trouble.

All of this occurred before Li Weifeng had been married even two months. Shortly after, Zhang Fen fell suddenly unwell; the doctor took her pulse and offered his congratulations: “The Marchioness is with child.”

Li Weifeng was not so young anymore. He had spent his years at war and then roaming about freely, never placing any attendants in the household, so he had no concubines to bear him a child. Learning out of the blue that he was about to be a father, he was stunned at first — but after the shock wore off, he was genuinely pleased.

The two made a grudging attempt at harmony for a time.

Once Zhang Fen began suffering from morning sickness, the tantrums started again. She wept every day about being ill, claiming the beauties had jinxed her.

Using her pregnancy as a weapon, Zhang Fen acted out relentlessly. Li Weifeng, though furious, had no recourse, so he simply set up a separate residence elsewhere, moved all ten beauties in, and brought along his retinue of household guards.

Those guards were old soldiers missing arms and legs, and Zhang Fen had despised them from the moment she arrived — she had been clamoring all along for Li Weifeng to relocate them to the estate.

Li Weifeng had refused, and roundly scolded Zhang Fen for it, which left the two of them in a rather unpleasant state of affairs. The atmosphere throughout the household had grown gloomy, and even the head steward, Steward Wu, had once come to tender his resignation, volunteering to take the whole lot of them out to the estate.

Li Weifeng had roared: “This is still my household, and I am the one who has final say!”

Yet once everyone moved together into the new residence, the atmosphere suddenly transformed. The inner quarters were warm and fragrant with feminine softness; the outer quarters were orderly and disciplined. It was a picture of genuine harmony.

Li Weifeng had initially split his time between the two places, but gradually everything close to him found its way to the outside residence. Each day when he returned home from court, it was to that place. Only on his days off would he visit to check on Zhang Fen; once he confirmed she was well, he would return at ease.

Zhang Fen had no desire whatsoever to spend time with him.

Her attendants urged her to reconsider. Zhang Fen said: “What is there to fear? I am the granddaughter of the Chancellor, and I have never depended on him for my livelihood!”

Now that she was with child besides, if the child turned out to be a boy, she would not even need to see Li Weifeng’s face.

Li Weifeng’s absence suited her perfectly.

The entire Beirong Marquis Mansion was occupied by Zhang Fen alone.

Though Li Weifeng kept saying “I have ten beauties, I’m living splendidly,” the fact remained that the marquis mansion he had won with his own life was a place he could not even return to — he spent every day using an outside residence as his home. Any way you looked at it, it simply was not right.

This wretched affair had become the laughingstock of Yunjing.

Even the emperor spoke to Li Weifeng with considerable deference.

“Seventh Brother, it was my fault.”

“Seventh Brother, please don’t be angry.”

“Seventh Brother, let us drink.”

“Seventh Brother, let me give you an even larger residence.”

And as for this matter, traced back to its origins, Chen Liangzhi had been the emperor’s co-conspirator.

Chen Liangzhi, having misspoken, felt rather awkward, and hurried to change the subject. “That… I recently acquired a jar of excellent wine, still unopened, and I’ve been keeping it just for you. Come, come — let’s go to my residence for a couple of cups.”

Li Weifeng thought of how this scoundrel had teamed up with Shiyi back then to press him into marrying Zhang Fen, and felt a surge of irritation. “Not going! I’m going home — I have ten beauties waiting for me at home! Hmph!”

He left the palace, mounted his horse, and his personal guard reminded him: “My lord, tomorrow is a day off — today you’re supposed to go to the mansion.”

Li Weifeng stiffened at once.