Even for the people of Mobei, relocation was never an easy matter — especially in the wake of defeat.

The herdsmen at least had cattle and horses to ride. The slaves had only their own feet to carry them. Many slaves had no shoes at all, relying solely on the thick calluses built up on the soles of their feet.

Even after the three princes had broken away, many people still preferred to remain under the protection of the royal court, clinging to the belief that the lingering radiance of Ashina Silifou could still shelter them. And so the procession of the migration stretched on and on, impossibly long.

Lin Fei kept turning to look back.

Xie Yuzhang said, “There’s no need to worry about him.”

“Even if his title of State Preceptor no longer carries weight, he is still the Grand Shaman — a title on the steppe that stands above all Khans and tribes alike.” She continued, “He won’t starve. Every tribe will provide for him. Even if Chuluo were to encounter him, he would not harm him — he would offer him rich tributes.”

Xie Yuzhang knew many things, and her certainty was enough to put Lin Fei’s mind at ease.

But for Ashina Wuwei, the Grand Shaman Abazha’s refusal to follow him in the migration was yet another devastating blow.

For the Grand Shaman only served the mightiest of rulers. Even Chuluo, upon encountering Abazha, would shower him with lavish offerings, hoping to win his allegiance and thereby legitimize his own claim to power.

This was akin to the question of legitimacy surrounding a Central Plains emperor’s succession to the throne.

Conversely, Abazha’s refusal to stand by Wuwei’s side was a declaration by the Grand Shaman that he did not recognize Wuwei as a mighty ruler.

Dielitele rode his horse to survey the procession. When he spotted the jade-canopied treasure carriage, he spurred his horse over and called out loudly, “Princess Baohua, is everything all right?”

Xie Yuzhang lifted the window curtain and replied, “All is well. None of my people have been harmed. Please do not worry, Your Highness.”

Dielitele nodded.

He was already a tall and robust young man. The repeated defeats his tribe had suffered had worn away the innocence and arrogance that had once rested between his brows, and in their place had grown a measure of maturity.

As he continued his patrol along the procession, he couldn’t help but think: The Princess Baohua really does have a great many carts.

When they made camp that night, the slaves too murmured in envy and admiration: “How wonderful it would be if we were the Zhao Princess’s slaves.”

The Zhao Princess had so many carts that even many of her slaves were allowed to ride in them or on horseback. And even those who had to travel on foot still had shoes on their feet. They lived like human beings.

That night, Wuwei came to Xie Yuzhang’s tent. He had not come to seek her favor — he had come fleeing from Zadayali, seeking refuge here.

Xie Yuzhang soothed him with gentle tenderness, and his eyes grew moist with tears.

“Baohua, you are the best,” he said, burying his face in her bosom, his voice choked with sobs.

This man who should have been the most powerful on the steppe had lost every trace of his heroic bearing. He curled up in a woman’s embrace like a child.

Xie Yuzhang gently patted his back.

Yet bad news kept coming, one after another.

On top of the relentless, wolf-like pursuit of the royal court by Chuluo Khan, the new emperor of the Central Plains had actually sent his armies marching northward to wage war upon the steppe.

The atmosphere in the royal court grew more and more oppressive.

After suffering defeat at the hands of both Chuluo and Jiang Jingye separately, Wuwei had no choice but to lead everyone in yet another migration. Each time, the procession grew a little shorter than before.

Even Xie Yuzhang had lost some of her people — an utterly unavoidable consequence of war.

Hounded relentlessly by Jiang Jingye, dissenting voices began to rise within the royal court. Some proposed surrendering and submitting to Chuluo Khan.

When Xie Yuzhang learned of this, she wept in the dead of night.

Wuwei jolted awake and asked what was wrong.

“I am frightened,” Xie Yuzhang said. “Silifou once said that Chuluo was his greatest enemy. The blood debt between them is too deep to ever be bridged. We absolutely cannot allow Chuluo to turn the tide and emerge victorious — if he does, he will surely slaughter every man of the Ashina clan and extinguish this line of heroes.”

Had Father Khan truly said those words?

In the sound of Xie Yuzhang’s sobbing, Wuwei found himself lost in visions of his father — the towering figure, the heroic bearing — and fell into a daze.

Perhaps. Perhaps he had said it.

Xie Yuzhang leaned against his shoulder and wept, “And he will surely take me away and make me his woman. Wuwei, I cannot bear that. We women of the Central Plains must be faithful to one man for the rest of our lives. You are my only man. I do not want any other.”

Wuwei seemed to be able to picture the scene: Chuluo, suppressed for so many years beneath his father’s might, raising his blade against him — then hoisting Xie Yuzhang over his shoulder, treading through blood and fire, over the bodies of his kinsmen, to claim victory as she wept and screamed.

The proposal to surrender to Chuluo was ultimately rejected.

The steppe was in complete chaos at this time.

With the royal court’s dominance broken, Chuluo’s iron cavalry swept out of the Tianshan Mountains, waging war on all sides and relentlessly expanding his territory — targeting the royal court and the three princes who had broken away in particular.

The enmity between Wuwei and Tuqitang had also grown ever deeper and impossible to resolve; every time they encountered each other, blades clashed and blood was spilled.

Jiang Jingye was the most fearsome of all. He fought everyone. Anyone who was from the steppe, he fought. Whenever someone saw the banners of the Central Plains forces, they knew a brutal battle was coming. But the fractured Khanate, the chaotic steppe — no one could withstand the eight-thousand-strong elite imperial army of Da Mu.

Jiang Jingye in particular chased after Wuwei relentlessly. No matter where Wuwei migrated and hid, he always managed to track him down.

Everyone assumed this was because Wuwei still bore the title of Khan of Mobei. No one suspected that someone within the royal court might be feeding intelligence to Jiang Jingye.

The Zhao Princess? How could that be?

She was a princess of the Zhao Kingdom. Da Mu had destroyed Zhao — she bore a hatred of ruin and loss against Jiang Jingye. They should be enemies.

“Tell General Jiang,” Xie Yuzhang said to the secret envoy, “to please give me a little more time. I will do my utmost to persuade the royal court to submit and surrender to Da Mu.”

The envoy replied, “The General asks that Your Highness take good care of yourself above all else.”

Xie Yuzhang said, “Very well. Thank him for me.”

Jiang Jingye had consulted with Xie Yuzhang on whether he should be the one to openly demand that the royal court hand over the Zhao Princess.

This proposal was rejected by Xie Yuzhang.

Xie Yuzhang had her own plans and her own things she wished to accomplish. She had no intention of being treated like cargo or a war trophy, carted back to Yunjing as she had been in her previous life.

“In this life,” she said to Lin Fei, “I will walk back on my own terms, with my head held high. I will ride a horse through the city gates of Yunjing and enter the palace with my chin raised.”

Xie Yuzhang worked to persuade Wuwei to surrender to Jiang Jingye and submit to the Central Plains.

But for Wuwei, this was as unthinkable as surrendering to Chuluo or Tuqitang.

For Ashina Silifou had once told his sons: The Central Plains is our granary and storehouse. When we lack grain, we raid the Central Plains. When we lack warm clothing, we raid the Central Plains. When we lack women, we raid the Central Plains. The people of the Central Plains are fit only to be the slaves of us steppe people.

This time, he truly had said it.

But with Jiang Jingye and Xie Yuzhang working in concert — he chasing Wuwei down until Wuwei was like a frantic stray dog fleeing in panic, and Chuluo Khan biting at Wuwei’s heels like a starving wolf — it was looking more and more, just as Xie Yuzhang had predicted, as if Wuwei and the Ashina clan were being driven toward destruction. Wuwei’s resolve finally crumbled on all fronts. Weighing the lesser of two evils, he made the decision to go to Jiang Jingye and beg for mercy.

He came to Xie Yuzhang’s tent drunk to the point of stupor. She helped him lie down and gave him water to drink.

Wuwei never turned violent toward women. When drunk, the worst he did was cry; most of the time he simply fell asleep without incident. Xie Yuzhang was not afraid of him when he was drunk.

She waved the female slaves and handmaids away, not wanting them to witness Wuwei’s tearful, drunken state — preserving his dignity as Khan, though the handmaids in her tent had long since known the truth of it.

They all retreated to the outer tent. In the inner tent, only Lin Fei remained.

“Baohua, Baohua!” Wuwei wept, just as expected. “I cannot bear to part with you, I cannot bear it…”

At times like these, Xie Yuzhang was truly at a loss with him, and could only coax him along: “I am right here.” She helped him drink a few sips of water.

As she rose to pour more water, Wuwei wept, “I have no choice. Jiang Jingye is too ruthless. I can only send you away…”

Xie Yuzhang froze where she stood.

Her slender, fair hands set down the silver ewer. Those long, phoenix-shaped eyes slowly turned and fixed upon the weeping man on the bed.

Xie Yuzhang walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed, softly stroking Wuwei’s chest. “Send me to whom?”

Wuwei wept, “To Jiang Jingye… I don’t want to… I truly don’t want to…”

“He likes women, Baohua — he will certainly like you,” the man wept. “You are so beautiful. You will surely make his heart soften and he will spare us.”

Xie Yuzhang’s hand moved to his throat. She said softly, “Wuwei, do not do this. To send your own woman to another man is the greatest shame of all men. Wuwei, I will give you one more chance. Tell me — you would never do such a thing.”

But Wuwei only wept, “I have no choice, I have no choice… Forgive me…”

Xie Yuzhang was silent for a long while. Then, quietly, she said, “Very well, then.”

Her hand gently caressed the man’s throat, inducing nausea in his drunken body. The contents of his stomach lurched and heaved upward.

“Urgh…” Wuwei tried to roll over to vomit.

But he never managed to turn over.

Xie Yuzhang grabbed the pillow stuffed with cloud-flowers and pressed it down hard over his mouth and nose!

…

In those years I lived in the Xiaoyao Marquis’s estate, I recited sutras before the Buddha — but I did not empty my mind.

Quite the opposite. As I chanted each verse again and again, the scenes of my past life played out before my eyes one by one.

And so in those years, I had been thinking constantly — why had my life come to be this way?

Gradually, I came to see through it all.

Under the weight of those great tides of fate, every person’s choice in every matter had its own motive, its own hardship, its own helplessness and pain.

And so I… did not truly hate.

Just as I understood — you, weeping as you told me you would send me to Jiang Jingye, also had your own fear and your own powerlessness. And so for these years, I poured my efforts into changing the ending for us both.

Yet I am only a small, frail woman with limited strength. Even with two fewer ten-thousand-strong armies, Jiang Jingye still drove you to this point.

I do not hate you for grasping at straws in desperation, placing your hope of survival on the shoulders of a small woman like me.

What I hate is that I have tried so hard, yet things still had to repeat themselves.

This one thing — I will never accept!

In this life, I will of course return to Yunjing — that is my home.

But I will never return in such a wretched, humiliating way!

When I step through the gates of Yunjing, it will be the moment I shed the identity of the Zhao Princess. I will no longer be Princess Baohua. I will simply be myself — Xie Yuzhang.

The vomit filled his esophagus, his mouth, and his nasal cavity. Wuwei struggled with all his might!

Though he was drunk, he still possessed strength that no woman could match. Xie Yuzhang threw herself on top of him, nearly unable to keep him pinned down!

Wuwei’s hand grabbed hold of Xie Yuzhang’s hair, scattering her hairpins. His body thrashed violently as he fought to throw her off!

At that very moment, Lin Fei — worried that Xie Yuzhang would exhaust herself tending to Wuwei alone — lifted the curtain of the inner tent.

The scene before her made her pupils contract sharply!

But Lin Fei did not stop to think twice. In the instant she took in what was happening inside the inner tent, she rushed forward without hesitation, seized Wuwei’s wrists, and pressed down on him with every ounce of her strength!

Two women. Four hands.

Four hands that appeared delicate and slender, the skin soft and unblemished.

Together, those four hands finally smothered Xie Yuzhang’s husband — Ashina Wuwei, Khan of Mobei.

Xie Yuzhang and Lin Fei released their grip. Four eyes met in silence.