Hebei produces fine horses, with those from Chengde being the finest of all. Blessed with favorable timing, geography, and human conditions, Chengde cavalry, mounted on these excellent steeds, were unstoppable in battle charges and famous throughout the realm. Piling human heads into victory monuments was their way of flaunting their military achievements.
After bidding farewell to Daoist Qingyang, Bao Zhu’s group turned eastward, preparing to head for Zhengding, the administrative seat of Hengzhou. Along the way, they passed through northern pastures where the Chengde army raised war horses. On the vast, boundless plains, thousands of fine breed horses galloped freely in a spectacular scene, tended by hired Khitan herdsmen who kept them well-fed and robust.
Bao Zhu had been obsessed with fine horses since childhood. Seeing the scale of these herds with her own eyes, she couldn’t help but sigh with admiration and envy, deliberately stopping to observe for quite some time.
Though Hebei horses weren’t as tall and handsome as Dayuan breeds—like heavenly horses descending to earth—they had the advantages of strong physiques and outstanding endurance. Seeing this, Bao Zhu immediately felt the urge to acquire several fine breeds. However, after drifting all this way, their travel funds had dwindled considerably.
While waiting for Shiyi officials to process their travel documents, she stepped into the horse market with high expectations, browsing from east to west, then from south to north.
Though Bao Zhu spoke of wanting to use horses to replace that slow old ox and speed up their journey, she had other thoughts in mind. She wanted to buy Wei Xun an excellent mount. Fine clothes make the man, fine saddles the horse—when Wei Xun wore red groomsman robes at Pang Liangji’s wedding, his refined bearing and distinguished appearance had remained unforgettable to her throughout their journey.
He wouldn’t change his blue clothes or remove his tattered headband, but at least he should have a proper mount. When they reached Youzhou, she hoped Wei Xun could make a dignified appearance before her brother. After all, in front of Li Yuanying, whether male or female, human or ghost, everyone inevitably appeared shabby by comparison.
Moreover, when he later traveled far to seek medicine across mountains and long roads, riding a horse would certainly be more convenient and less taxing than walking on foot, allowing him to go quickly and return quickly.
With these thoughts in mind, Bao Zhu bargained with horse dealers from shop to shop until her lips were parched and tongue dry. Yang Xingjian watched from the side, his heart aching. To see a golden branch and jade leaf fallen into such destitute straits, mixing among peddlers and common folk, unable even to afford a horse—he couldn’t help but turn away to secretly wipe his tears.
After browsing the entire horse market from beginning to end, unfortunately what she fancied she couldn’t afford, and what she could afford didn’t catch her eye. After wasting two full hours like this, she stubbornly failed to find a single suitable horse.
Though repeatedly reminding herself that a good horse doesn’t eat grass behind it, she ultimately couldn’t resign herself to failure. Bao Zhu returned to the shop at the street’s head to once again examine the fine horse that had caught her eye initially.
The horse dealer, seeing this young lady could point out the horse’s flaws knowledgeably and was quite expert, knew that picky customers were real buyers, so he agreed to give her some discount. He had originally asked 220 strings of cash for this superior breed horse, but even after removing the fractional amount, Bao Zhu’s funds remained insufficient. With no alternative, she could only turn away dejectedly.
The horse dealer followed her to the stable entrance and noticed she was accompanied by a large donkey. The donkey had white eye rings, white muzzle, and white belly—a comical and interesting appearance—yet its frame was quite large, its shoulder height exceeding local Taihang donkeys by more than two fist-widths.
Being an expert in livestock trade, the horse dealer was greatly interested and asked: “Is this a three-white Guanzhong donkey?”
Bao Zhu nodded, stepped into the stirrup and mounted it while Wei Xun took the reins, preparing to lead her away.
The horse dealer quickly called out: “How about this—I’ll trade you a medium-grade horse for your donkey?”
Bao Zhu was stunned upon hearing this. If this had been the first half of their journey, she would have agreed without hesitation. However, after traveling together day by day, constantly by each other’s side, she had even given the donkey a name and developed deep affection for it—she simply couldn’t bear to part with it.
Seeing her hesitation, Wei Xun smiled teasingly: “If you change mounts, you’ll have to change your jianghu nickname too.”
Bao Zhu sighed softly and ultimately painfully declined the horse dealer’s proposal.
Now she had only one piece of jewelry left—that jade comb. But since it couldn’t be melted into gold or silver, and had the characters for “Ten Thousand Longevity” carved on it, taking it to a pawnshop for money would be inconvenient. After thinking it over, she could only sigh at her empty purse.
They were getting closer and closer to Youzhou, yet Bao Zhu inexplicably felt Wei Xun growing more and more distant from her. Quietly reflecting, did he really need a horse? Or was she wishfully thinking he needed a horse?
She knew that upon reaching Youzhou he would set off to seek medicine, after which there would be a long period when they couldn’t accompany each other. So she made excuses to outfit him with gear, hoping to ease the unease deep in her heart. But she understood that people ultimately aren’t horses—they can’t be kept with bridles and reins.
Returning to the inn, Wei Xun saw her looking dejected, so he wandered around outside the courtyard. Seeing the last batch of late chrysanthemums still had a few blooms that hadn’t withered, he reached out to pluck them and brought them back.
Yang Xingjian saw him holding fresh flowers, clearly intending to adorn the princess’s hair with them. Previously this jianghu wanderer had only sat beside her properly watching her dress her hair, but recently his behavior had grown increasingly bold—he dared to personally comb her hair and openly enter her bedroom without avoiding others.
Yang Xingjian could bear it no longer. He called Wei Xun aside, saying he wanted to have a private word.
“Once we pass Chengde, we’ll enter Youzhou territory. Though there are still four prefectures and over six hundred li to the administrative seat of Youzhou city, we’re clearly approaching our destination. You should restrain yourself and be more careful in word and deed—you can’t continue being so presumptuous.”
Wei Xun was completely unconcerned, smiling as he countered: “How have I been presumptuous?”
Seeing him so impervious and arrogant, Yang Xingjian’s face flushed red with anger. He looked around, saw no one nearby, and patiently advised:
“You know the princess’s true identity. Even if she can never restore her noble position, she remains Prince Shao’s most beloved close sibling. A body worth ten thousand gold, how noble! Even if you truly love and admire the princess, you shouldn’t act so frivolously. I’m giving you well-intentioned advice—be more low-key from now on, and there will be benefits for you later. Acting so willfully, if her brother sees this, what good will come of it in the future?”
Upon hearing these words, Wei Xun immediately felt rebellious, sneering disdainfully: “What noble position, what prince—do you think I agreed to escort someone thousands of li for personal gain? Let me tell you, that princess title in my eyes actually diminishes her brilliance. I love and admire her as a person, not her bloodline and status!”
Yang Xingjian took a deep breath to calm his agitated emotions, organized his thoughts, and glared at Wei Xun as he burst out:
“What about her as a person do you admire? Do you love her skilled horsemanship and heroic bearing? Do you know that came from personal instruction by renowned generals who crown the three armies, from training with fine horses and famous steeds at her disposal? You love her vast learning and beautiful calligraphy in the Yan and Liu styles? That’s the result of careful instruction by calligraphy masters and great Confucian scholars. You love her foresight and superior intelligence? That comes from being raised since childhood in courts and palaces, influenced by what she saw and heard, accumulated day by day.
The princess is a princess because she is a princess. The imperial family used the entire nation’s resources to carefully nurture her, supporting her with countless talents and material resources to achieve her current combination of literary and martial excellence, her natural noble bearing.
You keep saying you love and admire her as a person, not her bloodline and birth. But everything amazing and outstanding about her comes precisely from this supremely noble identity. Otherwise, why don’t you go love and admire some shallow, foolish, mediocre, ignorant village girl? Have you ever seen a poor family’s daughter with teeth like pearls, hair like bright silk, perfectly rounded features?”
Yang Xingjian delivered one sharp thrust after another, like an invincible supreme sword technique, each move striking at vital points. Wei Xun pressed his lips tight, head lowered in silence, only unconsciously increasing the strength in his hands, crushing the chrysanthemums he held.
Looking at the scattered petals and broken stems on the ground, Yang Xingjian sighed softly and said gently:
“I dare not presume to call myself the princess’s elder, but at least I’ve been father and brother to others. Youthful romantic feelings are natural human emotions, beyond reproach. Since you love those blooming fresh flowers, you shouldn’t treat the soil where their roots grow as nothing. Everyone yearns for precious and beautiful things, but how could such pearls fall from heaven or grow without roots?
Seeing that this speech had left him speechless, Yang Xingjian understood that everything should have limits and it was time to stop appropriately. He straightened his cap, bowed with clasped hands to Wei Xun in thanks:
“Throughout this journey, the princess has relied entirely on you sworn brothers’ life-risking protection to reach this place safely. I understand you jianghu people have your own code of chivalry, despising ordinary people’s obsession with pursuing fame and profit. You’re a mountain sage, transcendent and aloof, unconcerned with worldly praise or blame. But for the long-term good of you both, please cherish the princess’s reputation in this world.”
Wei Xun suddenly raised his head and quietly said: “Don’t worry, when we reach Youzhou, I won’t stay.” With that, he turned and left.
Yang Xingjian chased after him shouting: “That’s not what I meant!”
The young man lightly touched his toes and leaped onto the rooftop. Though he reached high ground, he dared not go far, sitting nearby on a roof ridge like a wooden or clay statue, staring blankly at Bao Zhu’s window.
Yang Xingjian’s words had merely pierced that layer of window paper, speaking naked truth—he shouldn’t feel so devastated. Actually, even when he still harbored the illusion of a thread of hope, he had known deeply that their fates led separate ways. Since he had long ago made his choice, why did his heart feel like it was being cut with knives now?
Fortunately saved by Guanyin, he would never enter the asura path of consuming human flesh to extend life for mere survival. Whether that “Phoenix Embryo” was royalty or commoner, even someone as thoroughly evil as Li Yu, he would only be her “Rhinoceros Illumination,” not the vengeful weapon “Fish Intestine Sword” in Chen Shigu’s hands.
The stars Shen and Shang are separated by darkness and light—he no longer had the opportunity for “long-term planning.”
He wished she would forever bloom like fresh flowers, shine like the bright moon, carefree and worry-free. But he wondered if, after he left, she would shed sad tears for him?
When Yang Xingjian went to the county office to obtain their travel documents, his perfectly standard Chang’an official speech caught the attention of the local clerk in charge of documents and records, who eagerly chatted with him about Chang’an gossip and indirectly probed their purpose in going to Youzhou.
After finally dealing with the man, Yang Xingjian returned not only with their documents but also with news that greatly disappointed Bao Zhu: fine horses produced in Chengde could only be bought, sold, and used within Chengde territory—taking them to other domains was strictly prohibited. According to the travel document records, travelers entering the territory with a certain number of livestock could not leave with even one more.
Upon reflection, Bao Zhu understood this was inevitable. After all, fine horses were the foundation of Chengde cavalry’s power—Military Commissioner Wang Chengwu couldn’t possibly allow competing external domains to purchase his most important strategic resources.
The group, each harboring their own concerns, listlessly packed their luggage and ate a simple meal at the inn. Just as they were preparing to leave and get on the road, the innkeeper respectfully approached to inform them that someone had already settled their room and meal charges.
Wei Xun grew suspicious and asked who had done this. The innkeeper hurriedly replied it was the local biggest horse dealer, Ma Zaiyuan. This man was a local strongman who, hearing that the famous “Donkey-Riding Lady” from Central China had graced their locality, wanted to presumptuously make her acquaintance.
When the group left the inn, they saw a servant standing at the entrance, leading precisely the superior horse Bao Zhu had fancied the day before, complete with exquisite saddle and bridle.
“Someone hosting and giving horses as gifts—this situation seems familiar.” Shisan Lang glanced at Wei Xun and quietly teased: “Looks like in Hebei, big senior brother’s fame has been overshadowed by Jiu Niang.”
Wei Xun didn’t mind, looking at Bao Zhu and asking: “Do you want it? At least you could ride it within Chengde territory for enjoyment.”
Bao Zhu shook her head, saying blandly: “I haven’t fallen so low as to accept favors from horse dealers.”
Recalling how envious she’d felt when they first started their journey, seeing jianghu people treat the Blue-Robed Guest with respectful deference, now that such treatment fell on her, she felt no interest in it. Since it couldn’t serve as Wei Xun’s mount and couldn’t be taken out of Chengde for breeding, it was merely useless.
After declining Ma Zaiyuan’s gift, Bao Zhu asked puzzledly: “I’m not a fugitive on wanted posters, nor have I written on walls—how could they recognize me?”
Shisan Lang eagerly answered: “We all speak Chang’an official language, there’s a blue-robed man leading a donkey, plus you have me, a young monk—we’re actually quite conspicuous.”
Wei Xun frowned in thought for a moment, then said gravely: “To be safe, let’s take a longer route and change roads.”