The Emperor was indeed fishing with Li Ming.

It was entirely because of Li Ming himself — he could neither play chess nor appreciate calligraphy or painting, and the only pastime he and the Emperor could share was fishing.

When the eunuch reported that Princess Baohua had arrived, the Emperor said in surprise: “She is feeling better?”

The eunuch, bowing, replied: “The princess seems to have a rather good complexion.”

The Emperor had her sent in.

Li Ming handed his fishing rod to an eunuch and stood up, brushing off his robes.

A graceful young woman came walking toward them, her appearance beautiful and her bearing elegant — she was indeed the child of the late Empress, deeply favored by the Emperor, and known throughout the land as “the Pearl of Yunjing City,” Princess Baohua.

Though she had not yet come of age, she was already a transcendent beauty of the human world.

Xie Yuzhang raised her eyes. Li Ming wore his reddish-brown robes, short and stocky, looking like a lump of earth. No wonder the palace maids laughed at him.

“Father.” After completing her bow to the Emperor, Xie Yuzhang turned to Li Ming with a half-bow. “Lord Li.”

Li Ming smiled pleasantly and returned the bow. “Greetings to Your Highness.”

Inwardly, however, he was surprised. Just days ago this princess had worn an expression of pure, artless girlish charm — seeing him for the first time, she had curved her eyes and hidden a laugh behind her hand. Though it had been somewhat lacking in decorum, the innocent, carefree manner of a young girl had been such that one simply could not take offense.

But today, in the imperial garden, as the adopted sons arrived before the Emperor and she looked on, this princess’s brow was entirely calm and steady. Nothing moved, nothing wavered. Every trace of her flighty, childlike air seemed to have been reined in.

As though she were a different person.

The Emperor had naturally noticed the change in Xie Yuzhang too, and he asked with concern: “Are you feeling better? Yesterday when I came to see you, your maids said you could not eat and your spirits were low — that you had taken medicine and were asleep.”

Xie Yuzhang, of course, had not fallen asleep in the middle of the day. Hearing that the Emperor had come, she had not wished to see him, and had pretended to be sleeping after taking medicine, instructing the palace maids to turn him away.

In this palace, the only person who would dare turn away the Emperor when he came calling — and refuse to see him — was Xie Yuzhang, the most favored princess of all.

“I took two doses of medicine and I am much better. I am sorry to have made Father anxious — it is this child’s fault for being unfilial,” Xie Yuzhang set aside all her other thoughts and raised her eyes with a smile. “The moment this child felt better, I wanted to come pay my respects to Father. My palace has just prepared a chilled perilla drink — it is the best thing for relieving the heat and restoring the appetite. The moment they finished icing it, I rushed to bring it over.”

She added: “How fortunate that Lord Li is here too — please have some as well.”

She worked hard to imitate the coaxing, girlish manner she had once used to please her father, but it was too difficult, far too difficult. Life had left so many wounds and scars upon her that she could never find her way back to what she had once been.

The Emperor had naturally noticed her difference.

While the official taster stepped forward to test the drink, he looked at Xie Yuzhang for a moment and then turned to sigh to Li Ming: “Look at her — one small illness, and it is as though she has suddenly grown up, become a young woman.”

Li Ming smiled pleasantly. “As the saying goes, plants need not be worried about growing.”

The Emperor played the devoted father. Li Ming played the country bumpkin.

Every person was playing out their own role upon the stage of their own life.

Xie Yuzhang’s heart was flooded with a profound and bitter irony. She used the Emperor’s words as cover to lower her eyes, affecting a bashful expression, concealing the true feelings within.

A chilled drink on a summer day was indeed wonderfully effective at relieving the heat and restoring the appetite.

Li Ming praised it effusively and kept insisting: “I am benefiting from His Majesty’s generosity.”

Yet for all his rustic appearance in the capital, back in his own territory he ruled like an emperor in his own right — what fine food and drink had he not tasted?

Xie Yuzhang saw through him but said nothing. She received the Emperor’s empty cup from the eunuch and handed it off, then stood behind the Emperor and gently patted his back. She smiled and said: “Just now, outside the imperial garden, I ran into Lord Li’s two sons. They were, honestly speaking — a bit of a sorry sight.”

A glint passed through Li Ming’s eyes.

The Emperor had already laughed and scolded her: “How rude! What would you know, young girl? Those are generals who have rendered meritorious service on the frontier.”

“They were just so stiff,” Xie Yuzhang said on purpose, making a little face. “On such a hot day, the two of them were standing rigidly in the sun, completely proper and upright, not knowing to go find a cooler spot — and standing so straight, for so long. Aren’t they tired?”

She added: “In all this palace, I have never seen anyone who could stand as straight as that, and for so long.”

Li Ming’s gaze flickered, and the look he directed at Princess Baohua was no longer the same as before.

The Emperor asked: “Your two adopted sons, then?”

“Precisely,” Li Ming answered pleasantly. “My seventh and my eleventh.”

The Emperor’s interest was roused. “Summon them.”

Moments later, Li Gu and Li Weifeng were brought before them.

Xie Yuzhang patted the Emperor’s shoulders idly, but her eyes never left the two men.

The two valiant young generals were tall and long-legged, walking faster than other men. Each step they placed on the ground seemed to carry the weight of a thousand pounds. The robust and martial spirit of northwestern men had been no exaggeration.

Although the two had made a fool of themselves before the soft palace maids earlier, before the Emperor they showed composure, and their conduct was passable.

Xie Yuzhang watched with a cool eye. Li Gu spoke little, yielding every opportunity to respond before the Emperor to Li Weifeng — neither grabbing nor competing.

Before Li Ming’s death, Yunjing City had known only of the Military Governor of Hexi’s twelve sons, collectively called “the Twelve Tigers,” and at most knew that the fourth was Li Ming’s own blood. Beyond that, who could tell one from another?

It was not until after the contest in the northwest was decided that Li Gu appeared before all of the realm as if from nowhere.

From that day forward — unmatched in valor, an unstoppable force.

It was only after they left the palace and returned to Li Ming’s residence in the capital that Li Gu and Li Weifeng learned how they had come to be received by the Emperor that day.

“You should thank Princess Baohua,” Li Ming said.

Away from the imperial palace, his ever-present pleasant smile was gone. What remained on his round face was the look of a sharp and capable man.

The Emperor had received his two adopted sons, given them gifts, and added nominal titles for them — all because Princess Baohua had mentioned them in passing before the Emperor.

Why had Princess Baohua done so?

“What did you say to Princess Baohua when you met her?” Li Ming asked his two adopted sons.

Remembering the mortifying encounter, both young men’s faces burned.

“It was nothing really,” Li Weifeng said, bracing himself. “We were meeting the princess for the first time, so we were both a little… nervous.”

Nervous? Though both were young, they were already seasoned soldiers. They had not been nervous on the battlefield. Not nervous before the Emperor. But nervous before a pampered little girl?

Li Ming, at his age, understood perfectly and did not need it spelled out. He asked: “What did the princess say?”

Li Weifeng repeated Xie Yuzhang’s words by the imperial garden.

When he heard that Princess Baohua had shown her respect by giving his two adopted sons a half-bow, Li Ming narrowed his eyes.

Had he misread her that day? He had clearly seen her barely hold back a laugh at the sight of his figure and clothing — the very picture of naive, girlish innocence. One found it impossible to be offended. Yet today in the imperial garden, as the adopted sons arrived before the Emperor and she watched, she had shown nothing but calm composure and reserve — not a trace of the skittish, childish quality from before.

As though she were a different person entirely.

“What do the two of you think of Princess Baohua?” Li Ming asked with a pleasant smile.

Li Weifeng said admiringly: “The princess is truly beautiful.”

Li Gu replied: “She is a person of quality.”

Li Ming pointed at Li Gu and laughed heartily: “You — you say nothing, and then when you say something, your mouth is as sharp as ever.”

Just the day before, Li Ming had summoned his two sons and asked them to give their assessments of the prominent young men of Yunjing City they had spent these past days mixing with. Men of noble birth one and all, yet Li Gu had given them only a single verdict: “The pampered sons of wealthy families, good for nothing.” Now here was a princess, and she had earned from him the single word of praise: “quality.”

“You tell me then — so many princes and scions of nobility, and she alone earns this praise from you? And don’t you dare say it’s because she’s beautiful,” Li Ming said with a smile.

Li Weifeng roared with laughter.

Li Gu, however, was perfectly composed. “A person of quality — someone who holds a high position, and even if lacking ability, at the very least must have judgment.”

At these words, even Li Weifeng stopped laughing and nodded. “Exactly so.”

All the noblemen’s sons they had met these past days spent their time at pleasure haunts and carousing. The first thing they looked at was your clothes — if your clothes were not the latest fashion, they had already mentally classified you as a “country bumpkin” and naturally showed three parts disdain.

At banquets, all they wanted to hear was what good food or fun the northwestern frontier had to offer. The moment talk turned to Mobei Khanate, Da Yue, or Wumeng, every one of them would instantly strike a pose as though they could, at any moment, take up their bows and level the north by horseback.

They had never so much as glimpsed the steppe or the gobi, yet they talked as though they owned the world.

Princess Baohua, though a woman, had greeted them and said first: “You have guarded the frontier and served your country — you have worked hard.”

That single line. It truly was a balm.

The topic of Princess Baohua was no more than brief idle talk. Once the attendants had served tea and retreated, Li Gu asked: “My Lord, how did His Majesty’s manner seem today?”

Li Ming gave a short laugh. “What of it? The meat that is already in my mouth — can I spit it back out?”

The round face wore a look of contempt.

After Li Ming had received his imperial pardon and led his two adopted sons away from the imperial garden, Xie Yuzhang checked the position of the sun and said to the Emperor: “Father, the air has cooled somewhat now. Why does this child not accompany you for a walk by the water?”

The Emperor nodded, and Xie Yuzhang moved to gently support his arm and help him rise.

The Emperor looked at her and smiled. “How is it that my daughter has suddenly grown up?”

Xie Yuzhang raised her eyes and looked at the Emperor.

The Emperor was smiling, but the worry in his brow could not be hidden. At this point in time, had it already weighed on him this heavily? She had not noticed at all before.

Xie Yuzhang forced a smile and said with mock reproach: “What is Father saying? This child has always been well-behaved and filial.”

The Emperor laughed softly, and some of the worry between his brows seemed to lift because of this most beloved daughter.

Xie Yuzhang watched him carefully, and as they strolled slowly in the cool shade by the water’s edge, she asked as if on a whim: “That plump Li Ming — what has he come to the capital for?”

At this question, a shadow fell once more across the Emperor’s expression.

“Affairs of court,” he said, patting Xie Yuzhang’s arm where she was supporting him. “You need not concern yourself with it.”

Xie Yuzhang lowered her gaze, then raised it again with a smile: “I only asked because Father seemed unhappy.”

The Emperor paused, instinctively touching his own face.

Xie Yuzhang’s heart gave a jolt, and she quickly added: “This child noticed that the moment Lord Li left, Father’s smile was gone.”

The Emperor said nothing, and continued to walk in silence. Xie Yuzhang, afraid that saying more would be saying too much, dared not press further, and carefully kept her supporting hold on the Emperor’s arm.

The Emperor was still in the prime of his years; this gesture of support was more an expression of filial devotion than any real necessity.

After a long silence, the Emperor seemed to sigh.

“In the third month,” he said, “Semu people moved south.”

Xie Yuzhang had not known this had happened in those days. She looked up. “Our great Da Zhao is powerful and prosperous — surely there was no trouble?”

This was not untrue. Each military governor had been fattening his own army to the fullest — those authorized to field fifty thousand troops actually kept seventy thousand, and those authorized for seventy thousand kept well over a hundred and twenty thousand. Externally, Da Zhao presented a formidable face.

Only that formidable military strength had long since slipped beyond the control of the imperial throne.

The Emperor knew this situation better than anyone. He said: “There was no trouble. Li Ming drove them off.”

Xie Yuzhang let out a breath. “So Father summoned Lord Li to the capital to commend his achievement.”

The Emperor’s mouth twisted slightly. “But Li Ming drove the Semu people south all the way to Zhaozhou, and then refused to withdraw his troops. Zhang Baichong has come before the Emperor to lodge a complaint.”

Xie Yuzhang understood.

Zhaozhou was within the territory of Zhang Baichong, Military Governor of Longyou. Li Ming refusing to withdraw his troops meant that he had in effect occupied someone else’s territory.

A sorrow rose in her — her first thought had been that Zhaozhou was “the Military Governor of Longyou’s territory,” when in truth all land beneath heaven should have been Da Zhao’s, should have been her family the Xie’s.

But the reality was that by this point in time, the center had already lost its grip on the regions. The military governors each governed their own fiefdoms, ruling like emperors within their own territories.

And the true Emperor was forced to hold his nose and arbitrate among these quarreling military governors.

Xie Yuzhang also understood this clearly: at this moment, a thirteen-year-old version of herself was not supposed to know any of this.

She feigned an innocent expression and asked: “Why won’t he withdraw his troops? Are the Semu people not yet completely defeated?”

Such a foolish question clearly killed the Emperor’s desire to continue confiding in her, and he found himself suddenly at a loss as to why he had said so much to Xie Yuzhang in the first place — what had come over him today?

Or perhaps it was because his most beloved daughter had seemed, today, especially sensible and well-behaved?

He patted Xie Yuzhang’s arm and changed the subject: “That new dance you have been arranging — how is it coming along? When can you perform it for Father?”

Princess Baohua Xie Yuzhang — legend in the common world had it she was an immortal who danced for the Queen Mother of the West on the Jade Terrace and had descended to the mortal realm. At twelve years old, she danced for the Emperor at the Longevity Festival and her performance summoned a hundred birds to pay homage to the phoenix — witnessed by all the civil and military officials and ladies of rank — and was passed down as a wondrous tale.

Everyone in Yunjing City longed to see her dance.

But Princess Baohua was of heavenly imperial lineage, a branch of jade and a twig of gold. She was not a performer.

She loved to dance, but she did not dance to entertain others. Beyond the Emperor himself, those who had the fortune to watch were all benefiting by association with the Emperor.

And precisely because of this, her reputation for being a gifted dancer only grew more resplendent, and the name “Pearl of Yunjing City” stirred only more vivid and unbounded longing in people’s imaginations.

Xie Yuzhang said with bitterness: “My body has not been well recently. I stopped practicing for a few days and have grown rusty.”

The Emperor said tenderly: “Never mind — your health comes first. Rest and recover properly.”

Xie Yuzhang fixed her eyes on this man. His tenderness toward her was not feigned — at this moment he was still the Emperor, still capable of giving his child riches, honor, and gentle, devoted love.

Even when he sent her far away to Mobei in a political marriage, he still had the great and righteous justification of serving the country and the people to cloak it in.

Later, reduced to Xiaoyao Marquis — trembling and hunted like a stray dog, dreading each day whether the white silk or the poisoned wine would come first, and when — he had listened to someone’s instigation and harbored the thought of offering up this daughter, who had barely survived her way back from Mobei, like a dancing girl…

Offering her to the new Emperor.