The following day, when news of Ashina’s death arrived, Xie Yuzhang was in the middle of trying on newly tailored garments.

Since coming to Mobei, Xie Yuzhang had worn Mobei-style clothing in her daily life, or else altered and adapted everyday garments. She had not worn these lavish, seductive, wide-sleeved robes in a very long time.

These garments had been prepared for Ashina’s sake. The clothing Xie Yuzhang had always worn before — for Ashina, they carried the allure of a foreign land.

The handmaids were full of admiration.

The princess had grown up. Wearing these garments now felt completely different from before. The old Khan would certainly cherish her all the more.

And if so, those of them who were Zhao people would also live more safely and more comfortably.

It was just then that a handmaid rushed in a panic into the inner tent and cried out. “Something terrible — Your Highness, something terrible has happened!”

Everyone looked over in surprise.

The handmaid’s face had gone white, and she said in a trembling voice. “The Khan — the Khan has passed.”

Xie Yuzhang had heard it clearly, yet her mind refused to process it. She stood still for a moment and asked. “What?”

The handmaid was near tears. “The Khan has passed! The Khan was assassinated on his way back!”

The old Khan was dead — what would become of the princess? What would become of them?

The stable life they had grown accustomed to had suddenly lost its support again. It was terrifying beyond measure!

Xie Yuzhang’s expression was blank. She stood in a daze for a long while.

Until the handmaid at her side grew frightened and tugged at her sleeve. “Your Highness — Your Highness?”

Xie Yuzhang seemed to wake from a dream!

“Get out!” She struggled to suppress her emotions, but the feelings surging in her chest stripped her voice of its usual composure and made it sharp and shrill. “Get out!”

The handmaids had never seen Xie Yuzhang lose herself like this. All of them turned pale with alarm.

Lin Fei waved her hand. The handmaids hurried out.

Only Lin Fei remained in the inner tent. She stood there, staring at Xie Yuzhang in shock.

“A’Fei, A’Fei.” Xie Yuzhang stared at the drops of water falling on the felt carpet, then lifted her head in bewilderment. “Why am I crying?”

The moment the handmaids left, Xie Yuzhang could no longer hold back the surging tide in her chest.

From just now to this moment, she had not once thought about how Ashina could possibly have died so early, nor thought about how he had died, or who had killed him, or what situation she would face now that he was dead.

In this short span of time, the only thing Xie Yuzhang had thought of was: Ashina was dead.

He… was dead.

The tears seemed to have a will of their own and rolled down. Xie Yuzhang could not control them.

Why was she even crying? She herself could not make sense of it.

He had been so old, after all.

He had been nothing more than a means of finding herself a pillar of support.

And yet…

This question was beyond Lin Fei’s ability to answer. She was, after all, only a young woman in her early twenties herself.

Yet she remembered clearly the first time Xie Yuzhang had confided her secret to her — when she had spoken of how the old man had taken her by force in the previous life, and how much Xie Yuzhang had despised him then.

She also remembered clearly every stratagem and trick Xie Yuzhang had used on him to survive.

But from what point onward had her smiles at him stopped being entirely false?

When had her coquetry and sulking toward him started to feel so natural?

Lin Fei had always assumed she was simply a superb actress.

“A’Fei…” Xie Yuzhang turned her face away. “Let me be still for a moment.”

Lin Fei was startled.

In all the years they had lived together, Xie Yuzhang had never once said… let me be still for a moment.

Lin Fei was silent for a breath, then said. “All right.”

She withdrew to the outer tent and stood in front of the felt curtain, keeping watch there.

Keeping watch so that no one could come in and see Xie Yuzhang as she was now. Keeping watch and waiting for the moment Xie Yuzhang would call for her.

But Xie Yuzhang never called.

When Xie Yuzhang finally emerged from the inner tent, she had already changed into a plain garment. Though the corners of her eyes were red, her face had been wiped clean and the traces concealed with powder.

Xie Yuzhang settled herself in the tent and summoned her handmaids back in. She asked. “Where is Yuan Ling? Where is Wang Zhong?”

She had steadied herself, and the handmaids had someone to anchor them as well. They answered. “Yuan Ling has gone to the royal encampment to gather information. Guard Captain Wang has ordered Guard Captain Li to take men to patrol the tent camp. He himself is at this moment outside, keeping watch over our tent.”

Three years of tempering — Xie Yuzhang and her people had developed an understanding with one another. When great upheaval suddenly struck, every person could hold their post and fulfill their duty.

Very good.

Wan Xiu and Yue Xiang, the two ranking wives of the guard captains, came hurrying over. Seeing that Xie Yuzhang was unharmed, they both exhaled quietly, their shoulders relaxing.

“Sit.” Xie Yuzhang said. “Wait for Yuan Ling to return before we speak.”

Yuan Yu returned quickly, together with Wang Zhong, entering the great tent and bringing back confirmed news.

“The Khan was killed by an arrow while on the return journey.” he said. “Scouts arrived first with the report. Several of the great princes have already set out to receive the body.”

Xie Yuzhang asked. “And the perpetrator?”

Yuan Yu said. “They say no one was caught — the perpetrators escaped. It is still unknown which faction did this.”

Yet Yuan Yu knew that which faction had done it was not truly the important thing. What mattered was how this event would affect them, and the path they would have to walk from here.

“Yuan Ling.” Xie Yuzhang had already begun. “In your estimation, what will happen next? What should be done?”

Yuan Yu lifted his gaze and looked steadily at his sovereign.

She was nearly seventeen, radiant as the first flower to burst into bloom on a spring branch.

Yuan Yu made a cupped-hand salute and bowed his head. “In the fourteenth year of Jianhe, when the husband of Princess Shanqi died, the Princess submitted a memorial requesting to return home.”

Everyone in the tent held their breath. Not everyone knew the story of two hundred years ago, and some of those hearing this now had even stirred with a hope of returning to their homeland.

Yet Yuan Yu’s very next sentence shattered their dream.

He said. “The court ordered the Princess to follow the customs of the nomads.”

Like cold water drenching everyone’s heart — chilling them through, fading away, giving way to sighs. And then every pair of eyes turned to look at Xie Yuzhang.

Facing reality was the most pressing need of the moment.

They had lived in Mobei for three years — who among them did not know what “customs of the nomads” meant?

Their young princess’s expression had not changed by so much as a shade. She nodded and said. “Understood.”

She accepted this with composure. From Yuan Yu down to every other person there, each one silently let out a quiet breath of relief.

Come to think of it, whatever the next one was like, simply speaking as a husband, was he not bound to be better than an old man?

But Xie Yuzhang then issued another order. “Yuan Ling, make the preparations.”

Everyone looked to her.

She said. “My husband has died. I should observe the deepest mourning.”

Ashina had died the day before, and his body did not return to the royal encampment until the middle of the night. Xie Yuzhang had not slept at all, only closing her eyes for brief, light rest. When Wang Zhong came hurrying to tell her “they’re back,” she immediately stood. “Come, let us go… to receive him.”

In a single day’s time, a mourning tent had already been erected by the lake. Torches blazed there, bright as daylight.

When the great cart bearing Ashina’s body slowly rolled in, the crowd erupted in weeping.

Whatever cruelty Ashina Suilibai had possessed, however many people he had killed, however many tribes he had destroyed — he was a once-in-a-century hero of the Mobei Khanate. By his own power alone he had subdued hundreds of great and small khans, and had raised the khanate to a height of prosperity, revered by all as the Heavenly Khan of the grasslands.

Several of the powerful great princes followed the cart back as well.

Weeping rose and fell like ocean waves, one surge after another. In the midst of this weeping, the Great National Preceptor Abazha stepped forward and demanded in a loud voice. “Wuwei, Tuqitang — who killed the Khan? Have they been caught?”

Wuwei answered. “No one was caught. It may have been the Zhao people.”

At these words, Wang Zhong, Yuan Yu, and the guards all changed color.

Just as expected — Wuwei’s words had barely fallen, and Abazha had not yet opened his mouth, when a woman’s voice cut shrilly through the crowd. “Princess Zhao! It was Princess Zhao! It was Princess Zhao!”

By the light of the torches, Han妃 Gulin leaped forward, her red-painted fingernails pointing directly at Xie Yuzhang. “It was you! Your Zhao people killed the Khan! You killed the Khan!”

All those present were princes, nobility, princes’ wives and consorts. The crowd was vast. Gulin’s accusation drew all eyes, and people only then noticed Princess Zhao Xie Yuzhang.

She wore an unusual garment — it appeared to be undyed rough hemp. That was a fabric ordinarily worn only by slaves. The garment had no hemmed edges, as if it had been torn by hand and then sealed up, the hem ragged with threads of varying lengths.

Those who had had dealings with Central Plains people and were knowledgeable recognized it — this was a Central Plains mourning garment, the heaviest of the five grades of mourning.

Gulin had given birth to a small prince the previous year and had never recovered her figure, her body noticeably rounder than it had been two years ago. By contrast, Princess Zhao Xie Yuzhang appeared truly slender.

By firelight, in a full mourning robe, she looked vibrant and fresh.

There was not a trace of a smile on her face. Her complexion was whiter than the hemp cloth, like jade carved into form.

Gulin lunged clawing and scrabbling toward Xie Yuzhang, apparently intending to tear at her.

Wang Zhong stepped forward to block her path in front of Xie Yuzhang, but Xie Yuzhang raised her hand and held him back.

Her face as cold as frost, she did not speak a word, and stepped forward to meet her. One stride — and with a ringing clang, the precious sword at her hip was already out of its scabbard, slashing down directly at Gulin’s face!

Gulin shrieked and stumbled backward to avoid it, rolling to the ground.

Though this slash had cut through nothing but air, it reflected the torchlight and left a trail of brilliant white light in everyone’s pupils — there in an instant, gone in an instant.

This fleeting light meant Princess Zhao’s sword had not hesitated for a single breath. If Gulin had not dodged, Princess Zhao could have cleaved her apart!

And moreover — what she used was Ashina Khan’s golden sword!

Everyone knew that Ashina Khan had once told Princess Zhao: if anyone dares bully you, use this sword to cut them down.

Yet when the old Khan was alive, the golden sword that Princess Zhao never let leave her person had never once had occasion to leave its scabbard.

It had not been expected that, with the old Khan’s body barely cold, this sword would come out of its scabbard.

Xie Yuzhang barked. “Dare to slander me, and I will cut you down!”

Gulin was helped up by her female attendant, still talking tough through her shrieking. “It was your Zhao people who killed the Khan! You cannot escape!”

Xie Yuzhang gripped the golden sword and said fiercely. “Never mind that you have no evidence — even if it truly was Zhao people who did it, what does that have to do with me?”

“You are the princess of the Chumi people, and I am the princess of Zhao. Your tribe once fought against the Khan, and has also intermarried with the Khan. Zhao has done the same. You, Gulin, are the Khan’s wife, and I, Xie Baohua, am likewise!” Her brow was fierce and glacial. “From the day I was married into Mobei, I have no longer been a Zhao person — I am only Suilibai’s wife! Suilibai said: whoever dares bully you, let me cut them down with the golden sword. Now Suilibai’s body is not yet cold, and you wish to bully me? Come then! See whether I fear you!”

Having said this, she snapped her gaze to Wuwei, and demanded loudly. “Prince Wuwei, please state clearly what faction was responsible for the Khan’s death — do not use vague terms like ‘possibly’ or ‘perhaps’!”

Wuwei stiffened slightly and said. “The return journey was hurried, and it has not yet been clearly established.”

Xie Yuzhang said. “All the more reason, then — since everyone is here, please summon those who were with the Khan and question them thoroughly, so that everyone knows exactly how the Khan died, and who we should seek vengeance from!”

Xie Yuzhang did not believe for a single moment that Ashina had died at the hands of Zhao people.

By now, Yunjing should already have fallen. Li Ming should be dead, and Hexi should be on the verge of great chaos. What Zhao person could, at this juncture, assassinate the Mobei Khan who shook the grasslands with his might?

There was simply no such person!