Wuwei had just inherited the Khan’s position and was in need of displaying his authority. He made the wedding ceremony for welcoming Princess Xie Yuzhang of Zhao an extraordinarily grand affair, issuing commands to all the great and minor khans of every tribe to come and attend.

These khans had been making trip after trip back and forth to the royal tent over these past months, wearing their legs to nothing. Yet the accumulated authority of the late Ashina Ashifu, built over decades, still held sway — and none of the khans dared voice any grievance. All of them came and attended the wedding.

Seeing the Zhao princess once more — now grown into full womanhood, like a flower bud on the verge of blooming — they found the journey rather worthwhile after all.

The wives Wuwei had inherited from Ashifu were not only one. On this day, they all sat below dressed in wedding finery, with Xie Yuzhang alone seated at Wuwei’s side.

Wuwei’s principal wife, Zhadayali of the Ashide clan, was not the central figure today — she did not occupy the seat of honor, but sat instead at the upper end of the lower seating. Though Zhadayali’s son, Dielitele, had not yet been formally named as Crown Prince, he had already been regarded by everyone as the natural heir to the Khanate.

She was now the most honored woman in the Khanate.

She was getting on in years and had grown, as was typical of grassland women, round and full. She wore a smile on her face, projecting both composure and kindly warmth.

Toward the new wives her husband had acquired — especially today’s central figure, the Zhao princess — she smiled warmly and was quite amiable.

From what everyone understood, the Zhao princess had gotten along very harmoniously with Zhadayali from the moment she arrived on the grasslands, and had even from the very beginning insisted on setting up her great tent adjacent to Zhadayali’s territory.

When the earlier ceremonies had concluded and it was time to begin the feast, Zhadayali smiled and reminded Wuwei: “You may let Baohua go and rest now.”

The custom of the bride withdrawing first was, of course, so she could return to prepare for the arrival of the groom.

Wuwei’s face glowed with delight. He turned to Xie Yuzhang and said tenderly: “Baohua, you may go first.”

He greatly resembled Ashifu in appearance — but in his eyes, Xie Yuzhang could not find the domineering force she had so often seen in the depths of Ashifu’s gaze.

People always bully the weak and yield to the strong — assertive before the timid, and restrained before the formidable.

Xie Yuzhang gave him a sideways glance and said: “If you drink yourself into a stupor, do not come to my tent.”

Wuwei was taken aback.

Even after becoming his wife, Xie Yuzhang had not softened toward him. She did not give him the playful smiles and teasing glances she had once given his father Khan — the lively, spirited manner that had seemed to shift with every breath. Toward him, she remained as she had always been: cool and distant, just barely a fraction less so than before.

And Wuwei — exactly as Xie Yuzhang had anticipated — showed no displeasure or irritation. Nor, of course, had she given him the time to form such a reaction. Having said her piece, she rose with the support of her attendants and, smiling slightly, gave Zhadayali a small, respectful bow.

Xie Yuzhang and Wuwei’s exchange was too far away for Zhadayali to hear, but the respect Xie Yuzhang showed her left her thoroughly satisfied. She too leaned forward slightly and returned a gracious nod.

Seeing the two highest-ranking wives in his household getting along so harmoniously, Wuwei let out a great breath of relief.

Xie Yuzhang was escorted by her attendants back to her own tent.

All along the way, the faintly cool wind struck her face, making her mind sharply clear.

Wuwei’s image just now surfaced in her thoughts — and after she had spoken those words with such force, Xie Yuzhang was quite certain that for just a brief instant, she had seen something flinch behind his eyes.

Xun’er let out a small cry, pulling Xie Yuzhang’s thoughts back.

Xie Yuzhang glanced at her and gently patted her arm, a faint apology in her eyes.

The walk was not long. After the old Khan’s death, the central residential area of the royal tent grounds had been rearranged considerably.

Wuwei had moved into the royal tent, and his wives naturally relocated to its vicinity, staying close by his side. Xie Yuzhang’s tent had been moved here as well, positioned close to the royal tent.

Once Xie Yuzhang was escorted into the inner tent, Zi Jin quietly asked Xun’er: “What happened just now?”

Xun’er whispered back: “Just now, Her Highness seemed lost in thought about something and pinched me rather hard.”

Zi Jin drew in a sharp breath and guessed: “Perhaps she was nervous.”

Though Her Highness had gone through two wedding ceremonies, this night would be her true wedding night.

Xun’er hushed her: “Say no more — go and attend to your duties.”

Inside the inner tent, Xie Yuzhang took another bath, washing away the smells of roasted meat and smoke that had clung to her from the feast.

Inside the inner tent there was a fumigation brazier, keeping the space both warm and fragrant. Beside the large bed stood a water-heating brazier, which not only kept the water in the kettle at a constant warm temperature but also kept the air in the felt tent moist and comfortable to breathe.

Lin Fei dressed her personally in a deep crimson robe, tied the sash, then looked up and asked: “Are you truly certain you do not want me to stay?”

Xie Yuzhang smiled: “Go back. You have never been married — are you not afraid of embarrassment if you stay here?”

Lin Fei said with a self-deprecating smile: “Is there anyone here who has been married?”

“Can you be compared to the others?” Xie Yuzhang chided her. “Go, quickly!”

But Lin Fei lingered and did not leave.

Xie Yuzhang said helplessly: “A-Fei, this is long past being anything to me.”

As long as it was not too rough — like the night the old man had come to her tent drunk in her previous life — or too brutal and humiliating — like what Xia’erdan had done — Xie Yuzhang had long since been able to face such things with equanimity. And besides, this was Wuwei.

This was the man she had not only grown accustomed to but had also loved in her previous life.

Though Xie Yuzhang was now no longer entirely certain whether what she had felt for Wuwei in her previous life had truly been love.

She had always believed that the kind of wholehearted entrusting and dependence she had felt must have been love.

But now, she was growing less and less certain of that.

Xie Yuzhang watched Lin Fei leave, and the smile on her face faded. She sat down at the edge of the bed and began thinking about Wuwei again.

In her previous life, she had lost her people and her guard, had been wretched and frightened, living under the indulgence of Wuwei and Zhadayali. She had actually seen quite a lot and heard quite a lot — there had been vague stirrings of feeling.

Only at the time, even if she had sensed something, it had been of no use to her.

She thought back again to this life. Because of her closeness with Ashifu, the old man had told her far more than he had in her previous life.

Among his surviving sons, the one the old man had truly favored most was Prince Tuqi. He had said that in terms of character alone, Prince Tuqi was the one who most resembled him.

The pity was that Prince Tuqi had no mother consort from the Ashide clan. His mother had come from a small tribe.

The old man had been formidable as he was, and still had problems he could not resolve.

Unless he raised his blade and wiped out the Ashide clan as well — but they were also his own maternal family, for the old man’s mother had also been of the Ashide clan.

Xie Yuzhang’s thoughts drifted in disarray until she gradually fell asleep. When she woke again, it was because a commotion had arisen in the outer tent. Her husband… had arrived.

Wuwei had indeed not drunk himself into a stupor. He had even made a point of drinking a sobering brew before coming over. His mind was quite clear — at most, there was a faint warmth that had nothing to do with alcohol.

He walked into Xie Yuzhang’s great tent, and the attendants moved with practiced efficiency, receiving him gently and courteously. Two attendants who drew back the curtain bowed and lifted the felt partition separating the inner and outer tents for him.

Wuwei’s heart was beating rather fast.

No man had ever entered Princess Xie Yuzhang of Zhao’s inner tent — no, in fact not even any woman had. Even when Zhadayali came to visit, she had only been received in the outer tent. Even his father Khan, in order to honor his oath, had never so much as set foot in the outer tent.

What would the Zhao princess’s inner tent be like?

Wuwei’s chest burned with heat, and he strode quickly inside.

He stepped in — and though he was in a felt tent of Mobei, it felt as if he had stepped into a foreign realm.

The furnishings were entirely in the style of the central plains — elegant and fresh. Wuwei did not recognize any of the specific objects, but one glance was enough to tell him this was a young woman’s private bower. The air carried a faint fragrance — and yet it was not dry, the very act of breathing feeling unusually moist and gentle.

But Wuwei had not expected that even after entering the inner tent, he could not immediately see Xie Yuzhang. There was a floor-to-ceiling screen dividing the space. Beyond the intricately embroidered screen, the shadow of bed drapery was dimly visible.

It seemed that someone had only just languidly sat up.

That person asked: “Wuwei, have you been drinking?”

The voice was faintly husky, as though just woken from sleep, carrying a drowsy quality — uncommonly lovely.

Wuwei smiled: “Rest assured. I am not drunk.”

In those days, when his father Khan had stumbled drunk into Princess Baohua’s tent that first night and provoked her enormous fury — she had refused to acknowledge him for a long while afterward. This had long since become a widely known joke. And it was also why his father Khan had been compelled to swear an oath not to set foot in her tent until she turned seventeen.

It seemed she truly disliked men who came to her in a state of intoxication.

All women disliked drunk men. Even Zhadayali disliked it. When he had been young and stumbled to her tent drunk, she had always given him severe punishments for it — it was only when he was much older that she had finally stopped doing that…

From behind the screen, Xie Yuzhang seemed to raise her arm and rub her eyes. She gave a soft sound of acknowledgment and said: “Bathe first.”

The attendants came in and lifted the lid from the bathing tub — steam rose in great curls, carrying a refreshing fragrance. The attendants used fire tongs to remove the long, slender iron tubes hanging on the inner walls of the tub.

Inside those tubes was charcoal — submerged in the water, it kept the water warm throughout.

These refined objects were central plains things — central plains people truly knew how to live well.

Two female slaves came forward to help Wuwei undress, and the attendants took the opportunity to withdraw, leaving the princess’s husband in the hands of the slaves.

In the slaves’ care, Wuwei bathed until he was thoroughly clean and pleasantly fragrant. The old joke everyone used to make about Ashifu — “three layers in, three layers out, shed three layers of skin in the washing” — had not applied to Ashifu himself, but it now came true for Wuwei.

Dressed in a soft silk robe, Wuwei waved the slaves aside and walked quickly around the screen. The first thing he saw was the hem of a deep crimson robe pooled wide, small moon-pale feet white as salt, slender and delicate.

Xie Yuzhang lay propped on one arm, her blue-black hair cascading over the pillow, idly turning the pages of a book.

Her curves rose and fell, a sight so arresting it parched the throat.

Hearing his footsteps, Xie Yuzhang looked up, tossed the book aside, and pushed herself upright, complaining: “You took so long.”

Wuwei’s blood surged downward. He crossed to her in a few long strides and pulled her into his arms.

Xie Yuzhang cried out in surprise, glaring at him: “Be gentle — you are not to hurt me!”

Wuwei hurried to placate her: “Yes, yes, I will be gentle!”

And yet he could not resist pressing his face into the crook of her neck, breathing in the scent of her — his palm finding softness that made his pulse thunder, his mind reeling with desire. He had hungered for her for too long, and could not hold back a moment more. He rolled over and pressed her beneath him, reaching for the sash of her robe, pushing at the hem of her garment.

The fabric was soft and flowing, draping over her curves and rendering them perfectly clear — and just like him in his silk robe, there was nothing beneath.

Wuwei’s blood roared through him — but unexpectedly, Xie Yuzhang pressed his hand still, fixed him with a stare, and called sharply: “Ashina Wuwei.”

Wuwei paused slightly. In that moment, Xie Yuzhang exerted all her force and flipped them over, pinning him beneath her, and straddled him: “Ashina Wuwei!”

Wuwei’s breathing went ragged: “Baohua! My treasure!”

But before his eyes, a flash of gold — Xie Yuzhang had drawn the golden blade from beneath the pillow and held it pressed to his throat.

Wuwei was startled. But he was a warrior, and he could tell that Xie Yuzhang had no murderous intent.

Her dark hair cascaded down like a waterfall. Her robe had loosened, revealing a shoulder as white as snow. She held the golden blade in her hand, her eyes cold and clear.

It drove Wuwei nearly wild with excitement: “Baohua, what are you doing?”

“Ashina Wuwei, hear me.” Xie Yuzhang held the blade’s edge to his throat and said: “Among our central plains people, it is said that a wife stands equal to her husband — she walks by his side. I want you to remember: from this day forward, I am your wife. You are to protect me, not regard me as cattle or property.”

Wuwei said: “You are my most precious treasure.”

But Xie Yuzhang replied: “I do not wish to be a treasure. I wish simply to be a person.”

Wuwei said: “Then you are the woman I love most dearly. I will love you, cherish you, protect you, and give you wealth, honor, and standing.”

“Very well. But you must remember the words you have spoken today — treat me as a person. If one day you go back on today’s words,” Xie Yuzhang said, “…I will kill you.”

Her ice-cold gaze was utterly captivating. Wuwei swore upon the ancestral spirits: “…Should I betray today’s words, may I die by Baohua’s hand.”

Xie Yuzhang looked at him coldly for a long moment, then flung the golden blade onto the carpet and said: “Good.”

Wuwei, burning with a heat that felt ready to split his veins, wrenched open her sash with force.

The red candles burned. The wicks crackled and sputtered.

The deep crimson robe floated down, and came to rest over the golden blade.

……

……

In Mobei, Princess Baohua Xie Yuzhang at last became a wife.