Just after boarding the carriage, Yao Ying wanted to examine the wound on Tanmoluojia’s back and reached to lift his inner garment.

“It’s nothing,” Tanmoluojia said softly, pressing down her hand, his face covered in a light sheen of sweat.

Yao Ying’s brows furrowed tightly: “But you’re bleeding…”

She straightened up, asking him to lower his head. As her fingers barely touched his shoulder, he trembled. In the next moment, he suddenly gripped her wrist, pulling her into his embrace.

Tanmoluojia held her tightly, his palm pressing against the nape of her neck as he closed his eyes.

“Don’t move. Let me hold you for a while.”

He spoke with something between a sigh and not, like a traveler who had journeyed long and finally could pause to catch his breath.

At some point, whenever he saw her, he couldn’t help wanting to be close to her, to touch her.

Those few times when she accidentally fell into his arms, he knew he should have pushed her away immediately, but he remained motionless, allowing her unconscious intimacy.

He wanted to hold her this carelessly.

Thinking nothing, doing nothing—just holding her was enough.

Tanmoluojia’s body was sweaty, his thin inner clothes dampened with perspiration, his entire body burning hot. The agarwood fragrance seemed to grow increasingly potent, stirring one’s heartstrings.

Yao Ying raised her hands, carefully avoiding his wound, and embraced his waist, listening to his heartbeat through his clothes.

The carriage wheels clattered along the long street, followed by footsteps like rushing tides.

The Imperial Guards, generals, and court officials had mounted their horses and followed.

Yao Ying lifted a corner of the carriage curtain to look outside.

The long street was bustling on both sides, packed with people from different tribes, with diverse faces. They knelt and kowtowed to the carriage, their voices calling out to their King.

Over twenty years ago, shortly after Tanmoluojia’s birth, he was forcibly taken from the palace by ministers and imprisoned in the temple.

Years later, he left the temple, returning to the palace amid the ministers’ and people’s escort.

Twenty-some years of time, pouring out his heart and blood, desperately supporting a royal court teetering on the brink of collapse amid internal strife and external threats.

Thinking of all the hardships and setbacks Tanmoluojia had experienced over these years, and his fate in the book, Yao Ying’s heart ached slightly.

Before knowing him, she had regarded him as a stranger, admiring him and lamenting his early death. After being saved by him in desperate circumstances, spending days together, and sharing life and death experiences several times, he was no longer just the Buddha’s son from legends… How fortunate she was to meet him, to know and accompany him.

A warm sensation touched the top of her head as Tanmoluojia lowered his head to kiss her dark hair.

They embraced in silence.

…

The palace was already in ruins, with collapsed wells and walls, scattered tiles and stones.

The attending officials led people to clear the square outside the palace, setting up felt tents on the high platform of the long steps. Inside the tent, they arranged long tables laden with fresh flowers and precious vessels.

The carriage stopped before the steps, ministers and common people prostrating themselves.

Tanmoluojia descended from the carriage, turned around, and extended his hand to help Yao Ying down.

Complete silence fell over the gathering, not even a cough could be heard, only the rustle of clothes.

Yao Ying took Tanmoluojia’s hand and stepped down from the carriage. Seeing Li Zhongqian and the Western Army generals who had followed, she lifted her foot to walk over but felt her hand tighten.

Tanmoluojia held onto her, leading her step by step up the long stairs, standing before the felt tent on the high platform.

Below the platform, the officials rose.

Bisuo stepped forward, holding a gilt treasure box containing a brilliant golden leaf crown. In the sunset light, the lapis lazuli, agate, and amber inlaid in the crown sparkled dazzlingly, magnificent, and dignified.

He presented the treasure box, one hand in a fist placed against his chest, bowing to Tanmoluojia.

Tanmoluojia took the crown from the box and placed it on his head.

Bells and drums sounded together, ceremonial music played, and below the long steps, officials and common people once again respectfully prostrated themselves, their voices of praise rising like thunder to the clouds.

Tanmoluojia stood before the steps, a streak of evening sunlight enveloping him, outlining his deep, graceful features. His clothes still bore bloodstains, his figure as towering as a mountain.

After the officials’ homage, tribal chiefs came forward, in turn, to present precious swords and treasures as signs of allegiance.

Tanmoluojia gestured to the ceremonial official beside him.

The ceremonial official walked to the steps with a piece of parchment in hand, reading its contents aloud.

“By royal decree, from this day forward, new positions of Vice Minister shall be added to the military…”

Below the platform, silence fell as everyone held their breath, listening carefully.

Gradually, some began sweating profusely, trembling continuously, some showed expressions of surprise, unable to recover for a long while, while others beamed with joy, kowtowing in gratitude.

They hadn’t expected that on the first day after the great battle, Tanmoluojia would begin such a bold reform.

He commended those who had achieved merit in this battle, punished officials who had caused trouble during the previous turmoil, took this opportunity to promote a batch of generals from humble origins, ordered civil officials to revise old laws and compile new ones, reform the official dress code, and limit the power of noble families.

From today forward, the authority of the royal court would return to the monarch’s hands, and noble families could no longer stir up trouble as before.

Finally, the ceremonial official announced tax reductions and relief for the people.

The officials experienced mixed feelings, some happy and others worried, while the clever ones were already plotting how to use this opportunity to achieve their ambitions.

Below the platform, when the common people heard that the King had exempted several years of taxes and that their children would no longer be forced to serve labor at nobles’ estates, they were overjoyed, cheering in unison.

After the ceremonial official finished reading the decree, the officials bowed and rose, respectfully withdrawing.

The common people were unwilling to leave, staying to help clean and clear up, each face beaming with joy: After surviving the catastrophe, the ravaging Northern Rong would have no chance to return, the King would continue to rule over his officials, the Western Army and royal court would be harmonious, and days ahead would only get better!

Throughout the entire ceremony, Yao Ying remained in the felt tent with Tanmoluojia, standing together to receive the people’s homage.

When the people and officials below the platform called out Tanmoluojia’s honorific title, she turned aside, wanting to retreat to a corner, but Tanmoluojia looked up, his gaze falling on her face, gentle yet carrying a somewhat forceful power.

“Stay with me,” he said softly, his shoulders bathed in sunset glow.

Yao Ying raised an eyebrow, smiled, and stayed put.

…

The ceremony ended in the beautiful dusk.

Tanmoluojia descended the steps, followed by the newly appointed Grand Minister, the Five Armies Commander, tribal chiefs, Mopiduo, and Bisuo, all surrounding him.

The tribal chiefs looked at the ruined remains along both sides of the long steps, sighing repeatedly, saying, “The holy city was prosperous and wealthy, with thriving trade, admired by all tribes. Who would have thought it would be destroyed in this upheaval.”

The ministers joined in lamenting that after the war, there should have been a grand and solemn ceremony to celebrate, but now half the holy city lay in ruins, and the King had requested everything be kept simple, making the ceremony preparations rushed.

Tanmoluojia, walking ahead, paused his steps.

Everyone quickly stopped, and several chiefs looked at each other, unsure what they had said wrong.

“The holy city is destroyed but can be rebuilt. The safety of the people and the lasting peace of the royal court must come first,” Tanmoluojia turned back, scanning the crowd, and said, “What I’ve always protected was never the holy city or the palace, but the people of the royal court.”

The ministers’ faces showed traces of guilt.

The tribal chiefs were stunned for a moment, then straightened solemnly, saying with undisguised admiration, “The King is generous and merciful, concerned for all people. He is our Khan of Khans, and we will forever be loyal to the King, following at his side!”

Others followed in agreement.

Tanmoluojia’s expression remained calm and steady.

Seeing him busy discussing state affairs with the ministers, Yao Ying stood aside, not going over to disturb him, directing the guards to help clean the palace and organize the battlefield, when she suddenly felt an intense gaze directed at her.

She looked back.

Mopiduo stood behind the crowd, in silver armor and white robes, carrying himself with dignity. He smiled at her, walked over, and clasped his hands in greeting: “Princess, during this upheaval, thanks to the Western Army’s help, we were able to gather troops while Haidu Aling was unprepared.”

Yao Ying returned the courtesy, “The Western Army and royal court are allies, as it should be. I haven’t yet congratulated the Prince on his promotion.”

Previously, Mopiduo had cooperated with Bisuo in their stratagem, deliberately allowing himself to be captured by the Imperial Guards. The original plan was to use this to draw out those behind the scenes, removing the root of the problem. Unexpectedly, Bisuo abandoned the entire plan. When he heard that the Imperial Guards had betrayed Tanmoluojia, knowing his sensitive position, if he stayed in the royal court, he would certainly be eliminated by ministers who hated the Ujili tribe. He escaped while the guard was lax, intending to return to lead his people in relocation—if Tanmoluojia was forced to death, the Ujili tribe would no longer be loyal to the royal court, and if they didn’t flee, they would immediately be treated like cattle and horses by the nobles.

Soon, news of Tanmoluojia’s death in the turmoil spread throughout the royal court. Mopiduo’s father dared not delay and led the tribe to migrate that night. Thus, when Mopiduo heard that Tanmoluojia was still alive, the Ujili tribe had already traveled several hundred li.

When Mopiduo received Tanmoluojia’s handwritten letter by messenger Hawk, he was discussing revenge plans with his father. Both father and son were overjoyed and hurriedly led the tribe to turn back, following Tanmoluojia’s instructions to contact various tribes and gather troops. All this had to be done secretly, without letting Haidu Aling hear even the slightest whisper. To prevent any leaks, he deliberately let some tribespeople continue westward while he led the elite forces back to the holy city.

In this great battle, Mopiduo had fought with merit and was promoted again, this time with almost no opposing voices.

Mopiduo grinned: “It’s all because the King commands like a deity, values and trusts me, giving me important duties, that I could achieve such merit…”

The King had heavily employed him, teaching him how to command troops, how to manage subordinates, and how to get along with colleagues.

Princess Wenzhao had never mocked him for his accent or the Ujili tribe’s strange customs.

When the King and Princess stood on the high platform, they looked so well-matched.

Only the King was worthy of the Princess.

Mopiduo paused for quite a while, concealing his melancholy and loss, scratched his scalp, brought his legs together, and gave Yao Ying the most formal bow.

“Princess, I willingly admit defeat to such a heroic and benevolent great hero as the King. I wish the Princess and King harmony like phoenix pairs, growing old together.”

Yao Ying’s expression softened, breaking into a smile, the silk ribbon in her hair trembling, her smile brilliant and beautiful: “Thank you for your blessing, Prince.”

The two smiled at each other in the evening light.

One vigorous and spirited, one radiant and lovely.

The surrounding conversation stopped, and the atmosphere suddenly grew heavy.

Mopiduo heard Bisuo’s cough and looked over puzzled. Bisuo gave him a meaningful look.

A bright gaze swept over him as Tanmoluojia, speaking with ministers, raised his eyes, his vision passing over the crowd to look at him once.

Mopiduo couldn’t help but shudder.

The red sunset and darkness quickly fall.

Most city residents were homeless, so Tanmoluojia ordered soldiers to set up felt tents outside the city, temporarily housing people in the tents.

Rows of felt tents stretched across the snowy ground, lanterns glowing everywhere.

Tanmoluojia instructed the officials: “The houses and streets must be thoroughly cleaned. Lead the Imperial Guards personally to sprinkle lime water everywhere. After the war, we must pay attention to disease prevention. If anyone is sick, move them to a centralized location for treatment first.”

The officials agreed.

Bisuo stayed close by his side, and when others had withdrawn, asked with furrowed brows: “My King, why not wait a few days before issuing the decree?”

Tanmoluojia gazed at Yao Ying, who stood talking to guards before a tent curtain not far away. “Do you think reforming the official system is too radical right now?”

Bisuo’s expression was grave as he nodded.

“Now is the best opportunity. Without destruction, there can be no establishment. We must break the cage to build new rules. Governing the royal court should focus on the long term. Starting official system reforms now, whether successful or not, means noble families can no longer shake the new official selection system.”

Tanmoluojia spoke slowly.

“Bisuo, don’t underestimate the common people. An ant’s strength may be humble, but even ants, though small, can overturn an elephant. Establish schools, and let commoners’ children receive daily education. Given time, they can check the power of noble families. Making the people prosperous and stable is the foundation of lasting peace.”

Bisuo suddenly understood, secretly marveling that Tanmoluojia wasn’t expecting reforms to take effect immediately. Every step he took was carefully considered. The royal court nobles’ constant internal strife endangered the state; only by strengthening royal authority could they prevent noble families from arbitrarily deposing and installing emperors again. The royal court needed political clarity and court stability, otherwise it would fall into endless internal disputes.

As they spoke, Yuanjue approached and said quietly: “My King, the Princess urges you to rest early, your back wound still needs medicine…”

Tanmoluojia made a sound of agreement, his gaze fixed on Yao Ying, and asked: “Where is the Duke of Weiguo?”

“The Duke of Weiguo and Western Army commanders’ tents are set up on the east side.”

Tanmoluojia nodded, “Take out the items and send them over.”

Yuanjue agreed and ran back to the storehouse, hands on hips directing guards to deliver gilt gift boxes to Li Zhongqian’s tent.

Tanmoluojia walked to his tent.

Yao Ying immediately pulled him into the tent, brows furrowed: “Had I known you’d be so busy after the ceremony, I would have helped you apply medicine in the carriage. Does the wound hurt?”

“Mingyue Nu.”

Tanmoluojia raised his hand signaling the guards to withdraw, his jade eyes lowered as he gripped Yao Ying’s shoulders, gazing at her intently.

Candles were lit in the tent, their light making his eyes particularly deep.

Yao Ying lifted her face to look at him: “What is it?”

“I will still read scriptures in the future, will study Buddhist principles…”

Tanmoluojia spoke slowly, his tone solemn, voice hoarse, “Mingyue Nu, even though I am no longer a monk, I still must pursue my path… You saw earlier, that I am the royal court’s monarch, I will often be busy handling state affairs like today…”

Yao Ying was stunned for a moment: “You had me accompany you today to show me all this?”

Tanmoluojia nodded, sighing softly, “Mingyue Nu, I grew up in a Buddhist temple, I know how to be a monk, how to be a monarch… but I don’t know how to be a good lover.”

He wasn’t a youth like Mopiduo, didn’t know how to please her.

Yao Ying was stunned even longer this time, as if she had drunk several bowls of Gaochang grape wine, her heart tingling with something surging silently, full to bursting.

Luojia, who knew everything, actually worried about this.

Before, his heart had no attachments. Now, he had stepped into her mortal world, striving to be a good lover for her.

Yao Ying’s heart surged as she rose on tiptoe to quickly kiss his cheek, smiling brilliantly: “You’re already perfect like this. And then, you must listen to me, apply medicine properly, and when I tell you to come rest, you must listen.”

Tanmoluojia lowered his eyes to look at her, softly agreeing.

If she didn’t mind, then from now on, he was her lover.

Yao Ying thought of the wound on his back and said tenderly: “Alright, I’ve had someone bring the medicine, sit down, and let me apply it for you.”

Tanmoluojia shook his head.

Yao Ying’s eyes narrowed—he had just agreed to listen to her properly.

“I must go see the Duke of Weiguo…” Tanmoluojia explained, “He is your elder brother, I should go see him now.”

Yao Ying felt both sweet and somewhat bemused, glancing at the burning candle: “Go tomorrow instead.”

She had met with Li Zhongqian in the afternoon; he should be asleep by now.

“No.” Tanmoluojia shook his head, hugged her briefly, and walked out of the large tent, “I’ll go see him right now.”

He wanted to cherish every moment, every instant with her, not wanting to delay.