Once the others had withdrawn and they were finally alone, Li Xuandu broke the silence.
“Why did you not listen to me?” he asked. “Why did you insist on going?”
Because what you are about to do is an exceedingly difficult thing.
Because I no longer wish to wait in helpless torment, aching for your return.
Because I want to share the burden with you — to do everything within my power.
Instead of answering, she turned the question back on him: “Why did you not let me go?”
“Were you afraid for my safety?”
Before he could reply, she pressed on: “You heard what Zhang Zhuo said just now, Your Highness. This is a rare opportunity to shed less blood.”
Li Xuandu’s expression remained taut. “Shedding less blood is indeed my wish. But if the price is the safety of you — a woman — that is an insult!”
Pu Zhu shook her head. “Your Highness, you are mistaken. I cannot guarantee that the chieftess will ultimately submit. But I have an intuition — at the very least, her reply to me was not malicious. Think about it, Your Highness: if she harbored ill intentions, she could have used this perfect opportunity to lure you out and strike at you directly. If she were to eliminate you, the Protectorate would collapse on its own. Why would she need to first deceive me into coming? To use me as leverage against you afterward? Why would she go to all that trouble? It simply does not make sense!”
She continued: “I have no great abilities, but I promise I will act with discernment. I know my own limits. I will never force what cannot be done, lest I drag down your important work. But if there is a chance — I hope Your Highness will not stop me.”
Li Xuandu’s rigid expression finally softened just a fraction.
Yet he still pressed his lips together stubbornly, still unwilling to nod.
Pu Zhu waited a moment, then slowly walked to stand before him, gazing steadily up into his face. At last she spoke: “Your Highness, this battle is crucial to the Protectorate. I hope you can establish a firm foundation and achieve success as swiftly as possible. Only then can my own heart’s wish have any hope of being realized.”
“When I help you, I am also helping myself!”
A barely perceptible trace of bittersweet feeling passed through the depths of Li Xuandu’s eyes.
He lowered his head slightly, meeting her upward gaze. After a moment, the corner of his mouth curved in what seemed like a rueful smile, and he said quietly: “Very well. I cannot argue with you…”
He had agreed!
Pu Zhu smiled and stretched both arms around his neck, rose on tiptoe, and kissed the lips he had been stubbornly pressing together just a moment ago. Then she let go and stepped back: “Then let me call them all back so we can discuss the plan —”
Li Xuandu caught her hand, and when she stopped and turned to look at him, he considered for a moment and said: “I will see you off.”
At the faint grey light of dawn the following morning, the party set out. Under Zhang Shishan’s guidance, they traveled rapidly for several days, and by dusk on a certain evening, they arrived without incident at Shuang Clan City.
The terrain of Shuang Clan City sloped higher in the north and lower in the south. The southern face was flat and surrounded by oases; the northern face was a stretch of gradually rising weathered hillside. The fortress stronghold stood not at the center of the city but followed the natural terrain, built upon the highest northern edge, creating a scene of sharp contrasts. Not far beyond the main gate, the streets and markets teemed with bustle, while behind the fortress the land dropped away into a sheer cliff dozens of zhang high. Over a thousand years of wind and sand had carved the cliff face with cracks like the marks of swords and axes. Beyond it lay the vast Gobi desert at the edge of the oasis — a natural barrier sealing out enemies from the outside world.
Li Xuandu brought Pu Zhu before the stronghold of the Shuang Clan.
This structure, said to be a century old, looked heavy and grey on the outside, yet it occupied an enormous expanse and possessed a majestic grandeur, like a great beast crouched upon the highest point of the city, gazing down in silent, imposing authority at the countless souls coming and going beneath its feet.
Zhang Shishan went up and knocked at the door. It opened quickly, and the gatekeeper from several days prior came out. Recognizing him and learning that the person his master wished to see had arrived, he told them to wait a moment.
Presently, a steward in fine robes appeared from behind the door, a smile on his face, and bowing respectfully, he invited Pu Zhu to enter.
Li Xuandu followed, only to be blocked by the steward, who in polite yet unyielding tones, asked him to remain where he stood.
“I am her attendant!” Li Xuandu said. “Wherever she goes, I must accompany her!”
“The mistress permits only the young lady of the Pu Clan to enter,” the steward replied. He studied Li Xuandu for a moment, then said respectfully: “You must be His Highness Prince Qin.” As he said these words, he switched languages — it was now Chinese. It came out somewhat stilted, yet was not too bad.
A flash of irritation crossed Li Xuandu’s face. He took Pu Zhu’s hand, turned, and made to leave with her.
The steward made no move to stop them. He simply stood on the steps. When Pu Zhu turned to look back at him, he smoothed the curled tuft of his mustache with a finger and gave her a smile, bowing slightly once more.
Li Xuandu’s expression darkened as he said in a low voice: “I have a bad feeling. The chieftess has ill intentions. Let us forget it — you should not go.”
Pu Zhu stood where she was and looked once more at the door, hesitating. “I really don’t think anything terrible will happen. Please don’t worry, Your Highness. Wait for me just a moment out here.” Seeing that he still stubbornly gripped her hand and would not let go, she gently prised open his fingers, slipped her hand free, gave his hand a reassuring pat, then turned and ascended the steps. She walked to the steward, gave him a nod, and followed him across the threshold and inside.
Beyond the great gate was a common four-sided courtyard with neatly laid bricks underfoot, and a cluster of buildings nearby that seemed used for everyday receiving of guests. Once she had passed through the courtyard and buildings, there was a passage leading toward the rear.
It was here that Pu Zhu first encountered the strangeness of the place.
The walls on either side of the passage were built of massive stones. After walking a short while, she felt she had entered a labyrinth — the path twisted and turned, skylights were densely placed overhead, and the light grew dimmer and dimmer, until she could not tell east from west or find any sense of direction.
On the journey here, Zhang Shishan had said that legend told of enemies once becoming trapped and dying inside the Shuang Clan stronghold. At the time she had doubted it, thinking it exaggerated, but now, witnessing it with her own eyes, she felt the legend might well be true.
If she were made to retrace her steps alone, she suspected she would not be able to find her way.
Gradually tense and uneasy — and also afraid of getting lost — she kept close behind the steward, winding through passages that all looked nearly the same from front, back, left, and right for about a quarter of an hour before finally emerging.
Before her the scene opened up, and a grand, stately hall appeared.
This building, hidden within, was entirely different from the ancient, unadorned exterior of the stronghold she had seen from outside. The walls were plastered white; the eaves were decorated with jade and metalwork; the doors and windows, lacquered in dark vermillion, were inlaid with green turquoise. The entire structure was magnificent and resplendent, radiant as a divine dwelling, and yet steeped in a mysterious, exotic atmosphere.
She had not imagined that within this stronghold there could be such a splendid hall.
The oppressive feeling of the labyrinthine passage had faded. In its place came astonishment, and growing curiosity about the Shuang Clan chieftess whom her father had recorded in his journal.
She followed the steward onward, crossing a courtyard paved with shells, and finally stopped before a door lacquered in vermillion.
The steward pushed open the half-latched door for her without announcing her, and invited her to enter.
Pu Zhu steadied herself, stepped up onto the threshold, and walked inside. The interior decorations were even more elaborate than what she had glimpsed from outside. Above was a layered coffered ceiling painted with gilded, colored patterns; the ceiling was covered with delicate layers of lotus and diamond flower motifs spreading outward tier upon tier. The walls were draped in silk. Every furnishing and implement in the room was either lacquered or gleaming gold. Yet the room itself was completely empty — not a single attendant or servant in sight.
Pu Zhu stood at the doorway for a moment, then slowly began to walk further inside, taking in the surroundings. Suddenly she had the sensation that someone behind her was watching.
She spun around, and beside a small door to the side stood a woman, perfectly still.
The woman appeared to be in her forties, tall in stature, with fair skin and a face whose features differed from those of Han people. Though no longer young — faint smile lines at the corners of her lips lent her face an air of authority — from the shape of her brows and the contour of her features, she must have been a beauty in her youth.
Pu Zhu’s instinct told her this woman must be the Shuang Clan chieftess. But the person before her was younger than she had imagined, and her attire was very plain — a dark robe, entirely unadorned — utterly at odds with this ornate hall. Not daring to speak rashly, she waited. After a moment, noticing that the woman’s steady gaze had not left her face, she said softly: “I am the daughter of the Pu Clan. Might I ask, are you the honored chieftess of the Shuang Clan?”
She had spoken in the local language. The woman took a step and walked slowly toward her, stopping just in front of her, but said nothing, still gazing at her in that fixed way.
Pu Zhu felt somewhat unsettled under that gaze, but waited quietly. At last the woman responded, seeming to murmur to herself in the local tongue: “Like him… truly like him…”
Pu Zhu had not quite heard her clearly, and seeing the woman seemed to be speaking to herself, she naturally did not ask.
The woman finished her murmuring, suddenly came to herself, and nodded. “Correct — I am of the Shuang Clan. Was it you and your husband who wrote that letter?”
She had shifted to Chinese, and her accent was remarkably fluent.
It was not unusual for rulers or nobles of many kingdoms in the Western Regions to speak a few phrases of the central plains’ language, but to speak it as naturally as one’s mother tongue was rare — unless one had been sent to the central plains kingdom as a student or hostage from childhood.
But as far as Pu Zhu knew, this chieftess of the Shuang Clan had apparently never visited the capital.
She was startled for a moment, then quickly composed herself and nodded, stepping forward to offer a bow: “Your niece of the Pu Clan, Zhuzhu, pays her respects to her elder.”
By following Li Xuandu, her own status would surpass that of this chieftess of the Western Regions. But she had come today as a supplicant, tracing the old acquaintance between her father and this woman, so she greeted her according to seniority.
The chieftess gave a slight nod, walked to a chair with gilded armrests set with peacock-blue gemstones, and sat down, gesturing for her to be seated as well.
Two female servants carrying golden trays and golden pitchers entered without a sound and knelt on the floor. They set golden cups before the chieftess and Pu Zhu, poured milk tea into them, and then silently withdrew.
The chieftess invited her to drink.
Pu Zhu lifted the cup and took a small sip, finding the taste rich and fragrant with not the least hint of rankness, and expressed her compliments and thanks.
The chieftess smiled slightly, then asked: “How did you come to know that I was acquainted with your father?”
As she posed the question, she sat with shoulders and back perfectly upright, her expression slightly taut, resuming that authoritative bearing from the beginning. When she finished speaking, her eyes fixed intently on Pu Zhu.
Pu Zhu had no wish to fabricate a story — saying she had heard her father speak of her when she was a child might have made it easier to draw closer, yet she told the truth: “I once happened upon a journal from my late father’s early years of travel westward. His notes mentioned the honored chieftess, and so your niece came to know of your name.”
The chieftess seemed briefly startled on hearing this, her gaze gradually becoming intent.
Pu Zhu waited a moment. Seeing that she had no reaction yet, she continued: “Tuogan is our enemy — a fight to the death with no room for compromise. He was never the true ruler of Baole to begin with; he was a corrupt minister placed on the throne by the Dongdi people, effectively a puppet, who has been bleeding the people dry. The people loathe him to the bone. The honored chieftess is different. I have heard that the Shuang Clan is a noble family of old standing in Baole Kingdom. Not only does the chieftess hold a position of great power, she also possesses extraordinary foresight. It is for this reason that your niece, relying on the old acquaintance between her late father and the chieftess, has presumed to send this letter. I hope the chieftess will consider the greater good: if the false king who is nothing but a puppet can be removed and the Dongdi influence driven from this road, it will be a blessing for the tens of thousands of people of Baole — and a great blessing for your niece as well!”
The chieftess listened, gave her a measured look, and replied without committing herself: “The way you speak with such eloquence somewhat resembles the manner of your father in his youth…”
She paused abruptly, her expression turning grave. She said evenly: “Tuogan may be unpopular, and the Dongdi people may be savage as beasts, but I am not Han Chinese — why should I lend my aid to you? For a long time now, the Han people and the Di people have been contesting this road, fighting each other, disturbing the peace of my people. Are you free of ulterior motives?”
Pu Zhu immediately rose from her seat and stood, speaking with grave composure: “Your niece does not presume to contradict, but the purpose of our Han armies entering the Western Regions and that of Dongdi’s forces are entirely different. The Dongdi peoples levy ruinous taxes and occupy this place only to treat the Western Regions as their granary and supply depot, and the people of the Western Regions as slaves to be exploited. Our Han armies have entered the Western Regions for the purpose of controlling the mountain passes and guarding the terrain, ensuring that east-west passage remains unobstructed — ultimately to maintain stability across the four frontiers. The current duty of the Protectorate is not to exploit the Western Regions, but to pacify the interior and oversee foreign nations.”
“More than a decade ago, my father traveled the Western Regions as an envoy, and many kingdoms submitted and regarded our Li Dynasty as their suzerain. Did you hear of the Li Dynasty levying taxes upon the people of the Western Regions at that time? On the contrary, there were plentiful gifts and grace bestowed upon the four frontiers. It was so then, and that will absolutely not change now or in the future!”
The chieftess studied her in silence. After a long moment, she still said nothing.
Pu Zhu held her breath for a moment. Seeing no indication from her, she weighed her words and finally added: “If your niece has given offense in anything just said, I hope the chieftess will forgive me. The reason I dared come today is that I remembered my father’s journal saying that the chieftess is a woman of righteousness. What must be said, my husband has already said plainly in the letter: so long as the puppet false king is eliminated and Dongdi’s forces are driven from this road, the kingdoms will continue as before, and the Protectorate will not interfere in the internal affairs of any kingdom. The position of the chieftess will not be affected in the slightest.”
“Whether or not the chieftess is willing to help, your niece is already deeply gladdened to have had the chance to meet you today. I dare not impose upon the chieftess’s peace any further. Your niece will take her leave.”
She bowed to the chieftess in the manner of a junior, then turned and walked toward the door. When she reached it, she suddenly heard the chieftess call out from behind her: “Zhuzhu!”
Pu Zhu’s heart leapt.
She had called her directly by her childhood name.
Her instinct told her there might be a turning point.
She steadied her emotions with great effort and slowly turned around. The chieftess had taken from a gilded and painted box on the table what appeared to be a map on soft sheepskin. She pointed to it and said: “This is a detailed map of Yan City. It marks the exact location where the Khotan prince is being held, and also notes the deployment and guard arrangements at various points throughout the city. Furthermore — if Li Xuandu comes to battle Tuogan, my troops will not participate.”
She looked steadily at Pu Zhu: “Does this satisfy you?”
A surge of excitement welled in Pu Zhu’s heart.
With a detailed map of Yan City and the guard dispositions at every point, the capital of Baole Kingdom was as good as stripped of its defenses. For Li Xuandu, rescuing the captive would no longer be a difficult matter. And in battle, if Tuogan were deprived of the Shuang Clan’s troops, to call it cutting off one arm would be no exaggeration at all.
Not merely satisfactory — it was more than she could have hoped for!
She almost ran back to the chieftess’s side, expressing her thanks repeatedly in great delight.
The chieftess helped her up, gazing at the bright, clear eyes of the young woman before her — eyes that seemed somehow familiar: “However, I have one condition.”
Pu Zhu immediately said: “Please speak. As long as it can be done, I can certainly agree on our behalf.”
The chieftess took her hand and said gently: “I have no children. I find you, so radiant and precious, very pleasing. Can you stay and keep me company for a little while?”
Pu Zhu had not expected her to make such a request. She was momentarily taken aback, then quickly turned it over in her mind.
Li Xuandu was about to go and rescue the captive — and then inevitably to battle Tuogan. There was nothing she could do to help with any of that. Staying at Wulei or staying here made no difference.
The chieftess had agreed to help — and had helped so enormously. Since she had asked in this way, it was only for her to stay a little while. How could she possibly refuse?
Pu Zhu quickly nodded. “Very well! As long as you do not mind me being a bother, I am most willing!”
A smile appeared on the chieftess’s face. She gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind Pu Zhu’s ear with a tender, motherly gesture and said: “Li Xuandu’s fourth son must be eager to go and rescue the captive. I will have someone bring the city map to him at once so as not to delay important matters. It is a long way from here to the front. There is no need for you to go out again; if you are worried he will be anxious, send him a message.”
Pu Zhu nodded and agreed. The chieftess ordered a servant to bring paper and brush. Pu Zhu quickly wrote a brief note, telling him that the chieftess had agreed not to lend any further assistance to Tuogan, asking him to take care of himself from here on, not to worry about her, and to come and fetch her once everything was settled.
She finished the letter and watched the steward take it, along with the map of Yan City, and depart on the chieftess’s orders in haste.
She let out a long breath.
Li Xuandu had been stopped at the gate, watching helplessly as her figure disappeared through the door. The door shut firmly behind her.
He pressed down the unease welling inside him and paced back and forth near the stronghold gate. A long time passed with no movement and no sign of her coming out. He was overcome with regret — how had he let himself be swayed by her, truly allowing her to go in alone like that?
Growing too anxious to endure any longer, he strode quickly toward the gate, had just mounted the steps in a few strides and was about to pound on the door, when suddenly the door opened. The steward who had led her inside came out, a smile on his face, and bowed respectfully to him.
Li Xuandu quickly scanned what lay behind the steward.
“Where is she?” he demanded at once.
The steward presented him with a letter.
Li Xuandu snatched it, unfolded and read it, then stood for a moment in a daze.
The steward said: “The mistress and Your Highness’s consort got on wonderfully. She praised the consort as radiant and precious, and has asked her to stay as a guest for a few days. The consort agreed with pleasure. The details should be in the letter.”
Li Xuandu read it through once more. Confirming that it was indeed her own handwriting, he finally let out his breath entirely. While privately laughing at himself for having been over-anxious, he was also quietly struck by the fact that she had managed to do him such a tremendous favor.
He turned over the map and contemplated for a while, then decided he would follow her wishes and let her stay to keep the chieftess company for a few days. He would resolve the pressing matters at hand and then come back to bring her home.
He looked once more at that door, put away her letter and the map, gave the steward a slight nod, turned, called Zhang Ting and the others, and departed in haste.