Pu Zhu stayed on in the stronghold. She had assumed the chieftess had merely taken a sudden fancy, but the chieftess’s kindness toward her far exceeded anything she had imagined. Not only were her accommodations splendid and gleaming with gold, but more than ten servants waited upon her — she was entirely at leisure, without a care. Nor did the chieftess place any restriction on her movements, only cautioning her not to go wandering into the labyrinthine passage at the front. Elsewhere, she was free to go wherever she wished. Beyond this, from the day she moved in, a steady stream of gifts was sent to her rooms every day. Besides jewels, fine clothing, and delicacies, there were also rare birds and exotic beasts. The day before yesterday had brought a pair of white parrots that could talk; yesterday, a pair of peacocks with magnificent plumage.
The hostess was generous, but Pu Zhu was no frivolous person. She only wandered a little near her lodgings and had no interest in exploring the place for its novelties. After a few days, because she was thinking about Li Xuandu, she found herself distracted and unable to settle. On this particular day, when the steward came again bringing an entertainer who could perform all sorts of conjuring tricks — saying this was for her amusement — she took the opportunity to ask whether there was any recent news about Li Xuandu.
The steward told her that Prince Qin had successfully rescued the eldest prince, and asked her to set her mind at ease: the Lady Shuang had promised not to fight, and she would certainly keep her word.
Though it was something of a comfort, Pu Zhu was still deeply worried.
Tuogan must be furious right now. Besides mustering whatever troops he could, he would certainly be appealing to the Dongdi Grand Commandant for reinforcements.
Baole Kingdom was not only populous but occupied a crucial strategic position — a kingdom that sat astride the main road. It was an important point of strategic importance in the Western Regions, and the Dongdi people would not simply stand by. Li Xuandu would certainly seize upon the window of opportunity created by the Shuang Clan’s withdrawal and the Dongdi reinforcements not yet having arrived to launch an offensive — a swift, decisive battle to take Yan City and gain control of the region.
War was on the verge of breaking out. It might even already be underway.
She had every confidence in Li Xuandu, yet she was still wracked with anxiety. Whatever the chieftess sent to her, nothing could draw out her interest.
She even felt a pang of regret at having agreed to stay here. If she were at the Protectorate right now, even if she could not help with anything, at least she would feel, emotionally, as though she were standing side by side with Li Xuandu — not like this, feeling herself so far away from him.
He was fighting through blood and battle. She was idling the days away, well-fed and useless.
But things outside must be chaotic right now, and the chieftess had been so good to her — she couldn’t bring herself to say she wanted to leave. She suppressed her restless feelings with effort and told the steward not to bother sending people and things to her every day.
The steward smiled and agreed, nodding repeatedly as he withdrew.
Pu Zhu was unsettled and on edge for the entire day. In the evening she came once again to the stretch of rocky cliffs at the rear of the stronghold, and stood gazing at the setting sun at the far edge of the Gobi.
She had no interest in exploring other parts of the stronghold, but this place she had visited once before and had taken an immediate liking to.
Atop the weathered cliff, a great wind was howling. The Gobi sunset was breathtakingly magnificent, and standing at the cliff’s edge, one felt not only one’s own smallness but as though one’s very spirit had been emptied and set free.
But now, even a sight like this could not calm her heart.
She gazed at the setting sun for a time, and then thoughts of Li Xuandu surged up again, bringing a wave of restless agitation. Just then she heard someone behind her ask: “Zhuzhu, do you like this place?”
Pu Zhu turned, and the chieftess, who had come at some point unnoticed, was now standing not far behind her, smiling warmly as she looked at her.
Pu Zhu walked toward her, greeted her, and nodded.
“Do you know,” the chieftess said, “your father came here once. Like you, he also loved this place very much. He said it was the most magnificent sunset he had ever seen in his life.”
Pu Zhu was momentarily stunned.
She had been staying here for a few days now, yet this was the first time the chieftess had mentioned her father.
She looked again at the Gobi sunset before her and tried to imagine that, many years ago on some evening in the past, her father had stood in the very spot where she now stood, gazing at this same sunset. A tide of emotion rose within her.
“What a pity this sunset is ultimately not beautiful enough — for how else could it fail to hold a person’s steps? If only it could have been a little more beautiful, beautiful enough to make him want to stay, then perhaps he would not have died the way he did.”
The chieftess’s sigh reached her ears, filled with desolation and regret.
Pu Zhu fell silent.
The chieftess gazed into the distance for a moment, then came back to herself, shook her head with a self-mocking air, and asked with concern: “Have you been comfortable these past few days? If the servants have been lacking in any way, just tell me.”
“Everything has been wonderful,” Pu Zhu said. “Please don’t trouble yourself further on my account.”
She hesitated, then added: “My Lady, I have been staying here for some days now. I wonder what news there is from my husband’s side. Do you have any word?”
The chieftess’s expression shifted to a slight coolness: “The steward should have already told you — Li Xuandu’s fourth son has rescued the man he went to save. He is clever enough; he gave the Dongdi people no chance and has already led troops to attack Yan City. Do not worry. Tuogan is no match for him.”
Hearing the chieftess say this as well, Pu Zhu finally let out a small sigh of relief.
“Without the chieftess’s generous assistance, my husband would not have been able to proceed so smoothly. When he comes to fetch me, the two of us will thank you together!”
The chieftess said nothing. She studied her for a moment, then suddenly said: “Come with me. I want to show you somewhere.”
Pu Zhu followed her to the place she wanted her to see, and only then discovered that this location held a world within a world. Beyond that splendid hall, this stronghold at the heart of the Western Regions also contained a garden courtyard of considerable size in the style of a traditional enclosed garden — white walls and dark tiles, four wings embracing it on all sides, a pond and decorative rocks, a new scene at every turn. Once inside, there was no sense whatsoever of being beyond the frontier; one might have been dreaming oneself into the Jiangnan region south of the Yangtze.
The chieftess raised her hand and gently stroked a garden rock nearby.
“This place was something I put together in my youth, on a whim. The materials all came from the central plains, brought here trip by trip — it took several years to complete. Afterward it turned out to be completely useless, and has remained empty ever since, never lived in for a single day.”
She looked at Pu Zhu, whose expression was gradually filling with astonishment.
“What do you think of this place? Do you like it?”
Pu Zhu quickly replied: “This place is naturally wonderful. I like it very much.”
The chieftess smiled slightly, looked at her for a moment, then said: “Then would you be willing to stay and become my daughter? I will give you everything I have. And one day in the future, you can personally lead people to bring your father’s remains back from Wuli.”
Pu Zhu was taken aback, hesitating. “My Lady, what do you mean?”
The smile slowly faded from the chieftess’s face. Her expression seemed to frost over, and she said word by word: “Your father was a towering hero. You are his daughter. And the men of the Li imperial house are utterly useless — every one of them!”
“The men of the Li family are simply not worthy of you!”
…
After Li Xuandu rescued the Khotan prince, he gave Tuogan no time to prepare. Three days later, he led the united forces that had assembled and marched on Yan City, launching a proactive offensive.
Nearly all of Baole Kingdom’s elite troops came from the Shuang Clan. Without the Shuang Clan’s forces, and with the Dongdi Grand Commandant’s reinforcements not yet having arrived to fill the gap, Tuogan was forced to hastily meet the attack with just over ten thousand men he had managed to muster at hand. After suffering two consecutive defeats, completely demoralized, he withdrew to defend the city, waiting desperately for Dongdi relief. Then news arrived that the two thousand cavalrymen dispatched by the Grand Commandant had been intercepted on the road by Li Dynasty forces. The people under Tuogan’s command had already been in a state of dread; upon hearing this, the army’s morale disintegrated entirely. The siege lasted barely three days before the city fell. Tuogan was killed in the chaos, and the remaining Baole forces all surrendered. Li Xuandu occupied Yan City, dealt with the series of matters that had to be handled, then put everything else aside and set off for Shuang Clan City.
He departed at dawn. From Yan City to Shuang Clan City was a distance of over a hundred li. By dusk, he had arrived.
It had been exactly half a month since he had left her there.
Only half a month — yet when he thought of it now, it felt as though a very long time had passed. He reined in his horse on a slope outside Shuang Clan City’s gate, his gaze sweeping over the city walls to the distance beyond, until his eyes found the silhouette of the stronghold — high and commanding on the elevated ground, bathed in the light of the setting sun.
He narrowed his eyes, and looked again, as if to confirm it was truly still there, and not just an illusion in the sunset of this moment.
A few days ago, when he had led his troops into Yan City, everyone who followed him had been jubilant. Yet he himself had felt not the slightest excitement — his heart had not produced even a ripple.
It was merely something he had needed to do, a purpose now achieved. There were many more such things still ahead. One by one, they were waiting for him in the future.
But at this moment, when he saw the shadow of that stronghold and thought that she was inside it right now — that he would very soon see her and bring her home — a strange, inexplicable feeling of excitement welled up suddenly in his heart. That feeling urged him onward, as though he were a young man about to meet his beloved at the appointed hour beneath the willow boughs at dusk, who found he could not wait even a moment longer. He spurred his horse down the slope and galloped into the old city in the fading light. His charging horse startled passersby into scrambling out of the way, and they pointed at his retreating figure, calling out in indignation.
He paid no attention at all. In one breath he arrived before the stronghold, only to find the steward standing outside the gate — as though he had known he would come, and had been waiting for some time. The steward came forward to meet him with a few steps, showing great deference as he paid his respects and addressed him as Your Highness Prince Qin.
“With the Shuang Clan’s assistance, I have come today especially to express my gratitude. Please inform your mistress on my behalf.”
Li Xuandu suppressed the urgency in his heart and spoke politely. Zhang Ting, who had accompanied him, directed the attendants to bring forward the gifts they had brought.
The steward refused to accept them, and only said: “The mistress has instructed me to convey to Your Highness that the Shuang Clan’s assistance on this occasion was entirely for the sake of the young lady of the Pu Clan. Your Highness need not stand on ceremony; the mistress will not accept Your Highness’s thanks.”
Though the steward’s tone was respectful, the message itself was distant and dismissive.
Li Xuandu was taken aback for a moment. After a pause, he waved his hand and ordered the gifts to be taken back, then said: “In that case, please go and inform my wife that I have come to take her home.”
The steward spoke again: “The mistress has one more message to convey. The young lady of the Pu Clan will not be leaving with Your Highness. Your Highness is requested to return; there is no need to come again in the future.”
Li Xuandu’s brow furrowed. “For what reason can I not take my own wife home?”
The steward shook his head. “That is beyond my knowledge. The mistress says this place does not welcome Your Highness to linger, and requests that Your Highness depart as soon as possible.”
Li Xuandu said nothing more. He raised his eyes, fixed his gaze on the door behind the steward, and his expression gradually turned dark. He suddenly stepped forward, shoved the great gate open, and strode in.
The steward made no move to stop him — only stood to one side wearing a cold smile, and waited.
A short while later, Li Xuandu came back out, fury on his face. He seized the steward by the wrist, pressing his arm behind his back, and demanded in a sharp voice: “Lead the way!”
His grip was extremely heavy. The steward’s arm was bent back and his body twisted sideways, half buckling to his knees, his face blanching and cold sweat streaming, yet he gritted his teeth and said: “Your Highness Prince Qin — I dare not violate the mistress’s command. Even if you killed me today, I would not lead you inside! If you truly wish to fetch the lady, then go in yourself!”
Zhang Ting flew into a rage and drew his sword, pressing the blade against the steward’s neck. The steward simply closed his eyes, showing the resigned composure of someone prepared to die.
Li Xuandu’s eyelids were twitching incessantly. He stared at the steward for a moment, then slowly released his grip, and ordered Zhang Ting to sheathe his sword as well.
“Your Highness, I will go back immediately and bring troops! It is just one stronghold — I refuse to believe we cannot level it and break through!”
Li Xuandu gazed at the door for a long while, then shook his head, turned, and once again stepped inside.
Two days later, the chieftess was told by the steward that Li Xuandu, having forced his way in halfway, encountered a barrage of arrows shot from hidden openings in the walls of the labyrinth. He finally abandoned the attempt and, just as darkness fell the previous evening, withdrew from the stronghold. No one knew where he had gone. The chieftess gave a cold laugh.
“This stronghold has stood for a century, and not once has anyone been able to force their way in. He showed some sense in knowing when to stop — otherwise what awaited him further in would have been far worse than arrows…”
She dismissed the steward and turned to Pu Zhu: “You heard it yourself? I gave him a chance. I let him try to force his way in. He was the one who retreated on his own. How many days has it been? The men of the Li family — not a single one is ever able to earn my respect! Zhuzhu, I urge you to open your eyes and see clearly!”
Hearing that Li Xuandu had finally left, Pu Zhu felt a measure of relief — but also felt a surge of anger.
She had not imagined things would come to this.
“Lady Shuang, why do you despise him so much? How has he wronged you?”
The chieftess looked at her sharply when she challenged her like this, then said with cool indifference: “Zhuzhu, when your grandfather died and you were exiled by the Li Dynasty’s emperor to He Xi, I once dispatched people to blend into merchant caravans and go look for you. They searched several times without finding a trace; later I learned you had been taken in by a family and had found a good home, so I assumed it was not fated for us to meet, and let the matter rest. When that letter arrived, I only then learned that you had now married a man of the Li family!”
As she mentioned “a man of the Li family,” an expression of profound disgust crossed her face.
“What use is a useless man like those of the Li family to you? Do you feel not the slightest resentment over what happened to your father? Listen well, Zhuzhu: he has now left. If he accepts defeat and does his duty as Protector, I and he will be like oil and water going forward, each in our own sphere. But if he dares send troops to attack, do not blame me for turning hostile. My Shuang Clan has stood in this place for a hundred years, and it has not been through bluster alone. Even if he were to ultimately level my Shuang Clan City — he would never again know a day of peace on this central road!”
Pu Zhu clutched her sleeve and pleaded through tears: “My Lady — though he was born into the imperial family, he is different from the others. He has harbored the ambition to pacify the Western Regions since he was a boy. Even when he was unjustly imprisoned in his youth, he never forgot my father. The very first time he ever met me — when he learned my identity — he helped me right then. He said that one day, he would bring my father home!”
The chieftess shot back furiously: “Why do you still defend him? Fine words are easy for anyone. If he had truly dared to come alone this time, I might have respected him for having some fighting spirit. I was not asking him to hold out for seven days and seven nights. If he could have held out for even three days, I might very well have let him in! But what did he do? This quickly, he retreated on his own. I did not fail to give him a chance! Zhuzhu, I urge you to see clearly! He has left now — it is either that he feared death and gave up, or that he is plotting to bring a large army and attack by force. If he simply abandons you like this, what in him is worth your longing? And if his plan is to bring a great army to force his way through…”
She gave a cold laugh.
“If not for my help, could he have taken Yan City so smoothly? An ungrateful, cold-blooded wretch like that — what sort of worthy man is he? I do not slander him when I say he would not even be fit to hold your father’s horse or light his way. A man like that — what great things can he ever achieve in the future?”
Pu Zhu fell silent.
The chieftess exhaled slowly several times and looked at her. Seeing her lower her head and not move, she took hold of her fingers, which had gone slightly cold at the tips, and softened her tone: “Zhuzhu, think carefully about what I have said, and whether there is any truth in it. I hope you will stay here in peace. If you are willing, I will formally adopt you as my daughter, and everything I have will be yours in the future!”
The chieftess left. And through that long night, Pu Zhu once again found herself unable to sleep.
She naturally did not want Li Xuandu to risk his life forcing his way through the labyrinth for her sake. When she heard that he had finally left, her first reaction had been relief.
Yet the chieftess’s words plunged her into a fresh torment.
Had Li Xuandu truly given up on her just like that?
What she feared even more was that he would do as the chieftess had predicted and bring troops to attack Shuang Clan City by force in order to take her away.
Though the chieftess had kept her here against her will — not what she herself had wanted — and though she did not fully understand the entanglement between her father and the chieftess, the chieftess’s actions after her father’s death had moved her deeply and earned her profound respect. She did not want him to come into such a conflict with the chieftess.
Her thoughts weighed heavily upon her. She tossed and turned in the bed, and after a long while she finally told herself: Li Xuandu would not do that.
He was not that kind of person.
The chieftess did not understand him at all — that was why she displaced her anger onto him and made such assumptions about him. But she herself was not like that.
Though she could not guess what Li Xuandu was planning, he would not abandon her. Nor would he do something so reckless as sending a great army to attack by force.
They shared the same bed. Whatever reservations she may have held toward him before, in this matter, the right thing to do was to trust him unconditionally, to wait for him patiently, and to continue explaining things to the chieftess so she could understand what kind of man he truly was.
Thinking this, Pu Zhu felt ashamed of her earlier wavering and doubt, which made it even harder to sleep.
It was already past midnight. She stared at the thick, dark night outside the window, wondering where he was now and what he was doing. She was aching with longing when, suddenly, from the direction of the south window, she heard a faint sound of movement.
She opened her eyes. By the dim light of night, she saw a shadowy figure slip through the gap of the half-open window left ajar for ventilation. The figure seemed to flicker, then landed on the floor without a sound. It then moved quickly in the direction of her bed.
Her scalp prickled.
She knew there were guards where she was lodging. Widening her eyes, she was about to cry out when the figure had already taken one stride to reach the bed, swept aside the curtain, reached out, and covered her mouth. The figure made a soft hushing sound, and then a warm breath was at her ear, and a familiar voice sounded low and near: “Zhuzhu, do not be afraid — it is I!”
It was him?
It was truly him!
He had come — and so quickly!
Pu Zhu could barely believe her own ears. Her senses returning to her, she went limp all at once — as though the bones had been drawn out of her — and sank down, pulling him with her as she collapsed backward onto the bed.