Two days later, Li Xuandu arrived at Yumen Pass and joined up with Zhu Rang, Deputy Director of the Court of State Ceremonial, and his party.

Zhu Rang was nearly fifty years old and served as Deputy Director, the second-ranking figure in the Court of State Ceremonial. An errand like this — going out to welcome someone — would normally not require him; someone else could have been dispatched in his place. However, Grand Empress Dowager Jiang Shi was eagerly anticipating the little prince’s arrival, and the Xiaochang Emperor was extremely filial toward his paternal step-grandmother, making this a rare opportunity to present oneself favorably.

From Deputy Director to Director, the difference in rank was only half a grade, yet crossing that threshold was anything but easy; there were those who spent an entire career unable to make the leap.

For the sake of a senior ministerial position he had coveted for the better part of his life, he had volunteered to take on this errand.

He was certainly well-versed in the ceremonial matters of the Court of State Ceremonial — tributary audiences, congratulations, condolences, and the rites of introduction — but in his daily life he scarcely took exercise and seldom rode a horse, let alone making the journey all the way from the capital to Yumen Pass at the empire’s western edge in one stretch. Day after day on the road, whether by day or by night, he had lost a great deal of weight and grown considerably darker in complexion, and his legs, so worn from riding, were trembling uncontrollably; yet unwilling to let those below him see this, he gritted his teeth and endured. When he had finally, after much suffering, reached Yumen Pass the day before and thought he could stop and rest, waiting here for the little prince’s arrival — who could have imagined that, just one night later, Prince Qin Li Xuandu would catch up from behind bearing the Empress Dowager’s decree, instructing them to go through the pass at once to meet the party in person.

Zhu Rang cried out inwardly but dared not show a trace of it outwardly. He submissively acknowledged the order, summoned his attendants, and with great effort steeled himself to prepare to depart through the pass. Fortunately, just before setting out, Prince Qin suddenly changed his mind and told him there was no need to go.

Li Xuandu had seen long ago that this Zhu Rang was already at the end of his strength.

Beyond the pass, a stretch of the road was extremely dangerous. To drag this barely-functioning man along would be of little use, and would only add dead weight. If the old fellow gave out and couldn’t hold on, he’d have the added bother of having to dig a hole and bury the corpse — better simply not to bring him along. He selected a portion of the sturdier armed escorts from Zhu Rang’s own contingent and led them straight through Yumen Pass. Following the trade road that ran along the course of the rivers, several days later they entered the White Dragon Mound, a place notorious enough to make anyone who spoke of it change color.

This was a stretch considered the most perilous and the most mysterious along the whole westward road. Across a vast stretch of desert stood abrupt and bizarre towers and pillars of earth rising from the ground, stretching as far as the eye could see without end. The gullies and valleys were everywhere piled with drifting sand, and even in the daytime, strange sounds rang out incessantly; at night, demons and monsters were said to appear, and passing travelers frequently disappeared — swallowed by the demons, the stories went — which is why the place had earned the name Ghost Domain. Ordinary merchant caravans dared not travel here alone, and usually waited until a crowd had gathered before crossing together in daylight.

Reckoning by the dates, the little prince’s party should be reaching this area in the next day or two. When night fell, the guide found a sheltered level ground, and Li Xuandu ordered his company to make camp and stand watch in turns. That night, apart from the strange sounds filling every ear, no man-eating demons actually appeared. At dawn the next day, before sunrise, the group set out again heading west; by noon they had reached a place where flat, sit-able rocks were scattered about — a rest stop formed over the years by generations of passing merchant travelers pausing there. Li Xuandu ordered a halt to eat and drink.

Suddenly, the guide at the lead called out loudly: “People coming up ahead!”

Everyone looked, and in the far distance they could indeed see the shadows of a mounted party. At first it was hard to make out clearly, but once the other party had wound around a great sand dune, the line of sight opened up. At the front was a guiding banner embroidered with a wolf’s head, and behind stretched a long column intermingling horses and camels, winding slowly forward; by the look of it, there were several hundred people.

Ye Xiao immediately took a few men and galloped out to meet them. A moment later he came back and reported to Li Xuandu: “Your Highness, it is indeed the little prince’s party!”

His expression carried a trace of relief, and it was evident he had finally let out a long breath.

Li Xuandu narrowed his eyes slightly, cast a glance ahead, and then ordered his men to line up in a formation to welcome them.

The other party quickly drew near and came to a halt.

Li Xuandu dismounted and walked forward, coming to stand before the small covered carriage in which the little prince rode.

The little prince was only eight or nine years old this year, with a head of curly black hair, two blue eyes, and chubby round cheeks — a rather delightful-looking child. Just now he had been informed that people sent by his maternal grandmother had come ahead to meet his party. Having been cooped up in this small covered carriage from the excitement of departure at the start to the boredom that set in later, lying this way and that and rolling around inside, he had been so bored his eyes had gone blank; upon suddenly hearing that someone had come to welcome him, he was thrilled beyond endurance and had long since bored his way out.

He stood with legs planted wide apart atop the carriage, first sizing up the other party’s pomp: finding only one or two dozen men, all of them grey and dust-covered, nowhere near the grand ceremonial procession he had imagined for the great imperial dynasty, he was greatly disappointed and secretly looked down on them. He then turned his gaze to the man who had stopped before him, and his two eyes rolled over him a few times from head to toe: “So you’re my mother’s little nephew — what’s your name…”

He furrowed his brow and knocked on his own head.

“Li Xuandu?”

“I am A’Shibi! And I have another name my mother gave me — Huaiwei.”

The little prince had been deeply spoiled since childhood by his father, the Western Di King Yuan Hun, and had developed a manner of looking down on everyone. Except when putting on a good show before his mother, once out of her sight he became a different person entirely. Right now he had not the slightest regard for this “Fourth Elder Brother” standing before him. Having finished what amounted to a self-introduction, he crooked a finger at the other man.

Li Xuandu dutifully took one step forward.

The little prince, clearly very pleased with this submissive attitude, was all smiles, and actually reached out and gave him a big pat on the shoulder: “You’ve worked hard, Fourth Elder Brother! When I see Maternal Grandmother, I’ll have her give you a good reward!”

Li Xuandu’s face was expressionless, though the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.

Ye Xiao and the men from the Court of State Ceremonial had initially felt quite a warm connection upon hearing this little prince open his mouth and speak fluent Central Plains speech, and given that he was also the son of the Princess Imperial — but the situation had taken a sharp and unexpected turn, leaving them staring at each other in consternation, sneaking glances at Prince Qin, who stood expressionless. The surroundings fell silent.

The little prince, oblivious, patted Li Xuandu’s shoulder and jumped down, continuing to give orders as though no one else existed: “I want to ride a horse! I’m not sitting in the cage anymore! Tell them to get me a horse to ride, and when I reach the capital I’ll have Maternal Grandmother give you a reward…”

He was still cheerfully talking away when Li Xuandu, who had reached the end of his patience, extended one hand, fingers spread like a claw, grabbed him by the back of his collar, and with one swift motion lifted his entire body into the air, and strode off with him.

Li Xuandu’s appearance was unusually fine-featured, and his build was not that of a powerfully built man, yet his grip was extraordinarily strong. Huaiwei was like a small chicken in his grasp, struggling with all his might and shrieking — he even kicked off one of his boots, which sailed far and fell nose-first into a sand pile at the roadside — yet could not overpower him, and was carried back to the front of the covered carriage.

One of the little prince’s slaves had long since opened the door, and Li Xuandu flung him inside.

“Behave yourself in there!”

He gave a sharp command.

In front of so many people — not only his own slaves and guards, but more importantly, the people from the capital meeting him for the first time — he, A’Shibi the little prince, had been humiliated to such a degree!

The little prince saw the expressions on the faces opposite — that look of wanting to laugh but not daring — and in mortification and rage, scrambled out again, stuck his head out, and shouted at Li Xuandu: “You remember this! I’ll make you regret what you’ve done to me today… wuwuwu…”

Before he had finished speaking, his head was again grabbed by Li Xuandu and forcibly stuffed back inside, whereupon he ordered the door shut.

The journey had been genuinely tedious, and all the way along, the little prince had wanted to get out and ride a horse, but being still young, and away from home, the chief envoy and the commander of the escorts did not dare allow it no matter what, and refused to budge. So he had tormented them severely the whole way here. Today, having just met people from the capital, the little devil had eaten such a thorough public humiliation, and they were secretly amused — they hastened to comply with the order and shut the door.

The little prince, more furious and ashamed than ever, pressed his hands and feet against the door, refusing to let anyone close it, and once again forced his head out. The attendants tried to dissuade him; Ye Xiao and the others on the opposite side watched with wide eyes; it was noisy and chaotic.

Li Xuandu caught sight of the boot the little prince had just kicked off, which had landed upside-down in the sand. As he was about to go pick it up, a Western Di slave also noticed it, and not daring to let him do so, rushed ahead to retrieve it.

Li Xuandu was just turning back when the corner of his eye swept over a clump of suosuo grass beside where the boot had fallen. A faint and odd feeling suddenly passed through him — something seemed not quite right. His gaze lingered on the clump of grass, stopping on an old reed tube mixed among the stalks. Very quickly, he looked toward a few other clumps of nearby grass, and the light in his eyes deepened. Without any warning he suddenly wheeled around, and with great speed lunged toward Huaiwei, who was still struggling and resisting his attendants.

The surface of the sand beside where the boot had fallen suddenly burst open in a great swirl of sand, and a figure leapt out; with the figure came a powerful crossbow bolt, shooting directly toward the little prince.

In an instant, Li Xuandu’s figure was nimble as a hawk and falcon; he reached out and yanked the little prince violently out of the carriage doorway, wrapped his arms around him, and knocked him down flat into the sand, pinning himself on top.

The crossbow bolt missed its target and embedded itself in the hump of one of the camels carrying the covered carriage.

The camel’s four legs slowly bent and knelt, and at last it fell to the ground — killed by the poison.

In the vicinity, several other patches of sand where suosuo grass grew one after another also burst open, and five or six figures sprang out in succession, all rushing toward them, discharging powerful crossbow bolts.

“Protect the little prince!”

Li Xuandu shouted loudly.

Ye Xiao had already reacted. A sharp whistle, and the dozen-plus trained guards behind him sprinted toward Li Xuandu, quickly forming up: two rows, one kneeling and one standing, blocking the space in front of Li Xuandu and the little prince. Then they raised their crossbows and returned fire at the assassins.

The captain of the Western Di envoy’s guard quickly led his warriors to join them.

Several dozen, nearly a hundred crossbow bolts, released simultaneously with a sharp rush of air, and the attackers were swiftly shot to the ground.

Ye Xiao did not relax his vigilance immediately. He ordered the formation to hold in protective readiness, then walked along checking the remaining clumps of suosuo grass in the vicinity.

His gaze was sharp as a hawk’s or falcon’s. Passing one clump, he stopped, and slowly drew his waist blade. Then, suddenly, he thrust the blade down into the patch of sand beneath the grass.

A crimson wash of blood slowly seeped up from beneath the sand, moistening the yellow grains. The sand surface heaved, and an assassin whose ears and nose were plugged with cloth, pressing a hand to his abdomen, struggled out of the sand pit, raised his head, and his terrified eyes met the white blade in Ye Xiao’s hand, still dripping with his own blood.

After interrogating the man, Ye Xiao walked back and reported to Li Xuandu.

The assassins had been sent by Liu Chong. Knowing that the little prince’s party would be passing through this place that day, they had laid their ambush at this rest stop, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Since the surrounding area was perfectly flat with no hiding places, starting the previous night the assassins had buried themselves shallowly in the sand near the suosuo grass, plugging their ears and noses with cloth and biting down on reed tubes that extended out of the sand surface to breathe. The reason for choosing to bury themselves next to the suosuo grass was to use the grass to conceal the reed tubes. Lying like this buried in the sand through the night, the wind would blow the drifting sand smooth, erasing all traces of last night’s disturbance on the ground surface; when the little prince’s party arrived, they could spring from the sand at the opportune moment to strike.

This plan had been extraordinarily thorough and virtually impossible to guard against. Yet they had not foreseen that a single, utterly inconspicuous reed tube that should not have been present in a place like this would give away the flaw.

Since the first shot had missed, the chances of striking again were slim indeed. That assassin, bent on preserving his life, had simply stayed buried below and refused to come out — but in the end still could not escape Ye Xiao’s eyes.

Huaiwei was still sitting on the sand with one bare foot, mouth hanging open, listening in a daze as Ye Xiao reported the situation to Li Xuandu.

Li Xuandu’s expression was dark.

If the little prince had been killed by assassination in this place so near Yumen Pass, the faction within the Western Di that was close to the Eastern Di could have taken advantage of the situation to make a great deal of trouble, and the other wife whom Yuan Hun had taken later — who was greatly neglected — would surely also seize this opportunity to put pressure on the Princess Imperial.

These years the relationship between the Western Di and the Li imperial court had been maintained entirely through the Princess Imperial’s efforts. If the Princess Imperial were pressured into weakness, the consequences were easy to imagine.

Within the pass, the He Xi uprising would succeed, severing it from the central court.

Beyond the pass, the Princess Imperial would be beaten into submission, thereby affecting the greater situation in Xiyu.

This was a plan that had originally been devised quite shrewdly.

He turned his head and looked behind him.

With the assassins dead, the slaves of the Western Di envoy’s party who had scattered in panic earlier slowly began to gather back, and were bustling about hoisting the overturned covered carriage back up, replacing one of the camels. Then they came over and invited the little prince to get back inside.

Huaiwei’s eyes were still a little blank, and one foot was still bare.

Li Xuandu gestured to a slave to bring over the lost boot, took it himself, and personally helped the boy put it on. He then once again lifted him off the sand and carried him back into the covered carriage, shutting the door himself.

This time Huaiwei was finally a bit calmer. Though he still had some reluctance in his heart, he no longer dared to act up and cause trouble as he had before. He drooped his head and was tossed inside — unceremoniously, by this “Fourth Elder Brother” he was meeting for the first time. Hearing the door shut behind him with a firm clap, he turned around; the door was already sealed shut. He pressed his lips together.

Even if just now he had been rescued, that score of public humiliation was still well and truly settled! For him, A’Shibi the little prince, to borrow what his mother had taught him to say: a man of honor may be killed but not humiliated!

“Your Highness, the remaining one — shall I dispose of him?” Ye Xiao asked for his wishes.

Keeping him would serve no purpose — he was merely an assassin who knew only how to follow orders, and was gravely wounded besides.

Li Xuandu gave a slight nod, bowed his head to brush the sand from his robe, and when he was presentable again, ordered the column to turn around and make for Yumen Pass at once to return to the capital.