Pu Zhu remembered that in the past she had heard Luo Bao mention that Li Xuandu had been impatient by nature since childhood.

She had been somewhat skeptical at the time, thinking no matter how you looked at him, he did not seem like someone with an impatient nature.

But this time, she finally believed it.

She watched with her own eyes as he went to find Ye Xiao on the spot without delay.

Ye Xiao had spent the whole night searching for the missing person and had barely returned just before dawn. Persuading stubborn boys was not his business anyway, so he had gone back to sleep. He had only just laid down and closed his eyes when he was called up. Before he had even figured out what was happening, he was informed that he was to take a wife — the elder sister of the Shangshu king, a princess.

He came from a distinguished clan, holding an inherited official position. Before the case of the Liang Crown Prince, he had been a fourth-rank military officer at barely over twenty, at the height of his prime with limitless prospects ahead of him. He had also long been engaged, through the connections of old family allies, to a gentle and lovely young woman of whom he was quite fond. But at the time, she was still in mourning for her mother, so they had kept waiting. They had been set to marry that very year, when fate had suddenly and catastrophically changed. In order not to drag her down with him, he had proactively proposed dissolving the engagement. Her family had likely welcomed this anyway, and after repeated apologies the matter concluded quietly.

The previous year, after returning to the capital with Prince Qin, he had gone back to his family home one day and happened to overhear a relative mention news of that young woman. After their engagement was dissolved, she had quickly found another marriage match of equal standing, was long since married, had children, and her husband’s career was flourishing — a smooth and comfortable life.

A smooth life was a good life.

It had been many years. News of an old acquaintance no longer stirred any ripple in his heart, and over all these years, he had also had no leisure to think about that sort of thing anyway.

To devote his life to serving Prince Qin, and to defend his family’s honor — that had become the single belief he opened his eyes to each morning.

He had not expected that not even a few days into the Western Regions, he would encounter something like this.

Get married — and to a Western Regions woman?

He was greatly astonished, and stood there stunned.

……

In truth, Pu Zhu was quite clear in her own mind that while marriage by alliance would certainly make the prince feel more at ease, and secure a more protected relationship for the Shangshu Kingdom, it was also far from without benefit for the Protectorate. One could even say it was pure gain without a single drawback.

The Protectorate had only just been established and had nothing. Before the cultivated farmlands could produce enough to be self-sufficient, setting everything else aside, just the daily rations for more than five hundred people were a serious problem. The way to solve it was either to take by force or to receive supplies. Taking by force was out of the question — how would they be any different from those Di people who periodically plundered border commoners? With the Shangshu Kingdom as a nearby neighbor, the supply problem in the early period could be resolved at a stroke. And not only supplies — troops could also be called upon.

But in Pu Zhu’s heart, she had long since come to regard Ye Xiao as something of an older brother. So steady, so reliable — honestly, considerably better than Li Xuandu! She had no desire whatsoever to force him into anything.

Though taking a wife was not a bad thing, she had intended to ask his own feelings first. If he was not interested, she would recommend someone else to the prince. After all, how awkward a marriage entered into against one’s own will could be — one only had to look at herself and Li Xuandu to know that.

As it was, Li Xuandu had gone ahead and taken the matter into his own hands.

She never knew exactly what he said to Ye Xiao — he would not let her be present. But according to what he told her afterward, Ye Xiao had been more than willing to take a wife and had said yes on the spot without hesitation.

He said so, and looking at Ye Xiao’s manner afterward, it was indeed no different from usual. Well then — everyone was happy, and so the matter was settled smoothly just like that.

After escorting the prince back to the Shangshu Kingdom to inherit the throne, the days that followed were a time of ceaseless work for everyone in the Protectorate from top to bottom. Besides repairing the fort and clearing the farmland — the two most pressing tasks — Li Xuandu also did two other things.

The first: he erected a stone stele at the summit of the high ridge where the fort stood, for the three hundred advance post soldiers who had died. All their names were carved on it. On the day the stele was raised, he led five hundred soldiers in a personal act of tribute, swearing an oath of vengeance, encouraging the living, and honoring the fallen spirits.

The second: he appointed Ye Xiao as Deputy Protector-General, promoted Zhang Shishan and Zhang Zhuo to Left and Right Guard Commanders respectively, and selected a number of capable individuals to fill the posts of Inspector, Centurion, and other positions. He set out regulations, defined rewards and penalties, and formally established the Protectorate — making special note that anyone who rendered great merit, regardless of rank, would, if they wished to start a family, be given priority support by the Protectorate. It was said that among the five hundred men, apart from the newly appointed Right Guard Commander Zhang Zhuo, who had no reaction, the rest were especially enthusiastic about this provision, with everyone responding warmly and looking forward to it with great anticipation.

As for the position of Chief Secretary — responsible for receiving guests, advising on strategy, and handling correspondence and documents — it remained vacant for the time being as there was no one suitable for the job at hand. But this had little impact for now. With the Protectorate only newly established and its foundations still shallow, there was not much business of this kind to attend to, and he could perfectly well handle it himself for the time being.

After these two matters, the other focal point commanding everyone’s attention was naturally the joyous occasion of Ye Xiao’s imminent marriage to the elder sister of the Shangshu king.

These days Li Xuandu was busy, and Pu Zhu was busy too. She was busy helping to prepare for Ye Xiao’s wedding.

Though time was tight and the wedding ceremony could hardly compare in grandeur to one arranged in the capital, all the proper proprieties had to be observed, not a single one skipped.

When it came to sending the betrothal gifts, the carriage-load of silk she had deliberately brought along when they departed proved its great worth at this moment.

Her reason for bringing the silk had never been to have clothes cut for herself; she had intended it as a stock of things to give as rewards or gifts in the days ahead.

From her father’s journal she understood that in the Western Regions, aside from a few wealthy and populous major kingdoms, the many other small states — though called kingdoms — were in reality single city-states, small and with few people, often fewer than ten thousand, and even if they were called royal households and kept at the expense of the whole state, because of the constraints of their territory, their daily provision was often inferior even to that of the great wealthy families of the capital. The fine silk that came from the east was as precious as gold in those places. The royal families and nobles competed with each other to boast of dressing in silk.

For the betrothal gifts being prepared for the Shangshu princess, silk was by far the most significant item.

When Luo Bao came back from delivering the gifts, he described how the court officials of the Shangshu royal palace had been overjoyed and astonished to see so many silks in such a rich variety of colors and patterns, and said he had been treated with great face on the occasion.

Pu Zhu believed the princess would also love those fine and splendid silks. After all, what woman in the world could resist such beautiful things?

The bridal chamber had been prepared. When the wedding day arrived, Ye Xiao led his men to the Shangshu Kingdom to fetch the bride.

Luo Bao also told her that day that, following her instructions, he had taken a deliberate opportunity to observe the princess from a distance.

From his description, the princess had fair skin, large eyes, a high nose, and red lips, with a full figure.

She was probably a beautiful woman with the exotic allure of the Western Regions.

He also brought back another piece of news. Before all this, the princess had been in great despair over her fate of being sent off to serve as a concubine to the Eastern Di’s Administrator-General by her heartless uncle. That Administrator-General had come here once several years ago — old and ugly, crude in manner — and she had found him deeply repellent. Not long before, she had heard that her younger brother was still alive and under the protection of Li dynasty people, and had made plans to flee and seek him out. Unluckily she had been caught and dragged back, and in the course of her fierce resistance, if the people around her had not been watching her too closely, she had nearly ended her own life.

The news Luo Bao brought back set Pu Zhu’s mind considerably at ease. She had a premonition that Ye Xiao would certainly be able to win over this fierce woman of the Western Regions. But thinking of how Ye Xiao had grown more and more silent in the days drawing closer to the wedding, seeming very nervous, she could not help finding it a little funny. She deliberately told Luo Bao not to pass on to Ye Xiao what he had found out.

Let him see the bride with his own eyes and slowly come to know her, to learn her story — that was perhaps a far better experience.

Ye Xiao smoothly brought the princess back, and the wedding was that very night. The fort was full of festivity. That group of tattooed men, already half-deformed with envy, poured the sweet Western Regions grape wine into the groom with all their might. Once he had been drunk enough to be ushered into the bridal chamber, what exactly transpired inside was known to no one. But when the next morning arrived, the newlyweds’ door was still not opening. The sun was already three poles high before Ye Xiao finally opened the door and appeared.

His expression looked no different from usual, still carrying a trace of seriousness, but his footsteps were unusually light. He carefully attended to the beautiful Western Regions young woman at his side — her skin as white as snow — and guided her through the rows of intent, watching eyes of the onlookers, to pay their respects to Prince Qin and the Princess Consort.

Naturally, this provoked another round of gnashing teeth behind their backs, with bitter regret that he had not been gotten completely drunk the previous night, or else he would not be so hatefully enviable today.

The Shangshu princess was a little older than Pu Zhu, eighteen or nineteen years of age. Because her father had in the past admired the Han people, she not only had a Chinese name — Ruo Yue — but could also speak some simple Chinese. Having come to be married the previous night, and now being brought by her new husband to meet the Prince and Princess Consort, she wore a blush but her manner was composed and gracious. When Ye Xiao spoke to Li Xuandu, she boldly looked at him, her gaze full of tender affection, not the slightest concealment of her fondness and admiration — which made Ye Xiao flush a little red and look somewhat uncomfortable, even stumbling over his words.

Pu Zhu guessed that the two of them must have gotten on beautifully the previous night, and they were this openly affectionate in the morning — she felt happy for them in her heart. She took Ruo Yue aside and had a warm and friendly conversation with her.

Li Xuandu exchanged a few words with Ye Xiao and then said he could take three days of rest.

Ye Xiao’s face went slightly warm and he hastily declined.

Li Xuandu smiled: “It’s only right. All these years you have rushed east and west, and worked terribly hard. Now that you’ve just married, take good care of your wife for a few days.”

Ye Xiao stopped declining, glanced at the young woman, and quietly gave his thanks.

Li Xuandu did not seem to be in particularly high spirits. He nodded, exchanged a couple more words, said he had matters to attend to, and got up and left.

Pu Zhu stole a glance at his departing figure. After a few more words with Ye Xiao’s new wife, she returned the bride to Ye Xiao and went back to her own room. Walking in, she was surprised to find him already there, reclining lazily in a chair with a book in hand, reading what appeared to be light fiction.

These days he was extremely busy, and it was rare to see him at the back of the fort during the day. Just now he had said he had matters to attend to and left first — Pu Zhu had assumed he had gone to the front hall, and had not expected to find him here.

She walked in, and asked with some surprise: “Is Your Highness free today?”

Li Xuandu kept his eyes on his book and gave a noncommittal sound.

Pu Zhu asked no more. Taking advantage of his being here, she took out an everyday garment she had nearly finished making and beckoned to him: “Come here and see if the measurements need any adjustment. Even though I made it based on your old clothing, it’s still best to try it on.”

Li Xuandu glanced at the garment in her hands, slowly put down his book, walked over, and spread his arms.

Pu Zhu helped him slip on the garment. He stood without moving at first. Then after a moment, he lowered his head slightly, leaning a little closer toward her, and said quietly: “These days have been so busy, and you’ve been working inside and out, and still making clothes for me on top of everything…”

Pu Zhu was fitting the garment at his waist, checking the width, and said: “My needlework is poor — it’s A’mu who made it for you.”

Li Xuandu paused, and was quiet for a moment. Then he said slowly: “It was good of her. Please thank her on my behalf.”

Pu Zhu made a sound of acknowledgment. She finished fitting the garment, helped him take it off again, and seeing that he was not going back to his book and was turning to leave, she could not help asking: “Where are you going?”

“Stuffy in here — I’ll go walk around and take a look at the terrain while I’m at it.”

He said this with a slightly dull air.

“Is it to prepare for attacking the Baoler Kingdom?”

She was suddenly interested and asked.

In recent days, apparently following the spread of the news of Li Xuandu’s arrival and the Shangshu Kingdom’s return to the Li dynasty fold, Pu Zhu had learned that several small kingdoms nearby of a similar size to Shangshu had been sending envoys one after another to call on Li Xuandu in private.

These small kingdoms, besides having national strength and populations of varying thousands similar to Shangshu’s, were in comparable situations otherwise — unable to endure the harsh levies and heavy taxes of the Eastern Di’s Administrator-General, they expressed a willingness to submit to the Protectorate, but were also afraid of Eastern Di retaliation afterward, and hoped Prince Qin could give them a definite commitment.

Li Xuandu had neither refused nor made any commitment, and had sent them away.

At the time, Pu Zhu was somewhat puzzled.

He had explained to her that among these small kingdoms, apart from a few that genuinely wished to submit, the majority were simply swaying back and forth between the Li dynasty and the Eastern Di, hoping to extract the greatest advantage for themselves. Now that they had heard the news from Shangshu, they were coming to test the Protectorate’s strength — and more than a few of them were looking to take the opportunity to extract gifts and goods.

These people feared power but did not hold it in respect. Like birds and beasts, they had no sense of trust or faith, and were very prone to disrupting things. Trying to win them over through accommodation alone would be twice the work for half the results. For the Protectorate, the real focus now was not them — it was the Eastern Di’s greatest enforcer in this area, the Baoler Kingdom. As long as the Baoler Kingdom could be destroyed and the central route firmly controlled, the combination of intimidating power and growing strength would naturally bring these surrounding small kingdoms into line of their own accord. There would be time enough to bring them in then.

“Yes.” He answered simply.

“Your Highness, may I come with you?”

Her eyes lit up as she looked at him with an eager, expectant expression.

“I can ride a horse! Your Highness knows this!” she quickly added.

Li Xuandu turned his head, looked at her for a moment, as if assessing something, and finally raised an eyebrow slightly: “All right then.”

Pu Zhu was overjoyed: “Then wait for me! I’ll change, I’ll be ready in no time!”

Li Xuandu gave her a sidelong smile, clasped his hands behind his back, and walked out.

Pu Zhu immediately called A’Ju in, changed into men’s clothing, and had her help do up her hair. She pulled on her riding boots, grabbed her horsewhip, and flew out in high spirits.

Li Xuandu had already brought a small escort and was waiting outside the fort. Seeing her emerge, he pointed to the red horse he had led out for her.

Pu Zhu ran over, affectionately rubbed the little red horse’s ear with familiarity, then placed her foot in the stirrup, and cleanly vaulted up into the saddle. She followed Li Xuandu as they set out.

The Baoler Kingdom had a population of nearly a hundred thousand and lay to the west, some five or six hundred li away. The party headed westward, gradually entering open wilderness, galloping freely for half a day. Wild donkey herds ran past from time to time. At last Li Xuandu climbed to the highest ridge in the area, gazed out at the Baoler Kingdom in the distance, and after coming back down, told Pu Zhu to rest for a moment.

It had been some time since she had ridden, and after galloping freely for half a day all at once, Pu Zhu felt her thighs were indeed aching a bit. She was hot too, and sweating, her clothes clinging tightly to her back. She recalled that just before, when they had come galloping past a certain spot a few li back, there seemed to be a water marsh, and said she wanted to go there and wash her face.

Li Xuandu looked at her forehead, faintly misted with fine perspiration, and said: “I’ll come with you.”

He had the attendants remain and rest here, and led her on horseback to the water’s edge. After dismounting, they found a spot to stand along the bank thick with water reeds, and he called her over to wash her face.

Pu Zhu crouched by the water, scooped up water with her hands and washed her face several times, washing away the dust and sweat. She took out the handkerchief she carried and dried her face.

A breeze came, and she felt wonderfully cool and refreshed. She raised her eyes: above her the sky was vivid blue, ahead the water grass was lush as a carpet, egrets drifted among the reeds, and the scenery was uncommonly beautiful. Her heart was at ease and her spirit was lifted.

She enjoyed the beautiful view for a moment, then looked down and saw that Li Xuandu was still crouching at her feet washing his hands. She was just about to offer her handkerchief when she suddenly heard a strange mixed-up sound from behind her — like something fighting, mingled with rough and fierce, screeching cries.

She turned her head to follow the sound, and right there not thirty paces behind her, several wild donkeys had appeared. One of them was slightly smaller in build, and appeared to be female. The other two were males — one with a white blaze on its forehead and one with dappled ears. They were running this way while simultaneously kicking and biting each other with extreme ferocity, as if each were an old sworn enemy who would rather bite the other to death — the racket they were making startled the egrets on the bank into a flapping, fleeing mass.

Then followed a round of vicious, all-out combat, after which Dappled-ear was bested and retreated in defeat — its ear savaged and bitten, drooping and bleeding — slinking away in dejection. The victorious White-blaze then stopped. It let out a call toward the small female, no longer the harsh braying of the fight but something honeyed and ingratiating. The little female came running over, and the two of them rubbed necks and nuzzled ears affectionately. A moment later, the big male sprang up, both front hooves landing on the female’s haunches…

Pu Zhu’s jaw dropped, and her eyes went very wide.

At this moment she was beginning to have some idea of what exactly had been going on just now.

This must be the mating season for these wild beasts.

From the corner of her eye she glimpsed Li Xuandu beside her. He also seemed to be watching what was happening not far away.

These wild donkeys in heat were ferociously fierce — and more than a little frightening — and this scene was absolutely mortifying. She could practically feel the sweat seeping out down to the tips of her hair. She wanted to turn her face away, but her neck seemed to be locked in place and would not move. She hovered in indecision, holding her breath, her heart pounding, the heat making her feel as if she were about to faint.

Fortunately this scene did not last long. The big male soon finished and jumped down from beneath the little female. But the new pair did not leave — they remained where they were, continuing their affectionate nuzzling and licking from before.

Pu Zhu finally caught her breath, and slowly turned her face. She found Li Xuandu had also turned his face toward her, and their eyes met.

A drop of sweat rolled suddenly from her forehead, running down between her brows.

She did not even dare wipe it away. In that moment she felt even more unbearable than just now, and hoped desperately that he would quickly say something to dispel this awkwardness — but he said nothing at all.

Her head grew hot. Looking at him, she murmured: “That was so fast—”

Li Xuandu’s eyes were still on her. He replied quietly: “It was — far too fast—”

At that very moment, the male wild donkey seemed to hear the sounds from this side. It swung its head around and instantly flew into a rage, launching into the same harsh, grating roar it had made during the brawl. It reared up on its hooves and charged straight at them at high speed.

Li Xuandu’s color changed slightly. He said “run” and grabbed Pu Zhu’s hand, and they fled.

The horses were far away and there was no time to reach them. He pulled her along, chased by the furious wild beast behind them, and ran headlong to a slope nearby. He caught her in his arms as they slid down, rolling together seven or eight times, and at last came to a stop in a hollow in the ground. He used the tall grass to cover both their bodies.

At the top of the slope, the male wild donkey let out a few more savage roars. Seeing there was no more target to attack, it finally went away.

Pu Zhu had been tucked against him, not daring to move. Only when there was no more sound from above did she — after a moment — feel him slowly loosen his hold on her too, and help her to her feet, asking if she was all right.

Only then did she take in great gulping breaths of air. She raised her head and saw him looking at her, his expression carrying a trace of rueful annoyance.

Her shock settling somewhat, they looked at each other. Both of them were in a state of dishevelment neither had ever been in before. And thinking of what had just happened — the embarrassment aside, they had also been chased like this by a beast of all things — she didn’t know why, but she suddenly found it funny. The more she thought about it, the funnier it became, until at last she could not hold it in and burst out laughing. Her laughter only grew, until she was shaking like a flower in the wind. Her footing went unsteady and she slid again.

She let out an “oh” — just as she thought she was about to fall, she suddenly felt a tightening around her waist. She was caught by Li Xuandu’s outstretched arm and fell against his chest. And then, before she could even react, there was a warmth on her lips.

Li Xuandu had lowered his head and pressed his face toward hers.

She was completely unprepared. In an instant he had kissed her on the mouth.