The simplest solution, of course, would be to install the princess in the palace and casually bestow upon her the rank of consort.

But that Anguh Khan was a rather interesting character — he had openly declared that the daughter he was sending was the one he was most proud of, and that if the Emperor of the Great Jin truly valued the friendship between their two nations, he should treat her like a loving father and properly provide for this precious jewel of the Jing Kingdom.

The Jing Kingdom, though currently in a weakened state, owed its plight largely to natural disasters.

Once Jing recovered, there was no guarantee the positions of the two nations would not be reversed in the future.

The Emperor intended to employ both grace and authority, while also sending a Great Jin princess as a peace bride.

In that case, it was still better to show some respect to this little Jing princess.

Since they had not hesitated to point out that he was old enough to be the princess’s father, he naturally needed to find a suitable husband for her.

But after all, this woman was a foreigner, and deciding who to betroth her to became the real problem.

Either an imperial prince or a senior minister would be appropriate — only they must not be too old.

The court ministers had mostly grown aged in service, their beards all grizzled and white.

By comparison, the only one still unmarried seemed to be Situ Sheng.

Moreover, his mourning period had already passed — this would be a convenient way to ease the Emperor’s burden.

When a minister brought it up, before the Emperor could even open his mouth, Situ Sheng had already cast a cold sideways glance at the proposing minister and said to the Emperor: “This subject has a solitary and reserved nature and has no fondness for foreign women.”

No fondness was an understatement — among the entire court, those most in favor of going to war against Jing were led by none other than Situ Sheng himself. Having Situ Sheng marry the Jing princess was nothing short of deeply ironic.

Yet the fact that he had spoken up proactively, citing his own difficult temperament in such a blunt and forthright manner — that took a certain audacity.

Imperial favor is not something one can simply accept or refuse based on personal preference.

And yet Situ Sheng was able to say it so plainly, without any circumlocution — that too came from having real standing.

The elderly Emperor had always treated Situ Sheng with lenience.

It was because Situ Sheng had once stood against all opposition to reform the official land allocation system, walking the path of a solitary minister beholden to no faction.

For the most part, he kept a certain distance from the other ministers of court, and his usually quiet residence never saw the kind of banquets and guests that others maintained.

A man who had remained unmarried into his years — though the objective reason of mourning existed — still demonstrated the height of his standards and his refusal to settle for an ordinary woman.

If he was unwilling to marry, and had said so this directly, forcing him would be destroying one of the Emperor’s most capable and trusted ministers!

The elderly Emperor had no intention of burdening his most capable confidant, and so the matter was lightly glossed over.

Just as the ministers were debating endlessly, Princess Adana, who had been waiting outside the hall, sent in a calling card.

She represented the sovereign Jing Kingdom — and though the two nations were at odds, with their relations alternating between war and ceasefire, there was no reason for the Emperor to keep delaying his audience with the princess.

This card, it was said, was one the princess had written herself, just moments ago, while still waiting outside the hall.

Her father, Anguh Khan, was deeply enamored of Central Plains culture, and this princess’s graceful and elegant calligraphy revealed the depth of her foundation and the strength of her brushwork.

The Emperor read the card’s every word and found them well-reasoned and persuasive, and he found himself nodding inwardly. He could not help but feel a hint of curiosity toward this Jing princess.

So he summoned her to enter the hall and speak.

Everyone had assumed that a princess from a barbarian tribe would naturally be rugged-featured and rough in appearance.

But utterly unexpectedly, this princess turned out to be tall and slender, with strikingly beautiful features — for a moment, the assembled ministers stared at her, transfixed…

That day, Situ Sheng did not emerge from the palace until the afternoon.

As he finally had some free time today, he went to visit Linlang.

Linlang saw how exhausted he looked and could not help asking: “What happened?”

After washing up, Situ Sheng dropped down with a thud and rested his head in Linlang’s lap.

“That princess named someone specifically — she wants to marry the Third Imperial Prince, Liu Yi.” Situ Sheng recounted what had happened in court that day.

Chu Linlang frowned slightly: “She… fell in love with the Third Prince at first sight?”

If it had to be love at first sight, surely the princess should have fallen for Situ Sheng?

Though Tao Yashu had also once delicately hinted at the subtle situation of the Emperor choosing between Situ Sheng and the Third Prince to receive the princess — perhaps the Emperor really did intend to select one of the two to settle this princess’s affairs?

After all, one was an indispensable senior minister of the court and the other a son dearly beloved by the Emperor. Arranging either one would not be doing the princess any disservice, and could serve as a prelude to the peace negotiations ahead.

Situ Sheng was not in the least surprised by Linlang’s perceptiveness. He reached out and clasped her slender hand, saying: “It seems the Emperor intends to test the Third Prince — he wanted to see the extent of his imperial statecraft, which is why he arranged for him to go out to receive the princess.”

Nothing is more dangerous for an emperor than excessive devotion. Yet Liu Yi had long secretly harbored feelings for his own princess consort, and the two had been inseparable day after day — he had even graciously declined the beauties the Emperor later bestowed upon him.

In an ordinary household, a harmonious marriage with no concubines taken would not be anything unusual. But how could a royal prince behave like this?

So in the Emperor’s eyes, arranging Liu Yi for this task was also a way of hoping he would act from the perspective of the nation in the future.

After all, he was no longer the son of a common household — he could not afford to be absorbed in the ways of an ordinary family.

As for arranging Situ Sheng to go along — that was the Emperor’s private paternal scheming.

If the princess was too unattractive and the Third Prince truly could not bring himself to accept her, using a fine and unmarried man like Situ Sheng as a backup would at least be defensible.

Yet Situ Sheng, right before all the assembled ministers, had made absolutely no effort to accommodate the Emperor’s careful planning and had spoken up early to decline, sparing the Emperor from any further matchmaking maneuvering.

What no one had anticipated was that the princess herself turned out to have a discerning eye — she named her choice specifically as the Third Prince.

Chu Linlang murmured softly: “This princess is quite a remarkable figure! I’ve never heard of a peace bride who could pick and choose her own husband right in front of the Emperor. For her to pass over a man of your rare beauty and choose the Third Prince instead — she must be aiming for a future position as the crown consort. So regardless of who she chose, she definitely wouldn’t choose the Crown Prince.”

The Crown Prince’s declining position had been apparent to every minister in the court by now. Marrying him would ultimately mean nothing more than becoming the consort of a deposed prince.

Situ Sheng sat up and kissed her on the cheek: “With your talents, I should have you join my household as a strategist.”

Because Linlang had guessed correctly again. The princess, seeing that the Third Prince was willing to offend even his own imperial father rather than marry her, responded with pride and no longer pressed the matter.

Instead, she bluntly declared the Crown Prince too old — he could be her uncle, she said — and skipped straight over him, stating that the Sixth Prince had a distinctively refined presence unlike anything seen on the grasslands, and that she was willing to marry him.

Chu Linlang felt that the Jing princess’s words were not entirely untrue — the Sixth Prince’s slender, reed-like figure was indeed a rare sight on the vast green grasslands.

For someone raised on a diet of beef and mutton to turn to stir-fried bean sprouts — one couldn’t help but wonder whether this princess would ever adjust to such a change in taste.

Still, considering all of this, Chu Linlang felt that the Crown Prince must have been completely humiliated, and just imagining the scene made her feel a little awkward on behalf of that aging prince.

The Crown Prince was already suffering under the Emperor’s cold neglect, and now to have a foreign woman mock him before all the assembled ministers — his face must have been burning with shame.

The current Crown Prince — one could only hope he wouldn’t act rashly in desperation.

But Situ Sheng’s exhaustion clearly had nothing to do with anxieties over the princess’s marriage arrangements.

So after hearing Situ Sheng’s brief account of the princess’s betrothal, Chu Linlang asked him: “What’s really wrong? Why do you look so weighed down?”

Situ Sheng said evenly: “The rainy season in Jing is nearly upon us…”

The moment Chu Linlang heard this, she understood immediately.

Jing’s weakness right now was largely due to the parching drought. Once Jing recovered from this once-in-a-century natural disaster and was well-fed again, the wolves and tigers would show an entirely different kind of strength.

Situ Sheng had long sought to press the advantage while Jing was weakened — to launch a full counter-offensive and crush Jing completely, driving them out of the Negative Waters territory.

But the Emperor’s stance remained unclear. An Emperor who had been a guardian of stability for many years, the old sovereign had long since lost the bold ambitions of his youth — the drive to achieve great deeds and leave a glorious legacy in history.

At this age, whether in matters of state or household, he sought above all “stability.” “Stability” meant not a single shred of risk — no chance that in his old age he might launch an aggressive campaign and suffer a defeat that would mark his reign as a failure in the imperial annals.

So although the Emperor relied heavily on Situ Sheng, when it came to deciding on a major retaliatory campaign, he wavered and hesitated, simultaneously preparing for war and negotiating peace with Jing, unwilling to burn his bridges completely.

He looked only at how to achieve the greatest gains with the least losses.

Situ Sheng, by contrast, was firmly in the war faction, advocating for using war to end war — he wanted to thoroughly crush Jing and eliminate their ambitions of marching south once and for all.

The armies of the north had already been readied and mobilized, and Situ Sheng was preparing to depart for the northern territory — only waiting for the Li Family Army to launch its full counter-offensive and reclaim the Negative Waters.

Yet now, with the two nations in peace talks and the Emperor’s intentions still murky, watching the plans Situ Sheng had spent years carefully cultivating come to nothing — no wonder he was so exhausted.

But Chu Linlang also knew that what truly weighed on Situ Sheng went beyond this — being perpetually obstructed by Yang Yi was what he could never truly unburden himself of.

She reached out and gently massaged Situ Sheng’s pressure points around his head: “These past days, I’ve had Xia Qingyun send quite a few merchant vessels north, sailing through the towns and cities along the border. Now that the fighting along the frontier has quieted down, if your mother is still in the north, I believe we’ll eventually turn up some traces of her.”

Upon hearing this, Situ Sheng suddenly reached out and pulled Chu Linlang tightly into his arms.

He buried his face in her embrace and refused to lift his head, only saying in a low voice: “It’s been so long, and still not a single clue — I’ve even started to wonder… whether she might no longer be alive.”

Chu Linlang knew that Wen Shi was the knot in Situ Sheng’s heart.

If Wen Shi truly passed away in a foreign land without ever seeing him even once, that knot in Situ Sheng’s heart would never be untied for the rest of his life.

The man in her arms — only before Linlang would he allow himself to show even the faintest trace of vulnerability.

But Situ Sheng would never allow himself to linger in vulnerability for too long.

After releasing just a sliver of his emotions, he lifted his head, composed himself, and said calmly: “The northern counter-offensive cannot be delayed any further. Even if the Emperor cannot make up his mind for now, I must do everything in my power to persuade him… In a few days, I’ll be heading to the north. I’m not entirely at ease leaving you alone in the capital — would you consider going to Lingnan for a while?”

Chu Linlang understood his concern for her, but she had already made her own plans, and she said to Situ Sheng: “Once you leave, I won’t stay in the capital either. I’ve been meaning to check in on Xia Qingyun’s business for some time now — I’ll take the opportunity to clear my head, and when you return, I’ll come back to the capital.”

Situ Sheng was quiet for a moment after hearing this, then asked in a seemingly offhand way: “Xia Qingyun still hasn’t married?”

Chu Linlang seemed to catch a faint whiff of jealousy and laughed: “He may not be married, but his fiancée back home has already been settled, and she’s been accompanying him in his business travels — so there’s no need to worry about anyone having designs on this half-withered lady of mine!”

Situ Sheng, his intentions exposed, was completely unruffled. He solemnly cupped Linlang’s smooth and tender face in his hands and said: “Let me see where it’s withered. Let me have a taste and check!”

It had, after all, been some days since the two of them had any time to be intimate.

Having finally reunited with Linlang today, Situ Sheng was naturally eager to make up for lost time.

Unfortunately, Linlang’s body did not seem to be feeling well today. Just as the jade sash came loose and the curtains half fell, Chu Linlang was struck by a wave of nausea that surged to her head, and she pushed Situ Sheng away and bent over the edge of the bed in a fit of dry heaving.

Situ Sheng immediately patted her back, asking: “What’s wrong?”

Seeing that Linlang did not answer for a long while, he made to call for a physician.

Linlang grabbed his sleeve and, barely suppressing the nausea, said weakly: “Don’t go making a fuss and dragging people here — it’s nothing serious. I was probably too greedy at noon and had a few too many pieces of braised pork. If I drink some sour plum juice to aid digestion, I’ll be fine.”

She had never liked seeing physicians, especially the bitter medicines they prescribed.

She already had to drink the medicinal tonics Situ Sheng arranged for her from some renowned doctor — she could bear that — but please, no physician prescribing bitter concoctions on top of that.

Situ Sheng saw that she had been dry heaving for quite some time without actually vomiting anything, and was slightly reassured, though he admonished her that if it happened again, she must absolutely go see a physician.

Situ Sheng did not linger too long with her.

He still had official business to attend to and could not step away, and before departing for the north, there were always matters to be properly delegated.

Linlang had grown accustomed to his comings and goings.

Yet even Linlang had not anticipated that three days later, she would leave the capital even before Situ Sheng did.

This was because Xia Qingyun had sent her a letter — it turned out that in the course of his business dealings, he had gotten into a dispute with a local thug from the northwest, and that thug had somehow managed to rope in the local authorities to have Xia Qingyun locked up in jail.

The managers below had no solution and could only write to inform Linlang, asking the proprietress to come and find a way to smooth things over through the right channels.

After receiving the letter, Chu Linlang sent word to Situ Sheng’s side to inform him.

Then she hastily set out herself, leading Xia He, Dongxue, Sui Qiye, and a contingent of staff and attendants, boarding a vessel first and heading off.

The bully Xia Qingyun had crossed in the northwest had quite a name for himself in those parts. Even when Xia Qingyun had been in the gold-panning business back then, he and this man had come into conflict many times.

Fortunately, Xia Qingyun had listened to Chu Linlang and yielded repeatedly, which kept the peace.

But the gold-panning business was almost wrapped up now — so how had this new trouble come about?

Some corrupt officials in the remote regions, far from the Emperor’s eye and bolstered by their collusion with local thugs, were especially ruthless and vicious.

Chu Linlang dared not delay and boarded a fast vessel to make her way to the northwest.

But midway through the journey, another messenger arrived from the northwest with news that Xia Qingyun had been beaten unconscious while in jail.

Fortunately, Xia Qingyun’s fiancée, Qiu Shi, had shown considerable nerve — she proactively handed over five hundred taels of silver to the authorities, which was just enough to secure his release, though it appeared Xia Qingyun was going to be left with a permanent disability in one leg.

Xia He, standing nearby, burst into tears at the news. Chu Linlang too felt a smoldering anger rising in her chest.

To be convicted on fabricated charges.

Five hundred taels — and all it bought was the return of an innocent merchant left crippled. What a magnificent display of official authority by this local magistrate!

Yet no matter what, at least his life had been preserved. Chu Linlang felt slightly reassured and composed herself, continuing the journey at a steady pace — she would deal with how Xia Qingyun had been schemed against once she arrived.

As evening approached, their party had finally transferred from the waterway to overland travel and arrived at a stretch of open ground beside an official road.

Sui Qiye said this was the most suitable campsite in the area, so Chu Linlang stopped and decided they would rest here for the night.

That evening they ate flatbreads stuffed with meat. The servants gathered dry branches and lit them, roasting the flatbreads and dried meat over the fire.

This seemed to be a campsite regularly used by traveling merchants and wayfarers.

As the sky grew darker, small groups of merchants and travelers trickled in to rest here too. They lit fires and heated their food, and after eating, most merchants took tents down from their horses and pitched them — two or three sharing one tent — to rest.

Of course, there were also those with more wealth and resources who, sparing no effort, drove stakes into the ground and erected spacious and sturdy tents made of cowhide.

The sun sank below the horizon, and the sky went completely dark, stars gradually appearing overhead one by one.

Then from the distance came another procession — the crunch-crunch of wheels pressing over sand and the occasional whinny of horses blended into a wave of sound that carried over from far away.

As it drew closer, Chu Linlang saw it appeared to be a merchant escort team: on both sides, many lean and capable men rode on horseback guarding a column of horse-drawn carriages.

Sui Qiye glanced up and his gaze fixed on them.

Unlike Chu Linlang, who watched as an outsider without a trained eye, he could see at a glance that this group was different. Every one of those mounted guards was clearly a martial practitioner — their eyes were sharp and cold as blades, approachable by no one.

Dozens of men and horses moved forward in complete silence, yet their coordination was seamless and flawless — as they moved, their positions never shifted even slightly out of place, and they maintained staggered formations so that no matter the angle, three or four men always stood blocking the path.

This method of advancing prompted Sui Qiye to look twice more.

Having been a general’s personal guard himself, he naturally recognized that this style of formation was typically used only by the escort guards of a military commander.

Though one couldn’t rule out the possibility of those with a military background who had taken up escort work and retained the habit.

This group had arrived late, and all the good spots were already taken by others.

Without any hesitation, the group made straight for the best position in the middle. A small band of merchants already occupying that spot saw this large procession approaching and changed color, not daring to say a word as they prepared to vacate.

A middle-aged man who appeared to be the group’s manager stepped forward from the procession, two men flanking him — his manner was courteous, and he thanked the merchants and had his men help move the merchants’ tents and belongings to another spot.

Some of the lean and capable men remained on horseback, circling the perimeter of the area, their eyes cold and watchful, alert to any disturbance.

Another group of the men dismounted and took up staggered positions, surrounding the carriages in the middle. Then the curtains of several carriages parted, and servants poured out, tools and implements in hand — some drove stakes and tied ropes to erect tents, others dug pits and stacked stones to build fires. In no time at all, several large tents and makeshift cooking stoves had been set up.

At this point, several of the carriages in the center also had people descend. The view was blocked by the lean guards, making it difficult to see clearly — there were only vague shadows suggesting a woman wrapped in a cloak and several serving maids.

The merchants around them were all struck by this display, and whispered quietly to each other about who these people might be. Though the procession was imposing, they were not overbearing about it, and everyone managed to keep the peace.

After a while, the noise from the group gradually subsided. Most of the men retreated into the tents to rest, while a smaller number remained outside — apparently keeping watch.

Just then, a breeze drifted past, and Chu Linlang suddenly twitched her nose — she had just caught a whiff of something familiar.

The scent was faint and elusive. Unable to place it at first, she sniffed again, harder. There was no mistake! It was the very same distinctive fragrance of the medicinal broth she had once prepared for Situ Sheng to send to his mother!

She had personally brewed a dose at the time to verify the efficacy of the medicine, and so she naturally remembered the particular herbal fragrance mingled with that sour and pungent aroma.

At that moment, a medicine pot was hanging over the fire at the neighboring camp, and the medicinal scent within was steadily spreading and drifting outward…

Using the concealment of her cloak, Chu Linlang observed the central tent without betraying herself.

Judging by the direction they were heading — just like many of the displaced civilians seeking refuge — they appeared to be making for a frontier town not far away, a place far from the conflict and a reliable place to settle.

Just as Chu Linlang was turning this over in her mind, a young maidservant emerged from the tent across the way, carrying a bowl, preparing to ladle the medicine from the pot.

But the pot was too hot — the maidservant accidentally burned her hand, recoiled in pain, and in doing so knocked over the nearby bowl, which fell and shattered into several pieces.

Before the maidservant had even recovered from the shock, Chu Linlang had already moved with swift hands and quick eyes, poured out the snacks from her own bowl, and ran over with the empty bowl, feigning warm-heartedness as she said: “I happen to have a spare bowl — you can borrow it.”

The maidservant was startled and quickly said there was no need.

But Chu Linlang was insistently enthusiastic, very firmly pressing the bowl into the maidservant’s hands, and even volunteered to pad the pot with her handkerchief to help ladle the medicine, casually asking: “Who is ill? Still brewing medicine in the middle of a journey?”

The maidservant answered without thinking: “It’s our mistress…”

But before she could finish, the manager had already strode over, his face cold, and sharply scolded: “Why haven’t you gone to deliver the medicine yet? What are you dithering here for?”

The maidservant quickly took the medicine and hurried away.

The manager smiled with his mouth but not his eyes as he stared at Chu Linlang, then extended a hand and gestured for her to leave their campsite.