Some days ago, just as Hua Qiong and Helian Zheng had caught up to Feng Zhiwei, the war with Da Yue had shifted.
The Tian Sheng Army had been ambushed and suffered a great defeat, with Commander General Qiu Shangqi badly wounded.
Investigators soon discovered that one of the Twelve Hu Zhuo Tribes, the Golden Roc Tribe, had colluded with Da Yue and sold Tian Sheng Military Intelligence, dissatisfied with the distributions of meadowland over the harsh winter.
The Old King of Hu Zhuo was furious and immediately set off to question the Golden Roc Tribe Chieftain, but he was set upon and assassinated by a powerful, hidden warrior. The Twelve Tribes fell to chaos, and all tribes had been in a constant state of war ever since.
Hu Zhuo land belonged to the Tian Sheng Dynasty and the Imperial Court brooked no such chaos. The Emperor immediately approved Helian Zheng’s request to return, titling the prince Khagan of the United Twelve Tribes, successor to the Shunyi King; condemning Dala, the Golden Roc Tribe Chieftain, demand with Imperial Edict that the murderer be surrendered and the chieftain submit to the new King.
The Edict rang out with pomp and dignity, but everyone knew that the fierce, tough steppe people would only surrender when vanquished. If Shunyi King Helian Zheng could not crush his enemies in this succession war, the Imperial Edict would mean nothing, not even able to guarantee Helian Zheng’s life.
The Hu Zhuo Prince immediately gathered his followers and bid Feng Zhiwei farewell, only for Feng Zhiwei to calmly reply: “No need for goodbyes. I’m coming with you.”
The next day, the Tian Sheng Emperor passed down another Imperial Order, officially titling Feng Zhiwei Sheng Ying Princess and sanctioning her marriage to Helian Zheng.
That very day, escorted by Chunyu Meng, Vice-Leader of the Chang Ying Guard, Helian Zheng and Feng Zhiwei departed for the steppes.
The “Sheng” in Feng Zhiwei’s new title shocked the Imperial Court as she carefully hid her disdain behind warmth and gratitude — truly, the unattainable turned out to be the most holy.
Helian Zheng was both happy and worried, and so many thoughts ran through him that he could not speak. As Feng Zhiwei calmly strode through the Imperial Court to receive her Imperial Edict, the ministers looked down at her with pity and speculation.
But nevertheless, the skies above the Golden Palace were still ever vast and blue, and the Sheng Ying Princess’s back was straight and her steps firm as the train of her dress swept up the Jade Stairs.
That day, the Shunyi King and his followers left the Imperial Palace, passing the Nine Dragons Tower and the Sutra Jade Hall Main Street, finally passing through the Divine Water Gate and exiting Dijing through the Perennial Peace Gate.
Meanwhile, the Minnan Imperial Envoy, Commander General of the Southern Expedition, Prince Chu Ning Yi returned in triumph. He and his Honor Guard entered through the Lasting Peace Gate and passed through the Divine Water Gate, marching down the Sutra Jade Hall Main Street and passing by the Nine Dragons Tower before entering the Imperial Palace.
The two groups passed by.
When the hoofs of the Minnan Imperial Envoy’s steed stepped on Feng Zhiwei’s bridal escort’s red carpet, Dijing was already but a memory.[1]
When the Minnan Imperial Envoy entered the Golden Palace and bowed before the His Majesty’s Imperial Grace, as Ning Yi was climbing to another height of power in the luxuriant Imperial Capital, the Sheng Ying Princess’s long team of carriages and men were already on the road to the vast steppes.
The steppe wind was brisk and cool.
Feng Zhiwei smiled quietly as she watched the sun set by the glistening Chang Shui River, staring at the fine scintillating scales of light in the river as they faded into darkness.
She smoothly removed an object from her sleeve, brushing her fingers over the beautiful, natural wood pattern.
Most of the beautiful things in this world had poison.
She finally understood.
“Pu Tong”
After a long, long wait, a quiet splash disturbed the river before falling silent once more.
The steppe night was harsh and cold.
“Why aren’t we crossing the river?” Helian Zheng asked, frowning as Feng Zhiwei returned to camp.
“You know why.” Feng Zhiwei replied, sitting by his side. “Even if this isn’t Golden Roc Territory, how can we be sure the Pixiu[2] Tribe isn’t planning something? It’s too dangerous crossing in the dark.”
She grabbed a cup of sheep’s milk but frowned as she brought it to her lips.
“You don’t have to force yourself.” Helian Zheng commented, gently pressing down on her hand.
Feng Zhiwei did not move, her eyes moving downwards from her hand to the hand on her waist. Helian Zheng awkwardly pulled away.
Feng Zhiwei’s eyes flicked up and she smiled as if nothing had happened, replying: “We cannot stop just because we do not like something.”
She held the cup to her lips and threw back the whole thing, accepting Helian Zheng’s handkerchief and smiling at him.
Helian Zheng kept his peace — he knew if he spoke, she’d end up spitting out the sheep’s milk and then finding another cup, so why add to her torture?
He turned away, not willing to show her the pain in his eyes.
Zhiwei had changed.
She still treated people the same, and she was still warm and gentle, her faint smile undisturbed. Only those who knew her well could feel the frozen desolation underneath her warm facade.
Even though she had always had a cold, hardness, her warmth and gentleness used to burn with fervor. Now, only a vast emptiness and quiet loneliness lay underneath her mask.
She regretted her lacking wisdom and ferocity and punished herself, forbidding any indulgence.
Including… affections.
When His Majesty had granted their marriage, Helian Zheng had stirred with a hint of happiness amidst the grief and anger of his father’s death, but when he turned and saw the placid indifference in Feng Zhiwei’s eyes, his heart plummeted.
He knew immediately that Feng Zhiwei had sealed away her heart.
She was closer to him than ever before, yet her heart lay a world away.
Even the vast steppes were less empty than her heart.
“Rest early. Tomorrow we will be in Hu Zhuo land. We will have many tasks ahead of us.” Helian Zheng finally said, taking her cup.
“Perhaps… only exhaustion awaits us.” Feng Zhiwei replied, frowning as she tried to conquer her stomach.
Helian Zheng sighed quietly, standing. Tomorrow, he would not allow any sheep’s milk by her tent.
As the man left, his swift steps disappearing into the cold night, Feng Zhiwei watched his back. This domineering rogue had fallen quiet — was it just his father’s death and the uncertainty of his future?
[1] The departure & official marriage of the Sheng Ying Princess would have necessitated some ceremony. Thus the big dress and the red carpet etc.
[2] 貔貅