At this hour, the Western Pass main camp was surrounded by pitch darkness. Except for the night sentries, all the officers and soldiers had long since retired to sleep.
Jiang Hanyuan walked through the endless rows of military tents and arrived before her father’s command tent.
Light leaked through the cracks in the tent entrance. She did not enter directly but stopped outside and had the guard go in to announce her arrival.
“The General may enter.”
The guard quickly emerged and spoke respectfully.
Jiang Hanyuan entered the tent.
There was no one else inside, only her father, dressed in casual military garments, sitting upright behind a table lit by candlesticks.
Though Grand General Marquis Dingan Jiang Zuowang was renowned for his military achievements, he was not like the typical warrior that people imagined—burly with a swallow’s jaw and tiger’s whiskers.
His features were well-proportioned, with sword-like eyebrows and phoenix eyes. In his youth, he must have been an undeniable handsome man. Only now, with frost touching his temples, and though the lamplight was not particularly bright, it still could not hide the haggard and aged appearance that showed through his face.
In his early years, he had been struck by a stray arrow that injured his lungs and nearly killed him. Though he had suppressed the injury through his strength, in recent years, as he aged and endured the harsh cold of the borderlands, the old wound would occasionally flare up. The torment was considerable, but he had always been strong-willed and extremely patient, so few people knew about it.
Seeing his daughter enter, Jiang Zuowang immediately rose from behind the table and walked toward her.
“Si Si, you’ve arrived? You must be tired from the journey. If you’re weary, go rest first. We can talk tomorrow.” He called her by her childhood name, his brow relaxing and a smile appearing on his face.
“What urgent matter caused the Grand General to summon me?”
Jiang Hanyuan commanded troops stationed at Qingmu Sai, several hundred li north of here, with the direct conflict zone with the Beidi only a few dozen li away. Unless there were military matters, she rarely met with Jiang Zuowang.
She performed the standard military courtesy of a subordinate meeting a superior, then stood straight and asked in a respectful tone.
Jiang Zuowang’s footsteps halted. He paused for a moment, then slowly sat back down.
The tent fell silent for a moment. Night wind slipped through the cracks in the tent entrance, causing the candle flames to flicker.
Jiang Zuowang spoke again, the smile having disappeared from his face: “Li He has already confessed his fault to me. However, you were far too presumptuous, pursuing without waiting for reinforcements! How many men did you have? How many did they have? Even if delayed, the women would not have died! Though you have some experience, fighting four to one! I had thought you were not one for such rash behavior!”
By the end, his tone had become quite stern.
“Yes, the women probably would not have died, but by the time Li He’s men arrived and pursued them, they would likely have suffered fates worse than death.”
Jiang Hanyuan replied calmly.
Jiang Zuowang naturally understood what depths of bestiality unrestrained common Beidi soldiers could reach. His harsh criticism of his daughter was born from some personal concern and anxiety. Refuted by his daughter’s single statement, he fell silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his expression had softened, and he changed the subject.
“Hanyuan, if Father remembers correctly, you’re twenty now, aren’t you?”
His gaze moved from his daughter’s dust-covered shoulders to slowly settle on her face, which resembled her mother’s, as he asked.
“What matter does the Grand General wish to discuss?” Jiang Hanyuan did not answer, only repeated her question.
Jiang Zuowang paused.
The court had dispatched an envoy north—the Imperial Clansman Minister Virtuous Prince Shu Yun. Upon meeting Jiang Zuowang, after exchanging pleasantries, his first question was about his daughter, General Changning Jiang Hanyuan.
“Seven years ago, when the current Regent Lord Qi was still Lord Anle, he came here representing the Martial Emperor to reward the troops. You were present then. You should still remember, shouldn’t you?”
Jiang Hanyuan’s eyelashes fluttered slightly as she fixed her father with a somewhat guarded gaze, not responding.
“This time, Virtuous Prince Shu Yun came personally. Do you know the purpose of his visit?”
His daughter still did not reply.
He gritted his teeth: “He came on behalf of the Regent Prince to propose marriage to Father, intending to make you his consort.”
The air seemed to suddenly freeze.
Jiang Zuowang looked at his daughter and smiled bitterly: “Father knows this news is far too sudden, and you’re probably completely unprepared. Not only you, I am the same. However—”
He changed his tone and rose again from behind the table, wearing a smile as he walked toward his daughter, whose expression had stiffened slightly.
“However, the Regent Prince is a dragon among men, with talents unparalleled in this age. In terms of appearance and bearing, he is one in ten thousand. You should have seen him yourself before. Moreover, you are not, after all, a man. Childhood was one thing, but now you’re grown. It’s not good to waste your years in military camps forever. You should find a good match…”
“Father!”
Jiang Hanyuan suddenly spoke.
“Do you truly believe Shu Shenhui would be a good match for a woman?”
“Do you truly believe someone like me is suitable for marriage?”
She asked twice in succession.
Jiang Zuowang stopped short and gazed into his daughter’s eyes—so like her mother’s—for a moment. Suddenly, a heavy sense of shame and even embarrassment welled up in his heart. He couldn’t even bear to meet his daughter’s gaze and avoided the direct look she cast upon him.
The command tent fell into silence.
After a moment, she spoke again, breaking the silence, her tone having turned flat.
“Never mind. I know your position is not easy either. Accept if you will.”
Having said this, she made no further pause but turned and left the tent.
She strode through the dark camp toward the exit, walking faster and faster, until she went straight through the camp gates, untied her mount from the hitching post, and mounted up.
“General, what did the Grand General want with you? Hey, where are you going? Wait for me!”
Yang Hu had just refused to rest, clutching his injured arm and insisting on waiting here. Seeing this, he immediately spurred his horse to chase after her.
Her mount was a large jujube-red horse named Tianlong, a divine steed from Dayuan that her maternal grandfather had given her long ago. If allowed to run freely, ordinary horses could never catch up.