“Who is she marrying?” Li Weifeng was shocked. “That old villain Ashina?”
Hearing that a girl as beautiful as a flower was to be married to that old wretch Ashina, Li Weifeng’s chest ached. He lamented, “Why does it have to be her!”
Li Ming also sighed. “That girl is something.” What a pity the best children were always born into other people’s families.
He glanced at Li Weifeng, who was still shaking his head and clucking his tongue.
“Go check on Eleventh.” He said. “Tell him not to get carried away with his thoughts.”
Li Weifeng’s face went red. “He’s not getting carried away.”
Both these boys were on their first trip out of the northwest, following him to broaden their horizons. First thing, they’d run into a girl like Princess Baohua. Of course they’d be moved. Young men with hot blood in their veins — it would be strange if they weren’t.
Perfectly normal.
Li Ming smiled to himself.
Zhaoxia Palace was very quiet. Lin Fei and Xie Yuzhang sat facing each other across the low table on the large bed-platform.
“So it’s completely settled,” Lin Fei murmured to herself.
“Wasn’t it already known?” Xie Yuzhang smiled.
The general situation had unfolded much the same as in her past life. Because Xie Yuzhang had not yet come of age, the Emperor and Preceptor Abuha had agreed that she would first be married over, and the marriage would only be consummated when she turned seventeen.
In Da Zhao, people were prosperous enough that not only noble families but many affluent commoners kept their daughters until seventeen or eighteen before marrying them off. Only the poorest households — unwilling or unable to raise a daughter — sent their girls away early, to be married or sold.
To win the hand of Da Zhao’s most honored legitimate princess was a merit surpassing every previous envoy’s. Abuha was extremely pleased with himself. The Khan had no shortage of women; he agreed to this small condition without hesitation.
In her past life the Emperor had made the same agreement with the Preceptor — and yet…
Lin Fei said softly, “It’s just — as long as it hadn’t been said aloud, there was still a hope in my heart. I always thought, maybe…”
“There is no ‘maybe.'” Xie Yuzhang swept away those bleak memories of her past life, leaned back against the cushion, turned her head and propped her cheek on her hand. “Those things that are plainly laid out and only officially announced at the last moment — they have already gone through who knows how many rounds of back-and-forth negotiation. Those so-called ‘coincidences’ are all arranged by people. Most of what gets called ‘bad luck’ is someone else’s plan working better than your own.”
Lin Fei looked at her steadily for a long moment.
Xie Yuzhang raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”
Lin Fei said, with warmth in her voice, “Actually, my greatest worry has always been you, Your Highness. And yet, contrary to what I expected — you are calmer than even I am. Seeing you like this, I am at ease. From now on, whatever we face, we will face it together and find a way. There is nothing we cannot get through.”
“Together”?
Xie Yuzhang thought of her own arrangements and smiled.
“Let’s sleep early,” she said with a yawn. “Tomorrow I still have to go to Hanliang Hall to cry again.”
“Hmm?” Lin Fei was puzzled.
Xie Yuzhang’s pale fingers covered her lips. Her gaze was quietly thoughtful. “Of course — since the day will come when I must be far away and unable to attend to Imperial Father, I should spend as much time as possible now fulfilling my filial duties at his side… as the saying goes, isn’t it the crying child who gets the sweet?”
Lin Fei was first astonished, then pressed her lips together in a smile. Now that everything was settled, the earlier anxiety and dread fell away, replaced by a steadiness that settled into her heart.
She said, “Good!”
Xie Yuzhang did indeed go to Hanliang Hall to cry the next day.
The Emperor cried along with her.
This was truly something the Emperor was capable of. This particular Emperor was, by nature, given to sentimentality.
When Lin Fei heard about it, she was rather speechless. She only asked, “How did it go?”
“It worked,” Xie Yuzhang said. “Imperial Father promised me that my wedding trousseau will be prepared lavishly.”
Lin Fei quietly exhaled.
Before the two could discuss the matter in more detail, a palace maid came to report: “The Marchioness of the Xun Duchy has arrived.”
Xie Yuzhang sighed lightly, stood, and said, “Don’t keep Aunt by marriage waiting. I’ll go out to greet her.”
Xie Yuzhang went out to meet her. The Marchioness of the Xun Duchy was dressed in full formal attire appropriate to her rank, but her eyes were red. The moment she saw Xie Yuzhang, her tears came at once. “Your Highness!”
“Aunt.” Xie Yuzhang went to take her by the arm. “How is Grandmother?”
The Marchioness gripped her hand, tearfully saying, “She heard the news last night and fell ill.”
Xie Yuzhang was grieved. When her maternal grandmother had died, she had been beyond the frontier and unable to pay her final respects. It seemed now that this would happen again.
These things that even rebirth could not change — they brought her a particular kind of sorrow.
Aunt and niece walked in together arm in arm, the Marchioness weeping again and again. “Why does it have to be you.”
She thought of Princess Anle’s sudden retreat to a nunnery days earlier to pray for her mother. The business of Li Ming seeking a princess for his son’s hand — only the Emperor, Noble Consort Shu, Princess Anle, and Li Ming himself had known about it. The Xun Duchy household naturally assumed, just as Xie Yuzhang had, that Noble Consort Shu had arranged for Princess Anle to take refuge in the nunnery precisely to avoid being sent as a peace bride. They were naturally furious.
“When A’Shen brought back word from your side earlier, I still dared not believe it. I kept thinking — surely it couldn’t come to you, the legitimate princess born of the Empress herself. Then your uncle returned from the palace, and he didn’t sleep all night, kept saying he had let your mother down. I tried twice these past two days to send in my visiting card to enter the palace. Noble Consort Shu kept blocking it. She must have been afraid we would cause a scene before it was all settled.” She choked. “Last night His Majesty announced the matter in person, and Grandmother heard the news and collapsed from the shock right then and there.”
Xie Yuzhang shed tears. “This is all my fault for making Grandmother grieve.”
“Dear child, don’t say that.” The Marchioness held Xie Yuzhang close. She realized that the most heartbroken person in this moment ought to be Xie Yuzhang herself, and forced herself not to cry, turning instead to comfort her. “Your uncle also entered the palace. He went to see His Majesty. Your trousseau, your escort — he will certainly insist on having a hand in that. Everything you will need to establish yourself and live securely in the years ahead depends on these things. He will never allow the Court of the Imperial Clan to prepare them shabbily. You don’t need to be afraid. Whatever kind of place beyond the frontier may be, as long as we pack everything properly, no matter how hard things get, no one will let you suffer.”
Her blood uncle, as if of one mind with Xie Yuzhang, had also gone before the Emperor to weep — for the sister who had died too soon.
The Emperor — certainly had wept again with him too.
In her past life, when Xun Duke Yang Changyuan entered the palace to mourn the late Empress, the Emperor had given Xie Yuzhang nothing more than a few additional rolls of silk and bolts of cloth.
In this lifetime, after Yang Changyuan wept out this one scene — the number of guards to accompany Xie Yuzhang into the frontier beyond was raised from two hundred to five hundred men.