The soft sobbing of the young girls was kept low, making the sudden, ragged shouting of the man outside seem all the more jarring.
Zhao Xiheng was startled. Ignoring the biting cold, she lifted a small corner of the carriage curtain. She saw a young man attempting to approach the procession, only to be blocked by the soldiers.
In response, he stripped off his outer robe and threw it to the ground. Clad only in his snow-white undergarments, he knelt heavily upon the earth.
Clasping his hands in a salute toward her carriage, he shouted at the top of his lungs, “In the ninety-three years since the founding of the state, Great Zhou has counted eight hundred thousand men of blood and spirit! We were born of this soil and raised on this land; to die in battle for this territory is a fate to be honored! To pin the safety of the realm upon the bodies of women and children, to cede land for marriage, to humiliate the nation and forfeit its sovereignty—this is truly the act of cowards!”
He seemed utterly out of place amidst the bustling clamor of the crowd, and he was eventually driven away.
Zhao Xiheng did not sleep well that night at the official courier station. She huddled into a ball beneath her quilts. She was born with a delicate, timid appearance that naturally stirred pity; she looked like a creature molded from water, possessing no strength of her own, the kind of girl who made one’s heart ache just by looking at her.
Outside her dreams were the hesitant, wet sobs of the servants; inside her dreams were the flickering scenes of years long past. Both sides pulled at her, refusing to let her find peace.
A young, unrestrained Emperor sat high upon his throne in the temple hall, holding a little girl with twin hair-buns in his arms. He looked down with disdain at the envoys kneeling below.
He covered his young daughter’s ears. “Listen up, damn you! Even if I die in battle, even if every inch of my bones is ground to dust, I will never agree to a marriage alliance with you lot!”
“I won’t be the King of Xianbei’s son-in-law; I’ll be his ancestor!”
“Your King must be a complete idiot to be so desperate for relatives. If he wants to acknowledge kin, let him come to Great Zhou and call me ‘Father’!”
The young Emperor’s cursing was fierce, yet Zhao Xiheng felt only a sense of security.
That was her father, the previous Emperor of Great Zhou, Zhao Xinglie. In her dream, her father was only twenty-five, and she was five, cradled in his arms.
Her father had covered her ears when he cursed, fearing the little girl would learn such language and he would be scolded by the Empress later. But her father didn’t know that she had heard every word clearly.
Naturally, she had learned them quite well…
When Zhao Xiheng woke, she felt a lingering sense of loss. The scene in the dream had been so real, as if she had returned to the time before her father died. She rubbed her brow and wrapped herself in her blanket, thinking that perhaps that high-spirited young man from earlier had triggered her memories.
Her father had possessed great ambition. He used to hold her while looking at maps, saying he wanted to make Great Zhou rich and powerful, that he wanted to reclaim all the lost territories and make all the surrounding small nations bow as subjects.
He had only achieved half of it before he died on the battlefield.
His words had become a grim prophecy. After being captured by the Xianbei people, his bones were shattered inch by inch until he died from the pain. When his remains were returned, there wasn’t even a complete skeleton left.
Zhao Xiheng did not know who could avenge this debt for her, nor did she know who could inherit her father’s ambitions. Clearly, her uncle did not possess such potential; he was even quite weak, leading to the current chaos in Great Zhou where various vassal kings were in open revolt.
Although Zhao Mingxin was technically marrying beneath her station, it was an attempt to win over Prince Zhenbei.
Both Goguryeo and Pingzhou required traveling northeast toward the borders of Great Zhou, crossing the Qinling Mountains-Huai River line.
Zhenbei Wang’s Mansion was located in Buxian City within Pingzhou. The Goguryeo royal court lay just beyond Tiangang City, which sat to the north of Buxian City.
Originally, the entire northeast had belonged to Goguryeo. However, because Zhao Xinglie was a brilliant commander, he had conquered the lands from Tiangang City in the north to Pyongyang in the south during his early years, designating the area as Pingzhou. Since then, the nation of Goguryeo had been split in two. Although both parts were under the same sovereign’s jurisdiction, a distinction was made between North and South Goguryeo.
The further north they traveled, the more violently the wind howled, and snowflakes began to drift through the air.
Jinyang was a place where there was no snow throughout the four seasons.
After passing through several official courier stations in succession, Zhao Xiheng truly felt for the first time that she was far away from the place where she had lived for fifteen years, and was heading toward a strange, frigid land to spend the rest of her life.
Zhao Mingxin screamed and complained about the cold weather, demanding they stop to rest. Before long, the carriage curtain was abruptly pulled open, and Zhao Mingxin crawled into Zhao Xiheng’s carriage, seating herself without the slightest hint of courtesy.
The journey had been arduous; it was only thanks to the freezing weather that she had waited this long to cause trouble. Zhao Xiheng continued to hold her hand warmer for heat, ignoring her.
The two had never gotten along since childhood. Even though they were leaving their homeland to be married off together, Zhao Xiheng could not bring herself to be friendly.
Zhao Mingxin curled her lip, scanning Zhao Xiheng up and down with a contemptuous gaze. “We are sisters, after all. Once we’re settled, we’ll only be separated by a single river. If you’re having a hard time, don’t you dare go hiding it.”
These were not kind words; her tone made it clear she was itching for the other to suffer.
When Zhao Xiheng ignored her, a spark of rage flared within Zhao Mingxin. When they were young, Zhao Xiheng was the legitimate princess, the darling of heaven, and her arrogant demeanor had been loathsome; she had even struck Zhao Mingxin back then. Now, she was nothing more than a destitute orphan whose parents were dead. Zhao Mingxin was the proper princess now—how did she still dare to be so proud? She had come today specifically to gloat.
The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to grind Zhao Xiheng into the dust, and her words became increasingly venomous. “Zhao Xiheng, that King of Goguryeo you’re marrying has grandsons older than you. Once you arrive, you’ll be holding great-grandsons in your arms, saving you the trouble of giving birth yourself. I truly envy you, sister. Unlike me—the Prince of Zhenbei’s heir is only twenty years old.”
Zhao Xiheng arched an eyebrow and nodded slightly, her tone slow and gentle, as if she hadn’t caught the malice at all. “It is indeed quite good. The King of Goguryeo is old; he won’t be much trouble and will likely die soon. His children are all grown, so I won’t have to raise them. When I become the Queen Dowager in the future, I shall invite you to Goguryeo as a guest. I wonder if my dear cousin will have the time then…”
She paused, feigning surprise. “The Prince of Zhenbei’s heir is only twenty, in the prime of his youth and health. I imagine he will have many children by then. As the legal wife, you will have to care for your own children as well as raise those of the concubines. I fear you won’t be able to get away.”
Zhao Mingxin shook with rage.
Everyone knew that Prince Zhenbei ruled his territory independently and held no fear for the Emperor. Even with a princess marrying into the family, the heir had not dismissed any of his concubines.
“Zhao Xiheng, I’ll tear that mouth of yours!” Accustomed to being domineering over the years, Zhao Mingxin lunged forward to start a fight.
“Quiet down.” Zhao Xiheng frowned slightly. Her tone wasn’t loud—it even sounded like she was coaxing a child—but her movements were far from gentle. She grabbed Zhao Mingxin by the collar, twisted both of her arms behind her back, and pinned her face against the carriage wall.
“Zhao Xiheng, let go of me! I’m going to kill you!” Zhao Mingxin screamed like a stuck pig, perfectly embodying the image of an overbearing princess.
When the gods fight, it is the commoners who suffer. The palace servants didn’t dare touch Zhao Xiheng; they could only kneel and kowtow, begging Zhao Xiheng to release Zhao Mingxin.
Zhao Xiheng patted her cheek like she was patting a dead pig. A faint, gentle, and tranquil smile played on her lips. “Did you forget, cousin? This marriage you envy so much is the one you gave to me. If you’re so envious, I can give it back to you. Now that we’ve left Jinyang and you don’t have your parents backing you up, I suggest you restrain yourself. After all, if sisters injure each other while playing around, it would be quite unfortunate.”
Zhao Mingxin sucked in a cold breath. She still remembered how, when they were young, Zhao Xiheng would pin her down and pull her hair while hitting her. Now that they had left Jinyang, her status was the same as Zhao Xiheng’s, and with the Emperor so far away, her mother couldn’t protect her.
After Zhao Mingxin was kicked out, Zhao Xiheng put on another thick robe and huddled in her warm little nest of quilts to nibble on pastries, a book held in her lap.
The palace servants knew she was sensitive to the cold, so the stove in the carriage was kept burning warmly. However, the carriage was jolting so much that Zhao Xiheng only managed a few pages before her eyes began to ache.
She reached out with a slender finger and massaged the space between her brows.
Her brow was furrowed, making her look fragile and weak, like a tender sprout emerging in the dead of winter. When she wasn’t cursing, she appeared perfectly serene. “Are we almost at Pingzhou?”
“Yes. We should reach Dandong by tomorrow.”
Zhao Xiheng felt a sense of worry. Dandong was the border of Pingzhou. Logically, when a princess was marrying into a vassal’s fief, the envoys should have met them as early as Qingzhou and escorted them all the way to the mansion to prepare for the wedding.
But they were almost at Pingzhou now, and there was still no sign of Prince Zhenbei’s envoys. Either they truly had no respect for the imperial family, or something had happened in Pingzhou.
While she pondered, she picked up a piece of chestnut cake. Her movements were somewhat clumsy. “Bring another blanket. The cold is getting worse.” She felt that as the weather got colder, her thoughts slowed down, as if her brain were being frozen solid.
Wrapped in layer upon layer of thick clothing, Zhao Xiheng looked as round as a glutinous rice ball freshly scooped from a pot.
If it was already this cold before even entering Pingzhou, she truly couldn’t imagine what life would be like in Goguryeo, which was even further north.
The atmosphere in Dandong was not right. The streets were empty; every household had its doors and windows tightly shut. The cold wind howled and snowflakes danced, like a wild white beast intent on swallowing the city whole.
This time, it wasn’t just Prince Zhenbei’s envoys who were missing; even the officials of the local official courier station had failed to appear.
The guards sat atop their horses, only their eyes visible. Frost clung to their eyelashes. Occasionally, the wind would swirl up, and the horses would neigh and grow restless as if spooked, creating a sense of agitation in the ranks.
As soon as she entered Dandong, Zhao Xiheng sensed the wrongness in the air. The neighing of the horses only intensified her inner unease.
Her mind, which had been muddled by the biting wind for days, suddenly cleared. She gave the order, “Retreat the way we came! Don’t waste time! Get out of Pingzhou! Quickly!”
Zhao Mingxin had been traveling for a month straight, and her already poor temper was now on a hair-trigger. She shrieked at the top of her lungs toward Zhao Xiheng’s carriage, “We are not going back! We finally made it into Pingzhou! The road is so difficult and cold—are you trying to freeze me to death?!”
The one leading the escort was Pingwei Jiangjun. He yanked down his face mask and frowned, sniffing the air. The frost on his beard fell away in clumps, and his exhaled breath was as thick as steam from a fresh pot of buns.
The faint, lingering scent of blood permeated the air, though it was masked by the biting chill. Prolonged exposure to the cold had dulled their senses, making it harder to detect.
He cried out, “Withdraw from Pingzhou! There’s an ambush!”
Before the party could move, the city gates slammed shut with a heavy thud, sending ice and snow flying.
“Tsk. We’ve been discovered, I see!” A man let out a sigh of feigned annoyance, as if he were deeply disappointed. Then he began to laugh—a cold, heavy, sinister sound that made one shiver with dread.
Snow surrounded them on all sides, the vast white expanse causing the sound to echo in layers. The man’s voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, as eerie and haunting as a ghost.