Jiang Congyan paused slightly, then walked forward with composure.
Stepping onto the bluestone stairs, she advanced to a proper distance, stopped, folded her arms before her, and gave a formal curtsey.
“Greetings to the King of the Northern Desert. I have come today for two reasons.”
“Speak,” Tuoba Xiao said, lifting a hand.
“First, to thank Your Highness for your bravery and righteousness in saving me from danger, thus preserving my life.” Jiang Congyan turned her head slightly and said to the attendants behind her, “Bring them forward.”
The attendants carried in the gifts she had prepared in advance.
The wine jars were tied with red silk, and the rest of the items were neatly arranged in baskets, each labeled with wooden tags describing their contents.
Jiang Congyan continued, “I know these modest gifts are far from enough to repay Your Highness’s life-saving grace, but please accept them as a token of my gratitude.”
“And the second matter?” Tuoba Xiao showed no interest in the gifts, nor in her thanks. He had saved her simply because he wished to—after all, she was the woman he had chosen as his wife.
Jiang Congyan lifted her gaze and looked at him, speaking slowly and seriously.
“It concerns our marriage.”
“Oh?” Tuoba Xiao tilted his head slightly, his narrow eyes glinting.
His gaze fell on her openly, unabashed, interest growing.
Each time he saw her, she gave him a different feeling.
The first time they met, she stepped down from a carriage and, as a seemingly delicate noble lady, delivered words that stirred morale. It made him take notice—she was clever and bold—but he did not dwell on it.
After arriving in Chang’an, he had intended to choose a wife from the Liang royal family, yet found every candidate weak and uninspiring. That made him think of her again. Women as decisive and composed as she was were rare.
He had wanted to find her—and he did.
Even though he had never seen her face before, her unique bearing and aura made her stand out like a glowing pearl in the dark. He recognized her at a glance.
Dressed in plain garments, she seemed to arrive bathed in moonlight. She was even more beautiful than he had imagined, like a divine maiden brought to life from poetry.
At that moment, his heart pounded, his blood surged, and he felt as if something had exploded in his mind.
Then he witnessed the most beautiful dance of his life—
Her slender wrist wielded a sword, her skirt fluttering in the night wind like a butterfly in flight. In the deep darkness, that streak of white seemed otherworldly, not of the mortal realm. Yet beneath her cold elegance lay a sharp, deadly edge.
The ultimate blend of softness and chill formed a fatal allure. In that moment, he knew—only a woman like her could be his wife.
The sudden attack of Xiongnu assassins interrupted the spectacle. Years of battlefield experience made him react instantly, deflecting the arrows raining from the shadows. When he looked at her again, her sleeve had been pinned to the ground. She paused only briefly before decisively cutting it off and retreating from the banquet.
Worried, he fought his way through the assassins and chased after her. As expected, she was not safe. Her maids were desperately trying to protect her, but they were too weak.
When one assassin hesitated for a moment after being restrained, he saw her drive her sword straight into the man’s heart without hesitation.
The one killed was an assassin—but he felt as though his own heart had been pierced by her blade.
The next moment, another assassin raised a blade to strike her down. He snapped off an arrowhead and flung it to deflect the attack. As she seemed about to fall, he leapt forward and caught her by the waist.
So slender!
He could encircle it with one hand.
Pressed close together, he saw her disheveled hair tangled around her pale neck, her cold face speckled with blood. In the darkness, she was both sacred and dangerously alluring.
No one could remain unmoved.
But now, seeing her again, he felt something different.
For the first time, he saw her clearly in broad daylight, able to take in every detail of her features and expression.
Today, Jiang Congyan was dressed far more elaborately. She wore a pomegranate-red brocade jacket with wide sleeves, trimmed in white and embroidered with cloud patterns. Around her waist was a matching sash, paired with a dark blue layered skirt that accentuated her slender waist. The long skirt flowed in overlapping panels, with ribbons trailing and fluttering like swallows in flight as she walked.
Her hair was styled in a high “flying immortal” bun, adorned with a circle of delicate pearl ornaments and gold tassels that shimmered softly as they swayed.
This was the fashionable attire among noble ladies in Chang’an, though she rarely dressed so extravagantly.
Compared to her previous simple appearances, the vivid red and blue made her skin appear even fairer. Her makeup was brighter, her lips tinted a rich red. Standing there gracefully, with a long neck and slender figure, she looked like a celestial maiden from ancient murals.
A different kind of beauty.
Tuoba Xiao’s gaze seemed glued to her—he could not get enough.
He took two long steps forward, closing the distance between them instantly. With a mere stretch of his arm, he could touch her.
His tall frame alone was imposing, not to mention his battlefield-honed aura. Even when restrained, it was suffocating. More unsettling was his overwhelming sense of dominance, making her feel as though her personal space had been invaded.
Jiang Congyan, who stood about 1.67 meters tall—considered tall in this era—seemed small before him. Her forehead barely reached his chest, and his strong, battle-hardened physique made her appear even more delicate.
She quietly steadied her breathing, maintaining a calm expression. Tilting her chin up slightly, she met his gaze without retreat.
“Why did you choose me?” she asked.
The question caught him slightly off guard. His brows shifted subtly.
Han women were usually reserved and gentle. Judging by appearance alone, she seemed refined and proper. But he had seen her sharpness—he knew how different she truly was. So her bold question did not surprise him.
Strangely, he did not feel displeased—he felt pleased.
After a moment, he answered simply, “You’re different from other Han women. I like that.”
His words were blunt, yet they left her puzzled.
Different how? Her looks? Her identity? Something else?
Still, there was good news—he said he liked her. Even if she didn’t know what exactly he liked, it meant he would be somewhat accommodating.
She continued, “Will you marry me as your principal wife?”
“Of course,” he replied without hesitation.
“In your Xianbei customs, how many wives may a king have?”
“Only you!”
As he spoke, he seemed to realize the deeper meaning behind her questions. His green eyes narrowed, glinting faintly.
Jiang Congyan held his gaze steadily, her expression clear and unwavering, her beauty sharpened by her determination.
“Thank you, Your Highness, for answering my questions,” she said with a sudden smile.
Her cool eyes curved like a crescent moon, her red lips blooming like dewy camellias—then the smile vanished as quickly as it came.
Tuoba Xiao was momentarily stunned, still savoring it when she continued—
“I have three conditions. If Your Highness cannot agree, I cannot marry.”