“Half a dance by the Jiang maiden could captivate the realm;
the King of the North was thought to be a moon-born immortal…”
At this moment, Huan Jun’s eyes shone with an almost startling brightness—like a man whose long-suppressed ambitions were finally about to surge forward without restraint, or like someone on the verge of drowning who had just seized his only lifeline.
He finally understood why Jiang Congyan had asked to meet him.
If he were to say it aloud, others would surely find it absurd—that he, a grown man, would believe the words of a seventeen-year-old girl who claimed that the Liang dynasty was destined to fall, and would even seek a solution from her.
Even he himself felt that he was being irrational.
And yet, his instincts told him: believe her. Believe that she had the ability to hold up a collapsing edifice.
Jiang Congyan had expected it would take some effort to convince him. She had not anticipated that in just a few sentences, he would grasp the crux of the matter.
What she had just said were conclusions later historians had drawn when analyzing the fall of Liang. From a detached, godlike perspective, it was easy for later generations to judge history—to point out its strengths and flaws, even to propose countless hypothetical alternatives. But for those living within that era, it was far from easy to see the full picture.
Looking at him, Jiang Congyan’s expression grew distant, as though she were gazing not at the man before her, but at the future several years ahead.
“Why not turn your efforts to Huainan?” she said.
Huan Jun’s pupils trembled.
Jiang Congyan continued, “The land of Huainan… can still be saved.”
His chest rose and fell violently as he stared at her in shock. Her meaning was clear—he was to abandon Chang’an, abandon the northern heartland of Liang altogether.
Had things truly come to this?
“How… should it be managed?” His lips trembled.
“Equalize land. Reform the system,” she said, enunciating each word clearly as she looked straight into his eyes.
Huan Jun’s pupils contracted even further.
Since ancient times, land reform had always been a matter of immense consequence. It was not merely about fields—it concerned the livelihood of every person. Anyone who attempted to touch such entrenched interests rarely met a good end.
His rigid posture collapsed. He sank back slightly, sleeves hanging loosely at his sides, and gave a bitter smile. “Princess, who do you think I am? A mere Director of the Lesser Treasury—just a mayfly. What power do I have to move such a mountain?”
Jiang Congyan remained calm. “If you wish to do something that harms the interests of all those in power, it will never succeed. But if one day, by not doing it, some among those in power stand to suffer even greater losses at the hands of others—then if you act at that moment, would they still oppose you?”
What Jiang Congyan described was, in fact, the reform Huan Jun would one day attempt in history.
At that time, the court had moved south. Aristocratic clans from the north migrated en masse, and fierce conflicts erupted between them and the established southern elites. In their scramble to seize land, they severely harmed the interests of the Huainan gentry. Huan Jun found his opportunity for reform within these conflicts.
But he had entered the stage too late. By then, the northern clans had already secured their foothold and resisted his efforts. Alone, he could not stand against the entire aristocratic establishment. Hemmed in on all sides, he could only struggle to sustain a declining Southern Liang.
If now, ahead of time, Huan Jun were to establish himself in Huainan and win over the southern elites—then when Chang’an fell five years later, could he seize that fleeting opportunity and succeed in reform?
Or would he fail even more completely amidst the sharper, earlier conflicts?
It was a gamble of the highest stakes.
Jiang Congyan did not know whether Liang would be fortunate enough to succeed. She only wished to use her fragment of foreknowledge to salvage what she could of this crumbling situation.
Huan Jun could not describe what he was feeling. He stared at the young woman before him, almost dazed.
In these times, extravagance was in vogue. Even noble ladies dressed in elaborate, dazzling attire. Yet Jiang Congyan, as always, was simply dressed—a moon-white ru jacket paired with a pale grass-green skirt, a soft jade-pink silk shawl draped over her shoulders. There were few adornments. Were it not for her extraordinary bearing and her flawless, snow-like skin, she might have seemed an ordinary young lady.
The light colors lent her a youthful charm. But beneath that gentle exterior, Huan Jun could clearly sense another kind of presence—something powerful, almost overwhelming.
It was the kind of commanding aura that usually came only after many years in positions of authority.
Yet it now resided in a girl of merely seventeen.
Suddenly, he recalled a popular ballad spreading through Chang’an in recent days—
“Half a dance by the Jiang maiden could enchant the realm;
the King of the North seems a celestial immortal from the moon.”
The song had arisen after news spread that Tuoba Xiao had chosen her the day after her banquet performance. The common people, unaware of the truth, assumed he had been captivated by her beauty at first sight, and so they composed verses praising her stunning appearance.
But at this moment, Huan Jun realized—
Compared to the beauty visible at a glance, the rare and extraordinary quality hidden deep within her bones… was likely the true reason the King of Mobei had chosen her.