He now understood. His daughter did not choose those people because she liked them, but because she had her own purpose.
What troubled him a little was this: since she knew so many people, why had she never considered marriage before? Otherwise, things would not have come to this point.
But then he began to blame himself again. His daughter had returned to Chang’an for two years, and as her father, he had neither cared for nor guided her. She was only a young woman—how could she have been expected to choose a husband on her own?
In the end, it was all his fault. Not only had he failed to protect her, he had also brought her so much suffering.
Seeing the light in her father’s eyes dim and his expression grow increasingly dejected, Jiang Congyan guessed he was feeling guilty again and deliberately provoked him.
“Father, are you implying you can’t help me?”
“Nonsense!” Jiang Huai snapped lightly. “They are only two insignificant official posts. Though I am not in court, this small matter is still within my ability.”
For diplomatic marriages between states, and the escorting of a princess, the Ministry of Rites already had fixed protocols—what rank of officials were required, how many attendants, and even the dowry scale were all predetermined.
The escort guards would be easier; once the procession reached the border of Liang, they could return. But the officials presiding over the ceremonies had to travel all the way to the Xianbei court and remain until the marriage was completed before returning. It was a long, dangerous journey, involving dealings with “barbarian” tribes—hard work with little reward—so few volunteered.
However, the position was not without benefit. Because escort officials were required to be high-ranking ceremonial officers from the Ministry of Rites or the Court of Imperial Entertainments, in the most prestigious cases even nobles or princes might be sent. Thus, someone originally of low rank who obtained such a post could be promoted several ranks.
Aristocratic children, with their inherited privileges, did not need such hardships. It was mostly lower-born scholars who competed for such opportunities, though even they were often blocked by a single word from the aristocracy.
Jiang Huai had kept a low profile for nearly thirty years, but he still retained some of the Taizu and Crown Prince Zhaowen’s old connections. As he said, this was not difficult.
“Thank you, Father,” Jiang Congyan said with a smile.
In this life, heaven had not treated her badly. At least she still had family who cared for her.
Jiang Huai looked at his daughter’s bright, jade-like face—more radiant than the most precious pearl—yet she was about to be married off. His heart filled with reluctance and worry. Thinking of her journey alone to the distant northern wilderness, he only wished he could do everything in his power for her.
“I still have some of Taizu’s old covert guards,” he said. “Take them with you. They can protect you a little more.”
Jiang Congyan shook her head. “Father, I don’t need them. Zhang Zheng and the others will go north with me—that is enough. Your situation is more dangerous than mine. You should keep them by your side instead.”
Jiang Huai wanted to insist, but meeting her firm and resolute gaze, he knew she would not change her mind once decided, and could only swallow his words.
He did not know how his daughter had grown from such a small child into someone so intelligent and decisive, but it must not have been easy.
Suddenly, Jiang Congyan thought of something and decided to remind him.
“Father, it seems the Zhao family and Zhao Zhen have a somewhat unusual relationship.”
She knew the Zhao family was an informant planted by the emperor in the Duke of Chu’s residence, but something about them always felt strange.
Jiang Huai immediately grew cautious. “How much do you know?”
“Not much. I only saw them meeting secretly before the banquet welcoming the Marquess of the North. Their expressions were somewhat unusual.”
Jiang Huai let out a small sigh of relief.
But Jiang Congyan noticed that he seemed to be hiding something. “Father, you know about this?”
“Uh—” Jiang Huai hesitated, embarrassed to speak in front of his daughter.
But Jiang Congyan would not let it go. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll investigate it myself.”
“Don’t!” Jiang Huai hurriedly stopped her.
She sat back down and looked at him calmly.
After several changes in expression, Jiang Huai finally gave up, avoiding her gaze as his face turned slightly red.
“They… are in an improper relationship,” he said awkwardly, almost sheepishly.
Jiang Congyan blinked. So Zhao family and Zhao Zhen were lovers? Weren’t they cousins?
Now that she thought about it, their behavior that day had indeed been too intimate—far beyond ordinary siblings.
“So you’ve just let them continue like that…” she murmured.
Since it was already out in the open, Jiang Huai became less embarrassed. “I was never close to the Zhao family. We both knew the purpose of this marriage. What she does is of no concern to me. In fact… she is also a piece I can use.”
The Zhao woman had been planted to watch him, but she was not very clever and could only observe surface matters. Jiang Huai had even been able to use her to reassure the emperor. Knowing her relationship with Zhao Zhen, he did not expose it; instead, he allowed it to continue, so that the emperor would not replace his informant and complicate matters.
But now that she had dared to scheme against his daughter, that could no longer be tolerated.
A sharp glint flashed through Jiang Huai’s eyes before disappearing almost instantly.
Jiang Congyan decided not to interfere further. If her father knew, then so be it. Though she was displeased with the Zhao family’s scheming, if they were still useful to him, they could remain—for now.
After finishing their discussion, she returned to her courtyard.
That night, Ruolan reported that everything had been arranged—Zhang Fu had agreed to travel north with her.
Jiang Congyan nodded, feeling slightly more at ease.
Soon, mid-March arrived.
Tuoba Xiao had been in Chang’an for half a month. Now that the marriage candidate had been decided and the alliance terms finalized, the Xianbei could not remain without a ruler, and the Liang court was eager for him to leave. Everything progressed quickly.
The day after the edict was issued, the Ministry of Rites sent people to measure Jiang Congyan.
The wedding dress had already been prepared; only minor adjustments were needed.
On the day before departure, ceremonial attendants and bridal furnishings were sent to the Duke of Chu’s residence for her to try on the wedding robe.
The seamstresses’ craftsmanship was excellent—the gown fit perfectly and required no alteration.
The Duke of Chu’s residence was now brightly decorated inside and out, hung with colorful silk banners, even extravagantly transplanting flowers and trees into the courtyard, bringing life for the first time in seventeen years.
The Zhao woman took particular care in these arrangements, smiling brightly—an outsider would think she was genuinely celebrating.
Jiang Congyan leaned against the latticed window, draped in a plain robe, one slender wrist supporting her cheek as she gazed quietly at the moon hanging on the treetop.
Pure as jade, its light spilled everywhere.
Li Bai had once said: “People of today do not see the ancient moon, yet this moon once shone upon people of the past.”
Yet she, a “person of the future,” now saw the “ancient moon” of a thousand years ago.
The moon was no different from what she had seen in her own time. What had changed were only the people beneath it.
Viewed from the vast span of history, all lives would eventually dissolve into dust. The rise and fall of a short-lived dynasty might seem insignificant—but once she stood within it, she could not treat it as such.
The faces she had seen were vivid, the experiences real, the bonds of family warm and irreplaceable.
She could not simply watch the future tragedy unfold. She wanted to beat her wings like a butterfly, hoping to shift the course of history—if only by a fraction.
“Tuoba Xiao.”
She silently repeated the name.
This star destined to fall—could its fate be changed by her?