When a man asks a woman her name—outside of polite social necessity—it usually means only one thing: he is interested in her.
And now, with the fighting not yet fully over, in this shattered, blood-soaked night, Tuoba Xiao still held her tightly by the waist. Her face was nearly pressed against his chest. In such an intimate posture, he asked her name.
Jiang Congyan’s heart skipped a beat. Cold sweat spread down her back, soaking her clothes, icy against her skin—yet his hand at her waist burned like fire. Caught between cold and heat, her breathing quickened. She lowered her gaze, lashes trembling, and looked past his arm toward the palace buildings flickering with firelight in the distance.
“My name is Jiang Congyan. My father is Prince Chu, Jiang Huai, son of the late Crown Prince Zhaowen.”
After introducing herself in one breath, she waited for him to release her.
But he showed no awareness that their closeness was improper. He simply stared at her, as though trying to carve her image into his memory.
She suddenly remembered she was splattered with blood. Her vision blurred faintly. She tried to raise her hand to wipe it away—but his arms still restrained her.
Ruolan and Sizi had already gotten up and stood to the side. They watched helplessly as Tuoba Xiao killed the assassins and then continued to hold their mistress without letting go.
If it had been anyone else behaving so improperly, they would have intervened long ago—but this was the King of Mobei.
They were no match for him, and provoking him might worsen her situation. Though anxious, they dared not show it, hoping their lady could resolve this with her wit.
Unfortunately, even her cleverness was useless in the face of overwhelming strength.
Jiang Congyan blinked, shaking the blood from her lashes. Then she turned back to face him, meeting his gaze with clear, steady eyes.
“I am deeply grateful for Your Majesty’s life-saving grace and will repay it in the future. However, the danger has now passed. It is improper for us to remain like this. May Your Majesty release me?”
Subtlety would not work with this man—so she spoke plainly.
As expected, Tuoba Xiao hadn’t even realized the impropriety until she pointed it out.
He had been watching her closely—he saw her earlier attempt to avoid him, and the calm, distant look in her eyes now. He understood: she was displeased.
That made sense. Han women valued propriety—his mother had once told him so.
She had said: If you ever fall for a Han woman, you must treat her with respect. You cannot simply take what you want by force, or she will come to hate you.
She had also said: True feelings are rare. If you find someone you truly like, cherish her. If you treat her sincerely, she will return your sincerity.
His mother had been a Han woman taken to the степpe by force. She never loved his father. The only man she held in her heart was her former fiancé—a gentleman of grace and restraint. If not for tragedy, she would have married him and lived a harmonious life.
Tuoba Xiao did not want Jiang Congyan to hate him.
Suppressing the urge to tighten his hold, he slowly loosened his grip, releasing her bit by bit.
Even after she stepped away, his fingertips lingered with reluctance. Her waist had been as soft as a young willow branch…
Jiang Congyan quietly exhaled in relief. At least he was not entirely unreasonable.
But just as she tried to step back, her legs gave way. Without his support, she nearly collapsed.
He caught her again instantly, a bright, amused glint flashing in his green eyes.
Only now, with the danger gone, did her body register the aftermath of fear. A flicker of embarrassment crossed her face. She lowered her head, avoiding his gaze, steadying herself before gently pushing his arm away.
After retreating to a safe distance, she took out a handkerchief to wipe the blood from her face, then tucked her loose hair behind her ear. With hands folded, she performed a proper bow of thanks.
Tuoba Xiao paid it little mind. Instead, he continued to look at her—like a hunter eyeing prey, or a man admiring treasure.
Unease stirred within her.
And soon, that unease became reality.
“Improper?” he said. “If it were proper… would that mean you couldn’t refuse me?”
“My lady, what did the King of Mobei mean by that?”
In a side hall of Tongling Garden, the three huddled together in a small room. Sizi asked anxiously.
An hour had passed since the assassination attempt. The attackers, though initially successful in their ambush, had been quickly surrounded and eliminated by reinforcements. Those who survived chose suicide rather than capture.
Removing their masks revealed they were all Hu people—most likely Xiongnu, judging by their curved blades.
The Xiongnu dominated the northwest, their territory stretching from Helan Mountain in the east to Wusun in the west, south to Liangzhou, and north to the northern seas. They were the most powerful nomadic force in the region.
Tuoba Xiao’s Xianbei court lay east of Helan Mountain, rivaling the Xiongnu.
Between them and Liang stood the Jie people.
This alliance between Liang and the Xianbei threatened the balance—but unexpectedly, it was the Xiongnu who struck first.
Four years ago, after the death of the old Xianbei king, Tuoba Ta, the Xiongnu attempted to invade during the succession chaos. But Tuoba Xiao rose suddenly, seized power within two months, and repelled them with just thirty thousand troops against a hundred thousand.
From that battle, his name shook the world.
Yet his greatest enemy, Prince Wudadi Hou, bore deep resentment.
In later years, he would lose to Tuoba Xiao twice more—until Tuoba Xiao’s sudden death three years later. Only then did he invade southward, devastating the Central Plains and plunging history into one of its darkest eras.
Now, three years had passed. Wudadi Hou had regained favor and strength—and his hatred only deepened.
Hearing of Tuoba Xiao’s alliance with Liang, he sent assassins.
Even failure would satisfy him, so long as it troubled his enemy.
For now, Tongling Garden was secure. Everyone was gathered inside the temporary palace under heavy guard.
But none of that concerned Jiang Congyan.
After tending to injuries—especially the Sixth Princess, who had been badly hurt—they finally returned to their quarters.
Though safe, a new problem loomed.
Recalling Tuoba Xiao’s words, all three felt uneasy.
“Could it be… the King of Mobei wants you to marry him?” Sizi asked.
Jiang Congyan closed her eyes. In the darkness, she saw again his wolf-like gaze under the night sky.
“I… don’t know,” she murmured.
The dim oil lamp cast soft light over her pale neck and profile, revealing a rare fragility.
“The imperial decree reads:
In the spring of the fifteenth year, at an auspicious time, the King of Mobei sent envoys to Chang’an… seeking marriage. There is a worthy lady—great-granddaughter of the founding emperor, granddaughter of the late Crown Prince Zhaowen, daughter of Prince Chu, Jiang Huai. She is filial, gentle, virtuous, and accomplished.
We hereby confer upon her the title Princess You’an, to wed the King of Mobei, uniting our two realms in harmony.”
“So decreed!”
Kneeling before the main hall of Prince Chu’s residence, Jiang Congyan listened as the envoy finished reading.
She lifted her head, looking at the brilliant, multicolored imperial edict—
Then beyond it, to the blazing sun in the cloudless sky.
A sun that had shone for a thousand years…
And now illuminated her soul reborn in this age.
She closed her eyes.
After all the twists and turns—
The threads of history had come full circle… and settled upon her.