That night, Muxue had a dream.
Fog drifted through the air, and the moonlight was obscured by dark clouds. A jackdaw flew over withered vines, its cry shrill and piercing.
She stepped barefoot onto the jarring Patterned Brick, yet she felt no cold at all. Servants on both sides held her arms down firmly, rendering her completely unable to move.
The sound of a child crying gradually drifted away, shouting, "Mother, save me!"
It felt like falling into an ice cellar.
Muxue snapped her eyes open, gasping for breath, her body trembling.
"Princess? Princess, did you have a nightmare?"
Rong’er, who was on night watch in the hall, scrambled up and hurriedly lit a candlestick.
The brocade curtains were pulled back, and the faint orange-red candlelight flickered in the wind, casting Muxue's shadow long and slanted.
It was only a dream.
She breathed a sigh of relief, but her heart still hammered with lingering fear.
The maid on watch in the outer room saw the light and rushed in, bringing a bowl of warm honey water. To ensure the mistress wouldn't be thirsty at night, the coal stove under the eaves outside had never been extinguished, and it happened to come in handy now.
Muxue held the honey water and drank most of it in one go. Her consciousness gradually cleared.
Why did I have such a dream? she wondered. Deep in her heart, was she afraid of such a future?
Probably so. What did a princess sent for a political marriage amount to? When things were good, everyone was friendly and lively. But if the time truly came to face each other in battle—if Mobei suddenly went mad like the Khalkha—what would the situation be then?
Wu Sangui had also once been the Prince Pingxi whom the Qing court held in the highest regard!
Muxue’s knowledge of this period of Qing history before her soul-migration was limited to various novels and television dramas focused on the romantic entanglements of the Imperial Princes. She knew the Crown Prince would be deposed, she knew the next emperor would be the Fourth Prince Yinzhen, and she knew of Yongzheng’s favored consort, Lady Nian, and the Lady Niohuru who gave birth to Qianlong. She was even entirely ignorant of the fates of Kangxi’s daughters—her current sisters. The stories she had seen at most treated them as background characters mentioned in passing.
As for terms like Dzungar or Mobei Khalkha, she had never concerned herself with them at all. It was only after her migration that she gained even a vague impression of that distant grassland. Therefore, she had no understanding of what would happen in Mobei over the next few decades, nor did she have any possibility of foresight.
It was like facing a mountain path without moon or stars; besides the fathomless dark night, she did not know where the road would wind, or if a single wrong step would send her plummeting into a ten-thousand-foot abyss.
The bloody example of Princess Kèchún was right before her eyes. Could she, as Princess Kejing, fully guarantee that her life would always be smooth and auspicious?
If she truly had a child with Dorji years later and encountered a similar situation, would Kangxi be able to strike down his own grandson? What kind of situation would she find herself in then?
The answer was self-evident.
Her hand tightened around the bowl as a chill surged into her heart.
No, Mobei must not fall into chaos!
Calm down, Muxue. Deep breaths, deep breaths. I will not let such a thing happen.
She comforted herself in her mind. Her wildly beating heart gradually steadied.
Unlike Princess Kèchún, who lived in the capital, she was going to the actual territory. This was her advantage. The grasslands seemed to still retain the ancient custom of women participating in political and state affairs. As long as she operated correctly and held the situation of all Mobei in her hands, she could nip trouble in the bud.
Muxue pondered for a moment and made up her mind.
"Princess, there are still a few hours until dawn. Why don't you rest a while longer?" Rong’er advised. "We are all here in the room guarding you. With so much 'human presence,' we can suppress the nightmare."
Muxue’s fingertip brushed lightly against the rim of the white porcelain bowl as she commanded, "Go call the consort."
In the dark night, her eyes shone as bright as stars. "Tell him—tell him I had a nightmare and I'm very frightened."
Dorji arrived in a hurry, not even wearing his outer robe, still in the inner garments he wore for sleep.
Woken in the dead of night with the news that the Princess had suffered a nightmare, was terrified, and wanted to see him.
Dorji did not doubt her. He threw back his covers and rushed to the Princess's Bedchamber.
This was the second time he had set foot here since their wedding night. The festive red decorations had all been removed and replaced with other colors.
Under the candlelight, the curtains were a deep green that looked almost black, appearing somewhat dim.
The Fourth Princess sat curled up on the edge of the bed, draped in a pale yellow brocade quilt. Her long hair, with its silken luster, was spread messily over her shoulders, making her look pitiful.
Hearing the movement, she looked up slightly. Seeing it was him, she actually stood up and, without even putting on her embroidered shoes, lunged straight into his arms.
Dorji instinctively opened his arms. The moment he truly held the Princess in his embrace and caught the faint fragrance of her hair, his body stiffened slightly. Since reaching adulthood, he had never been this intimate with any woman.
A few strands of the Princess’s hair brushed against his face, tickling him.
He felt his heart start to pound uncontrollably. He unconsciously tightened his arms around her, then, worried he might be squeezing too hard, he loosened his grip again.
Seeing this, the maids quietly withdrew, leaving the inner chamber to the two of them.
In his arms, the Princess’s body was still trembling slightly.
She really had been badly frightened by a bad dream.
He said compassionately, "Do not be afraid, Princess. It was only a dream. If you flip your pillow over to sleep, you won't have the nightmare again."
The Princess’s voice sounded muffled. "Mhm… but I'm still a little scared. How could I have such a dream?"
"What did you dream of? Dreams are always the opposite of reality."
She pulled back slightly and looked up at him fixedly. "I dreamed that many years from now, the Khalkha and the Qing court were at each other's throats, just like the situation with the Dzungar, and then… you all were going to sacrifice me to the war flags."
At those words, Muxue truly shuddered.
This was the fear deep in her heart. Children were not even a shadow yet; while she felt a sympathetic grief for Princess Kèchún’s fate, it was far outweighed by the concern for her own life.
In a sense, her situation was even worse than Princess Kèchún’s. Princess Kèchún had lived properly in the capital under Kangxi's nose; at the very least, her life was safe.
But Muxue—if such a day truly came, she would be under the enemy's nose. She would become like Wu Yingxiong, the heir of Prince Pingxi, who had been trapped in the capital during the Revolt of the Three Feudatories.
When that time came, they would have to kill her. And it wouldn't just be her; her Matron, Rong’er, Nanny Zhao, and all her followers—not one would escape. They would all die.
Now, the young man holding her in a warm embrace might weep at that time, might say he was sorry, might say he would repay her affection in the next life, but he would still raise a tear-stained blade to take her head.
Muxue gripped Dorji’s lapels tightly, her eyes staring intensely at him as she asked, "It’s just a dream, right?"
Suddenly, it went quiet—a deathly silence.
A few Palace Lanterns swayed in the cold wind.
Under the red glow of the lamps, their shadows were so close, yet they seemed so far apart.
Dorji looked deeply at her.
His thick eyelashes cast a shadow over his eyes, making it impossible to see his expression clearly.
In the next heartbeat, he dropped to one knee and said in a clanging, resolute voice:
"By the Eternal Heaven above, I, Dondob Dorji, swear that I will never betray the Great Qing! If I violate this oath, may both gods and men be incensed, and may I be executed!"
Would an oath last forever?
Muxue didn't really believe it. Human hearts were fickle, whether it was the romance between a man and a woman or the love of parents for their children.
But at this moment, after this test, she at least understood that Mobei currently had absolutely no intention of rebelling.
That was enough.
She still had time to plan slowly.
Lowering her eyes in thought, Muxue then looked up and said with feigned lightness, "Mhm. Now I can feel at ease."
The corners of Dorji’s mouth twitched. He stood up without a word but gently flipped Muxue’s pillow over.
Under the pillow was the silver dagger he had gifted her.
Dorji turned his head, seemingly about to say something, but the words didn't come out. He merely smoothed the pillow in silence.
"Please rest well, Princess," he said, taking a step back. "This servant takes his leave."
He turned to go, but his sleeve was gently pulled.
Muxue’s voice sounded. "It is so late, and it’s cold outside. Consort, why don't you rest here?"
She added a sentence: "After all, we are still newlywed."
The candles were all extinguished. Muxue lay on her side on the inner part of the bed, and Dorji, as usual, slept on the outer side.
She wasn't sleeping, and neither was he. Both were well aware of this, yet both pretended to be unaware.
The phrase "sharing a bed but dreaming different dreams" surfaced vividly in Muxue's mind.
He probably dislikes me a bit?
It didn't matter. She didn't live for his love. Whether he liked her or hated her, as long as she remained Kangxi’s daughter, he had to treat her with courtesy.
This is fine, she thought.
Compared to a consort who might actually like her, a consort with whom she shared mutual respect but distance made her feel more secure.
Her thoughts shifted to her own affairs. After the start of spring, she would be setting out for Mobei. These were her last days in the capital; she had to use this window to do what needed to be done.