The entire Forbidden City was shrouded in a faint purple glow from the clouds, and its usual solemnity and gravity grew strangely softer.
Her desk faced this twilight. The ink on the xuan paper was not yet dry; having been cooped up in her rooms all these years, she had developed a fine hand in running script. Her brushstrokes were sharp, tracing simple speculations regarding this marriage.
She still knew too little about Mobei. Muxue sighed, lifting the paper and crumpling it into a ball before tossing it into a bronze basin of burning charcoal. Tongues of fire licked the edges of the page bit by bit, glowing in a flickering dance of black and red.
She stared at the embers for a moment, mentally tallying the people who might be able to provide her with more information. A cheerful, smiling face surfaced in her mind.
Fifth Prince Yinqi should be able to help her.
This younger brother was only a few months younger than her. From birth, he had been taken to the Empress Dowager’s palace to be raised. Because the Empress Dowager was accustomed to speaking Mongolian, the Fifth Prince also spoke Mongolian in his youth and had frequent interactions with the Mongolian princes and nobles.
On the day the Fifth Prince came to Yikun Palace to pay his respects to Yi Fei, Muxue waited quietly outside the hall doors.
"How has Fifth Brother been lately?"
Caught off guard by the call, the Fifth Prince was somewhat surprised, but he immediately smiled and walked toward Muxue. "Quite well, actually. With Khan Father away from the palace, there is no one to test my studies. It's a pity these days are coming to an end."
Because he had been raised by the Empress Dowager, he was exceptionally free-spirited. When the princes were younger and had to wake before dawn for school, he would just bury his sleepy face in the Empress Dowager’s lap and act spoiled. The grandmother, doting on her grandson, would immediately tell Kangxi to let him go later. Kangxi, always filial, could only agree.
Muxue smiled. "Then you'd better start cramming. Once Khan Father returns, he will surely test you."
The Fifth Prince scratched his head. "We'll worry about that when the test comes. Sister, is something the matter?"
"I do have something to ask of you. Why don't we sit in my room?"
"Sure."
Inside the room, Muxue personally brought a teacup to him. "It's hot out. I see your forehead is covered in sweat, so I didn't brew hot tea. This is chilled green tea with honey. Try it."
The Fifth Prince took it, tilted his head back, and drained it in one gulp. "This is perfect for summer," he praised. "I'll have my primary consort prepare some when I get back."
He knew that Muxue was usually a person of few words; there must be a reason for this invitation. Thinking of recent events, he had a rough idea of what was on her mind. Fearing she might be too embarrassed to speak, he went straight to the point. "Sister, do you have questions about the bestowed marriage? Or perhaps some concerns? Just ask me."
Before Muxue could speak, the Fifth Prince said in one breath, "I'll tell you a secret. Regarding this marriage, Khan Father sent a letter to Imperial Grandmother first. Imperial Grandmother said that the boy is about the same age as you and should be a good match."
"It's a bit far, but he is, after all, the grandson of the Khalkha Tushiyetu Khan. He is currently a Jasagh Junwang and will be a Prince in the future. His status is noble; it's not a slight to you."
He finished this long explanation in one go.
Muxue couldn't help but laugh. "Thank you, Fifth Brother."
"Ai, why thank me?" The Fifth Prince waved his hand dismissively. "In my heart, I treat you just like a sister born of the same mother."
Muxue nodded. "Regarding this Mobei, and this Dondob…"
She paused. It was a long name that required a moment of recollection.
"Borchigin Dondob Dorji," the Fifth Prince finished for her.
"Yes, Dondob Dorji," Muxue continued. "I know essentially nothing. If you know anything, could you tell me?"
"No problem! Though," the Fifth Prince curled his lip, "this Khalkha only submitted to the Great Qing a few years ago. Most of the people I know through Imperial Grandmother are from Khorchin."
He suddenly remembered something and clapped his hands. "Wait one day. I'll find someone from Khalkha to get the details for you!"
The next day, the Fifth Prince uncharacteristically woke up early.
There were many princes in the palace of various ages and levels of study, so their classrooms were scattered about. For instance, the Crown Prince studied at Yuqing Palace, while the Fifth Prince and several princes of similar age were at Nanxun Hall. Aside from the princes, a few sons of Mongolian nobles were also educated within the inner court, serving as study companions to the imperial sons.
Before the school hours began, the Fifth Prince rushed into a study room in Nanxun Hall and shouted, "Celeng! I have something to ask you."
The young man who was looking down at his books raised his head. He wore a navy blue robe, appeared to be in his early twenties, and possessed a steady temperament. He was always the first to arrive in the study room. Seeing the Fifth Prince, he immediately moved to pay his respects.
The Fifth Prince waved him off and leaned in, lowering his voice. "I remember you are from Khalkha, right? How much do you know about the situation there and Dondob Dorji?"
Celeng replied, "Yes, I am indeed from Khalkha. I met that young Junwang once or twice when we were children."
"Is that so? That's perfect!" the Fifth Prince said. "How is the man’s character and appearance?"
Celeng smiled and asked, "Fifth Prince, are you asking for the Fourth Princess?"
"You're quick," the Fifth Prince said, sitting down heavily. "Hmph, I wonder what kind of person he is to be lucky enough to become my sister's consort."
Celeng said, "Before I came to the capital, everyone said the young Junwang was a fledgling eagle of the Mobei grasslands. Now that some years have passed, his talents must be even more outstanding; he is likely a shining eagle of the plains."
"Sounds decent enough," the Fifth Prince said. "Tell me about the situation in Mobei as well."
"It is difficult to explain everything in words all at once," Celeng suggested. "How about I write down what I remember and give it to you directly?"
"That's better," the Fifth Prince said. "That way I won't get the message wrong. Write it soon and give it to me before Khan Father's return to the capital. That little Junwang will be coming along with him."
Half the day was for literary studies, half for martial arts.
Though also raised in the inner court, Celeng seemed somewhat solitary in his corner compared to the princes, who were each surrounded by five external tutors.
Archery was originally his strength, but today while drawing his bow, he was inexplicably restless. He accidentally let the arrow graze his finger, leaving a tiny trail of blood.
Unnoticed by anyone, Celeng hid the wound as if nothing had happened.
After school, passing through layers of palace gates, he returned to his home. This residence had been bestowed by the Emperor five years ago. That year, the Dzungars had invaded Khalkha on a large scale. His family had lost all their lands, and with no other choice, he had brought his grandmother and younger brother to submit and seek help in the capital. Fortunately, the Emperor's grace was vast; out of benevolence, he had accepted them and granted a third-class noble title.
Of course, compared to Dondob Dorji, this title was not nearly as noble. Although both were of the Khalkha Tushiyetu Khan tribe, Dondob Dorji was the eldest grandson of the Tushiyetu Khan by the primary wife, the future king of the entire tribe.
Truly a lucky man. With the victory against the Dzungars, he was already in high spirits, and now he was to marry the Fourth Princess.
It was truly like the Han poem: "In the flush of success, the horse's hooves are swift; in a single day, one sees all the flowers of Chang'an."
Celeng rubbed his injury, his mind drifting.
In the flickering shadows of the lamp, a small figure emerged from his memory.
It was New Year’s Eve in the thirty-second year of Kangxi’s reign. The Emperor held a banquet, and members of the imperial clan as well as Mongolian princes and nobles all attended.
It was his first time attending such an occasion, and amid the loss of his home and lands, he had to offer a smiling face to everyone.
He was young then. After a round of toasts, feelings of sadness, frustration, and loneliness crept up under the influence of the alcohol. They surged over him like a tide, nearly suffocating him.
And so, he had quietly slipped out from the palace banquet.
On that night when the sky cleared after a snowfall, he walked toward the darkness, tears streaming down his face in the silence.
At the corner of a red wall, he suddenly heard faint sobbing.
A girl in festive dress, her temples adorned with a ring of pearls, was leaning against the wall and weeping softly. Hearing footsteps, she jumped in fright and stared with wide eyes. Then she was startled again, because she saw the tear tracks on his face.
After staring at each other for several breaths, she softly asked something.
Pity that at the time he did not understand much Chinese and did not know what she meant. He just stood there, dazed.
She said nothing more, turned her body slightly, and continued to shed tears against the wall.
He also didn't know what to say, so he likewise hid in the shadows away from the lights, licking his wounds like a hurt wolf on the grasslands.
The two stood back-to-back in silence for a while.
Until from afar, the voices of palace servants calling out drifted intermittently on the wind.
Those few words were easy to distinguish. He heard them clearly: "Fourth Princess."
The girl rubbed her eyes, turned, and ran toward the source of the sound.
That was all.
At subsequent palace banquets, he would occasionally see the Fourth Princess from a distance. She was a very quiet girl. Even though she stood in the middle of a crowd, she was like the moon over the grasslands—aloof and distant.
In his heart, he secretly called her Sari.
But now, Sari was to fall into the arms of another son of the grasslands.
Celeng rubbed his wound and took a deep breath.
After a moment of silence, he picked up his brush and began to write down matters concerning Khalkha.