The gray-clad man chuckled softly at the words, lifting his smooth chin slightly to trace an eerie arc. "Indeed, we are from the Eastern Barbarian Country. So what? In the end, all under heaven will become people of the Eastern Barbarian Country. This world will ultimately become ours."
Jiang Xin Zhi shook his head. "I won’t stop you from dreaming, but I’ve already answered your question. Now, if you have nothing else, you may leave. I need to rest."
The gray-clad man showed no anger at Jiang Xin Zhi’s words, merely smiling faintly before turning to exit the tent. Jin'er, however, watched his retreating figure with visible tension.
...
After leaving Jiang Xin Zhi’s tent, the gray-clad man headed straight for another tent in the opposite direction. This one appeared far less ornate, even dull in comparison to the vibrant colors of Jiang Xin Zhi’s dwelling. Its entire surface was snow-white, and only upon closer inspection did one realize it was stitched together from large patches of snow fox fur—pure and flawless, like the untouched peak of a thousand-year snow-capped mountain, exuding a distant, chilling, and eerie beauty.
No guards stood outside this tent. The gray-clad man paused briefly at the entrance before stepping inside.
Within, a curtain of violet crystal beads hung in a circle, their pristine translucence shimmering with a dazzling, snow-white brilliance that nearly blinded the eyes. The candlelight inside, refracted through the gleaming stones, transformed the space into a scene of celestial splendor, as if stepping into a magnificent and otherworldly paradise.
Behind the curtain, a faint silhouette could be glimpsed—a figure clad in striking red, seated upright before a seven-stringed zither, untouched. The gray-clad man approached the curtain and slowly bowed, his demeanor revealing an unmistakable reverence.
"Your Highness," he said.
"How did it go?" After a long pause, a bewitching female voice emerged from behind the curtain. The voice was utterly enchanting, like the first drop of melted snow from a millennia-old glacial ravine under the spring sun—carrying an ancient languor and allure, yet tinged with an innocent ignorance of worldly affairs. Just hearing it was enough to make one feel as though they might drown, compelling an almost irresistible urge to lift that glittering curtain and behold the peerless beauty within.
"Yuan Chuan has failed. I beg for Your Highness’s punishment," the gray-clad man said. Before this woman, he lowered his noble chin like a devout worshiper prostrating at the feet of his faith. His tone was loyal and humble as he continued, "He still refuses to reveal the owner of that letter."
"No matter," came the lazy reply from behind the curtain, like a springtime beauty stretching lazily after waking, exuding a feline charm. "If he had confessed so easily, he wouldn’t be the War God of the Da Jin Dynasty."
"Your Highness, what should we do now? Should we still kill Jiang Xin Zhi?" the gray-clad man asked.
"No. I intend to keep him. The War God of the Da Jin Dynasty—such a valuable bargaining chip—is a gift I shall present to him." The woman’s voice suddenly brimmed with barely contained delight, her already sweet and melodious tone now veiled in a mist of sugary allure, making her intentions indistinct.
The gray-clad man hesitated slightly, as if he wanted to say something more, but in the end, he remained silent. He merely bowed his head respectfully, as submissive and reverent as ever."He will surely be delighted with this gift I've sent him." The voice behind the curtain continued, its earlier languor now completely vanished, sounding instead like that of an innocent, carefree child brimming with pure joy at welcoming someone dear.
"Yuan Chuan, he's coming soon," the woman seemed to be smiling.
"I've waited so long for him, and now I'll finally see him again," she said.
...
As days passed, good news arrived from the distant borderlands. After Xiao Shao led the Brocade-clad Guards to Black Barrier Cliff, he redeployed the troops and altered their battle formations, successfully repelling the siege by the Celestial Jin Kingdom. In warfare, momentum is crucial. The Celestial Jin forces, previously advancing triumphantly, had not expected reinforcements to arrive and suffered heavy losses. For the time being, they ceased their attacks, resulting in a stalemate between the two armies. This provided the Da Jin Dynasty soldiers with valuable time to recuperate—an excellent opportunity indeed.
Meanwhile, the Western Rong tribes, upon hearing that Zhao Guang was leading the Zhao Family Army their way, promptly withdrew within their borders, bringing temporary peace to the region.
These two developments dispelled the earlier tension in the capital, restoring its usual atmosphere of revelry. On this particular day, Lin Zixiang and Wen Feifei paid a visit to the Brocade Hero King Manor to see Jiang Ruan.
Butler Lin was overjoyed once more. In the days when the old Jinying Wang and his wife were alive, the Princess of Brocade Glory had been kind-natured and maintained good relations with many official wives, resulting in a constant stream of visitors. The manor's gates bustled daily with carriages from various households—a lively testament to the family's social connections. After the old couple passed away, Xiao Shao's aloof temperament left the manor devoid of female visitors beyond a few maidservants. After years of quiet, it was unexpected that Jiang Ruan, despite her seemingly indifferent exterior, would prove sociable enough to receive friends shortly after moving in. Wen Feifei and Lin Zixiang, being well-known young ladies from official families, naturally prompted Butler Lin to ensure the entire household treated them with utmost hospitality.
When Wen Feifei and Lin Zixiang met with Jiang Ruan, Wen wiped sweat from her brow and said, "Ruan Meimei, the servants here at Brocade Hero King Manor truly seem to respect you. If the servants in my household were even half as well-behaved, I'd thank the heavens."
Wen Feifei, now married into a military family of equal status, had encountered some difficulties as a new bride. Accustomed to her straightforward ways, she struggled to manage her servants. Seeing the orderliness and deference shown to Jiang Ruan here, she couldn't help but feel envious.
"She's clever enough to have methods for disciplining servants—methods you'd never master," Lin Zixiang bluntly interrupted, as straightforward as ever. "Besides, she's beautiful, and Jinying Wang protects her. All you do is practice martial arts—why would your husband shield you?"
Wen Feifei looked up at the sky, pretending not to hear Lin Zixiang's words.
Lin Zixiang then turned to Jiang Ruan and said, "I originally thought this marriage disregarded your wishes and feared you might suffer. But now it seems you've embraced it willingly. At least with Jinying Wang away, you can live comfortably without awkwardness."Jiang Ruan smiled faintly without comment. If one were to speak of Lin Zixiang's temperament, she was truly a breath of fresh air among noble ladies. Quick-witted and outspoken, frank and straightforward, others couldn't tell whether she was foolish or clever, yet she was genuinely perceptive. Her forthright personality was the spitting image of her father, the Chief Historian Lin. While the world praised Chief Historian Lin as a brilliant scholar, they wondered how he could have raised such an unconventional daughter who defied the Three Bonds and Five Constants. Yet Jiang Ruan believed that Chief Historian Lin was truly wise—his daughter was far more precious than all those well-bred young ladies in the capital.
But such preciousness was naturally beyond the appreciation of ordinary folk. This was precisely why Lin Zixiang remained unmarried. To be fair, Lin Zixiang was quite lovely in appearance, and her family background was respectable. Yet her standards were too high—when matchmakers came with proposals, she dismissed them as unworthy. Chief Historian Lin respected her wishes and turned them all away. Over time, word spread that the Lin family's daughter was excessively picky, and gradually, no more proposals came. Now eighteen, Lin Zixiang was considered an old maid in the Da Jin Dynasty, and though gossip abounded, the Lin family paid it no heed.
Lin Zixiang glanced at Jiang Ruan, then at Wen Feifei, and remarked, "Indeed, marriage is no good. One who was once true to herself is now mired in trivialities. Another, already cunning, has become even more scheming. And the one who entered the palace—her entire demeanor has changed, grown eerily cold. As for the last..." A flash of irritation crossed Lin Zixiang's eyes. "She’s simply vanished! Who knows what she’s up to!"
She had critiqued each in turn, and the last one who had disappeared was Zhao Jin. Zhao Jin's disappearance had occurred months prior, though the Zhao family initially kept it secret. Only when even the guards failed to find her did Lady Zhao and Lord Zhao reluctantly seek out Zhao Jin's closest friends for information. In her final letter, Zhao Jin had written only that she was going to find someone and would return afterward.
Lady Zhao was beside herself with worry. According to Zhao Jin's maids, she had been acting strangely in the days leading up to her disappearance—distracted, preoccupied, though not sorrowful. Having once been a young girl herself, Lady Zhao immediately suspected that Zhao Jin had fallen in love and had likely gone in pursuit of her beloved. She cursed the unknown family who had "lured away" her daughter, then scolded Zhao Jin for her shamelessness—how could she dare do something so reckless? After all, a proper marriage required a formal proposal; eloping would only relegate her to the status of a concubine, a disgrace she might never live down.
The Zhao family's search parties still had no leads. Whenever Lin Zixiang thought of it, she grew furious. In her view, friends should be honest with one another—Zhao Jin hadn't even confided in her before such a major decision, which surely meant she didn't consider her a true friend. But what angered Lin Zixiang most was that Zhao Jin had done all this for nothing more than a man.
In Lin Zixiang's eyes, all men in the world—save for her own father—were the same: arrogant, conceited, blind to loyalty, and utterly unworthy of good women.Jiang Ruan looked at her indignant expression and shook her head with a smile. "There's no use in being anxious right now. It's better to wait and see how things unfold. As for the rest, we're just ordinary people struggling through each day. Marriage is merely yielding to reality, but it's not bad to try and live a little better after marrying." She smiled. "Like you just said, I'm doing quite well—even more at ease than when I was in the Minister's residence."
"Exactly," Wen Feifei chimed in quickly, afraid Lin Zixiang would start lecturing again. "What's the point of talking about it now that we're already married? Though my life isn't as good as Ruan Meimei's, I'm still much freer than when I was a maiden. At least I don't have to deal with all those jealous sisters at home."
Lin Zixiang thought for a moment and sighed. "If you two don't even care, why should I worry about it?"
Jiang Ruan smiled. "Speaking of which, I haven't entered the palace recently. How is Sister Yinger..."
"She seems like a completely different person now," Wen Feifei said, her eyes tinged with hurt. "A few days ago, I visited her in the palace and brought her some small gifts. Though she smiled, she felt very distant. Honestly, I don't understand her anymore."
"She doesn't compete for favor, yet I don't know why she even entered the palace," Lin Zixiang replied coldly. "She's becoming more and more like those women in the palace—nothing special about her anymore."
After Dong Yinger entered the palace, thanks to her father's position as the Metropolitan Governor, she wasn't entirely neglected. She had been favored by the emperor and was promoted to the rank of Baolin. Gentle and soft-spoken, she had learned to survive in the ruthless palace, but she seemed disinterested in everything, as if nothing could excite her anymore.
Jiang Ruan smiled faintly. "The palace isn't an easy place to stay. If she remained as naive and carefree as before, she wouldn't last long."
At these words, Lin Zixiang and Wen Feifei both paled. After a long silence, Lin Zixiang finally said, "You see things very clearly. If you had the chance to enter the palace for the selection back then..." The position of Empress would undoubtedly have been yours. She didn't voice the last part, but she believed Jiang Ruan understood what she meant.
The group chatted for a while longer until the afternoon faded into evening. Lin Zixiang and Dong Yinger stood to leave. Just as they stepped outside, Wen Feifei suddenly felt dizzy and stumbled, nearly collapsing. Lin Zixiang, about to board the carriage, was startled. Before she could react, a figure in a blue robe swiftly appeared and caught Wen Feifei.
It was a young man in a plain blue gown. After steadying Wen Feifei, he didn't let go immediately but instead held her hand firmly. Lin Zixiang, seeing this, flew into a rage. "What kind of scoundrel are you? Let go of her!"
Her voice was sharp, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. The man, caught off guard by her outburst, flushed under the stares of the onlookers. "Miss, you misunderstand. I was only—"
"Let go of her!" Lin Zixiang, seeing he still hadn't released Wen Feifei, strode forward and shoved him aside, taking Wen Feifei into her own arms. Wen Feifei, still dazed, murmured, "A-Xiang, I'm fine."The young man nearly toppled over from Lin Zixiang's shove, his face flushing red with urgency as the surrounding crowd began pointing and murmuring. "Miss, you've truly misunderstood," he protested. "I am Xia Qing, the Golden Mausoleum Master Hand—a physician. I merely wished to examine what might be troubling this lady."
Lin Zixiang sized him up. The man was rather handsome in a clean-cut way, dressed in simple cotton robes with a cloth pouch at his waist. His face burned crimson—whether from anger or embarrassment was unclear—but his tone carried genuine sincerity. The Golden Mausoleum Master Hand? Every self-proclaimed "Master Hand" in medicine she'd ever heard of was some white-bearded elder. Medical skill required experience, and experience came with age. This fellow couldn't be more than twenty—at best a medical apprentice. Having spent her life despising pretentious know-it-alls, Lin Zixiang's expression turned icy. "With that frail frame of yours, even a gentle push from a woman nearly sends you sprawling. One wonders what hidden ailments you might harbor. Some 'Golden Mausoleum Master Hand'—can't even cure your own afflictions. Just another charlatan trading on false repute." Without another glance, she helped Wen Feifei into the carriage and drove off.
(End of Chapter)
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