The Prisoner of Beauty

On the southern banks of the upper reaches of the Kerulen and Tuul rivers, beneath the natural barrier of Mount Yanran, lay a vast expanse of lush grasslands and picturesque scenery—this was the Dragon City, the royal court of the Chanyu.

Every autumn, the royal court held the Dailin Assembly. The Chanyu’s kin, noble families of the Xiongnu, and twenty-four vassal tribes, including the Kings of Kunye, Loufan, and Xiutu, would lead their people on long journeys to gather here. During the assembly, besides reporting population figures and presenting livestock tributes to the Chanyu, celebrations and festivities were held. For an entire month, tens of thousands of yurts dotted the royal court, filled with singing and dancing, and bonfires burned through the night.

This year’s Dailin Assembly coincided with the Left Sage King Wuwei leading a surprise attack southward with 300,000 cavalry. According to prior estimates, Yuyang should have fallen within half a month at most.

If this wish had been fulfilled, the news would have been the most heartening victory for the Xiongnu in the twenty years since they lost the Hetao region.

Thus, everyone, including the Chanyu, was eagerly awaiting the arrival of battle reports.

Unexpectedly, after waiting for over half a month, the news that arrived was disastrous: the attack on Shanggu had been thwarted, Wei Shao had returned with reinforcements, Wuwei had suffered a crushing defeat, and in the end, nearly 100,000 troops—including those who surrendered—had been lost.

One in every three men would never return.

The Chanyu was furious. He halted the daily feasts held in the royal tent and was said to have privately rebuked Wuwei, who trembled in fear.

The herders who learned the news were anxious and unsettled, frantically inquiring about the fate of their men who had gone to war.

Though the Dailin Assembly continued, the atmosphere plummeted from jubilant heights to an icy chill.

As night fell, Wei Yan remained in his tent, drinking alone.

Several wine jugs before him gradually emptied, and as he grew half-drunk, the tent flap was suddenly flung open, and a staggering figure barged in.

It was the Left Sage King, Wuwei.

Wuwei seemed heavily intoxicated, his face flushed red. He stopped in front of Wei Yan, his bloodshot eyes fixed on him, breathing heavily.

Wei Yan appeared oblivious, pouring himself another cup of wine.

"Wei Yan! I’ve had people investigate—during the days I led the army south to attack Shanggu, you were nowhere to be found in the royal court! The Chanyu didn’t send you on any missions either. Where were you those days?"

Wei Yan remained motionless, as if the man before him didn’t exist.

Wuwei sneered. "I knew you wouldn’t admit it! My southern campaign was meticulously planned, advancing at full speed—we crossed the Sanggan River in just two days! If someone hadn’t tipped off the Han in advance, how could the border cities have mounted such a comprehensive defense in such a short time? I’ve thought it over, and the more I think, the more suspicious you become! You’re Han by birth—you came to our royal court, pretending to submit to the Xiongnu, but in truth, you’re a spy sent by the Wei family! If not for your secret warning, robbing me of the element of surprise, how could my 300,000 cavalry fail to take a mere Shanggu? Do you think I don’t know? Ever since you arrived at the royal court, you’ve resented me, inciting the Lan and Huyan clans—not only opposing me but even plotting against the Chanyu! I’ll kill you—"

He drew his saber and swung it at Wei Yan. But in his drunken state, the blade missed its mark, embedding itself deep into the table, and for a moment, he couldn’t pull it free.In Wei Yan's hand, a gold-wrapped dagger suddenly appeared. In the blink of an eye, before anyone could see clearly, a flash of cold steel swept past, and the dagger plunged into Wuwei's chest, sinking to the hilt with only the handle protruding outward.

Wuwei's pupils contracted abruptly, his eyes widening like bronze rings, filled with disbelief as they fixed on Wei Yan's ash-gray, emotionless gaze. His lips twitched weakly a few times before his body collapsed with a thud at Wei Yan's feet.

Several of Wuwei's guards rushed in at the sound, only to freeze in shock at the sight, their hands flying to their swords.

Wei Yan returned to his seat behind the wine table, his expression indifferent as he watched Wuwei convulse on the ground until the movements gradually ceased.

He averted his gaze, tilted his head back, and drained his cup as if nothing had happened.

The guards exchanged uneasy glances, fear creeping into their expressions as they slowly retreated to the tent entrance before hastily fleeing outside.

Beyond the tent, the autumn wind from Mount Yanran howled mournfully, sweeping over the yak-hair roofs of one tent after another. Somewhere in the distance, the faint sound of a night flute drifted through the air, its melancholic notes carrying an unspoken longing that seemed to have nowhere to land.

A sudden gust tore open the tent flap, allowing the night wind to rush in. Amid the flickering candlelight, a noblewoman burst into the tent.

She wore a vibrant three-colored vest embroidered with intricate patterns and edged with gold thread, an eight-petaled silver engraved cap adorned with a large ruby on her forehead, and pointed leather boots—every inch of her radiated opulence.

This was Lan Yun, Wei Yan's former concubine.

The Lan clan, originally a noble family of Xiongnu descent, was one of the twenty-four tribes. After falling out of favor with the chanyu years ago, the clan had recently regained prominence through military achievements. Lan Yun's brother was reinstated as the Lan King, and she herself was granted the title of Jüci (princess). Renowned for her extraordinary beauty, she was hailed as the "Pearl of the Grasslands," with countless suitors from the twenty-four tribes—all of whom she rejected.

It was common knowledge in the royal court that Princess Lan Yun was infatuated with the rising king, Hu Tukun.

Rushing in breathlessly, Lan Yun paled at the sight of Wuwei lying dead on the ground with the dagger in his chest. She threw herself before Wei Yan, her voice trembling, "You actually killed him? Just like that?"

Wei Yan acted as if he hadn't heard her, pouring himself another cup of wine.

Lan Yun seized his wrist holding the cup and said urgently, "My brother learned that Wuwei came here drunk and followed him. He's already intercepted Wuwei's guards who went to report! Before the chanyu finds out, you must leave!"

Wei Yan withdrew his wrist from her grasp, still not looking at her, and replied coolly, "The princess should return to the Lan tribe as soon as possible. There's no need for you to concern yourself with my affairs."Lan Yun stared at him blankly, her eyes filled with sorrow, as she slowly knelt beside him. "I know the pain in your heart. Back then, the Rizhu King always hoped for your return, which is why he sent me to your side—to serve you and also to act when the time came. I used the incident with Qiao Nu to make it impossible for you to face the Wei family, ultimately forcing you back to the Xiongnu. Now, though everyone in the royal court calls you Hu Tukun, I know you’ve never been able to shake off the mark of the Han people... I’ve wronged you. I am but a lowly body, spared by your mercy back then. I know I have no right to remain by your side, nor the face to trouble you further. But now, Wuwei has been whispering to the Chanyu, claiming you tipped off the Han people, which led to his failed southern campaign. The Chanyu must already suspect you, and now you’ve killed Wuwei like this! I beg you, please leave—"

"Get out."

Wei Yan’s eyes were bloodshot, his breath reeking of alcohol, as he spat the word through clenched teeth.

"Please... That Qiao Nu is your torment. Don’t let her torture you any longer! Don’t you see? Even if you hadn’t been forced back to the Xiongnu, you could never have had her in this lifetime—"

"Get out now!"

Wei Yan suddenly erupted in fury, shoving Lan Yun away violently and kicking over the table before him. Golden cups and silver vessels clattered to the ground.

The force was so great that Lan Yun’s wrist snapped.

Her face deathly pale, she collapsed into a corner of the tent. Gritting her teeth, she slowly pulled herself up, her voice trembling with tears. "Even if you kill me, I must speak! You are no longer the Han man Wei Yan! You are the Xiongnu’s Hu Tukun! The name Hu Tukun grows in prestige within the royal court day by day. I beg you—cut ties with your past and embrace being Xiongnu from now on..."

Wei Yan suddenly drew a gold-wrapped dagger from his waist, strode forward, and yanked Lan Yun up by the collar, his face twisted with rage. "Say one more word, and I’ll kill you!"

Lan Yun gazed at his bloodshot, savage expression and smiled bitterly. "The years I spent by your side... looking back now, those were my happiest days. If you wish to kill me, then do it. This life of mine was spared by you long ago."

She closed her eyes.

Wei Yan glared at her, his breath ragged, his eyelids twitching uncontrollably.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps sounded outside the tent, and a servant’s voice called in: "Master, messengers from the royal tent—the Chanyu summons you at once!"

Lan Yun’s eyes flew open. "Don’t go! Though news of Wuwei’s death at your hands has been intercepted for now, the Chanyu summoning you so late can only mean ill! My brother, the Huyan tribe, and the Qiulin clan—they all supported your father! No one wants endless war with the Han! Go to them, discuss—"

Wei Yan straightened, his earlier fury fading as he pushed Lan Yun aside and turned to lift the tent flap, ducking outside.

His guards moved to follow, but the royal messengers blocked them.

"Master!" the guards called to him.

Wei Yan said, "Stay here. There’s no need to follow."

Lan Yun scrambled to her feet, chasing after him with desperate cries, but Wei Yan didn’t look back. Escorted by a line of royal guards, he strode swiftly toward the distant royal tent, massive as a hill.

His figure soon vanished into the pitch-black night.Lan Yun collapsed weakly to her knees, murmuring to herself, "...He's gone mad... Does he not want to live anymore..."

The thought that had sprung into her mind frightened her like a needle prick. She abruptly leaped up from the ground, pushed away the maids who had followed her, mounted her horse, and galloped off.

...

In the center of the royal tent, a massive fire pit blazed fiercely, illuminating the golden splendor of the walls.

Late at night, the Chanyu had yet to retire. He sat on a golden chair adorned with gemstones and draped with white tiger fur, his eyes slightly narrowed as he stared at Wei Yan.

The Chanyu was already in the twilight of his life. This once-mighty ruler of the grasslands, who had ascended to the throne by patricide in his youth, could not escape the ravages of time and had grown frail. Especially after news of the defeat at Shanggu arrived, his spirits had plummeted further.

The twenty-four tribal kings who had come for the assembly had not seen him for several days, and rumors were rife in private.

Yet even so, the gaze the Chanyu now fixed on Wei Yan still carried an intimidating authority.

"Where were you when Wuwei led the army south?" the Chanyu asked coldly.

Wei Yan met the Chanyu's gaze and slowly knelt before him. "I was at Shanggu."

A sharp glint flashed in the Chanyu's eyes. His hand gripping the armrest of the throne tightened abruptly, his voice icy. "Wuwei claims it was you who tipped off the Han people, causing his southern campaign to fail?"

"Indeed," Wei Yan replied calmly.

"Not only that. Just moments ago, Wuwei came to my tent intending to kill me, but I killed him instead. His body should still be in my tent."

The Chanyu suddenly stood from his throne, eyes wide, pointing at Wei Yan with trembling fingers. Then, with a metallic clang, he drew the treasured sword at his waist and descended the steps toward Wei Yan.

"Since your return to the Xiongnu, I have treated you well, never distinguishing you because you were raised by the Wei family! I also knew Wuwei was incompetent—once I die, he would likely fail to control the twenty-four tribes. That is why I considered stripping him of his title as Crown Prince. Yet you repay kindness with betrayal, first by aiding the Han, and now by killing my son?"

The Chanyu's voice was harsh as he pressed the blade heavily against Wei Yan's neck, bearing down.

The cold steel immediately cut into his skin, drawing a line of bright red blood that trickled down his neck, staining his collar in an instant.

Wei Yan seemed utterly unfazed, his gaze fixed on a flickering flame in the fire pit. After a moment of contemplation, he said, "My existence in this world has always been superfluous. I have failed both the Wei family's kindness in raising me and your grace in recognizing my worth. Neither man nor ghost, worse than swine or dog—my death at your hands is only just."

Having said this, he bent his knees and knelt fully, closing his eyes with a serene expression.

The Chanyu glared at him, his gaze growing increasingly savage. At that moment, Wu Zhuqu burst into the tent in disheveled attire, his face frantic. He hurried to the Chanyu's side, dropped to his knees, and kowtowed. "Elder Brother! All of this was my doing! It was I who could not bear to see Wuwei take all the credit, so I ordered him to deliver the message! And it was I who could no longer endure Wuwei's constant provocations, so I had him seize the chance to eliminate Wuwei! If you must kill someone, kill me—he is innocent!"The Chanyu fixed his gaze on Wu Zhuqu and sneered, "For the crimes he has committed, he deserves to be torn apart by five horses. Yet you take all the blame upon yourself to absolve him. Very well, considering he is also a descendant of my Luandi clan, I shall spare him the punishment of dismemberment and grant him a whole corpse."

He barked an order for the warriors to enter.

Amidst the chaotic footsteps, the tent flap of the royal yurt was suddenly flung open. A whistling arrow shot through the air like lightning toward the Chanyu, embedding itself with a thud squarely in his forehead, piercing through the bone and exiting the back of his skull.

The Chanyu's eyes bulged wide as his body stiffened. Moments later, the treasured sword in his hand clattered to the ground, and he toppled backward with a heavy thud.

Huyan Lie and Lan Ti had already slaughtered the Chanyu's trusted followers outside the royal yurt. Now they led their guards in a swarm, killing the remaining warriors inside before stepping forward to help Wu Zhuqu to his feet.

Wu Zhuqu glanced at his brother, whose eyes remained wide open even in death, then closed his own briefly before turning to Wei Yan, whose robes were stained with blood. He stepped forward and asked in a trembling voice, "My son, are you unharmed?"

Wei Yan opened his eyes, stared for a moment at the Chanyu's corpse nearby, then rose and pushed through the crowd to leave.

That night, news spread like wildfire through the royal court: Wuwei, fearing punishment from the Chanyu for his defeat in battle, had assassinated the Chanyu but was then killed by the guards in retaliation.

The nobles and vassal kings of the twenty-four tribes, roused from their sleep by the sudden upheaval, hurried from their own tents. After a flurry of chaotic discussions, at the suggestion of the Huyan King and the Qiulin King, they unanimously elected Wu Zhuqu as the new Chanyu without dissent.

As dawn broke faintly in the east, the autumn dew still lay heavy, glistening like diamonds on the tips of grass blades. In the distance, the morning mist swirled, vast and indistinct, like white gauze drifting over the boundless plains.

Wei Yan spurred his horse past the smoldering embers of last night's bonfire, galloping alone into the distance.

The horse's hooves kicked up white ashes, scattering them to the wind, carried away to unknown destinations.

He, too, did not know his own direction or where he was headed. His heart was adrift, like that of a lost traveler.

There was a time when the thirst for power had set his soul aflame, robbing him of sleep.

Now, the pinnacle he had once burned to reach was but a step away.

This vast and fertile land could be his to tread upon. Even the lands to the south—if he desired them—were not beyond his grasp.

Yet his heart was weary, as if a piece of it had been carved out, leaving an unfillable void.

No matter where he went, perhaps nowhere in this life would be his place to stay.

He was but an outcast, and he knew it.

From behind him, through the morning mist, a group of riders approached swiftly, their urgent calls growing louder. Finally, Wei Yan reined in his horse and stopped.

Wu Zhuqu rode up beside him, while Huyan Lie and the Lan siblings halted their horses behind them, waiting in silence.

"Yan'er! Why must you leave? Your father hopes you will stay!"

Wei Yan smiled faintly. "I have already helped you achieve your wish and ascend to the throne of Chanyu. What use is there for me to stay now?"

Wu Zhuqu gazed at him intently. "Once the royal court is stabilized, your father wishes to make peace with the Han and cease hostilities. If you insist on leaving, I cannot force you to stay. But the position of Left Sage King will always be reserved for you. When the day comes that you have made up your mind, return to us. Will you?"

Wei Yan said nothing. He turned his horse and galloped away, his figure dispersing a swirl of mist as he vanished.Lan Yun shouted through her tears at the dissipating mist, "Wei Yan! Having been your woman for one day, I'll remain your woman for life..."

Before she could finish her cry, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, the figure of a man and his horse vanished from sight within the mist ahead.

"He will return, won't he?" Lan Yun covered her face, weeping uncontrollably.

"Give him time. He'll come to understand eventually."

Lan Ti gazed into the distance as she spoke.