While the two were talking, daylight had fully broken, and the streets below had already been swept clean. From Lu Wei’s vantage point, they could clearly see the Protectorate soldiers splitting into two ranks and heading toward the main city gate, which was slowly swinging open. It seemed the Protectorate had completed its preparations as well. The Protector-General of Xizhou, Li Wenque, would soon arrive. Judging by the time, the Princess’s carriage procession should also be nearing the city gate. Liu Fu remained listless and had yet to come to his senses. Lu Wei glanced at the attendant standing beside him. The latter reached out, grabbed Liu Fu by the shoulder, hauled him to his feet in one motion, steadied him with both hands, and gently nudged him forward. “Your Lordship,” he said with impeccable courtesy, “it’s time to be on our way.” Liu Fu gave a violent start, as though he could already see the bleak years stretching out before him. Only after Liu Fu had stood there for quite some time did Lu Wei leisurely make his way downstairs. Just then, the entourage of Li Wenque, Protector-General of Xizhou, arrived as well. But Liu Fu was in no mood for exchanging pleasantries. The Xizhou Protectorate was a government office newly established after the imperial court reclaimed Zhangye and reincorporated it into the empire. Though situated in a remote frontier region, it was a major provincial stronghold in both administrative rank and strategic importance. As Protector-General, Li Wenque held authority over both military and civil affairs. Because he dealt directly with the frontier tribes and foreign peoples, the Protector-General of Xizhou enjoyed powers beyond those of an ordinary provincial governor, including the prerogative that “a general in the field need not obey every imperial command.” His was truly a position of immense authority. Li Wenque had only just passed thirty when he was appointed to the post. His rise was astonishingly rapid. Not long before, he had merely served as a subordinate under Shen Yuan, the Governor of Qinzhou. After Shen Yuan was executed for his crimes, Li Wenque not only escaped being implicated by his former superior but instead rose meteorically, soon occupying a position equal in rank to that of the man he had once served. Power was the finest aphrodisiac. As the first Protector-General of Xizhou, Li Wenque’s dark complexion even seemed to have taken on a youthful glow. He spotted Liu Fu and Lu Wei as well. Before they could approach him, he dismounted and personally went forward to greet them. “This morning I sent someone to invite you both, only to learn that you’d already set out ahead of schedule. My apologies for the lapse in hospitality. Please forgive any discourtesy on my part.” Li Wenque cupped his hands in greeting. Despite having just won a tremendous military victory, he displayed none of the arrogance often associated with celebrated generals. Instead, he was courteous and modest. “This frontier city is simple, and I’m afraid our hospitality has been lacking. Has Your Lordship and Vice Minister Lu rested well? Horses have been prepared for you both. Should you prefer not to ride, we’ve also readied a carriage.” Liu Fu waved a hand. “Thank you for your concern, Protector Li. It certainly is much colder here than in the capital. As for the accommodations—” His first instinct was to complain, but catching sight of Lu Wei’s impassive, almost transcendent expression, he hastily bit back the words. “They were actually quite all right. The bedding was just a little firm, that’s all. Nothing to worry about! Hahaha!” Li Wenque looked apologetic. “My oversight. Tonight I’ll have the men put down several more layers of bedding for the two of you.” The more accommodating Li Wenque was, the less Liu Fu could bring himself to complain. In truth, it wasn’t only the hard bed that bothered him. The quilt wasn’t soft or fragrant enough, the smoke from the brazier was too acrid compared with the premium smokeless charcoal used in the capital, and, above all, he found it difficult to fall asleep without the delicate scent of beautiful maidservants by his side. Liu Fu glanced at the horses, then up at the gloomy sky. He was just about to say that he would take the carriage instead when Lu Wei beat him to it and mounted a horse. Liu Fu: …… With the other two looking at him, Liu Fu had no choice but to abandon the idea of riding in the carriage. Pinching his nose in resignation, he mounted a horse and rode alongside Protector Li. Holding his horse back by half a pace, Lu Wei fell into step beside Chief Secretary Yang of the Protectorate and spoke in a low voice. “I heard the identity of the woman who died last night has been confirmed?” “Yes.” Chief Secretary Yang gave a wry smile. “I’m afraid this reflects poorly on us. As it happens, the matter is connected to our Protector-General. The woman was called Mu Niang, a maidservant to Protector Li’s concubine.” Lu Wei fell briefly into thought. “If I remember correctly, Protector Li was stationed here without bringing his wife and daughters.” “That’s right,” Yang replied. “Protector Li’s parents are advanced in years, and they also have young children who needed looking after, so Madam Li remained in their hometown. Lady Sun was taken in as a concubine with Madam Li’s approval and sent all this way to the frontier to attend to Protector Li’s daily needs. She is his only concubine here.” In other words, although Lady Sun was only a concubine, with the principal wife absent she was effectively in charge of the household and could be regarded as its mistress in all but name. Lu Wei asked, “Was Mu Niang one of Lady Sun’s trusted attendants?” “She was,” Chief Secretary Yang replied. “Lady Sun had two maidservants attending her, and Mu Niang was one of them. Near the end of the year, Mu Niang’s elderly mother fell gravely ill, so she asked Lady Sun for two days’ leave to return home and care for her. Lady Sun granted the request. She was due back at the residence today, but instead she was found dead beside a wall not far from her home last night. She was still carrying a packet of medicinal herbs in her arms when she died. According to statements from her family and the owner of the apothecary, she had gone to buy medicine for her mother and met with misfortune on the way back. The coroner’s preliminary examination concluded that she died from a severe blow to the back of the head and excessive blood loss. The road around where her body was found was slippery, so it’s also possible that she slipped and fell accidentally.” As he spoke, he discreetly watched Lu Wei’s expression. The sudden death of a maidservant from the Protectorate on a cold winter night was neither a major nor a trivial case. Given his position, Chief Secretary Yang naturally had to oversee the investigation. Still, he had assumed that a man of Lu Wei’s stature—a Vice Minister of the Court of Judicial Review and the scion of a noble family—would normally be too lofty to concern himself with such a minor matter. “Are you certain she slipped, struck her head, and bled to death?” Lu Wei suddenly asked. Chief Secretary Yang was taken aback before hurriedly smiling. “Those are only the coroner’s preliminary findings. That said, Mu Niang was an ordinary servant with no known quarrels during her lifetime. I’ve already sent men to question her neighbors today. It’s only because we had to come out of the city to receive the Princess that I haven’t been able to follow up in person. If anything new comes to light, I’ll report it to you at once.” After saying his piece, Yang waited, but Lu Wei said nothing. Just as he was about to breathe a sigh of relief, Lu Wei spoke again. “So Mu Niang wasn’t one of the household servants Protector Li brought with him from his hometown. She was hired after he arrived in Zhangye?” “That’s right,” Chief Secretary Yang replied. “Protector Li lives simply. When Lady Sun came here, she brought only two household servants from home. One of them was an old retainer who had previously served Protector Li’s father, and both are still attending Protector Li now. Everyone else in the Protectorate residence—maids and manservants alike, including Mu Niang—are locals.” Lu Wei nodded, finally asking no more questions. Chief Secretary Yang discreetly wiped the sweat from his brow. He couldn’t fathom why Lu Wei was taking such an interest in an ordinary maidservant and could only attribute it to the curiosity of a distinguished nobleman visiting a remote frontier city for the first time. The two followed the ceremonial procession onward and soon passed through the city gate. According to protocol, officials were expected to ride at least twenty li beyond the city to welcome a princess returning to court. To show his respect, Li Wenque had voluntarily gone ten li farther, planning to receive her thirty li from the city. For once, there was neither rain nor snow today. The sky remained overcast and the wind still howled, but it was no longer the bone-deep cold of the previous few days. Liu Fu instinctively pulled the collar of his cloak tighter around his neck. The freezing weather had thoroughly cowed him. Had it not been for today’s important duty, he would gladly have remained holed up in the official relay station without taking a single step outside. “Protector Li, do we have any word on the Princess’s procession? Surely, she isn’t going to fail to arrive today as well?” Bored out of his mind, Liu Fu struck up a conversation simply to pass the time. Li Wenque smiled. “I don’t think so. Yesterday, Her Highness sent a messenger ahead to inform us that her party had already reached the relay station up ahead. The weather is fairly decent today, so they set out at first light. They should arrive around noon.” Liu Fu couldn’t help glancing up at the sky. Noon? Had they come out this early just to stand outside the city and be buffeted by the wind? The complaint remained firmly in his head. After all, the Princess had spent ten years beyond the frontier and was returning to court for the first time. They had ridden out only thirty li to receive her. Even if they had gone all the way to Rouran to escort her back, it would have been only fitting. After traveling on for a while longer, the sky gradually brightened. To everyone’s surprise, the dark clouds began to disperse, allowing the morning light to spill through the gaps and illuminate the gloomy landscape below. The dreariness vanished in an instant. Everything within sight was suddenly touched with color, and even Liu Fu felt his spirits lift. The novelty lasted only a moment. Looking around, he found nothing but the ocher city walls behind them and the rolling expanse of the rocky Gobi ahead. Even the occasional tuft of yellow-green grass was a rare sight. Then again, this was the frontier, in the dead of winter. How could any plants possibly survive here? If even grass and trees fared so poorly, what must ten years beyond the frontier have done to a princess as delicate as a flower? Although Liu Fu had never met the Princess, he had heard countless stories about her from his elders. It was said that Emperor Guanghua’s harem had gone many years without producing an heir. In the end, he had only one son and one daughter. The son later became Emperor Jingde, while the daughter was the Princess who had been sent away in marriage. As the Emperor’s only daughter, she had been treasured beyond measure from childhood. If she asked for the stars, the Emperor would never settle for plucking down the moon instead. If she wanted the sun, he would probably have ordered someone to build a ladder to the heavens. One winter, when the Princess was twelve, she whimsically declared that she wanted an ice house built in her garden so she could live in it. When Emperor Guanghua heard of it, he immediately ordered craftsmen to carve an entire palace of ice and snow overnight. A glittering avenue of ice lanterns connected the frozen palace directly to the entrance of her own residence. When night fell and the Princess stepped out from her palace, dazzling crystals filled her view, their shimmering light flowing like the stars scattered across the heavens. Liu Fu had never witnessed the scene himself, but years ago his elder sister had accompanied their mother into the palace to attend the Princess’s birthday banquet. She had seen the magnificent display of hanging ice lanterns with her own eyes. After returning home, she pestered their father to build one for her too. Naturally, he never did, but even now she still spoke of it from time to time. That palace of ice and snow remained one of the capital’s most unforgettable stories among the nobility. It was also said that the Princess was especially fond of melons from the Western Regions. Emperor Guanghua therefore had fresh melons transported to the capital every year and even searched far and wide for their seeds, hoping to cultivate them near the capital so she could enjoy them whenever she wished. Unfortunately, the seeds never adapted to the local soil and climate. Not a single one sprouted, and by the time the Princess married, no melons had ever been grown. Stories like these spoke volumes about just how extravagantly favored the Princess had been. And yet, this beloved daughter of Heaven was compelled, only four years later, to leave behind the capital, her homeland, her parents, and everyone she loved, journeying to the bleak and distant land of Rouran to marry a khagan she had never even met. What had happened in those four years? Liu Fu searched his memory. He remembered asking his father, “If the Emperor loved the Princess so dearly, why didn’t he adopt a girl from the imperial clan and send her in the Princess’s place?” There was precedent for such a thing. In the Han dynasty, there had even been cases where palace maids were passed off as princesses and sent away for political marriages. His father had replied that the Rouran had insisted on marrying the Emperor’s own daughter. If the court tried to deceive them, they would immediately march east, plunder the frontier cities, and drive deep into imperial territory. The ministers had debated bitterly over the matter, and Emperor Guanghua found himself caught in an impossible dilemma. In the end, it was the Princess herself who volunteered to enter the marriage alliance, relieving the court officials of their predicament. But Liu Fu knew that, for Emperor Guanghua—and for the dynasty itself—that incident remained a thorn in the flesh. Like a fishbone lodged in the throat, like a stone weighing on the heart. The Son of Heaven had been forced to bow before the barbarians and surrender his own daughter. The Celestial Empire itself could not even protect a single woman, but had to rely on her to secure peace. At the time, there was no shortage of mocking voices. Some argued that the Princess had enjoyed every luxury since birth; if men were expected to lay down their lives for the country, why should a woman not sacrifice herself for the state? Others said that had the Princess been an ordinary commoner, no one would have wanted her sent off in a marriage alliance in the first place. Liu Fu paid little attention to affairs of state. Even so, he couldn’t help thinking that Emperor Guanghua’s untimely death might well have had something to do with the burden he carried in his heart. An emperor was meant to rule with unquestioned authority. That burden weighed on him not only because his beloved daughter had been married off to a distant land, but also because it symbolized the weakening of imperial power itself. Later, Emperor Guanghua’s son—the Princess’s younger brother, Emperor Jingde—ascended the throne. But he was frail and sickly, and died without leaving an heir. The twists of fate spared not even the Son of Heaven. Liu Fu couldn’t help but sigh. He was the sort who could never sit still in silence, always eager to chat, but Li Wenque answered only when spoken to, giving measured, matter-of-fact replies. In his own way, he was even duller company than Lu Wei. One was a military general, the other a pampered young aristocrat. They simply had nothing in common to talk about. Liu Fu looked over his shoulder. Lu Wei had fallen some distance behind, and turning his horse around now just to strike up a conversation with him would have been rather discourteous. Just as boredom was about to overwhelm him, he heard Li Wenque speak. “It seems the Princess’s procession has arrived.”