Chapter 88

Years had passed since Zhou Yinuo had rolled the dice of fate, assassinating the king of a foreign tribe and plunging their northern rivals into chaos. That ruthless maneuver led to a fragile peace treaty and left Zhou Yinuo with both glory and bitter enemies. Now, back in the capital for a routine duty review, Zhou Yinuo was met with an unexpected twist—news that the prince of the very tribe he’d crippled had arrived in the city.

This prince wasn’t just any emissary; he was the sole heir of the newly crowned king, the man who managed to scrape order from the ashes of Zhou Yinuo’s cunning gamble. And this heir had come with a proposition that shook the imperial court to its core. While most expected a mere marriage alliance involving some peripheral princess, the prince demanded Zhou Yinuo’s pride and joy—his eldest daughter, Zhou Jingxian.

The capital erupted. Petitions flooded the Emperor’s desk, begging him to reject the audacious proposal. Yet, beneath the surface, whispers ran wild. To some, marrying Zhou Jingxian into enemy hands was a slap to the face of the state’s honor. To others, it was a golden chance to watch Zhou Yinuo’s family suffer, repaying old scores under the guise of diplomacy.

The Emperor, now in his twilight years but still wielding formidable influence, found himself at a crossroads. Outwardly, he seemed to favor Zhou Yinuo and his family, whose name resonated powerfully among the people. But that same popularity gnawed at him like a thorn, a constant reminder of the Zhou family’s untouchable status.

Allies? Perhaps in name.

In reality, they were a threat he couldn’t openly confront, especially with Song Dingxiang, Zhou Yinuo’s shrewd and calculating wife, steering both the Zhou and Song families with unwavering loyalty to the Emperor. Her clever maneuvering left him no pretext to act against them—until now.

The foreign prince’s outrageous request presented an opportunity too tempting to ignore. Publicly, the Emperor rejected the proposal, maintaining his dignified façade. But behind closed doors, he leaned hard on Zhou Yinuo, applying subtle but undeniable pressure to agree to the marriage. He hinted, prodded, and manipulated, dangling the unspoken threat of retribution if Zhou dared to defy him outright.

Zhou Yinuo, no stranger to the Emperor’s cunning, felt the walls closing in. He knew the court’s vultures would tear his family apart if given the chance. The Crown Prince and the Third Prince had already been scolded for daring to speak in his favor. Yet he couldn’t afford to blatantly refuse the marriage. Doing so would only hand the Emperor a weapon to wield against him. For now, the Emperor was healthy enough to cling to power, and Zhou had no illusions about surviving the years it would take for a more benevolent ruler to ascend.

Caught in a tightening vice, Zhou Yinuo played his hand carefully. Feigning helplessness under the weight of a domineering wife, he requested time to consult Song Dingxiang. It was an excuse, a stalling tactic, but it bought him precious moments to regroup. With heavy steps and a heart weighed down by the gazes of his worried parents, Zhou set off on the road back home, knowing the storm was far from over.

Listening to his words, Song Dingxiang's expression darkened, her face a storm of fury and despair. In this suffocating, tyrannical monarchy, no matter how meticulously she played her role, the Emperor's paranoia clung to her like an unshakable shadow.

Now, as a woman bound by tradition and powerlessness, she could only dread what the future held for her family.

The harsh reality loomed over them: if they dared to refuse this cursed marriage proposal, the Zhou and Song families would face relentless persecution. The adults might grit their teeth and endure, but what of the innocent children caught in the crossfire?

Zhou Yinuo spoke with a low growl, his frustration barely contained. "The Crown Prince and Third Prince were already scolded by the Emperor over this mess. Meanwhile, the Second Prince is basking in favor at court. He’s insinuating that if royal princesses can be sent off for alliances, why not a mere noblewoman? The whispers are growing louder—marrying her off will make her a princess and bring prestige to the family. It’s disgusting, but it’s gaining traction."

His jaw clenched as he continued, "And if the Second Prince becomes Crown Prince with this support behind him, it’ll only tighten the noose around our necks. Denying this marriage might spell disaster for us all."

Zhou Yinuo’s voice cracked with pain. "The thought of sending our eldest daughter to some godforsaken, barbaric land—it’s unbearable."

Song Dingxiang's hands trembled, her nails digging into her palms. "When I chose not to arrange Bao Ya’s marriage years ago, I just wanted her to find love, to be happy. Was that so wrong?!" Her voice broke, tears streaming down her face. "If I had known things would spiral into this nightmare, I would’ve married her off closer to home. At least then, I could have watched over her! But now… now she’ll be sent to some foreign tribe, far away, in danger at every turn. I’ll never see her again!"

Zhou Yinuo let out a bitter laugh, hollow and sharp. "Even with Bao Ya married, we’d still have Pang Ya left to sacrifice next, wouldn’t we?"

Song Dingxiang shuddered, collapsing into her husband’s arms as grief consumed her. Neither of them noticed the shadow lingering outside the door, listening. The figure stood there silently for a moment before slipping away.

Suddenly, the door burst open. Bao Ya’s maid stormed in, her face pale with panic. "Master! Madam! Something terrible has happened!"

Song Dingxiang snapped to attention. "What is it?!"

The maid’s voice trembled. "Miss Bao Ya… she’s gone! Disappeared!"

Song Dingxiang’s heart lurched, her voice rising in hysteria. "What do you mean, gone?! That’s impossible! Did she go to the martial arts arena?!"

The maid hurried into the room, clutching a folded letter. Her voice trembled as she said, “Madam, I was waiting outside the young miss’s door early this morning. I thought she’d come out soon, but when the time passed and she didn’t appear, I went in to check. The room was empty. She was gone, and this letter was lying on her bed.”

Song Dingxiang snatched the letter, her sharp eyes scanning the single line written with careless defiance:

“Don’t worry, Mom and Dad. I’m off to meet the prince!”

The audacity made her blood boil. “This is absolute madness!” she snapped, her voice laced with anger and panic. “Where is Zhou Ge—where’s the Master?”

The maid hesitated, her voice small under Dingxiang’s fiery gaze. “He’s in the kitchen. He said you seemed upset yesterday, so he got up early to supervise the cook making soup for you.”

“Soup?” Dingxiang’s tone was sharp enough to cut glass. “To hell with soup! Tell him to get in here immediately!”

Moments later, Zhou Yinuo appeared, frowning as he read the letter. “What on earth is wrong with this girl?” he muttered, clearly baffled.

“What’s wrong?” Dingxiang’s voice cracked with rage. “She’s like this because you’ve coddled her endlessly! Stop standing there like a fool—go after her!”

Her fury burned hotter with every passing second. The restless, gnawing anxiety she’d felt earlier now made perfect sense. She had sensed trouble coming, and here it was.

Zhou Yinuo was already dispatching men to track Bao Ya down, but he and their eldest son couldn’t risk going themselves. The capital was treacherous ground; without an imperial summons, stepping foot there could mean disaster. If they chased her and got caught, the Emperor could twist the situation to tighten his noose around them.

“Listen carefully!” Dingxiang barked at the search party, her face a storm of rage and determination. “When you find her, knock her senseless if you have to and drag her back here. Don’t let her sweet talk you into anything—she’s a master manipulator. She’ll have you chasing shadows if you aren’t careful!”

Meanwhile, Bao Ya had already slipped away, dressed as a man and riding hard toward the capital. Years of living in the military camp with her brother had hardened her. Even though her mother had reined her in as she got older, those years had forged a spirit that refused to be caged. She didn’t hesitate to camp under the stars, eat rough, or outmaneuver anyone tailing her.

With the Lunar New Year approaching, she knew the young prince wouldn’t leave the capital anytime soon. She also knew her parents were desperately trying to avoid the Emperor’s forced marriage decree. But Bao Ya had no intention of sitting idly by. She wanted to see for herself what kind of man this so-called “prince” was.

If he turned out to be decent, maybe she’d entertain the idea. But if he wasn’t? Then the prince—and anyone who thought they could control her—would learn just how ruthless and cunning she could be.

*

The young prince, his expression sharp and calculated, sneezed and wiped his nose, casting a deliberate glance at the brooding sky. The air hung heavy with the promise of an unforgiving snowstorm—a bleak prelude to the plans he had been meticulously crafting.

His attendant, ever-curious yet tentative, leaned closer. "Your Highness, do you believe the Emperor will grant permission for General Zhou’s daughter to marry you?"

The prince’s lips curled into a sly, knowing smile. "The Emperor is no fool, but age has turned his wisdom to suspicion. He distrusts General Zhou and his growing influence, always seeking ways to curb his power. The moment I propose this marriage, he’ll see it as a way to weaken the General. Trust me, he’ll consent—if not immediately, then soon enough."

"But what if General Zhou doesn’t agree?" The attendant’s tone turned conspiratorial, tinged with a perverse delight. "Do you think he’d dare rebel? If they start tearing each other apart, wouldn’t that leave us sitting pretty?"

The prince waved him off with a cool shake of his head. "Don’t be absurd. This nation isn’t what it used to be—ravaged by hunger and desperation, with men clawing at each other to claim a piece of the pie. Times have changed. Prosperity has brought peace, and no one is foolish enough to throw that away for war. Now tell me," he said, his gaze piercing, "do you understand why the common folk are better off today?"

The attendant scratched his head, puzzled. "Well… we’ve got better harvests, wool’s fetching good coin, and everyone’s got food on the table and wine to drink. Isn’t that why things are better?"

"Close," the prince said, nodding. "The grasslands may not have the pomp of the capital, but they’re vast, free, and alive. There’s nothing like galloping on horseback under an endless sky. Meanwhile, the capital is suffocating—too many rules, no room to breathe. I’ve got my ambitions, sure, but I have no desire to linger in that gilded cage. As long as Dalang thrives in harmony with the capital, what’s there to fight over?"

The attendant frowned. "Then why push for this marriage with the Zhou family’s eldest daughter? I don’t get it."

The prince’s chuckle was low and dangerous, his eyes gleaming with sharp intent. "You’re thinking too small. Do you know why Dalang has risen so fast? A woman—Song Dingxiang. She’s a genius. Half of what sustains Dalang today—our food, our tools, our trade—it’s all thanks to her brilliance. A woman like that doesn’t just deserve admiration; she demands protection. But the Emperor… he’s paranoid, old, and blind to what he has. That’s where we strike. If I marry Song Dingxiang’s daughter, do you think she’ll just sit idly by? No. She’ll pour her heart into helping her daughter, and by extension, she’ll be helping me and securing Dalang’s future."

The attendant nodded slowly, the pieces beginning to fall into place. "That does sound clever… but these women from the capital, they’re fragile. What if she can’t handle life up north? If she falls ill, won’t Lady Zhou hold a grudge against us?"

The young prince shut his eyes, a sly smirk curling his lips as he spoke with deliberate confidence. "General Zhou's eldest daughter is not some delicate flower waiting to wilt. I know her type. Before I set foot here, I had my people dig deep into her family's history. Song Dingxiang’s daughter—she’s bound to be as sharp, resilient, and fiercely compassionate as her mother once was. More than that, the girl’s been honing her martial arts skills since childhood. Fragile? No. That one’s got strength coursing through her veins and a body built to endure.”

Dalang had bled too much on battlefields over the years, its scars still fresh, its spirit in retreat. War was no longer an option. The kingdom needed time to heal, and so did he. He’d sparred with the Crown Prince before—a shrewd, calculating man who knew precisely when to fold and when to press forward. It was the Crown Prince’s cunning that had stopped the Emperor from pawning off the Zhou family's eldest daughter to the cold, unforgiving North.

Marrying Zhou Jingxian was no mere union—it was a strategic masterpiece. The prince intended to gift her to the Crown Prince, securing a bond that would make the future emperor's rise seamless. It was a move that would shatter the Second Prince's ambitions and ensure his own role as an indispensable ally.

If the Emperor dared to wed Zhou General's daughter to the nomads, the tides of public favor would turn against him. By helping the Crown Prince extinguish the Second Prince’s threat, the prince would lock his place in the annals of power.

The new Emperor's reign was precarious, and turmoil was a luxury Dalang couldn’t afford. This was the breathing room the prince needed—decades to rebuild, to heal the wounds of war, to let his kingdom flourish. When his time came to an end, he’d leave behind a legacy, the foundation for Dalang’s future secured. Let the next generation navigate their own fate.

But one thing was certain—Song Dingxiang's daughter? He’d have her. No matter what it took.

As she crested the mountain, the sprawling capital finally broke through the horizon, a mirage of hope shimmering in the icy winter air. Bao Ya pressed her cold-numbed fingers to her frostbitten cheeks, her horse trudging slowly along the winding path. The journey had been long—too long. Her father’s men had chased her relentlessly, and she’d dodged them each time, taking dangerous detours through rugged terrain. What should have been a two-week trek had stretched into a grueling month. But now, the end was in sight.

She’d heard whispers of the Northern nomads along the way, wild stories that lingered in her mind. They were painted as monsters—ruthless killers who drank blood, towering savages with no regard for civility or cleanliness. The tales left her unsettled, but not convinced.

Her mother’s voice rang clear in her memory: People are people. The capital is not the world, and beyond it lies diversity. There are good and bad everywhere. Bao Ya clung to that wisdom, dismissing the exaggerated horrors of blood-drinking marauders.

But the hygiene? That, she couldn’t shake.

The Northern lands endured bitter, endless winters, where the cold froze rivers and buried villages in snow. Bathing was undoubtedly a challenge—but to never bathe? How could anyone live that way? The thought made her shudder as much as the biting wind. Yet, she pressed on, her resolve hardening with every step closer to the city.

Not only would it stink up the place, but it would also put her at risk of getting sick. At home, she made sure to wash up daily—sometimes even twice or three times a day in the heat of summer, because she couldn't stand the feeling of grime sticking to her skin.

As Bao Ya walked down the road, she couldn't help but give herself a sniff. The sharp, sour scent hit her nostrils, and she sighed in frustration. She was starting to feel restless, so she pushed herself forward, trying to ignore the unease gnawing at her. But soon enough, her thoughts started spiraling.

She had bolted out of her house on a whim, no plan, no direction, no guidance. How the hell was she supposed to even get into the city like this? How would she get to the young prince without stepping foot in the city? Her royal emblem token might get her noticed, but all it would do is shout out to everyone in the capital that Zhou Jingxian had arrived. It would make her stand out like a sore thumb.

How the hell was she supposed to blend in with all that attention?

Lost in her thoughts, the distant sound of shouting snapped her back to reality. Panicking, she quickly jumped off her horse, yanked out a white cotton cloth from her bag, and threw it over the animal before carefully leading it off to hide it. The shouting was getting louder, and her heart raced.

Then, out of nowhere, a young deer bolted past her, followed by the thundering whistle of an arrow. It slammed through the creature's neck with enough force to send it crashing to the ground, blood spraying as it kicked its legs in its final moments.

A few droplets of that blood splashed onto Bao Ya’s face, and she barely suppressed a yelp, her pulse skipping a beat from the shock.

The deer collapsed in the snow, its body twitching before going still. The sound of hooves on snow echoed through the air, growing closer. Through the dying grass, Bao Ya spotted the rider, her eyes immediately drawn to his towering figure. He was tall, strikingly handsome, and—oh wow—he had green eyes.

Green eyes!

The royal family of the nomadic tribes? Every damn one of them had green eyes—cold, piercing, almost wolfish.

The man, riding confidently on his horse, suddenly froze. He was just about to dismount and grab the kill, but then he turned his sharp gaze in her direction. "Who's there?"

Damn. She’d been spotted.

Bao Ya tensed, a momentary thought running through her mind that maybe she could just stay silent and let him go. But the horse behind her snorted loudly, blowing her cover.

To hell with it. Fear wasn’t something she gave a damn about. Not unless it was her mother causing it. And who else was there to fear?

"It's me," Bao Ya snapped, standing up from the snowdrift with a firm grip on the reins, like she owned the land under her feet. "You must be the little prince of the nomadic tribe, right?"

The young prince eyed her, his gaze lingering with an amused smirk. "You’re Zhou Jingxian."

Bao Ya didn't waste time, her boots crunching in the snow as she walked up toward him, looking up at him with that same cold confidence. "Get down," she commanded, as if the world was supposed to bend to her will.

The young prince didn’t hesitate. He dismounted, his movements smooth, almost too easy.

Bao Ya circled around him, taking in his impressive frame, towering over her like a mountain. The nomadic people sure weren’t short on strength, raised on meat and battle, their bodies made to endure and conquer. His green eyes glinted with a predatory edge.

"You eat raw meat, don't you?" she asked, the edge of a smirk tugging at her lips.

He chuckled, amused but not thrown off. "Never."

"Like to bathe?" She raised an eyebrow, her voice cool and probing.

The prince tilted his head, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. "I like cleanliness."

She tilted her head, a sly grin creeping onto her face. "Got yourself a sweetheart back home?"

He shook his head, his gaze steady. "No, I do not."

She wasn’t intimidated, even though he was clearly a good few inches taller than her. With every step she took, her voice grew more daring, more direct, almost like she had him in her sights. "On my way here, I couldn’t help but wonder why the hell you’d pick me over the princess. I’m beautiful, sure, and maybe I’m sharp as a knife, but I don’t think I’ve got the kind of qualities that would make someone of your royal status fall head over heels. Our families are worlds apart—so why the hell would you marry me?"

The young prince’s eyes darkened, his smirk turning into something more serious. "Because your mother is Song Dingxiang."

She stopped dead, eyes widening in surprise. "What?" She blinked a few times, disbelief flooding her expression. "So you’re telling me you want me just as a substitute for my mother? You’re that shameless? At your age, I didn’t think you’d have the balls..."

The prince just stared at her, confused. "What?"

"Because your mother has greatly benefited the Dalang clan. That is why I want to marry you, to bring prosperity to Dalang and create a golden age."

"You're after her legacy, aren’t you?" Bao Ya scoffed, shaking her head. "You think by marrying me you’ll bring prosperity to your damn clan? How naïve can you be? Do you really believe a marriage is enough to turn an entire country’s fortune around? I think you’re either way too cocky, or you’re seriously underestimating yourself." She laughed, almost bitterly. "I doubt my dowry alone could make Dalang rich."

The prince stood silently for a moment, his eyes narrowing as if weighing her words. He’d underestimated her, but he was about to find out she didn’t back down from a fight.

The young prince leaned in, his voice smooth but firm, "A virtuous wife keeps the peace and brings benefits. An intelligent wife is an asset, someone who offers support. Lady Zhou’s daughter? She’s not just virtuous, but sharp as well. With someone like that by my side, why wouldn’t I marry her? Why wouldn’t I believe that a wife of such quality could make Dalang a better man?"

Bao Ya raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile pulling at her lips. "You sure know how to flatter a girl. You’re smoother than my father when he tries to praise me," she said, a playful hint of embarrassment in her tone.

He was tall, handsome, well-spoken—no raw, gritty man of the wild, but refined. He had a thing for cleanliness, always bathed and presentable. Attractive, for sure. But…

Bao Ya raised her chin, her eyes narrowing with defiance. "But let me make one thing clear: You want to marry me? You won’t get to keep a harem. I’ll be the only one, no other women for you to juggle. But you’re royal, aren’t you? Even without a harem, there’ll be other women. And I’m not about to fight for your attention or share you with a bunch of other women, only to bear children for a man who’s spread thin. You’d be better off staying away. Besides, if you marry me, I doubt your little brother will make it far."

The young prince stood there, stunned for a moment before bursting into laughter, his shoulders shaking with it. When he finally managed to calm down, he looked at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"In my homeland, there's a vow that, once made, can’t be broken—otherwise, the grassland god will curse you. You’ll be abandoned by the land, trampled into nothing." He raised his hand, swearing with a sharp intensity, locking eyes with her. "I, Karl Lanze, swear by the grassland god and the eagle god, if I marry Zhou Jingxian, I will remain devoted to her forever. If I break this vow, I will become mud underfoot, crushed by all."

Bao Ya’s lips curled, unimpressed. "Swearing means nothing. Gamblers do it all the time after they lose. It’s just words." Her voice was laced with cool disdain.

The prince sighed, frustration evident in his tone. "Then what will it take to get you to marry me?"

Bao Ya's gaze shifted, calculating, before she spoke again, her voice rich with authority. "If your heart isn’t in it, no vow, curse, or promise will make a difference. Since you’ve already asked the emperor for my hand, I suppose I have no choice but to marry you. But don’t expect me to be some meek bride. So, tell me, young prince, do you want me to marry you willingly or unwillingly?"

"Willingly," he replied without hesitation.

She clicked her tongue and whistled for her horse, swinging herself into the saddle with ease. Looking down at him from her high perch, she gave him a sly grin. "Well, this meeting wasn’t a total waste of time. But if you want me to marry you willingly, it’s all on you. Keep it up, prince. I’m heading home now," she said, spurring her horse onward, leaving him standing there with the taste of challenge in the air.

"Wait, you..." The young prince couldn’t help but stare, his words trailing off as Bao Ya swiftly disappeared into the shadows of the dark forest. The abruptness of her exit left him caught off guard, a sense of both intrigue and confusion creeping into his thoughts.

"Your Highness..." A follower quickly approached, panting slightly from the run. "Who was that just now?"

The prince’s gaze lingered on the spot where Bao Ya had vanished, a sly, almost knowing smirk curling at the corners of his lips. "My future wife—well, not yet married, but soon enough. Quite the mystery, isn't she?" His voice was low and thoughtful, almost teasing as he turned to face his follower. "Let’s head back. Go tell the old emperor I’m off to Wei County to… pay a visit to my future in-laws. To please them, of course."

The follower blinked, utterly confused. "Uh? To Wei County?"

"Yes. Wei County," the prince confirmed, his tone firm and full of intent.