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As the marriage alliance convoy crossed Yin Mountain, three thousand elite Turkic soldiers had already set up camp on the eastern border of the Turks, seven hundred miles away.
Compared to the gloom in the Xuanwu army, the Turks appeared quite pleased.
Aside from welcoming their beautiful queen, they also anticipated the enormous dowry she brought.
These were things the Turks lacked—seeds, medical knowledge, and various farming tools—all invaluable wealth that benefited them greatly, more precious than gold, silver, or jewels.
Ten days after the convoy began its journey, early one morning, Di Jiang exited her tent and again saw Long Ming sleeping soundly against a rock. Even in his sleep, he furrowed his brows, looking utterly exhausted.
“General Long hasn’t returned to his tent to rest. Can his body withstand such a long journey?” Wen Yao felt pity and was about to wake him when Di Jiang stopped her.
“Let him sleep a bit longer. With Liu Zhi in the tent now, I doubt he would listen to anyone’s advice.”
“Why not set up another tent? How can a general sleep rough like this?”
“You’re quite clever.”
“Of course!”
“Hmph,” Di Jiang glanced at her, smiling lightly, “If it were possible, Long Ming would have done it already. If word got out that they haven’t shared a bed, Liu Zhi’s reputation would be ruined, and Long Ming would be criticized by others. Thus, he pretends to patrol every night and merely rests here temporarily. You’d best pretend you didn’t see anything.”
“...”
Wen Yao was stunned speechless, mumbling after a long while, “Humans have so many rules, needlessly drawing lines for themselves, digging their own graves.”
Di Jiang chuckled silently, no longer responding.
After crossing Yin Mountain, the convoy left behind the yellow sands, which gradually gave way to green pastures. As far as the eye could see, there was an endless expanse of vast grasslands, boundless and serene.
Along the way, the scenery of the prairie was breathtaking. Occasionally, one could see herds of cattle and sheep, rippling lakes, and faint glimpses of yurts.
Under the blue sky and white clouds, the green grass swayed, creating waves that danced with the wind. Thin, winding rivers flowed quietly into the distance, offering a refreshing and peaceful sensation—a truly idyllic scene untouched by worldly strife.
“So beautiful!” Wen Yao exclaimed sincerely.
“Yes...” Di Jiang felt her heart broaden upon seeing this sight, laughing, “Is this what the folk songs of the Hu Ji sing about—’The sky is vast, the wilds boundless; the wind blows low over the grass, revealing cattle and sheep’?”
“But I only see grass—I don’t see any cattle or sheep!”
After saying this, Wen Yao suddenly exclaimed again, “Look over there! What is that?”
Following the direction of her finger, they saw a black line stretching for miles at the horizon where the sky met the earth. It looked like a dense, dark mass, indistinguishable otherwise, but the atmosphere there seemed heavy, contrasting sharply with the previously tranquil and untroubled grasslands.
“That’s the Turkic wedding reception army.” Wu Rui’an and Long Ming spoke in unison for the first time.
Long Ming glanced at Wu Rui’an, who nodded at him. He then raised his horsewhip, leading a group of elite soldiers towards the Turkic envoy.
Soon, within half an hour, the Turkic army received the message, and three thousand cavalrymen advanced in perfect unison.
The leader of the wedding reception was Shu Man, the youngest son of the Turkic king.
Shu Man was tall and mighty, with distinct features—sharp, chiseled face, high nose bridge, and deep-set eyes. Just a few glances were enough to captivate one with his rugged and bold gaze.
Only on the vast grasslands could such robust citizens be nurtured—something most men in Xuanwu couldn’t compare to.
“If Princess Zhaohe were marrying King Khan Shu Man instead, how wonderful that would be...”
“Yes, he’s much more suitable than Khan Jiexun.”
“What a pity.”
The maids hovered around the tent, unable to take their eyes off Prince Shu Man, and even Di Jiang couldn’t help but glance twice.
The phrase “a dragon among men” truly suited him.
After Shu Man paid respects to Wu Jingyi through the beaded curtain, under the guidance of Long Ming and Wu Rui’an, he proceeded to inspect the dowry and review the list of accompanying personnel.
By evening, the Turkic army took over the convoy, handling all dietary arrangements for the main personnel. Wu Jingyi, seeing the table spread with milk tea, dried milk, milk skin, cheese, and fried rice, appeared quite amazed.
Additionally, there was a roasted lamb placed prominently, making the meal much richer than what they had been eating along the way.
“Let’s eat together. I’m afraid I’ll waste it if I eat alone.”
Wu Jingyi smiled, inviting Di Jiang and Wen Yao, and even Liu Zhi joined them. They ate and chatted casually, their conversation much lighter than before.
At night, the wisps of smoke from the cooking fires gradually died down. Soldiers shed their armor—some drank wine, some ate meat, while others built bonfires, setting up horse-head fiddles to play melodious pastoral songs.
The night view of the grassland was the most enchanting.
A gentle breeze caressed them, the scent of grass assailed them, moonlight enticed them, ripples of water teased them, and birdsong moved them.
Perhaps the beauty and cuisine of the grassland infected them—it didn’t seem as bad as they had imagined. Wu Jingyi’s heart also felt much comforted.
...
The next day, the army continued its march northward. The further north they went, the greater the temperature difference between day and night. Many of the weaker members of the convoy fell ill, with Liu Zhi being one of the worst affected.
She had been bedridden since the second day on the grassland.
Though Long Ming instructed the army doctor to take good care of her, he refused to enter her tent. If Liu Zhi insisted on following him out, she wouldn’t see Long Ming for the whole day.
He was either inspecting the convoy or chatting with the soldiers.
In short, Liu Zhi’s trip was in vain.
After three years, the hatred in Long Ming’s heart hadn’t diminished but increased, especially on this marriage escort journey—every moment felt like gouging his heart and gnawing at his bones.
She really shouldn’t have come.
Three days later, the marriage alliance convoy neared Gaoque City. The Xuanwu army camped by Lake Beiming outside the city, completing the handover of the dowry list. The palace maids and servants were dispatched in batches to register at the census office.
The scene inside and outside the city was bustling, except for Wu Jingyi, who sat calmly in her tent, neither thinking nor asking about anything, adopting a laissez-faire attitude.
Several Turkic princes and ministers tried to peek into Wu Jingyi’s tent without notice, but almost all were blocked by Long Ming and Wu Rui’an.
“According to our Xuanwu customs, the couple must not lift the red veil until the wedding night, otherwise it’s considered unlucky. Please respect our customs.”
Wu Rui’an’s authoritative voice reverberated across the grasslands.
Long Ming stood beside him silently, but the intense, oppressive aura in his calm eyes made others feel breathless.
They all knew the renown of the Divine Guardian General and heard tales of General Long. Some generals among them had suffered greatly under their hands.
Sending two generals for the marriage escort sufficiently demonstrated Empress Chen’s regard for Wu Jingyi—greater honor than any woman could bring.
On the day the convoy formally entered Gaoque City, it was also the wedding day, coinciding with the annual Obo Grand Festival.
The sacrificial tower was set up on the hill outside the city gate—a cone-shaped stone tower topped with a long pole. The pole head was adorned with livestock hair, horns, and scripture ribbons. On four sides were stones for burning cypress incense and a large circular stone mill.
At high noon, fifty-year-old Khan Jiexun led his ministers out of the city gate.
Khan Jiexun, clad in wartime armor, had his graying hair and beard neatly groomed. He looked spirited, not like an old man, and even appeared more vibrant than his eldest son.
After Wu Rui’an and Long Ming nodded respectfully to Khan Jiexun, both unconsciously clenched their fists. If not for representing Xuanwu, they might have already pinned him down, competing over who could skin and dismember him faster.
A Turkic maid entered Princess Zhaohe’s tent, bowing deeply, “My lady, the Khan has come to fetch you.”
Wu Jingyi was already dressed impeccably, wearing a phoenix crown and bridal veil, not forgetting to cover her face with red silk.
Khan Jiexun strode into the tent cautiously, mimicking Han etiquette. He respectfully approached, tucking in his belly, speaking softly, “My lady, please.”
“Thank you, Great Khan.” Wu Jingyi, covered in red silk, hesitated a moment before placing her hand on his aged, weathered hand.
On her hand, the plum blossom mark on her thumb knuckle grew even more vivid, resembling a crimson tattoo.
Jiexun found it astonishing. The Turks traditionally had the custom of tattooing totems on their bodies. Even he had a full-back wolf totem.
Not closely examining the documents handed by the officials, Jiexun mistook the mark for a tattoo, assuming this legitimate princess differed from ordinary Xuanwu women, likely more open and bold in character.
“Remove the veil, let my subjects see how beautiful our new queen is!” Jiexun said, reaching to lift her red silk veil.
At this moment, the matchmaker quickly intervened, smiling, “Your Majesty, the veil must remain until the wedding night; otherwise, it’s considered unlucky. Why not wait until tonight to unveil it?”
This was something the ceremonial official had repeatedly emphasized before departure. Though Wu Jingyi disliked this marriage alliance, she dared not forget the ancestors’ rules and nodded in agreement, urging, “Great Khan, Madam Gui’s words are true.”
“Alright, alright, alright, I’ll listen to you, all of you!” Jiexun laughed heartily, leading Wu Jingyi out of the tent.
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