“Father!” The word escaped Nalan Xuan before he could stop it, only to be answered by a smile containing understanding, indulgence, and a trace of awkwardness.
“I am the Empress of Xiliang, the elder brother of your father, Ning Yueze. You may call me Eldest Uncle.” His manner was elegant and noble. Though he deliberately restrained his edge, the natural authority and dominance surrounding him remained impossible to ignore. Time had left marks upon his face, yet had done little to diminish its radiance. His refined, beautiful features bore a distinct resemblance to Nalan Xuan’s own.
Of course. How could Nalan Xuan have forgotten? If Yelü Zhen’s words that his father was still alive had not taken root so deeply in his heart, he would never have blurted out such a reckless mistake. Looking carefully now, although the man seated high within the hall strongly resembled his father around the brows and eyes, they were not so identical that Nalan Xuan should truly have mistaken one for the other. Their expressions were especially different. Whenever his father had looked at him, Nalan Xuan had always felt suffocated and oppressed—not because his father did not love him, but because those eyes contained too many emotions that could never be explained in words. They surged violently beneath the surface, countless complicated feelings compressed together, while the man himself kept all of them restrained and unspoken. Perhaps believing Nalan Xuan too young to understand, he had always seemed on the verge of speaking before stopping himself. Yet he had never known that those suppressed, faintly painful looks had long ago become like maggots burrowing into bone, branded so deeply into Nalan Xuan’s memory that they could never be erased.
The Emperor of Xiliang was naturally overjoyed to be reunited with his son after such a long separation. Although he did his best to restrain himself and maintain the dignity of a ruler, the joy hidden in the corners of his eyes and brows could not be concealed, revealing the love of a father for his son. Unfortunately, to Nalan Xuan, that affection was strangely irritating to behold.
“You’ve been gone for several years, and now you’re already so grown.” At some point, the Empress of Xiliang had drawn closer. As an elder, he reached out, intending to gently stroke the younger man’s head. Nalan Xuan, however, reacted as though his tail had been stepped on. He sprang backward several steps, abruptly putting distance between them.
The atmosphere immediately became unbearably awkward. Nalan Xuan’s guard remained firmly in place, but the Empress of Xiliang did not take offense. He withdrew the hand frozen in midair and gave a bitter smile. “You’ve suffered. It was Eldest Uncle’s fault. Back then, I never should have believed him. I never should have allowed him to take you back with him. If I had brought you to my side earlier, you would never have endured so many hardships.”
The words clearly concealed far more than they said. Nalan Xuan naturally knew nothing about those old events, but he was hardly a fool. The melancholy tone, the look of remembrance, and the undisguised guilt directed toward him all made one thing clear: there would be more to come, because this man intended to compensate him—for a debt Nalan Xuan did not even understand.
Nalan Xuan was in no hurry. Expressionless, he simply waited to see how events would unfold. He did not doubt the man’s identity, nor did he question the truth of his claim to be Nalan Xuan’s eldest uncle. If nothing else, the face Nalan Xuan himself had mistaken at first glance was enough to explain everything. Yet precisely because of that, he became even more guarded and colder. To Nalan Xuan, frightening strangers had never existed. The only truly frightening people were “family.”
Only Yelü Zhen and Nalan Xuan entered the great hall to meet the Emperor and Empress of Xiliang; everyone else remained outside. After a few simple pleasantries—or, more accurately, after the Empress of Xiliang spoke to him for a while almost entirely on his own—the emperor issued a decree. Since Nalan Xuan was the empress’s nephew, he naturally counted as a member of the imperial family. And since he was imperial kin, he naturally required status and authority befitting that identity. Nalan Xuan was therefore enfeoffed as Prince Nanyang, with seven cities and twelve commanderies east of Haojing granted as his fief. The territory encompassed a vast stretch of land bordering Hua’s western frontier. Though it belonged to Xiliang, it was also the region most deeply influenced by Hua culture.
Nalan Xuan had expected that, as a former enemy general who had fought Xiliang for months, he would receive cold treatment now that he had fallen into their hands. Even if they did not kick him while he was down, he had certainly never expected anyone to welcome him warmly. Yet this sort of windfall truly did fall from the heavens, and by an astonishing coincidence landed directly upon his head. Nalan Xuan was caught completely unprepared, while Yelü Zhen smiled beside him with the expression of an old fox whose scheme had succeeded.
“Prince Nanyang. Tsk, tsk. Imperial Father certainly thinks highly of you.” The moment they stepped out of the hall, Yelü Zhen blocked Nalan Xuan’s path. “Prince Nanyang is a title normally reserved specifically for an emperor’s own sons, yet now he has given it to you. You should think carefully about what that means—and make good use of it. That is an excellent piece of territory. You can advance when attacking and retreat when defending. And with Hua presently lacking capable generals, you can do whatever you want without holding back. Even if Imperial Father refuses to approve, refuses to support you, or even refuses to provide grain and military funds, this prince would still be willing to lend a hand to whatever great enterprise you intend to pursue.”
“All right.” Yelü Zhen turned away and strode off, leaving only one leisurely remark behind him. “Imperial Father ordered you to go to your fief immediately, so don’t delay. If you ever have need of this prince, all you have to do is send word.”
So this had been Yelü Zhen’s purpose all along: sit back while the opposing sides tore into each other. They had once been enemies, but that had never involved a personal grudge. Their hostility had arisen only from standing on different sides of a conflict between nations. Now circumstances had changed. Nalan Xuan understood perfectly well that Yelü Zhen simply meant to have someone else do the killing for him and had not even bothered to conceal it, yet Nalan Xuan had no reason whatsoever to refuse. To Xiliang, Nalan Xuan offered the possibility of conquering Hua; Xiliang, in return, offered Nalan Xuan the opportunity to wash away his humiliation. Neither owed the other anything. Each simply took what he needed. As for that one particular man, however, there remained both new grievances and old hatred that absolutely had to be repaid.
Feng Xuanzhe and Xiao He traveled east with Nalan Xuan to his new fief because they shared the same objective. Feng Xuanmo, who by all logic should have stood upon the same side, had vanished somewhere along the way. Nalan Xuan did not care, while Feng Xuanzhe was naturally delighted to have one less thorn in his side. Somehow, an entire living person disappeared from their party and they still did not notice until they had already reached the fief.
“This subordinate general Hu’erhan pays his respects to Prince Nanyang.”
The reins were abruptly pulled tight. The warhorse reared, forelegs pawing through the air, then stopped with a loud neigh. A powerfully built man who had received word early that morning and had been waiting outside the city strode forward in two large steps as Nalan Xuan and the others dismounted. Suddenly, he dropped onto one knee with such force that a thin cloud of yellow dust rose around him. One arm hung beside his body while the other hand formed a fist over his chest, his head respectfully lowered. The only problem was that the person receiving this solemn greeting was somewhat questionable.
Feng Xuanzhe struggled to suppress his laughter as he glanced at the burly man kneeling before him, then at the expressionless Nalan Xuan, who appeared utterly unconcerned. Saying nothing, he waited to see how this performance would unfold.
Nalan Xuan completely ignored Feng Xuanzhe’s expression of anticipation. Holding his reins in one hand, he stroked his horse’s mane soothingly with the other, acting as though he had not noticed that the foreign general had just made an enormous mistake. Calmly, he said, “General, there is no need for such ceremony.”
Nalan Xuan’s unflappable composure unfortunately failed to spread to Hu’erhan. The “Prince Nanyang” before him remained silent for so long that Hu’erhan had begun wondering whether he had somehow performed the greeting incorrectly. Then a clear, gentle voice—not warm, but neither harsh—suddenly sounded from his left. The sensation was like a kitten dragging its claws sharply across the center of his heart.
Hu’erhan’s head snapped upward. His face filled with disbelief as his gaze darted rapidly between Nalan Xuan and Feng Xuanzhe. His mind stopped functioning entirely, leaving only one sentence circling endlessly through his thoughts: Impossible. Look at how frail he is. How could someone like that possibly be Prince Nanyang?!
Yet when Nalan Xuan turned fully toward him, revealing his entire face rather than merely his profile, the last trace of disbelief on Hu’erhan’s rugged features was instantly replaced by stunned amazement. Even the thought that had been circling his mind vanished. His eyes went completely straight, and he forgot all about rank, etiquette, and propriety as he stared openly at Nalan Xuan’s face in complete admiration. “So beautiful!”