Chapter 33 One bronze, one snow white.

Chapter 33: One Bronze, One Snow White

Chigan Balie wanted to say, "My Prince, I have not," but under the gaze of those deep green eyes, deeper than the Rouge Lake, he felt as if an invisible hand had gripped his throat.

All his thoughts had been seen through by the Prince.

Chigan Balie had no room left for defense. He could only dismount from his horse, kneel before the Prince's steed, and lower his proud head deeply. "My Prince, your subordinate knows his mistake. Please punish me."

Before setting off for Liang State, the Prince had ordered everyone not to stir up trouble without his command. Last night, he had explicitly told him to respect the Han Princess he had chosen.

The Prince's words were his decree.

He was wrong. He should not have taken the Prince's words lightly.

Tuo Baxiao did not look at him, his voice still cold. "You are stripped of your Right General title. Before returning to the royal court, you are not allowed to ride a horse. You will return on foot like the others."

Chigan Balie's tightly clenched fists pressed hard against the ground.

Even if he achieved great accomplishments in the future, the scar from this whip would forever be a mark of his shame. Yet, he had no choice but to accept it.

Because he was the Xianbei's most valiant Prince!

Chigan Balie gritted his teeth and knelt once more. "Your subordinate will strictly obey the Prince's command."

"The others involved will each receive ten lashes," Tuo Baxiao declared, looking down from his elevated stance.

The remaining cavalrymen knelt and bowed their heads. "We heed the Prince's command!"

Tuo Baxiao then waved his hand, dismissing the crowd.

The previously tense atmosphere instantly dissipated.

He dismounted and positioned himself before Jiang Congyan.

Tall and imposing, his mere presence blocked the last rays of the setting sun.

Darkness instantly enveloped her vision. Jiang Congyan looked up at him.

Only at this moment did she truly feel the authority and unyielding dominance of Tuo Baxiao, the most revered Prince of Mobei across the grasslands.

To suppress so many unruly Xianbei warriors, Tuo Baxiao's methods were far beyond mere strength.

The dominance he displayed before her was already a gentleness tempered countless times.

If she had seen this side of him earlier, that night she might not have dared to reject him so directly.

That such a peerless hero could treat her this way, Jiang Congyan blinked, momentarily bewildered.

She had never believed that beauty alone could bend the will of those in power.

Her thoughts wandered until he seized her slender wrist. Her fingers grew numb, and the longsword slipped from her grasp, only to be caught instantly by the man.

Then, with a swing of his arm, he flung the sword through the air toward Xie Shao.

Those behind Xie Shao watched in terror, wanting to stop it but unable to do so.

Yet, the sword did not pierce Xie Shao's body. Instead, it slid perfectly into the scabbard, which was less than an inch wide.

A clang resounded!

The clash of sword guards rang out with a metallic clang!

Everyone's hearts skipped a beat, and recalling how casually he had acted earlier, they were amazed by his precision!

The Prince of Mobei truly had extraordinary martial skills and unmatched bravery!

From the moment the sword flew into its sheath, Xie Shao stood firm as a pine, neither dodging nor flinching. Then he lowered his eyes, clasped his hands, and respectfully said, "Thank you, Prince of Mobei, for returning the sword."

Tuo Baxiao gave him a cold glance and ignored him, instead taking Jiang Congyan's delicate, almost boneless hand, turning her soft palm over to reveal a bright red mark—caused by gripping the sword earlier.

"Such a soft hand shouldn’t hold such a heavy sword," his deep voice, no longer icy, carried a hint of tenderness.

Unaccustomed to being so close to him in front of others, Jiang Congyan tried to pull her hand away but couldn’t break free.

His unexpected gentleness left her momentarily dazed. Afraid to meet his eyes, she lowered her head, only to see his large hand enveloping her fingers—one rough, one delicate, one bronze, one snow-white, seemingly mismatched yet strangely harmonious.

His hand was undeniably powerful, with a broad palm, long fingers, thick nails, and prominent tendons. Aside from the calluses from battle, it could even be called a beautiful hand.

When he exerted force, the bones and veins beneath his skin stood out, radiating strength.

For the first time, she noticed a simple black iron ring on his left index finger, shaped like an eagle, its spread wings fitting snugly on his long finger bones, polished smooth from frequent handling.

The cold, hard iron eagle ring blended seamlessly with his palm, exuding an air of dominance.

The ring symbolized the Xianbei King’s power, and Tuo Baxiao had elevated its significance.

"Thank you, King," Jiang Congyan murmured softly, finally lifting her glistening eyes to meet his, responding to his earlier words—"But I want to wield a sword."

"Only with a sword in hand can I protect those I care about, no matter how heavy it is."

Dignity lies on the edge of the sword! It’s true for the nation, and it’s true for people!

Her voice was as soft as the hazy sunset, yet her gaze was as unyielding as the wild grass on the plains.

The vast clouds and endless earth seemed insignificant compared to her words.

Tuo Baxiao’s heart skipped a beat.

Tuo Baxiao wanted to ask if his protection wasn’t enough, but seeing her soft yet determined expression, the words died on his lips.

He suddenly realized he didn’t fully understand her.

Not wanting to linger on the topic, Jiang Congyan smiled at him, letting his hand hold hers, and turned to Si Zi, instructing, "Go check on the child's condition."

Si Zi immediately stepped forward.

The stray child lay motionless like a stone during the earlier standoff, only opening a slit of an eye after Chigan Balie and the others had left.

Seeing Si Zi approach, he scrambled to his feet and kowtowed, "Thank you, noble lady, for saving me!"

The stray child was as thin as withered grass, his arms like bamboo sticks, his body no more than ten years old. His messy hair revealed a gaunt, young face, making his large eyes seem even more prominent, almost frightening.

Si Zi found him somewhat familiar but didn’t think much of it, waving her hand and saying, "Get up quickly. You’re lucky I saw you and the lady saved you."

The stray child bowed toward Jiang Congyan again, and this time, Si Zi didn’t stop him.

To ease the awkwardness of Tuo Baxiao holding her hand in public, Jiang Congyan turned around, looking at the stray child by the grass, and asked gently, "How did you end up wandering here? Do you have a place to go after this?"

"Goddess!" the stray child cried out.

At this moment, Jiang Congyan was bathed in the gentle twilight, her skin exuding a luminous sheen akin to polished jade. The wind gently brushed her sleeves, and her demeanor was serene and graceful, as if a goddess had truly descended—if one ignored the hand that was still being held.

"Hah!" Si Zi chuckled. Although she also believed her lady's beauty was comparable to that of a divine fairy, she explained to him, "Our lady is not a goddess; she is the princess of the Liang dynasty."

"No, she is a goddess! I have seen you before! Goddess, have you forgotten me?" The vagrant child stubbornly shook his head, his dark little face with eyes that were unusually large fixed intently on Jiang Congyan, his gaze astonishingly bright.

His expression was so devout and persistent, like a monk who had devoted decades to ascetic practice finally seeing the legendary Buddha at the moment of his death, rendering others unable to mock him.

Jiang Congyan thought carefully, and a faint memory began to take shape in her mind, "Are you the child from the official road at Hutou Mountain?"

"It's me!" The vagrant child nodded fervently, tears brimming in his eyes, "You remember me! That's great, I finally see you again! Goddess!" With that, he bowed deeply once more.

Si Zi also remembered. On the way back from Liangzhou, they had been delayed by a skirmish with Qiang bandits during the day, and by the time they reached the post station, it was almost midnight. They had encountered a vagrant child on the brink of death by the roadside, and the lady had taken him to the post station, had him fed some porridge, and left him some flatbreads.

There were too many unfortunate souls in the world, and the lady had helped more than just him, so she hadn't recalled him immediately.

The lady's kindness could only ease immediate suffering; she couldn't help everyone, so she hadn't kept him and left the next day.

To their surprise, they encountered each other again here, a full two hundred miles from Hutou Mountain. What a coincidence.

"Goddess, please, let me stay by your side. I want to become your attendant, to dedicate everything, even my life, to you," the vagrant child pleaded, crying and kowtowing fervently, with such fervor that it was lucky the ground was soft with weeds and dirt, or else his forehead would have been bruised.

Before Jiang Congyan could speak, Si Zi was already against it, her attitude shifting completely.

She stood with her hands on her hips, pointing at him, her voice crisp and loud, "Hey, how can you be like this? Our lady saved your life, and now you're forcing her to keep you? This is... this is returning kindness with hostility!" She finally managed to come up with the idiom.

Si Zi muttered to herself, if they kept everyone they saved, the lady's fortune would be exhausted regardless of its size.

Jiang Congyan was also somewhat hesitant. The child didn't look very old, but his words sounded like those of a devout believer.

However, Buddhism and Taoism were indeed flourishing at the time. Since the previous dynasty, the Central Plains had been in constant turmoil. The more chaotic the times, the more people needed spiritual comfort, which was fertile soil for religious growth. The ruling class even deliberately promoted the growth of religion.

They tried to use the doctrines of "karmic retribution" and "reincarnation" in religion to make people believe that the differences between the ruling class and the common people—wealth and poverty, nobility and lowliness—as well as the relationship between oppressors and the oppressed, were all reasonable, the result of good and evil deeds in past lives, to make them accept their current situation and dull their awareness of resistance.

The people, oppressed by both class and ethnicity, had lost hope for material liberation and could only seek spiritual liberation, giving them the courage to live in this desperate world.

Many doctrines were distorted and became tools of the rulers, which was why Jiang Congyan did not like religion.

She thought, since it was a young life and they had met twice, it would be better to send him to Liangzhou, where there was an official orphanage.

The orphanage was originally established to take care of the families of fallen soldiers, who, having lost their able-bodied members, found it difficult to survive. The Marquis of Liangzhou gathered these widows, orphans, and elderly together to care for them.

After she developed her industries, she spent a considerable amount of money to expand the scale. Now, it was no longer limited to the families of soldiers but also took in many refugee children from other states, teaching them skills so they could contribute to the development of Liangzhou when they grew up.

Just as she made her decision, the man beside her spoke first.

"Are you a barbarian?" Tuo Baxiao's sharp gaze fell on the vagrant child, his green eyes slightly narrowed, with a hint of scrutiny.

The vagrant child trembled all over, his eyes wide, frozen in place.

"How do you know?" Jiang Congyan suddenly turned her head, looking at Tuo Baxiao in surprise.

Tuo Baxiao, seeing his reflection in her watery eyes, felt a bit more pleased, "He speaks with a barbarian accent. You are Han, so you didn't notice."

Is that so?

Tuo Baxiao had a point. She had thought the vagrant child's accent was just a dialect issue, given the many dialects in the Central Plains.

"You're really amazing to notice that," Jiang Congyan praised without hesitation.

Tuo Baxiao's lips curled slightly, a hint of pride after being praised, but in an instant, his expression turned icy, like a sharp blade directed at the vagrant boy.

"Who exactly are you? Why are you here?" he said coldly.

Though not angry, his tone still carried the commanding presence of the Xianbei King, making the vagrant boy tremble like a quail tucking its neck, prostrated on the ground.

The vagrant boy's face showed fear as he prostrated on the ground, not daring to lift his head, and hurriedly explained, "Divine Lady, I... I am just an ordinary vagrant. Because you saved me last time, I couldn't resist following when I saw the familiar caravan. Divine Lady, I wish to serve by your side; I really have no ill intentions."

The more he panicked, the more obvious his accent became, further raising suspicions.

Jiang Congyan was not swayed by his words and simply looked at him, saying, "If you want to stay by my side, I need to understand your background to make a decision."

"Share your past in detail. Don't worry, regardless of your identity, I won't judge you."

Her gentle voice, calm and unhurried, had a calming effect.

Hearing this, the vagrant boy felt as if a gentle hand had brushed over his head, and his tense emotions suddenly eased.

He began to stammer out his origins, "I am of mixed Han and nomadic heritage."

Indeed!

"My mother is a Han woman from the Central Plains, and my father is... a bandit from the nomadic tribes." At this point, he instinctively glanced around, fearing his neck might be cut the next second.

"Go on."

Her calm and gentle voice eased his anxiety, and he cautiously continued, "My mother was a kidnapped Han woman, kept confined in the stronghold. I grew up there until I was ten."

"Ten?" Si Zi looked incredulous, as if saying such a scrawny child was already over ten.

"How old are you now?" Si Zi asked.

"Almost twelve," the vagrant boy replied.

Si Zi instinctively measured their height difference with her hand.

Twelve years old—Si Zi herself was not yet sixteen, only four years older, but their height difference was more than two heads.

"How did you escape?" Jiang Congyan asked.

"The stronghold was attacked by another tribe. They couldn't win, so my mother seized the chaos to escape with me."

"She always wanted to return to the Central Plains, so she took me south. Unfortunately, the belongings we brought while escaping were stolen by others. We had no food, so my mother saved her share for me and eventually starved to death."

"I was also on the brink of starvation, had the Divine Lady not passed by and saved me."

"Before she died, my mother told me to return to the Central Plains and hide my mixed-blood identity, or I wouldn't survive anywhere."

His background seemed plausible. Jiang Congyan blinked thoughtfully, "Are you good at nomadic languages?"

The vagrant boy hesitated before admitting, "Better than the language of the Central Plains." And much better.

Nomadic bandits raided passing travelers, killing the men and keeping the women as slaves—Han, Qiang, Jie, and even Xianbei people.

Growing up in such a complex linguistic environment, he naturally learned to speak both Han and nomadic languages, and even more than one. In the stronghold, no matter which tribe, he could pick up their language after listening for a while.

"Did you ever kill innocent people in the stronghold?"

"No, no!" He shook his head repeatedly, looking very frightened. "I was always assigned the lowest tasks in the stronghold, and because I was scrawny, they looked down on me."

Jiang Congyan nodded, "I have one last question for you."

The homeless child looked up at her and then heard a gentle greeting that seemed to come from a divine lady:

"What is your name?"

The homeless child paused for a moment, until Si Zi urged him impatiently, and then he quickly answered, "My name is A Mao. My mother said she hoped my life would be as vigorous as reeds."

"A Mao, from now on, you’ll stay with me."

A Mao could scarcely believe his ears, and instinctively looked at Si Zi for confirmation, "Has the divine lady permitted me to stay with her?"

Si Zi didn't know what the lady saw in this homeless child, and huffed in annoyance, but still answered him, "Yes, are you happy now?"

Tuo Baxiao was also uneasy, looking down at her, "If you want to learn Hunnic, I can teach you. Why keep a stranger?"

Jiang Congyan was not surprised that he saw through her plan, looked up to meet his gaze, and smiled at him, her bright eyes curving into two crescents, "I want to become part of your life, so I want to learn Hunnic. But you are a king, and you must be very busy. When you have time, I will learn from you, and when you are not around, I will let A Mao teach me. Is that okay?"

Tuo Baxiao had no reason to object, especially the phrase "I want to become part of your life" filled him with satisfaction.

All along, her attitude towards him had been reserved and kept at a distance, but now, he felt she was different; she volunteered to say she wanted to become part of his life.

Tuo Baxiao even imagined her speaking Xianbei to him in the future, he wanted her to say the most heartfelt words of love, whether in Chinese or Xianbei.

At the thought of that scene, his blood raced through his veins, and then gathered in a certain part of his lower body.

Jiang Congyan: "..."

She noticed the man’s tension, but completely didn’t understand why.

That sentence just now, although it had a complimentary tone, wasn’t really anything.

The mood grew uneasy, Jiang Congyan took the opportunity to let go of the man's hand, walked a few steps forward to A Mao, "You look a bit weak, I'll have Si Zi take you to get some food and clean up. Rest for a couple of days, then come to my side and teach me Xianbei."

A Mao was so thrilled he could barely speak, "Thank you, divine lady!"

Jiang Congyan: "Don't call me divine lady, address me as lady, just like Si Zi."

"Lady!"

Although he changed his address, in A Mao's heart, she was still the divine lady.

He gazed at her with deep reverence, as if she was the only light in the world.

He still remembered the day he lay by the roadside, about to starve to death.

The forest was utterly dark, not even the moonlight could penetrate, he thought he was going to die in this cold, dark night, but he never thought he’d wake up again.

A Mao wondered, had he died? Otherwise, why would it be so warm, not cold at all, and he even tasted grains of rice in his mouth, sweet and soft.

Rice? He had never eaten such a precious thing since he was born, so he must have died.

Before he died, he seemed to see immortals—immortal soldiers holding torches in two rows, dispelling the darkness of the forest, they escorted an immortal carriage, with exquisite palace lanterns hanging from its four corners, walking through the night, bringing bright light wherever they went.

He even seemed to hear an immortal say, "Give him some porridge."

So, had he entered the immortal's mansion?

A Mao had heard others say that only truly virtuous individuals who had done many good deeds could see immortals after they died.

He had never done a single good deed; instead, he often snatched bird eggs and caught fish and shrimp to fill his belly. He even once stole the chiefs' leftover bones and was severely beaten when caught.

But he was so hungry, feeling like his body was on fire, so hungry he couldn’t even muster the strength to dig for wild grass. If he didn't eat something, he would surely die.

The chiefs never gave food to women and children, only wild grass and tree bark. He felt like a sheep, a sheep that could never grow up.

He had done wrong and should not have been able to see the gods.

But now it was so warm, a warmth unlike anything he’d ever felt.

Gradually, A Mao couldn't think of anything else, his worn-out body slipping into a deep sleep.

When he woke up again, he felt a newfound sense of energy, his body filled with strength once more.

He pinched himself—it stung!

So, he wasn't dead?

He heard a ruckus outside, the clatter of horses. Through the broken window, he saw a group of knights ushering a radiant lady into a carriage.

She was dressed in white, radiating light.

He had never been to school and didn't know how to describe her beauty. He only felt that the most stunning sights he’d ever seen dimmed beside her, as if they had lost their color. Only she remained bright and dazzling in this world.

Then he heard a familiar voice from the clouds, saying, "Leave some bread for that boy."

It was the same heavenly voice he’d heard in his haze last night!

And then he really received the bread, made from wheat flour, steamed, and baked crisp—it was so sweet and fragrant!

He gaped at the bread in his hands, too late to thank the goddess. When he looked out the window again, she was gone.

He stumbled out of the courtyard, hoping to follow the goddess’s trail, wishing she would take him in, but they were gone.

Just as he hadn’t known when they arrived, he couldn’t see their backs when they left.

It felt like a beautiful dream, too perfect to be real, but the porridge he had last night and the bread he received today were real reminders that this was not a dream.

The old women said gods and Buddhas existed, and as long as one was sincere, their wishes could come true.

He had once prayed for a long time in front of a faded and damaged Buddha image, hoping to no longer go hungry or cold, bowing until his head was swollen, but no god appeared.

That Buddha image couldn't do it, but the goddess did. She gave him bread, so he wouldn’t starve. She must be a celestial being!

He ran to ask the people at the post station if they had seen the celestial beings. They laughed at him, saying he was foolish, that it wasn't a celestial being but a noblewoman passing through, on her way to Chang'an.

Chang'an? The place where the goddess lived was called Chang'an.

A Mao knelt on the ground, facing the direction of Chang'an. Even after everyone had left, he stubbornly believed—I have met a deity!