Chapter 104 Baby Owl.

Chapter 104: The Owl Cub.

This inscription, though written in plain and simple language, is heartfelt, capturing Wang Fu’s life.

Jiang Congyan did not conceal her tragic experiences, yet she did not merely depict her misfortunes. Instead, she focused on Wang Fu's noble spirit—how she held fast to her principles despite adversity, persevered unyieldingly, and devoted herself to educating her child.

If this inscription were fortunate enough to survive for centuries without being lost, posterity would know through these few hundred words that there was once a great woman named Wang Fu in this era. People of that time might also feel sorrow and admiration for her.

Tuo Baxiao read it over and over, especially the last line, which pierced his heart.

“As long as I continue to honor you through remembrance, your spirit and virtues will be celebrated by the world, enduring eternally.”

Jiang Congyan said, “I believe that, rather than forbidding others from speaking of her, it is more important to let the world know of Mother's true character. Those who understand will respect her, while small-minded critics will only dare to whisper in their hearts. Given Mother's nature, she would’ve scorned such talk. As long as we remember her, and future generations praise and honor her, she will live on in people's hearts. If everyone forgets her, then she is truly gone.”

Tuo Baxiao let out a long breath, took her hand, and pressed it against his chest, where his heart pounded wildly. Gazing at her intently, he said, “You’re right. I was short-sighted before.”

Jiang Congyan smiled faintly. “Then let us pay our respects today. Afterward, I will have someone engrave the inscription and place it before Mother’s grave.”

“Very well.”

Once the ink had dried on the xuan paper, Jiang Congyan folded it and tucked it into her sleeve.

A Fei had also prepared the offerings—joss paper, incense, wine, meat, pastries, and other items. Hearing that her mistress was going to pay respects to the Prince of Mobei's birth mother, she knew the occasion was of great importance and prepared an especially lavish array of offerings, rivaling an annual grand ceremony.

It was already November, and snow had fallen all through the night. The landscape was blanketed in white, the hills gleaming under the snow, which was knee-deep. Even the surface of Yanzhi Lake had frozen over with a layer of transparent ice crystals.

Traveling in such weather was extremely difficult, especially since the snow concealed the condition of the roads, adding many dangers beyond the usual.

Tuo Baxiao was uneasy about her riding alone and insisted she ride his Li Eagle with him.

Jiang Congyan hesitated but ultimately agreed.

First, riding in such conditions was indeed perilous. Second, she reasoned that since they were undertaking the solemn task of paying respects to his mother, the man would likely not misbehave.

As she expected, after being lifted onto the horse, Tuo Baxiao did nothing more than hold her tightly.

The cold was bitter. Beneath her thick layers of cotton clothing, she wore a fox-fur mantle with excellent insulation, cradled a hand stove in her sleeves, and leaned against the man's warm chest, so she did not feel too chilled.

Tuo Baxiao, in contrast, was dressed far more lightly—just standard undergarments, a thin cotton tunic, the Han-style robe she had gifted him earlier, and a tiger-skin cloak draped over his shoulders.

The first time Jiang Congyan saw the tiger-skin cloak, she was momentarily surprised—it was made from a rare white tiger pelt. Tuo Baxiao said he had hunted it a few years prior.

She knew he was extraordinarily brave, but she was still astonished to hear he had single-handedly slain a tiger. Wild tigers of this era were nothing like the tame, zoo-bred ones—they were kings forged through the brutal struggles of the wilderness.

Yet Tuo Baxiao did not think much of it. “Throughout history, I am hardly the only one to have shot a tiger,” he said.

At the time, Jiang Congyan teased, “So only by becoming the greatest in all history would it be worth boasting about?”

Tuo Baxiao did not reply, but it was very likely that was exactly what he thought.

This man was utterly proud.

But he had every reason to be.

Leaning against his chest, Jiang Congyan rode with him at the front, followed by several Imperial Guards carrying the offerings.

Along the way, she saw many households clearing snow.

Most of their dwellings were tents, reinforced with wooden poles but still not as sturdy as houses. Every morning, they had to clear the snow from the roofs to prevent the tents from collapsing under the weight.

The snow made the journey difficult, and what should have been a short distance took them nearly an hour to traverse.

Wang Fu's tomb lay to the south of Yan Zhi Lake. She had once expressed her wish to face south in death, as her homeland was in the southern grasslands. Thus, Tuoba Xiao had buried her there.

The area was a gently undulating stretch of hills, hardly more than a hill.

Jiang Congyan cupped a hand over her brow as she gazed into the distance, the glare of snow stung her eyes. To the left lay more rolling hills, while to the right stood a rare cluster of trees, now completely bare, their branches heavy with snow. Come spring and summer, the view would surely be lush and green. Further in the distance, faint mountain peaks loomed in the mist.

With her basic grasp of feng shui, she thought this seemed a peaceful resting place.

When they reached the tomb, several Imperial Guards cleared away the snow and dead grass covering the stone grave before laying out the offerings.

Only then did Jiang Congyan see the simple inscription on the tombstone: "In Memory of Mother Wang Fu."

She told the guards to set down the items and personally lit the incense, placing it in the burner before neatly arranging the fruits.

The cold bit deep, likely well below freezing. The moment she exposed her hands from her sleeves, they went numb in seconds.

After dismissing the guards, Tuoba Xiao knelt with her before the tomb, his large right hand firmly clasping her icy fingers.

"Mother, I've come to see you. This time, I'm not alone—I've brought my beloved. Her name is Jiang Congyan, the woman I love. She's as beautiful and strong as you were. I know you'd have liked her..."

She shot a glance at his face. Though they had been married for half a year, they rarely spoke of love. Tuoba Xiao wasn’t one for sweet talk, and she... well, she didn’t usually say such things either. Yet here he was, calling her his beloved so naturally.

Her pupils flickered slightly as she listened to him continue.

For someone as resolute as Tuoba Xiao, weakness never lasted long. Now composed, he spoke cheerfully to his late mother’s grave about his life, his voice brightening when he spoke of her.

When he finished, he turned to her. "Do you have anything you’d like to say to Mother?"

Jiang Congyan thought for a moment, then addressed the tombstone. "Mother, I should have visited you sooner. Blame Tuoba Xiao for not bringing me."

Hearing her blame him, Tuoba Xiao shot her a look. Jiang Congyan met his gaze and glared back—*What? It is your fault.*

Tuoba Xiao had no retort and could only play it cool.

She continued, "You were a great mother. I hesitate to use such a simple phrase, yet it fits you best. You raised him with such dedication and taught him so well. It’s truly remarkable..."

At this, his eyes lit up.

*Did she just say I’m good?*

Jiang Congyan spoke quietly for a while before hesitating. She glanced at the man beside her. "Go stand over there. There are some things I’d like to say to Mother alone."

"What can’t I hear?" he muttered.

She didn’t answer, only nudged his arm. "Are you going or not?"

He held her gaze a beat too long before reluctantly relenting.

Once she was certain he had walked far enough away, Jiang Congyan turned back to Wang Fu’s grave and spoke softly, "Mother, perhaps it was fate that brought me to Tuoba Xiao. Yesterday, I promised him I’d stay by his side. But I still worry. If your spirit lingers, I pray you’ll watch over him and keep him safe."

The thought of the disaster looming two years ahead always unsettled her. She had found no signs of Tuoba Xiao’s early demise—meaning the greatest threat likely lay on the battlefield.

He had treated her with sincerity, and she was no heart of stone. She truly wished for him to live well.

Standing in the distant wind, Tuoba Xiao’s gaze snapped into focus—*So she was asking for protection for me.*

Sometimes, he also felt she wasn’t that warm toward him. But now, he was satisfied. She didn’t say it out loud, but she had long held him in her heart.

The thought warmed his chest, making him so hot he barely felt the winter cold.

She was just being shy—why drive him away? She should’ve said it right in front of him.

Jiang Congyan had no idea Tuo Baxiao was thinking like that. Knowing his hearing was sharper than most, she had made sure he walked far off. Yet, he had still lingered close enough to hear a little of what she said.

As soon as she finished speaking and stood up, Tuo Baxiao approached.

"What did you say to Mother?"

He could be such a dog at times—clearly having eavesdropped, yet still pretending to ask. Jiang Congyan shook her head, calling it a secret between her and Mother, refusing to tell him.

Tuo Baxiao gave her a look. Hmph, even if she wouldn’t say it, he already knew.

Now, he felt happier than ever.

Though Mother had left him, he now had her.

Seeing Tuo Baxiao was suddenly so cheerful, Jiang Congyan couldn’t fathom what had made him so happy.

On the way back, she was once again held close while they rode on the Li Eagle’s back. Suddenly, she asked, "Your childhood name is Xiaonu?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Nothing. It’s just too adorable—hard to imagine calling you that."

"Huh?" Tuo Baxiao made a questioning sound.

Jiang Congyan didn’t answer, merely lowering her head with a soft laugh.

*Xiao*—owl. *Xiaonu*—baby owl.

Especially when she thought of those chubby ancient owl figures in future museums, it only made it even cuter.

Tuo Baxiao truly didn’t understand what she found so amusing. He grabbed her chin and turned her face toward him. "And you? What’s your childhood name?"

"Guess."

How could he possibly guess?

Knowing she was deliberately making it difficult for him, he gave her cheek a light squeeze, leaning in slightly as his sharp gaze locked on hers. "If you don’t tell me, I’ll kiss you."

Jiang Congyan: "...You’re impossible."

"Will you say it or not?" His lips hovered dangerously close, his breath hot on her lips.

With the Imperial Guards following behind, Jiang Congyan shot him an indignant glare but ultimately gave in.

"Chang Shengnu."

"Chang Shengnu?" Tuo Baxiao repeated, then added, "Fits you."

"I like this name too." Jiang Congyan turned her head away.

The original baby girl had been born prematurely, even frailer than her twin brother, not expected to live. Jiang Huai had done everything he could, seeking medicine and physicians. Even their childhood names carried his heartfelt hopes.

May she live up to this name.

The two of them left early in the morning, and shortly after they departed, Qiu Liju and Lan Zhu arrived. A Fei hurried out to greet them.

"Are the King and Khatun here? I wish to see them," Qiu Liju stood at the entrance.

"Unfortunately, they just left. They won’t be back for at least an hour or two," A Fei said with regret.

Qiu Liju didn’t question whether this was just an excuse to turn her away and simply said, "Then I’ll wait here for them to come back."

A Fei knew that yesterday, the Sixth Prince had provoked the King’s fury and nearly been beaten to death. Qiu Liju’s visit today was likely related to that incident.

She usually walked right into the tent, but today she chose to wait outside.

Thinking of their bond with the lady and knowing her temperament—she hated punishing others for someone else’s mistakes—A Fei advised, "Why not come inside with Miss Lan Zhu to wait? It’s too cold out here, and I worry you’ll freeze."

Qiu Liju only shook her head.

After what had happened, she couldn’t bring herself to act so familiarly anymore.

A Fei tried persuading her a couple more times, but Qiu Liju remained firm, so she stopped insisting. Still, she checked on them now and then, bringing them hot tea once to warm them up.

By noon, they finally spotted a small group approaching in the distance. At the front rode a sleek, powerful steed—Tuo Baxiao himself.

From afar, Tuo Baxiao caught sight of Qiu Liju, his brows snapping together, his eyes turning icy.

Half-asleep in his arms, Jiang Congyan had been dozing when she suddenly felt his body tense. Opening her eyes, she too saw Qiu Liju and Lan Zhu standing before the tent.

The two women stepped forward.

She barely had time to sit up before they were at the tent.

"King," Qiu Liju called out urgently.

Tuo Baxiao lifted her down, ignoring the two beside them as he led her straight into the tent. Jiang Congyan hardly had a chance to respond.

Qiu Liju panicked. Watching their backs about to disappear, she called out again, "Khatun!"

By then, Jiang Congyan had already been pulled inside, leaving Qiu Liju stranded outside.

"Qiu Liju wants to see you," she said to the man.

"No," Tuo Baxiao snapped. Qiu Liju was surely here for Tuoba Wuxi’s sake.

Jiang Congyan knew Tuoba Wuxi had pushed him too far, and the man’s hatred wouldn’t fade easily. But she cared for Qiu Liju and couldn’t bear to see her like this.

"Let me talk to her, at least? I’ll hear her out and then discuss it with you."

Tuo Baxiao gave her a disapproving look, but meeting her soft, pleading eyes, he couldn’t bring himself to refuse. He turned away and dropped onto the central couch.

Jiang Congyan knew he had relented and instructed A Fei to invite the two inside.

In their earlier hurried glance, she hadn’t seen them clearly. Now, she saw Qiu Liju’s exhausted eyes, snow piled on her head and shoulders, her face frozen pale—clearly, she had waited a long time. Lan Zhu was slightly better off but was nothing like her usual cheerful self.

Both women looked crushed, lifeless and uneasy.

Her heart ached, and she was about to ask A Fei to bring a brazier and hot tea to warm them when Qiu Liju suddenly dropped to her knees.

Jiang Congyan’s eyes flew open, struck silent.

Qiu Liju spoke with chattering teeth, "I came today to apologize on behalf of Tuoba Wuxi to the king. He did wrong and deserves punishment, but I am willing to offer all my livestock, gold, and silver in exchange for your mercy this once..."

"Doctor Zhang said his injuries are severe, and it's uncertain whether he will survive. If he doesn't make it, that is his fate. But if he does pull through, could you... could you spare his life?"

As she spoke, Qiu Liju kept bowing her head repeatedly. Her heart ached to see her this way, and Jiang Congyan stepped forward to support her arm.

Tuoba Xia remained silent, his face unreadable.

Qiu Liju then offered half of her troops and land, but he still refused to budge, unmoved by her offer.

After Qiu Liju finished pleading, Tuoba Xia still gave no response. Jiang Congyan had no choice but to gently persuade her to return home.

As Qiu Liju left the tent, she shot Jiang Congyan a look as if wanting to say something, but ultimately remained silent.

Jiang Congyan turned back, and the man finally reacted, his gaze settling on her. "Do you wish to speak for her?"

The young woman shook her head. "I pity Qiu Liju, but I know this is your matter to decide."

Tuoba Xia stood and drew her into his arms.

Earlier, he had wondered whether he should yield if she pleaded for Qiu Liju, but she hadn't put him in that difficult position.

Jiang Congyan returned his embrace briefly before gently pushing him away. "Let me ask Zhang Fu to examine your injuries again. Otherwise, I won't feel at ease."

Tuoba Xia felt he was fine and didn’t need it, but she insisted. Touched by her concern, he gave in, feeling warmth in his heart.

Zhang Fu quickly performed another examination and confirmed there were no major issues—just bruising that would fade in time.

Only then did Jiang Congyan fully relax. She then asked about Tuoba Wuxi’s condition, knowing Zhang Fu had treated him the previous night.

Zhang Fu cautiously glanced at Tuoba Xia, and seeing no anger, quietly reported Tuoba Wuxi’s grave injuries.

In short, he was at death’s door—his life hanging by a thread. Even if he survived, his body would be severely weakened, never regaining its former strength.

He had it coming—no one would let that slide.

After a long day, evening soon arrived.

The cold was bone-chilling. Despite thick felt coverings over the tent, heavy curtains and a wooden door blocking the wind, and a charcoal brazier inside, the biting chill still seeped in.

Jiang Congyan couldn’t stand the cold. Though winters in Liangzhou were harsh, she had built heated kang beds that kept her warm.

New here and caught up in chaos this year, she resolved to build a proper house next year—nothing extravagant, but far more comfortable than the tent.

With little to do in winter and bedtime still early, she picked up a book to read aloud to Tuoba Xia, as she often did.

He held her close. In summer, she found his embrace too warm, but now she welcomed it—his body heat was like a furnace. Snug in his arms with a thin blanket, she felt cozy.

She brought up her idea for a house, and he readily agreed, asking about the design and materials. "You're used to palaces in the Central Plains. This tent’s too rough—have I let you down? I should have built you a grand palace long ago, one worthy of you."

"You sound a little pouty," she teased before replying earnestly, "I’m still getting used to the tent, but I don’t feel wronged. Even in Liangzhou, my home was simply comfortable, not lavish. The grand palaces you saw in Chang'an weren’t mine, nor did I like them. What really matters is who you share your home with—luxury means little otherwise."

His chest tightened with warmth at her words, a soothing comfort spreading through him.

How could he help but love her?

After reading for a while, Jiang Congyan slipped away to wash up.

She couldn’t bathe daily now, only managing a quick sponge bath—not for lack of trying, but to keep from getting sick.

After soaking her feet in hot water, she quickly burrowed under the blankets with a hot water bottle, bundling up to trap the heat.

Moments later, the man wedged himself in next to her. Jiang Congyan didn’t refuse, even stretching her feet between his calves for warmth. But the next second, a rough hand slipped under her clothes, scraping against her skin.

"Yan Yan..." he called hoarsely, his intention clear.

Jiang Congyan grabbed his hand through the clothes. "Your injuries aren’t fully healed yet."

"I’m fine. Didn’t that doctor of yours say so?"

"He also said you need to rest and recover for a while."

"It’s just a minor wound—nothing serious. If you refuse me, that’s when I’ll really suffer."

Jiang Congyan: "..."

"No."

Even after her firm refusal, Tuo Baxiao refused to relent. Especially after the emotional upheaval of the past few days, he felt he loved her even more, wishing they could stay together every moment without parting.

Last night, when he first spoke of his late mother and bared his heart, his desires hadn’t been so overwhelming. But the suppressed emotions and affection had been building, reaching their peak tonight. If he didn’t release them, he truly would suffer.

"Yan Yan, Chang Shengnu, Yan Yan..." He kept murmuring her name.

Seeing sweat beading on his forehead in the cold, and unable to restrain his wandering hands, Jiang Congyan felt his body taut as a drawn bowstring. In the end, she gave in halfheartedly.

"Just once." She was still concerned about his injuries.

"Mhm, mhm." He agreed absently, already planting sloppy kisses on her.

...

Though they’d agreed on once, the man took two breaks, stretching that 'once' into a full hour.

...

As the weather turned colder, Jiang Congyan’s appetite seemed to improve. Combined with the man’s insistence that she eat until she was stuffed, before she knew it, two months had passed, and she actually gained a little weight. Though still slender, she was a bit fuller than before. Tuo Baxiao was the first to notice—after all, he held and caressed her daily, and the increasingly soft, smooth texture made her utterly irresistible.

At this time of year, darkness fell completely before mid-afternoon, leaving most of the day in night. With fewer matters to attend to, Tuo Baxiao found himself with rare leisure. Once his injuries healed and she no longer had an excuse to refuse him, he spent every night carrying on wildly with her, to the point that Jiang Congyan was ready to throw him out.

Tuo Baxiao was unfazed. "If I leave, who’ll warm your bed at night?"

Jiang Congyan had no retort.