Chapter 105 Casting a thin and lonely silhouette…

Chapter 105 revealed a lean, lonely figure against the light...

By the end of November, the New Year’s gifts sent by Jiang Congyan to Liangzhou arrived.

Upon hearing the news, Madam Cui was thrilled and even stepped out of the warm chamber to wait in person. The younger generation who had been keeping her company—Zhang Hongying, Zhang Yinhua, and Zhang You—hurried to support her.

"Grandmother, be careful—the snow makes the path slippery."

Zhang You, the fastest, was the first to reach her arm, but Madam Cui brushed him off. "Your grandmother isn’t so frail as to need a walking stick yet."

His hand hung in midair before he scratched his head in embarrassment.

Zhang Hongying and Zhang Yinhua, the two sisters, burst out laughing at him.

Just then, the bearers carrying the gifts arrived in the courtyard. Seeing Madam Cui, they quickly set down the boxes and bowed.

"On behalf of our lady, we greet you, Madam. These are the New Year’s gifts she sent us to deliver," said Luo Qi.

Madam Cui barely spared the gifts a glance. "We’ll look at those later. First, give me my granddaughter’s letter."

Luo Qi promptly untied the bag strapped to his back, retrieving a tightly sealed oil-paper package. After unwrapping it, he respectfully presented the contents with both hands.

It was a thick stack, indicating numerous letters inside.

Given the harsh journey through wind and snow, coupled with the turbulent times, he’d taken every precaution—especially with this bundle of letters. Afraid they might be damaged or lost, he had entrusted it to no one else, carrying it personally and checking its condition daily.

Zhang Hongying, Zhang Yinhua, and Zhang You gathered around eagerly. Once their grandmother took her letter, the three siblings searched for their own with anticipation.

They were lucky to have come to visit today, allowing them to receive their letters first. Their elder brother, sister, and third brother would have to wait until evening.

Zhang Hongying addressed Luo Qi and his men, "Thank you for your hard work—it must have been tough traveling in such bitter cold."

"It’s no trouble at all," Luo Qi replied humbly.

Zhang Hongying then instructed the household servants to lead them away for hot tea and a warm meal, knowing their grandmother would later question them in detail. Noticing the strong wind outside, she urged Madam Cui to return indoors to read the letters properly, and the group returned to the warm room.

Though Madam Cui had seemed impatient earlier, she now read the letter slowly, memorizing every word and picturing Chang Shengnu as she wrote.

In the letter, Chang Shengnu assured her that she was well—that the Prince of Mobei treated her with respect, never forcing her into anything against her will, and had even aided her in many ways. She had made a place for herself among the Xianbei and urged her grandmother not to worry. She added that she quite enjoyed her current life, finding it freer than in Liang State, with more opportunities to act. If all went well, she might even be able to benefit Liangzhou in the future...

Despite the good news, Madam Cui’s old eyes filled with tears.

Chang Shengnu claimed she was fine, but leaving her homeland to marry alone into the distant frontier, surrounded by fierce barbarians—how could settling there be easy? She must have endured countless hardships and dangers. Just the attempted ambush months ago on her way to Xianbei had nearly caused Madam Cui to faint from worry upon hearing the news. Learning that Chang Shengnu had been captured and injured by Wudati Hou, she had wished desperately to fly to her side. Though later letters downplayed it as minor scrapes, Madam Cui knew her granddaughter’s habit of hiding troubles. Chang Shengnu had been frail since birth, and at seven, she’d nearly died. All these years, Madam Cui had treasured her like her own life—her precious heart...

After finishing her own letter, Zhang Hongying noticed her grandmother still reading, her face lined with worry and concern. She sighed silently. While the younger generation could gather around their grandmother, only Yan Yan had been forced to leave Liangzhou. As the sole descendant of her aunt, how could their grandmother not fret?

When news arrived in March that Yan Yan had been given in marriage to the Prince of Mobei by the emperor, Madam Cui had exploded in fury, cursing loudly at the gates: "That whelp Jiang Ming, rotten to the core, incompetent fool!" Grandfather had tried to hush her, only to be beaten by her in turn. When she stopped berating the emperor, she turned on him: "It’s all your fault, Zhang Wei! If you had a real army, would the emperor dare treat my child this way?"

Grandfather had no choice but to endure her blows. If he truly had a million-strong army, would the current ruler still sit on the throne? He would have long avenged years of bloodshed.

After her outburst, Madam Cui had ordered him to mobilize troops while she prepared to don armor and ride out to bring Yan Yan back, refusing to let her be sacrificed to political marriage. How could delicate Chang Shengnu survive the harsh frontier, wed to barbarians? If necessary, she was ready to tear off the veil of pretense with that whelp of a Liang emperor—who feared whom? For the Jiang dynasty, the Zhang family had put up with too much.

Knowing she was too upset to listen, Grandfather hadn’t dared to argue. It was only Yan Yan’s timely letter that saved him. She pleaded with her grandparents not to act rashly—she had weighed the pros and cons and was willingly marrying the Prince of Mobei. Any sudden moves from the Zhang family might ruin her plans.

Madam Cui had clutched the letter and wept, murmuring "my child" over and over. Willing? Only for the sake of strategy, not an ounce of affection. Her Chang Shengnu deserved the finest husband in the world.

Over the following months, more letters arrived, with Yan Yan steadily reassuring them until Madam Cui finally accepted the situation.

Zhang Hongying stepped closer and gently embraced her grandmother’s shoulders. "Grandmother, since Yan Yan has chosen this path, we have to back her up. See if her letter asks anything of us—we should prepare early so we can act as soon as spring arrives."

Hearing this, Madam Cui finally pulled herself together and regained her composure.

Just then, a servant at the door announced that the master had returned. The words were barely out of his mouth when a strapping general strode across the threshold. Clad in armor, he removed his helmet as he walked and handed it to a nearby servant. Clearly, he had rushed back straight from the training grounds the moment he heard of his granddaughter’s letter arriving.

Marquis of Liangzhou, Zhang Wei, had spent decades on the battlefield. Though nearing seventy with graying temples, he carried the fierce and imposing aura of a seasoned warrior, as if he carried the reek of battle. Ordinary people would shrink at the sight, not daring to regard him as a mere elderly man. Even now, returning home with slightly softened demeanor, his steps still exuded vigor.

Yet, when he stood before Madam Cui, his expression turned wheedling. Rubbing his hands together, he asked eagerly, "Where’s my granddaughter’s letter? Let me see it quickly."

Madam Cui shot him a sidelong glance. "Scrub those horse-dung hands first before you touch the letter."

Zhang Wei: "..."

This time, he truly hadn’t touched any—there was barely any mud on his hands.

Zhang Hongying, Zhang Yinhua, and their siblings couldn’t help but laugh.

The last time Yan Yan’s letter arrived, their grandfather had also rushed back from drills, too eager to notice the dirt on his hands. He grabbed the letter, leaving a smudged black fingerprint on the paper, which infuriated Madam Cui so much she boxed his ears several times. Since then, she’d insisted his hands were tainted with horse dung.

Grandfather fumed—wasn’t he the dignified Marquis of Liangzhou? Did his title mean nothing?

Helpless, the Marquis had no choice but to wash his hands thoroughly before being deemed worthy of reading his granddaughter’s letter.

Halfway through, he couldn’t help pounding the table in pride. "Truly my granddaughter! A woman capable of great deeds!"

Madam Cui glared at him angrily. These pig-headed men only cared about "great deeds," never sparing a thought for how difficult it must have been for Chang Shengnu, a young woman, to reach this point.

After finishing the letter, Madam Cui summoned Luo Qi again to inquire about Jiang Congyan’s specific circumstances among the Xianbei.

"Is Chang Shengnu truly as well as she claims in her letter? How does the Prince of Mobei treat her?"

Though Madam Cui was usually as gentle as any grandmother to the younger generation, the moment she sat upright on the couch, her expression stern, the commanding presence of decades in power radiated from her. It left no room for hesitation—only the instinct to obey and truthfully divulge every scrap of information known.

Luo Qi reported everything he knew, particularly about the newly established workshops and merchant caravans. As for how the Prince of Mobei treated the young lady, he naturally had no insight into private matters. He could only say, "...Sometimes, I’ve seen the Prince of Mobei walking with the young lady, often smiling and even offering her his arm. He seems attentive, at least."

Madam Cui pinned him with her gaze. "Truly?"

Luo Qi hurriedly replied, "I’d never lie to you, Madam."

Madam Cui pressed him with many more questions until the Marquis, noticing Luo Qi’s stiff expression and sweat beading on his forehead, couldn’t help interjecting, "Enough. Anyone watching would think you’re interrogating a criminal."

Madam Cui shot him a fierce glare. "You’re the Marquis of Liangzhou, swamped with court business day and night. Naturally, you’ve no time to care whether Chang Shengnu is managing all alone in barbarian lands."

Hearing the anger in his wife’s voice, the Marquis dared not speak further.

In any case, thanks to Jiang Congyan’s New Year gifts, the Zhang household in Liangzhou was lively again, the atmosphere rivaling that of the New Year.

Jiang Congyan had written over a dozen letters—for her grandfather, grandmother, two uncles and their wives, six siblings, and even the stewards of Liangzhou. She had worn out two inksticks writing.

Gifts were prepared for everyone, including early birthday presents for the elders. Some received her own paintings, others knotted blessings. For Madam Cui, she sent rare furs to ward off the winter chill. For the Marquis of Liangzhou, she included gold and silver that Tuo Baxiao had previously brought back from the Jie tribe—trinkets she couldn’t be bothered with. It amounted to a considerable sum. Naturally, she couldn’t sell them in front of Tuo Baxiao, but passing them off as family presents posed no issue.

By evening, once everyone had returned, the Marquis gathered them all to discuss future plans. They would surely visit the Xianbei next year, but they couldn’t make a grand show of it—deciding who to send remained a question.

——

Chang’an.

Jiang Huai had also received New Year gifts from his daughter, sent right to his door.

The Prince’s residence was crawling with the Liang Emperor’s spies, so this would naturally be reported. But a daughter’s filial piety to her father was only right—snubbing him would’ve earned her scorn. Even the Emperor couldn’t make a stink about it.

The King of Chu's manor had grown increasingly desolate. Lady Zhao had been sent away, along with the servants from her courtyard. As for Jiang Congyan's side, it went without saying—aside from those previously arranged by Lady Zhao, she'd taken all her own people with her, and even those left behind had gone into hiding.

Imperial Guard Yuan Jia, responsible for delivering the gifts, pounded on the door for what felt like ages before it was finally opened. The gatekeeper, still yawning with his hands tucked in his sleeves, looked completely indifferent.

Yuan Jia frowned but ultimately held back any comment, striding into the manor with his subordinates.

Chang'an too lay buried under heavy snow, covering the entire manor in white. Yet, not a single servant could be seen shoveling the snow—they all huddled indoors, avoiding the cold. They reasoned that since their master rarely went out and didn’t seem to care, what was the point of clearing snow? It would just pile up again tomorrow anyway.

Yuan Jia delivered the New Year’s gifts to the Lishui Courtyard, where he found the King of Chu in a half-drunk daze, slumped in a cloak that revealed a crumpled hem beneath—utterly unkempt.

Though puzzled, Yuan Jia dared not show disrespect. He handed over the gifts and letter respectfully. The King of Chu grunted in acknowledgment, instructing the servants to settle the visitors properly before turning away without another word.

Yuan Jia wondered—wouldn't the king ask after his daughter?

As the year drew to a close, most homes buzzed with holiday preparations, visiting relatives and friends in lively celebration. Yet the King of Chu’s manor remained entirely detached from this festive atmosphere.

It was common knowledge that the King of Chu spent his days lost in his cups, indifferent to worldly affairs, and estranged from his royal relatives. Thus, not a single guest came calling.

As evening fell, Jiang Huai lit two candles. Though he knew the letter—meant to be seen by others—wouldn’t contain much, he still read every word carefully.

Outside, the north wind howled. Jiang Huai, wrapped in his cloak, sat alone in the empty pavilion, gazing at the faint glow of snow through the window as he poured himself another cup of wine.

The flickering candlelight threw his gaunt, lonely shadow against the wall.

——

On the other side of Chang'an, Jiang Yuer also received a letter.

When the messenger boy arrived at her courtyard, he ran into Eleventh Brother, who had just returned from his studies.

Eleventh Brother glanced at the gate, seeing her eyes crinkle with joy, and frowned, his cheeks flushed with irritation. He turned and strode into her courtyard.

"Is it another letter from Brother?"

Startled by his abrupt arrival, Jiang Yuer froze, instinctively pulling the letter close as she stammered, "...Yes."

This wasn't true—it was actually a letter from her elder sister. Huan Jun had never written to her.

The misunderstanding had started some time ago.

After Huan Jun left, Jiang Yuer once received a letter from her sister, only to be spotted by Eleventh Brother. He had asked then, "Is that a letter from Brother?"

Unwilling to reveal her correspondence with her sister and risk causing trouble for either of them, she had nodded without thinking. Eleventh Brother, taking her admission as truth, had stormed off in frustration, unable to vent his anger in front of her.

"Brother treats you so well—writing to you again, but never to me," Eleventh Brother said bitterly, torn between jealousy and resentment. Seeing her earlier excitement, he couldn’t understand. "Do you really like my brother that much? Just seeing his letter makes you so happy?"

Before she could answer, he insisted, making a grab for it, "I advise you not to like him. He won’t return your feelings. He only writes to you out of obligation—he likes Sister Lu."

It was unclear whether he was saying this for her sake or his own.

Truthfully, he was conflicted and aggrieved. He still believed his brother loved Sister Lu—otherwise, why would he have specifically asked him to look after her before leaving? But then, what was this business with the Sixth Princess? Was his brother two-timing? No, he wouldn’t stand for it.

Jiang Yuer knew he had misunderstood, but explaining was impossible. She couldn’t reveal the real reason, so the misunderstanding would have to stand.

"Let me see what Brother wrote to you," Eleventh Brother insisted, making a grab for it.

He wanted to check—if his brother had truly written lovey-dovey nonsense, he would tell Sister Lu immediately, breaking the news that his brother had moved on and she shouldn’t wait for him anymore.

"No," Jiang Yuer refused, pulling the letter close.

"Why? Is there something I can't see?" he asked curiously. Over the past few months, he had come to know this little sister-in-law—no, Sixth Princess—as very soft-natured, so her flat-out refusal surprised him.

The more she refused, the more curious Eleventh Brother became, and the more he dug in his heels.

"It’s just... not allowed," Jiang Yuer said, biting her lip and lowering her head.

"Fine, then I won’t—" Mid-sentence, Eleventh Brother suddenly lunged and swiped the letter from her hand while she was off guard. Jiang Yuer stood stunned for a moment before realizing what had happened and hurried after him. "Give it back! That’s mine!"

Though Eleventh Brother was two years younger than her, he was in a growth spurt and had already grown slightly taller than her. Combined with his martial training and boundless energy, he was as slippery as an eel, easily dodging her attempts to catch him.

Jiang Yuer kept insisting, "Give me back the letter!" But Eleventh Brother wouldn’t relent. In the chase, Jiang Yuer failed to notice the snow at her feet, slipped, and fell hard to the ground, her knee taking the worst of it. It hurt so bad she nearly cried.

Seeing this, Eleventh Brother froze, unsure what to do.

Jiang Yuer’s maid rushed to help her up, but she stubbornly kept her gaze on Eleventh Brother. "Give me back the letter."

Her eyes were red, brimming with tears as she sat on the ground, looking up at him under the winter sunlight. Her fair face bore an expression of both grievance and determination, and something in Eleventh Brother’s heart seemed to tremble faintly.

"I—I didn’t mean to make you fall," Eleventh Brother said, guilt twisting his gut.

If his elder brother found out he had snatched her letter, he’d skin him alive.

"I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have taken your letter. Here, take it back. Don’t cry—I apologize," Eleventh Brother thrust the letter back into her hands.

Jiang Yuer took it and noticed the envelope was creased from his grip. She frowned at the creases but relaxed—at least he hadn’t seen the contents.

Eleventh Brother, seeing her still silent, fidgeted, unsure if she had forgiven him. He scrambled for ideas, trying to think of a way to make amends.

"There’s snow on the ground—let me help you up," he said, grabbing her arm and hauling her to her feet.

Jiang Yuer let out a yelp in surprise.

Eleventh Brother let go, not realizing she hadn’t steadied herself yet. With her knee still hurting, she couldn’t regain her balance in time and nearly fell again. He quickly jerked her backward, but in his haste, he used too much force, sending her crashing into him.

Eleventh Brother went rigid.

Jiang Yuer felt the world spin around her, jostled around like a ragdoll. It took her a moment to steady herself, and she pushed him away, enduring the pain in her knee. She hobbled inside.

Eleventh Brother, realizing he was the cause of her injury, hurried to her side but didn’t dare grab her again. Tentatively, he asked, "Want a hand?"

"No need."

"Does your knee hurt badly? Should I call a physician?"

"Just a scrape. I’m fine."

Nothing seemed to work. Frustrated, Eleventh Brother scratched his head. "Are you still mad at me? I’ll make it up to you—I promise I won’t do this again."

Jiang Yuer stopped and looked at him. "You said it—no more snatching my letters."

Eleventh Brother thumped his chest. "I swear I won’t do it again. Does that mean you forgive me?"

Jiang Yuer gave a slight nod.

"Heh." Eleventh Brother grinned like a doofus.

After Eleventh Brother left, Jiang Yuer sat in her inner chamber as her maid lifted her pant leg to examine the injury.

No wonder she could barely stand from the pain earlier—that fall really did a number on her, scraping the skin raw and leaving her entire knee swollen.

Nü Xia applied medicine to her wound while grumbling under her breath, “Your Highness, you let people off too easy. Eleventh Brother caused this, yet you just forgave him. If we reported it to Madam, she would surely punish him.”

Jiang Yuer shook her head. “Let it go. It’s not a big deal. Though Madam treats me well, Eleventh Brother is still her child. He didn’t mean to—he’s just a troublemaker.”

Madam Huan was kind enough to her, but Jiang Yuer knew that compared to her own son, she’d always come second. If she kept bringing up trivial complaints about Eleventh Brother, even if Madam didn’t say anything outwardly, she would likely hold a grudge against her in her heart.

She just wanted to live peacefully, staying out of trouble whenever possible.

When Eleventh Brother returned to the neighboring courtyard, he suddenly looked at his hands, then seemed to recall something and shook his head hard.

—

When Jiang Congyan’s New Year gifts were delivered to various places, she also received gifts from Chang’an and Liangzhou.

Especially those from Liangzhou—spices, fabrics, everything you could ask for. Most importantly, there were several letters.

In his letter, her third cousin summarized the year’s operations in Liangzhou, noting that the scale had expanded compared to the previous year. Everything was progressing steadily, so she had nothing to worry about.

As for her grandmother’s letter, it mostly asked if she was getting by okay on the grasslands, whether daily life was comfortable, and included many dried fruits and vegetables—all things she used to love.

Jiang Congyan felt warmth in her heart. How could she stand to see such devoted family members scattered in the chaos of war, their blood spilled across the land?

By the eleventh month, deep into winter, the weather grew increasingly cold. The earth was blanketed in snow, and the entire grassland fell into silence. Everyone could only hole up inside, waiting out the winter.

Some livestock shelters weren’t sturdy enough, and the wind tore holes in them at night. The next morning, when the herders shoveled snow, they found many cattle and sheep frozen to death, devastating them.

If the livestock died, even if they survived the winter, what would they do the following year?

Jiang Congyan instructed A Chun and Si Zi to keep an eye on the herders’ situation and offered to trade wheat for the frozen carcasses.

The herders naturally agreed. Wheat could be stored for a long time, and even if the new livestock took time to grow, they could rely on the wheat to avoid starvation. Jiang Congyan, in turn, had the exchanged livestock slaughtered, cleaned, salted, and dried into jerky. The next year, the merchant caravans could take them to the Central Plains to trade for other goods—a win-win.

The snow grew heavier, and finally, in late November, a brutal blizzard swept across most of the grassland.

That night, even Jiang Congyan was awakened by the howling winds outside.