Chapter 106 An unexpected person appeared in Xianbei…

Chapter 106: An Unwelcome Presence Appears Among the Xianbei...

Tuo Baxiao woke before her. Noticing her uneven breaths, he tightened his arm around her. "You've never seen a storm like this before, have you? Scared?"

Jiang Congyan rolled her eyes, then realized it was too dark for him to see—her effort wasted. She pushed at his arm to make him ease up, signaling the man to loosen his grip.

It was frustrating how much he loved holding her while they slept. While it helped in winter, his embrace was often too tight, sometimes even pinning her legs, making her uncomfortable. No matter how often she protested, he refused to adjust.

"No, I’m just worried about the damage our people will suffer by morning."

She listened intently to the sounds around them. Her tent was supported by dozens of massive beams and reinforced before winter, making it one of the sturdiest in the royal compound. Yet even so, she could feel the walls trembling as if from an earthquake. A vase by the wall crashed down, shattering with a crisp sound.

"With winds this strong, many tents won’t hold," she murmured, her voice faint in the hazy darkness.

Tuo Baxiao’s expression darkened as he studied her face. "You were right. Winters have grown harsher these past few years."

Worry churned in Jiang Congyan’s chest, keeping her awake. Suddenly, she thought of the Xiongnu and gasped, clutching his robe. "If the Xiongnu fare no better than the Xianbei, will they invade next year?"

Her eyes strained to read his shadowed face in the gloom.

"Almost certain."

Her heart sank.

If the Xiongnu marched east, the Xianbei would bear the brunt. If they turned south, Liang and Liangzhou would be plunged into war.

The Xiongnu had long coveted the fertile lands and resources of the south. Harsh weather was the perfect catalyst to push their wavering resolve into action.

History always left traces. The sacking of Chang’an four years later was just the inevitable outcome.

At this moment, she felt like a speck of dust against the forces of nature and history.

Sensing her unease, Tuo Baxiao pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Relax. If the Xiongnu so much as step out of line, I’ll ensure none return alive."

He’d made no secret of his hunger to destroy the Xiongnu. Though his tactics seemed brute force, every campaign was calculated—how else could he remain undefeated?

"Mmm." She nodded faintly.

Tuo Baxiao wasn’t her concern—Liang was.

Her feelings toward Liang were complicated. She despised the current Emperor of Liang and the rotten court puppeteered by the clans, knowing it was beyond salvation. But the ordinary folk didn’t deserve this!

When disaster struck, the first to suffer were never the lofty nobles but the struggling masses.

Neither slept the next hour. They dozed briefly before rising as dawn approached to wash and dress.

With the storm’s devastation, Jiang Congyan immediately sent Imperial Guards to summon their subordinates. Tuo Baxiao’s men arrived as well, skipping the king’s tent entirely and gathering in her front hall to await orders.

The crowd was large—Kediyan, Tuo Bahuai, He Rangan, Duan Muqi... along with her own people, nearly twenty in total, filling the room.

Knee-deep snow had turned the trip into a slog. Their hems were drenched, shoulders powdered with snow, eyelashes rimed with ice, fingers stiff as iron. They rubbed their hands and stamped their feet, shivering.

Noticing this, Jiang Congyan had maids bring braziers and hot tea to warm them.

Seated beside Tuo Baxiao at the head, she let them thaw slightly before addressing them.

"You likely know why you’re here. Last night’s storm was unusually fierce. A quick look revealed dozens of tents shredded—other areas must be worse. Prioritize repairs today, or tonight’s continued storm will be unbearable..."

She dispatched teams to assess damages to workshops, barracks, and storehouses, saving what was salvageable. A Chun, Si Zi, Zhang Zheng, He Rangan, and others were assigned to survey the royal grounds, each delegated specific tasks.

Kediyan watched as she effortlessly took charge of the royal court affairs, his expression darkening as he glanced at Tuo Baxiao. Yet, the king didn’t so much as blink, clearly accustomed to her making decisions without consulting him. In fact, his eyes held a glint of approval, as if he found this Han woman’s arrangements perfectly reasonable.

Traditionally, he would have been the one commanding the men.

In just half a year, this Han woman had set up workshops throughout the royal grounds, occupying vast stretches of land. Though all land in the court belonged to the king, under the old Xianbei King’s rule, most of it had been distributed among the nobles.

She leveraged the sugar trade with the Xianbei people, and many had unknowingly been won over by her.

She also had all the Liang craftsmen under her thumb. Because of this, the iron traded in autumn was sent to her, and she even managed to claim a small portion for herself, insisting it was for making farm tools to send to Tumochuan. Yes, Tumochuan—that fertile land was now mostly under her control.

The more Kediyan thought about it, the more alarmed he became. The king was completely smitten with this Han woman, giving her whatever she wanted. If this continued, in a few years, the entire Xianbei might fall under her sway.

A growing dread filled Kediyan—not just for Xianbei, but for himself. If he didn’t act soon, his position would be usurped by this Han woman.

But calling her out outright would just piss him off. He needed a plan that wouldn’t implicate himself...

After assigning tasks within the royal court, Jiang Congyan passed the reins to Tuo Baxiao.

Tuo Baxiao coolly scanned the men before him. "Who among you is willing to inspect the conditions of the other tribes?"

This task was entirely different from patrolling the royal court. Xianbei was vast but sparsely populated, with tribes scattered far and wide. Normally, riding out would be merely exhausting, but in the thick of winter, fresh off a blizzard, venturing out was undeniably perilous. Getting stuck out there could be a death sentence.

The men hesitated briefly before Tuo Bahuai stepped forward. "My king, I will go."

His gaze was fierce with resolve, his expression unwavering, as if the hardships of the journey meant nothing to him.

Since he volunteered, Tuo Baxiao naturally agreed, quickly handing him a token and instructing him to prepare. Two others also accepted the task, and the king approved them as well.

Jiang Congyan glanced at Tuo Bahuai. After Yu Wentuo’s death and Tumochuan’s stabilization under Ruo Lan’s management, Tuo Bahuai had returned to the royal court. Initially, he had wanted to join Tuo Baxiao in fighting the Jie, but later went with Chigan Balie to the western border to guard against the Xiongnu, only returning before winter.

From her observations, Tuo Bahuai was intelligent, bold, and quick to seize opportunities—no surprise, in the original timeline, he had managed to rally the remnants of Xianbei to resist the Xiongnu after Tuo Baxiao’s fall. A man like that should’ve been her type, especially since he was well-versed in Han culture. Yet, for some reason, perhaps because he was too eager, she couldn’t shake her unease around him.

But he had done nothing wrong. In fact, he had played a crucial role in persuading Du Gubo during the Tumochuan affair, helping her immensely. She couldn’t exactly complain, so she could only watch for now.

Orders were issued one after another, responsibilities clearly assigned, and soon, the men departed to carry out their tasks.

The workshops housed many carpenters and stonemasons, and with the addition of apprentices over the past few months, their numbers had grown to two or three hundred. Though still insufficient for Xianbei’s needs, it was better than nothing. Zhang Zheng and the others led the carpenters to the collapsed tents, especially the military barracks, where repairs were already in full swing under their guidance.

Some tents, though damaged with holes or missing roofs, could still be patched up. Others, already fragile, had been completely crushed by the snow. A few had even been swept away by the gale the previous night, gone without a trace—nothing left to fix. Rebuilding was impossible—there wasn’t enough time or materials.

The herders, now homeless, were in despair, huddling together under a thin blanket, shivering in the bitter wind as they dreaded the night ahead.

Just as they resigned themselves to their plight, a small party trudged through the snow their way—a Han man accompanied by what appeared to be a mixed-blood Xianbei.

The mixed-blood Xianbei surveyed the scene before asking, "Your tent was blown away. Do you have anywhere to stay tonight?"

The herder hesitated before replying, "My relatives and friends’ tents were also destroyed."

So, there was nowhere to go.

The mixed-blood relayed this to the Han man, who then pulled out paper and brush, jotting something down. The herder then heard the interpreter explain, "If you have nowhere to go tonight, you may take shelter in the Khatun’s workshops. But you must follow the rules. If you steal or cause trouble, the overseers will throw you out."

The herder’s family, overjoyed, quickly swore to behave. Just having a roof to shield them from the storm was more than they could have hoped for—they wouldn’t dare cause trouble.

The man handed them a braided wristband with a numbered tag matching their family size, explaining that it would grant them a night’s shelter in the workshops. After pointing them in the right direction, he moved on to the next family.

The herders stood stunned for a moment before hurriedly gathering their belongings and heading toward the workshops.

"The Khatun’s mercy is boundless!" the herder couldn’t help but exclaim.

These weren’t just a handful of cases; nearly every squad encountered many. The people Jiang Congyan dispatched spread out like an ever-expanding net, slowly rebuilding the royal court’s structure. Soon, repairs were made where needed, and those needing shelter from the snow were relocated. After gathering reports from each squad, Jiang Congyan could estimate the extent of the disaster in the royal court.

Beyond the disaster, this was also the first time she gained such a clear understanding of the population situation in the royal court.

——

Tuoba Wuxi had been nearly beaten to death by Tuo Baxiao that day. Later, Zhang Fu was begged by Qiu Liju to treat his injuries. Zhang Fu was a highly skilled physician, yet even so, Tuoba Wuxi remained in critical condition, running a fever for two weeks before finally regaining consciousness. However, he was severely weakened—especially his broken ribs and left arm, which would require at least three to four months of recovery. Thus, even after waking, he remained weak and bedridden for over a month.

He had sunk into despair, ashamed of being beaten so badly by Tuo Baxiao. Knowing he had provoked the one wound Tuo Baxiao could not bear, and aware of his vengeful nature, Tuoba Wuxi was certain that even if he wasn’t killed now, Tuo Baxiao would come back to finish him off.

The memory still haunted him—that year when Tuo Baxiao was only thirteen but killed three men in a single day—all of whom had tormented his Han Chinese mother. For this, he infuriated the Khatun and nobles, who banished him to the deadliest battlefield. Yet, through extraordinary resilience and valor, he earned the soldiers’ respect and led them to victory and survival.

After ascending the throne, he executed all who had tormented his Han Chinese mother and banned anyone from ever bringing it up, warning that those who dared would meet the same fate.

“When I die, take Mica and return to the Helan tribe,” Tuoba Wuxi had said to Qiu Liju when he first regained consciousness.

The murderous rage in Tuo Baxiao’s eyes during their fight still haunted him—a bone-deep killing intent.

Qiu Liju exploded in anger upon hearing this. Were he not severely injured, she would’ve throttled him. Instead, she wept and scolded, “Do you know how much effort Lan Zhu and I put into saving your life, how many people we begged? And now you talk of dying? Tuoba Wuxi, didn’t you once call yourself the bravest Xianbei warrior on the steppe? Now you’re ready to give up after a few injuries? What happened to the Sixth Prince’s pride?”

Tuoba Wuxi lay on the bed, eyes closed, unresponsive—until a small, soft hand grasped his fingers.

“Father, don’t die. You promised to teach me horseback riding and archery, to make me a Xianbei warrior. Father…”

Tuoba Wuxi opened his eyes to see Mica standing by the bed, staring up at him with pleading eyes. Qiu Liju’s face was gaunt, her cheeks cracked from the harsh winter cold.

He knew how much she cared for her beauty, rubbing sheep fat on her skin to keep it soft every winter. Yet now, she had neglected even that—all for his sake.

Tuoba Wuxi could no longer speak of dying, though his former arrogance had vanished.

Unable to move or manage affairs, he left most tasks to Lan Zhu these days. When she sought his opinion, he merely agreed absentmindedly, letting her take charge. Over time, his subordinates grew accustomed to Lan Zhu handling military and tribal matters.

After last night’s snowstorm, they came to Lan Zhu early in the morning, asking for instructions.

They had to act fast, but where and how to prioritize required her decision.

Having grown up on the steppe, Lan Zhu had experienced multiple snow disasters. She knew well that without shelter at night, the plummeting temperatures could indeed freeze people to death.

She ordered the immediate repair of still-intact tents, telling those who lost their tents to double up with others.

But soon, someone reported that the noble lords refused. “The lords say their livestock must also enter the tents, leaving no extra space.”

Lan Zhu bit back a curse in frustration.

Commoners’ tents were already less sturdy than those of the nobles, yet they cared more about their animals than their people.

But she was powerless. Unlike Tuoba Wuxi, she lacked the authority to command them.

The troops could cram into their barracks, but what of their families? Most were ordinary herders.

As Lan Zhu pondered helplessly, the young cavalry messenger glanced at her hesitantly.

“Speak your mind,” she ordered, her tone already carrying the authority of a leader.

The young cavalryman was her Imperial Guard, familiar with her daily affairs. Knowing she had once been close to the Khatun, he told her what he’d seen and heard.

“…The Khatun has taken in many tentless herders, sheltering them temporarily in the workshops. Since you were once close to her, perhaps she would be willing to help if you asked.”

Lan Zhu lowered her eyes, didn’t agree right away.

In truth, it had been a long time since she last sought out Ah Yan. Ever since the incident with her elder brother, she couldn’t face her out of shame.

She had considered going before but ultimately couldn’t work up the courage. She feared that things between her and Ah Yan would never return to the way they used to be.

She hadn’t gone before, and now that she was in trouble, she thought of asking for help. Lan Zhu felt really awkward about it.

But her guard was watching her eagerly, and after all, it concerned so many lives. Lan Zhu clenched her fists, took a deep breath, and said, "Bring the horse."

——

Before dusk, the sky had already darkened completely. All disaster relief efforts had to be hurried. People kept coming to the tent to report progress to Jiang Congyan, who was so swamped she barely had time to rest, even hastily eating her midday meal. Tuo Baxiao had left early in the morning with his subordinates. The Xianbei people were stubborn and headstrong, and though Jiang Congyan’s relief measures were excellent, the nobles might not cooperate unless the king himself threw his weight around. Of course, this was also an opportunity to win people over.

Given his half-Han blood, many in the tribe might not be really loyal to him.

Jiang Congyan had just finished hearing reports and dismissed two people when A Fei lifted the heavy tent door to see them out and spotted Lan Zhu standing outside. She froze, then turned back. "My lady, Lan Zhu is here."

Jiang Congyan also paused for a moment. "Quickly invite her in."

Hearing Ah Yan’s voice, Lan Zhu finally stepped inside.

Jiang Congyan rose and approached, noticing the snow covering Lan Zhu’s cloak, her face pale and frostbitten, lips purple, her whole body frozen stiff. She touched Lan Zhu’s hand—it was icy cold. Hurriedly, she took the teapot from the small stove and poured a cup of hot tea. "Get some warmth in you."

Lan Zhu stared at her motionlessly. Ah Yan hadn’t changed a bit.

The tent was so warm, it was like spring had come early. A wave of heat spread from her heart to her limbs, slowly thawing her frozen body.

Lan Zhu took the cup gingerly and sipped. The warm tea flowed down her throat, and she suddenly wanted to cry.

The knot in her chest, in that moment, finally settled.

"Ah Yan," she called hoarsely, her eyes brimming with tears. "I’m sorry."

The words "I’m sorry" were said in Chinese, her pronunciation imperfect and choked with tears, but Jiang Congyan understood.

With a soft sigh, Jiang Congyan stepped forward and hugged the girl who was a hair taller than her.

"It’s alright. I never blamed you."

"Before, I worried you might not want to be friends anymore because of your elder brother’s matter. Now I know—you don’t need to explain. I understand."

Listening to her gentle voice, Lan Zhu thought, Ah Yan truly was the best person she had ever met, just as good as Qiu Liju.

Jiang Congyan only held her briefly before letting go, pulling her to sit by the charcoal stove. "Did you come to me about the snow disaster? It’s getting dark—we must hurry."

Lan Zhu straightened up, lifting her gaze to explain her current predicament.

"...I truly can’t command those nobles. I heard Ah Yan’s workshops are taking in people with nowhere to stay tonight. Could you possibly shelter them too—"

"Of course."

Lan Zhu was startled to hear the answer before she even finished speaking.

Jiang Congyan said, "They are all the king’s people. Now that they’re in trouble, it’s only right to help them."

"Alright, no more spacing out. I’ll send some people to your area right away to arrange shelter nearby. Go quickly and tell the herders to move before nightfall."

"Since your elder brother isn’t handling affairs, you’re in charge now. You must act like you’re in charge—no more of your usual gentleness. Only then will those under you respect and fear you, and follow your orders."

...

Lan Zhu hadn't expected the matter to be resolved so easily.

She led people to settle the herders. Before entering the workshop, she stiffened her face and cracked her whip sharply in the air, her expression unprecedentedly stern. "It is already an incredible kindness from the Khatun to take you in. You must abide by the Khatun's rules. If I find anyone deliberately causing trouble or disobeying arrangements, my whip will draw blood. Understood?"

"Understood," the crowd responded in unison.

On horseback, though young, her noble status gave her an air of authority. After more than a month of training and deliberately projecting her presence as advised by Jiang Congyan, the crowd was genuinely intimidated, too afraid to even think of rebelling.

Most of Jiang Congyan's workshops were short but sturdy mud-brick houses. Considering the harsh sandstorms and blizzards on the steppe, they had been built extra thick, keeping out the cold far better than tents. The mud-brick houses were solid, barely damaged, with only a few roof tiles and dry grass blown off. Hundreds of these houses accommodated close to ten thousand displaced herders.

When the numbers came in the next day, aside from significant losses in livestock and property, casualties were few—less than three hundred.

This was the smallest number of casualties the Xianbei had ever suffered in such a severe snowstorm. The Xianbei couldn't help but feel a spark of gratitude and respect for the Khatun, especially the herders who had been sheltered. Without the Khatun's aid, they might have frozen to death in the snowstorm. Thus, they no longer held any grievances against Jiang Congyan, the Han Khatun; instead, they were deeply grateful to her.

Of course, only the royal court had acted swiftly to address the disaster. Beyond the court, Jiang Congyan had no way to help yet.

Two or three days later, the blizzard finally let up. Jiang Congyan arranged for her subordinates to begin the subsequent reconstruction work.

Everything proceeded smoothly, with the herders cooperating fully. However, at some point, a rumor started going around in the royal court.

The Grand Shaman said, "The reason we Xianbei suffered this snowstorm is because the Hutian God is angry. The Hutian God believes there is someone among us who doesn’t belong."

The crowd was shocked.

Someone who doesn’t belong among the Xianbei.

The only newcomer this year was—the Khatun!

Those who had initially felt gratitude toward Jiang Congyan now hesitated. Could this year's blizzard truly be a punishment from the Hutian God?

Upon hearing the rumor, Jiang Congyan immediately understood it was directed at her. Someone wanted to oppose her, didn’t want her gaining more power among the Xianbei.