Chapter 108 Isn’t there still you?

Chapter 108: Don’t I Still Have You?

Upon hearing the words "forge a golden idol," Tuo Baxiao snapped out of it for a moment before quickly regaining his composure.

"You plan to use the golden idol method to dispel the rumors?" Tuo Baxiao's thick brows furrowed, his narrow emerald eyes narrowing slightly, his features stiff with clear disapproval of the idea.

Jiang Congyan met the man’s complex, deep gaze and nodded firmly. "Yes."

"Fight fire with fire, divinity with divinity. Since he seeks to attack me with divine will and superstition, then I shall prove myself favored by the gods, winning the people’s hearts. By then, the rumors will collapse on their own."

Amid the drifting snow, her rosy cheeks beneath the wide hood framed a pair of sharp, glittering black eyes like winter stars, sharp and unyielding. Beneath her petal-soft beauty lay unwavering courage and confidence.

Forging a golden idol had long been one of the methods to divine the gods' will. Whether among the Xiongnu, Xianbei, or Jie people—all nomadic tribes of the north—their customs were more closed-off, and religion and rituals played a bigger role in daily life than in the Central Plains dynasties.

Initially, like other divination methods, forging a golden idol was simply a way to seek the gods' will—such as whether a war would succeed. Over time, it evolved into a means to select a queen, eventually becoming a requirement for any woman to become empress.

At this time, the rule that one must forge a golden idol to become queen had not yet been set in stone. But if she succeeded, it would signify she was chosen by the gods. No matter her origins or status, she would gain the people’s acceptance. Then, no one could question her.

Tuo Baxiao’s lips remained taut. "Forging a golden idol isn’t foolproof. If you fail—"

"If I fail, don’t I still have you?" Jiang Congyan tilted her head slightly, her eyes curving into crescents as she smiled softly.

Tuo Baxiao’s heart was instantly seized by her words. His chest heaved abruptly, his shoulders shaking visibly. Even the Li Eagle beneath him seemed to sense his emotions, pawing the ground restlessly.

His emerald gaze locked onto her face, inch by inch. If they were alone, he would have kissed her fiercely—especially those dark eyes that now reflected only him.

His breathing grew heavy. Unable to resist, he raised a hand to brush her soft cheek.

"Right. With me here, no matter what happens, you have nothing to fear," he told her—and himself.

"Good." Jiang Congyan lifted her lips in a faint smile, teasingly breaking contact after the brief touch, straightening her posture before gently urging her horse forward toward the Grand Shaman on the woodpile.

She glanced at the Grand Shaman and ordered A Long to untie him and bring him down.

A Long looked up at the king. Seeing no objection, he understood and obeyed the Khatun’s command, yanking the Grand Shaman down.

Dragged all the way here by Tuo Baxiao, the Grand Shaman was caked in mud and snow, his back torn and bloody, his hands and feet gouged by rocks and thorns along the way. Even freed, he could only collapse weakly onto the snow.

Jiang Congyan felt no pity for him. She cast him a cold glance before turning to the Xianbei nobles gathered around and announcing in the Xianbei language, "Grand Shaman, esteemed lords, I am willing to forge a golden idol to divine the gods’ will. Do you agree?"

Her voice rang out over the howling wind and snow, startling everyone present—even Lan Zhu was stunned.

Earlier, she had spoken to Tuo Baxiao in Chinese, her voice low, so the others hadn’t understood. Only now did they realize what she meant to do.

Kediyan and the others stared in shock and doubt, but Jiang Congyan gave them no time to react. "Don’t you think forging a golden idol is a far truer measure of the gods’ will than stargazing?"

Seated high on a snow-white horse, draped in a silver-white fox fur cloak, her fair cheeks radiant even under the gloomy sky, her dark eyes shining like stars, she exuded an otherworldly grace and nobility—utterly unlike the omen of disaster.

The success rate for forging a golden idol was not high—in fact, it was quite low. Logically, she would likely fail, and the Xianbei people would reject her even more. It was as if she were setting herself up for failure. Yet, for some reason, as Kediyan met her calm gaze, he faltered.

Did she truly believe she would succeed?

But matters had already reached this point, and he could hardly refuse. Looking around at his tribesmen, he saw their eager gazes fixed on this Han woman—it had been years since a Khatun attempted to forge a golden idol. Could this Han Princess truly be the gods’ chosen?

"Very well," Kediyan gritted his teeth. "How many days does the Khatun need to prepare?"

"Three days."

"Only three days?"

Jiang Congyan nodded, "Three days later, I will set up an altar in front of the metallurgy workshop. I invite the Grand Shaman and all the noble lords to witness it in person."

...

With the matter settled, the crowd quickly dispersed, leaving only a few of them and the Grand Shaman on the scene.

"Are you really sure about this?" Tuo Baxiao was still uneasy.

Of course, he would protect her and prevent anyone from harming her. Even if the golden statue casting failed, he would still only recognize her as his wife. Yet, he couldn't help but worry—worry that their people would despise her.

He himself didn’t care about others' opinions, but the thought of someone secretly cursing her made anger flare up uncontrollably within him.

Lan Zhu also wore a worried expression. "Ah Yan, I’ve heard that casting a golden statue is rarely successful on the first try."

Meeting their gazes, Jiang Congyan smiled. "I’d say 70-80% odds of success."

The so-called golden statue wasn’t made of pure gold but rather a gilded bronze statue. The earlier steps didn’t need her direct input—she only needed to pour the molten bronze into the mold at the final moment.

Due to the technological limitations of this era, especially since the nomadic tribes' metalworking skills were inferior to those of the Central Plains, the success rate of casting such statues was extremely low. While luck might play a role, the process primarily tested metalworking skills. Yet, people couldn’t accurately pinpoint the reasons for failure, ultimately blaming it on the gods’ will.

But she was different. She owned a metallurgy workshop and had even established a silversmith’s workshop years ago. If the accumulated experience and techniques couldn’t even produce a simple bronze figure, then she might as well shut up shop.

After reassuring them quickly, Jiang Congyan asked Lan Zhu, "Do you know the female shaman who officiated the wedding rites during my wedding? Do you know anything about her?"

"I do. She’s also an important shaman in the royal court, though not as high-ranking as the Grand Shaman. Oh, and she once competed with him for the position of Grand Shaman." As she spoke, she glanced at the unconscious Grand Shaman on the ground.

Jiang Congyan had only asked casually, but this unexpected link made her eyes light up. "That’s perfect. Could you do me a favor...?"

Lan Zhu guided her horse closer until their shoulders nearly touched. Jiang Congyan whispered a few words to her.

"Alright, I’ll find someone to try," Lan Zhu said.

"I’ll leave it to you."

The incident with the rumors made Jiang Congyan suddenly realize how much public opinion mattered. No—that wasn’t quite accurate. She had always been mindful of building her reputation in the royal court, but she had overlooked a crucial arena of influence: the realm of spirits and shamans.

Mainly because she didn’t believe in such things herself. Even though something as fantastical as transmigration and rebirth had happened to her, she still held a wary respect toward spirits or deities. Especially since so-called divine will was often just a tool wielded by those in power, she disliked it even more. Coincidentally, Tuo Baxiao didn’t believe in it either, so over all this time together, neither had paid much attention to such matters.

This incident was a wake-up call. Since spirits and shamans held such importance among the barbarian tribes, why not steer the court’s narrative?

Her proposal to cast the golden statue wasn’t just to dispel rumors—it was also an opportunity to take control of the court’s narrative.

The idea of 'winning hearts and minds' could sometimes be empty rhetoric, but at other times, it could wield unimaginable influence.

The blizzard outside raged. After hastily dealing with the scene, Tuo Baxiao had the Grand Shaman taken away for interrogation once he regained consciousness.

He certainly didn’t believe the shaman’s claims about celestial omens. If it were truly divine will, why hadn’t the man informed him immediately instead of deliberately spreading such rumors?

Once he uncovered the mastermind behind this... Tuo Baxiao’s eyes darkened with a murderous glint, but when he caught sight of Jiang Congyan beside him, his gaze softened.

"It’s icy out there. Let me take you back," he said, reaching out to her.

"It’s fine. I rode here on my own earlier. I think my riding skills are—ah!"

Before she could finish, the man lifted her onto his horse in a single motion.

"Why do you keep doing this? Is it really fun to keep scaring me?" Jiang Congyan covered her chest, unable to hold back her anger at the man.

Tuo Baxiao listened to her lovely voice, feeling not the slightest annoyance but only comfort. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pushed back her hood, and leaned close to her ear. "I’ve wanted to hold you like this since earlier. You looked amazing rushing over all out of breath."

Jiang Congyan’s ears flushed hot, though she couldn’t tell if it was from his breath or her own irritation.

"Keep it down in public," she could only mutter this feeble warning.

Tuo Baxiao thought—wasn’t he already behaving? He brushed a kiss against her earlobe, then before she could react, pulled her hood back up and tightened his grip on the horse’s flank, abruptly speeding up. The rough ride stole her breath, leaving her clinging silently to the Li Eagle’s heaving neck.

The Li Eagle used to act all high and mighty with her. Maybe after riding it so much, it got used to her—or maybe it simply knew resistance was futile—but eventually, it had no choice but to accept her presence.

Still, she hadn’t tried riding it alone yet. She doubted it’d stay this tame without Tuo Baxiao around. Probably not.

Once they were back in the tent, Jiang Congyan changed clothes first, then sat by the brazier to warm herself as the man settled beside her.

She turned to him. "You really went overboard today."

Tuo Baxiao’s expression darkened slightly, ready to argue, but then she suddenly leaned in, willingly nestling into his arms, wrapping her own around his waist and pressing her face against his chest.

For a moment, he couldn’t believe his luck, frozen in place—until he heard her murmur, "But I know you did it for me."

A grin tugged at his lips.