Chapter 195 Ending Complete This Land Will Eventually Welcome a New…

**Chapter 195: Epilogue – This Land Shall Finally Embrace a New…**

Since last October, Jiang Congyan had ordered the restoration of the imperial palace.

Over a year later, all the burned-down palaces had been rebuilt.

The craftsmen originally submitted a blueprint, but Jiang Congyan, thinking that the palace would only house herself, Tuo Baxiao, and their children—such a small family wouldn’t need so much space—rejected it and demanded a redesign. She repurposed part of the palace complex into government offices like the Imperial Medical Office and the Imperial Library.

It was now mid-December, and New Year’s was just over two weeks away.

The coronation was more than just a ceremony; before then, they needed to decide on a new reign name, and reward their supporters.

Seizing this opportunity, Jiang Congyan reformed the central administrative system, replacing the old Three Lords and Nine Ministers model with the Three-Chancellery, Six-Ministry structure, with subordinate departments under each ministry.

The Six Ministries were still in their infancy. As she developed the country’s productivity, she knew she’d inevitably add more based on practical needs.

Of course, court officials debated this extensively, but Jiang Congyan and Tuo Baxiao shut down the discussion.

With the new dynasty just established, many regulations were incomplete. Endless minor but vital decisions required their attention, keeping the couple extremely busy.

Dozens of memorials were submitted just for the reign and era names. Tuo Baxiao grew dizzy reading them, joking about picking one at random—after all, every suggested character came with pages of elaborate symbolic meanings.

In past dynasties, the reign name often came from the Founding Emperor’s birthplace or noble title. But Tuo Baxiao was the Xianbei King, and since the Xianbei ruled the Mobei grasslands, he was also called the Prince of Mobei.

“Xianbei? Mobei?” Whether using the full term or a single character, neither sounded right as a reign name. And her own titles—Shun’an? You’an? An Dynasty? None felt right for a mighty dynasty.

“I’m leaning toward ‘Yuan,’ ‘Zhao,’ or ‘Jing.’ Which do you like?” Jiang Congyan asked.

“Whatever you choose,” Tuo Baxiao replied casually.

“Hmm… Let’s go with ‘Zhao’ then.” She quoted, *“The sun rises, the moon endures, illuminating the boundless universe”; “The sacred throne stands firm as mountains and rivers, the imperial brilliance shines like the sun and moon.”* I love the symbolism.”

“Sure, ‘Zhao’ works.”

With the reign name decided, choosing the era name was easier.

Options included “Yonghe,” “Yuangguang,” “Yuanhe,” “Jianwu,” and “Taishi.” Jiang Congyan didn’t dwell too long, simply selecting “Yuanhe” (“Primal Harmony”)—*Yuan*, meaning beginning; *He*, meaning harmony.

May all ethnic groups coexist peacefully from now on.

Beyond the names, they also had to establish ceremonial protocols.

The Han officials wanted to keep traditional Han rites, but before Jiang Congyan could object, the Xianbei side pushed back first.

Although efforts to promote Han script among the Xianbei had been ongoing for years, it hadn’t yet fully integrated them into Han culture.

Their king had conquered this land—why should they adopt Han customs entirely? It rubbed them the wrong way, almost like being assimilated against their will.

Jiang Congyan herself disliked excessive formalities. She cut the pomp, ditched the kneel-and-grovel routine, and introduced chairs for sitting.

As for address terms, if only one ruler was present, “Your Majesty” sufficed. If both were present, “His Lordship” and “Her Ladyship” distinguished them—terms commonly used for household heads, which added a touch of familiarity.

After days of intense work, they finally hammered out the big and small details.

The couple was now ready to officially move into the palace, leaving behind the Chu Palace.

Looking back at the Prince of Chu’s mansion, the time they actually lived there wasn’t particularly long, yet Jiang Congyan had come to feel it was "home."

"If we all leave, you’ll be alone in the mansion, Father. Why don’t you come live with us in the palace?" she said to Jiang Huai.

Jiang Huai raised his head to gaze at the Prince of Chu's residence, then shook his head. "I'll stay here."

Over the years, he had deliberately kept the mansion as it was before. Seeing the familiar scenery, he could almost still glimpse that lively and spirited girl—her faint figure moving through every corner of the mansion. This was his fond illusion.

"Jiang Huai, have you ever played hide-and-seek?"

"Jiang Huai, are you hiding yet? I'm coming to find you. If a monster catches you, it’ll gobble you up!"

"Jiang Huai, Jiang Huai, it's your birthday today. I've prepared a gift for you."

...

Every corner of the Prince of Chu’s mansion had been visited by them. Those youthful days were now a dream far beyond his reach.

Jiang Congyan sensed the sorrow emanating from her father and knew he was thinking of her mother. She didn’t push him, only saying, "Then Xiaonu and I will visit you often. Ah, no—soon there’ll be another."

Jiang Congyan gently touched her now very noticeable bump. In two months, this little one would be born.

Jiang Huai also smiled. A new baby always brought hope and excitement to a family.

In any case, the two of them left the Prince of Chu’s mansion and formally took up residence in the palace.

The palace’s layout had changed somewhat compared to before. The former Taiji Hall was renamed Zichen Hall, where future court assemblies and banquets for officials would be held. The empress’s central palace became Changle Hall, though there was no empress anymore—it served as the couple’s living quarters. Various side halls and gardens were also repurposed.

When renovating the palace, Jiang Congyan didn’t insist on opulence. Instead, she focused on warmth and lighting. The only seemingly luxurious features were the vast stretches of glass windows and tiles.

Sunlight streamed through the transparent glass tiles and windows, flooding the rooms with light as bright as day.

After Jiang Congyan provided the general direction, years of research and experimentation by craftsmen finally led to the initial techniques for producing glass. However, the process was still immature, time-consuming, and labor-intensive—especially for producing large, flawless panes, which were exceedingly rare and expensive. Yet they were in high demand, fetching exorbitant prices.

In previous years, the court would seal official documents and go on holiday at the end of the year. This year was special, as everyone was busy preparing for the founding of the new dynasty. The enthusiasm was so high that whether there was a holiday or not hardly mattered.

Time flew by, and New Year’s Eve was upon them.

The streets were bustling with crowds, and vendors came and went endlessly. Everyone wore vibrant smiles, creating a scene of prosperity. Who could have imagined that just over a year ago, Chang’an had been nearly a ghost town?

The common people were like wild grass—with just a bit of sunlight and rain, they could burst forth with astonishing vitality.

On the day before New Year’s Eve, the Marquis of Liangzhou arrived in Chang’an with the Zhang family and entered the palace to meet the couple.

"Grandfather, Grandmother, why didn't you send word ahead of your arrival? I couldn’t even go to greet you," Jiang Congyan teased.

Madam Cui looked at her swollen belly. "You’d still run around in this snow? If you won’t take care of yourself, at least think of the little one inside you."

Hearing her grandmother’s scolding yet caring tone, Jiang Congyan hugged her arm. "Now that there’s a little one, I’ve fallen out of favor with you, haven’t I?"

"You..."

It had been years since their last meeting, and naturally, there was no end to the things relatives had to say to each other.

Jiang Congyan was most concerned about how the elderly couple had managed during their journey in the heavy snow—their age was quite advanced.

The Marquis of Liangzhou and Madam Cui, in turn, were most concerned about her condition during pregnancy. In their memories, their granddaughter was still that delicate girl, and pregnancy posed too great a risk. They had been deeply worried for her, even though she had written in her letters that she was fine. Now, seeing her in person, they realized she hadn’t been lying.

In the late stages of pregnancy, her figure and cheeks had filled out slightly compared to before. Her face was rosy and radiant, her eyes clear and bright, without any sign of clumsiness. Instead, she looked even more regal and poised.

Madam Cui could finally relax completely.

Besides the elderly couple, the younger generation—Zhang Xun, Zhang Hongying, Zhang Yinhua, and Zhang You—had come too.

Jiang Congyan looked them over with a smile and said, “They’re in for a quiet New Year this time.”

“Who cares about them? Celebrating with them every year gets old,” Zhang Hongying said dismissively. “We’ve been dying to come to Chang’an ever since you got back. Now that we’re here, Yinhua and I are crashing at your place. We’re dying to meet our little nephew!”

“Of course! But you’ll have to prepare red envelopes first.”

That got everyone laughing.

After years apart, they talked late into the night, making the most of their reunion. Jiang Congyan was still buzzing with excitement, but her body was wearing out.

Just as she was about to keep going, Tuo Baxiao cut in, and the Zhang family, not wanting to tire her out, made their excuses and left.

Jiang Congyan tried to get them to stay in the palace, but the Marquis of Liangzhou said, “We’ve already made plans to stay at the King of Chu’s place when we get to Chang’an.”

Jiang Congyan froze for a second.

From the time she sent her ten-year-old daughter to the King of Chu’s household, through her grandson growing up, and now awaiting the birth of her great-grandchild, the Marquis of Liangzhou hadn’t seen Jiang Huai once. But there was too much baggage between them.

They really needed to sit down and hash things out.

She didn’t argue and walked them to the palace gates.

Back in Changle Palace, Jiang Congyan was still worked up. Even after Tuo Baxiao practically shoved her into bed, she couldn’t sleep.

“You’ve been running around all day, and you’re still up?” he asked.

“I’m just too happy.”

“If you’re not sleeping, we could find something else to do.”

“…”

Jiang Congyan shot him a glare. “Don’t you dare.”

Tuo Baxiao didn’t bother arguing, just kissed her instead.

At this stage, he couldn’t do much, but stealing a few sweet moments was still possible.

Jiang Congyan was left dizzy from the kiss when suddenly, she winced.

“Ouch—the baby’s kicking again,” she muttered.

Tuo Baxiao immediately let go and helped massage her to ease the tension.

When the baby was smaller, its movements had been gentler. Now, further along, the kicks were so strong Jiang Congyan swore the kid was throwing a tantrum in there—punching and kicking like it had inherited Tuo Baxiao’s energy.

Every time the kicks hurt, Jiang Congyan blamed him. The man had no rebuttal, so he learned massage techniques from Zhang Fu and tended to her nightly to soothe her aches.

With all that practice, he’d gotten pretty good—not just for her waist and belly, but also her legs, shoulders, and neck. Under his touch, Jiang Congyan relaxed, drowsiness creeping in.

Hearing her slow, steady breaths, Tuo Baxiao knew she had fallen asleep. He adjusted his movements carefully, drawing her into his arms. His large hand rested on her belly as he whispered, “Be good for your mother, or I’ll spank you once you’re born.”

With that much energy, he figured it had to be a boy.

—

The first day of the first lunar month.

Before daybreak, servants on early duty were already outside the Chang Le Palace, carrying trays of toiletries such as water basins, towels, teacups, and mouth rinse.

At this moment, a composed young woman with dignified features, dressed in the attire of a palace official, approached from the corridor. Servants bowed respectfully as she passed.

"Are Their Majesties awake yet?" the woman asked.

The newcomer was none other than A Fei.

She had always served closely by Jiang Congyan's side. After moving into the palace, Jiang Congyan appointed her as the Chief Palace Stewardess, overseeing all internal affairs of the palace.

"No sign of them yet," Lu Zhu replied.

A Fei calculated the time—there was still time. "Then let's wait a little longer." The Empress had a difficult pregnancy; it was good to let her rest a while longer.

...

Though it was the beginning of the year, the bitter winter cold lingered. Yet the Chang Le Palace was warmed by underfloor heating, making even a thin blanket sufficient against the cold.

Beneath the thin blanket, the outlines of two figures could faintly be seen—one tall and broad, the other slender. The man cradled the woman's shoulders with his arm as a pillow, they lay entwined, perfectly matched.

The candle in the bronze lotus holder flickered faintly, wax dripping down its base. Just as the flame was about to die out, there was finally movement in the bed.

Jiang Congyan struggled to lift her eyelids slightly, mumbling as she nudged his chest. "Time to get up."

The man didn’t move, as if still asleep.

Jiang Congyan had no choice but to twist her upper body slightly and pinch his cheek gently.

"Rest a bit more. You’ll have a long day," Tuo Baxiao said, opening his eyes.

He’d been awake for some time but hadn’t wanted to disturb her rest.

"No point. Too much on my mind to sleep. Let’s get up."

She was heavily pregnant now. Even with a simplified coronation, it would still be a considerable burden. Tuo Baxiao had originally wanted to postpone it until after her postpartum recovery, but Jiang Congyan thought it better to settle things early in the year—it would calm the people and make governance smoother.

At eight months, her pregnancy was indeed advanced, but she wasn’t completely immobile yet.

On the contrary, once her condition stabilized, she had persisted with exercise and later deliberately controlled her weight—not to maintain her figure, but to avoid birthing complications from a large baby.

With Tuo Baxiao’s physique and genes, the child was bound to be sizable. Given her slender frame and this being her first pregnancy, the risks were high.

She understood this well. Though conventional wisdom encouraged overeating during pregnancy, Zhang Fu had initially wondered how to persuade her and Tuo Baxiao—only to find her in full agreement.

Telling pregnant women to eat more wasn’t bad advice—most common households struggled to meet basic needs—but for her, moderation was key.

Tuo Baxiao had worried when he saw her eating less, but after Jiang Congyan explained her reasoning, he didn’t argue.

Of course, he wanted both mother and child safe, but if forced to choose, he would pick Jiang Congyan without hesitation. No one in the world mattered more to him—not even their child.

Fortunately, their approach had been successful so far. Jiang Congyan’s belly was slightly smaller than those of other women at the same stage, yet the baby remained healthy, maintaining a balanced state.

Tuo Baxiao helped her rise from the bed and called for attendants. A Fei led the servants in to assist them. After washing up and eating a light breakfast, the two changed into their imperial robes.

Attire and regalia were deeply cultural. The former Liang Dynasty favored red, while the Xianbei people revered black.

The imperial regalia of the new dynasty had been debated for a long time before settling on black robes with vermilion borders, embroidered with gold threads depicting the twelve symbols: the sun, moon, stars, mountains, dragons, pheasants, water weeds, fire, grains, axes, and the fu symbol. These were paired with jade belts and pendants.

This outfit closely resembled the set Jiang Congyan had once gifted to Tuo Baxiao, just without such intricate patterns and jade ornaments.

Their robes were nearly identical, differing only in size.

Once robed, they put on the twelve-tasseled jade crowns.

It was the first time either had worn them. They locked eyes, genuinely admiring each other’s appearance.

Under the dangling pearls and jade, the man’s imposing majesty and towering stature were further accentuated.

Similarly, Jiang Congyan’s regal, luminous beauty left Tuo Baxiao deeply awestruck.

"This attire truly suits you," he said.

"Wearing this daily would drive me mad," she replied with a chuckle.

"Your Majesties, the auspicious time is near," A Fei reminded them from the side.

"Let's go."

Outside the Changle Palace, a grand procession awaited, with hundreds of palace maids and eunuchs kneeling in reverence.

After leaving the Changle Palace, they proceeded forward, where Han and Xianbei officials stood at attention across the vast square before the Zichen Palace.

The two stepped out in their palanquins, leading the group to the altar to offer sacrifices to heaven, earth, and the gods of the land. Cui Cen presented the pre-drafted edict, declaring the establishment of the Great Zhao dynasty and the joint reign of the two sovereigns. Then, they returned to the Zichen Palace.

The officials knelt thrice and kowtowed nine times, cheering thunderously.

"Rise," they said in unison.

Once the enthronement ceremony concluded, the officials dispersed.

Tuo Baxiao steadied her by the waist, asking with concern, "Tired?"

"Not really."

"Shall we return to rest?"

"I'd like to take a walk," she impulsively suggested.

"Where to?"

"The Star-Gazing Tower. It's the highest point—we can see beyond the palace."

They took the palanquin to the tower, where Tuo Baxiao carefully helped her ascend.

From that high perch, Jiang Congyan gazed down at the sprawling palaces and streets, even spotting distant, blurry figures—everything thriving with vitality.

Eighteen years had passed since she crossed worlds. She’d survived hardships, witnessed swordplay and battles, and considered herself fortunate—having gained kinship, friendship, and a love both steadfast and true, escaping the tragedies history had once decreed. After the world had been turned upside down, she now stood hand in hand with the one she loved.

After gazing a while longer, Jiang Congyan withdrew her gaze, fixing it on the man before her. Earnestly, she said, "Tuo Baxiao, I love you. The greatest fortune of my life was meeting you."

Tuo Baxiao was overwhelmed. His eyes glistened. "The greatest fortune of my life was also meeting you."

He carefully drew her into his embrace.

Jiang Congyan leaned against his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his waist.

The dusk of an era lit her face—the old fading as the new rose alongside it.

This land would rise anew.

(The End)