Volume III, Real Ancient Capital, Chapter 49: The Thirteen Princes
By Xiao Xiang Dong'Er | Translated and Arranged by Angel Chua
After eight years, she finally returned here.
Winter hung snow over Pingchuan. Chu Qiao sat on her horse, watching the flag fluttering in the snow. Memories, like a floodgate opening, surged through her mind.
Eight years ago, in this very spot, she first set foot on the Ximeng continent. It was a scene of blood, monstrous and disgusting, with killing everywhere. She had been barefoot, running ragged through the open wilderness, desperate to escape. And now, years later, she sat atop her horse, staring at a cage of shivering children. Her hands, once steady on the bow, now trembled, almost on the verge of breaking.
"A'Chu," Yan Xun called, approaching her. He turned to look at her, his brows gently furrowed. "How are you?"
"I'm fine," Chu Qiao replied, shaking her head.
A loud thunderclap echoed. Despite the cold weather, the distant man on the high platform kept the war drums beating. The sound rumbled from the ground, drilling into the very spines of the people. The drummer, his head soaked in sweat, wore a red headscarf as he beat the drums, shouting alongside them. The people of the Mu He family chanted in unison, their sea-blue cloaks and golden belts shining under the sun, though the air was cold. The show of power and wealth was unmistakable, and it had the inevitable air of an upstart flaunting their status.
"Mu He truly deserves to be called the first family of the Elders' Temple," Yan Xun remarked. "Like a sea of blue sand, they stand together in strength and wealth."
Chu Qiao glanced to her side. She saw a dark purple flag covering a tent, and beneath it, a young man with a handsome face. His slender eyes and jade-like skin stood out. At eighteen, the prince sat gracefully, his lips a vivid red against the snow-white of his windbreaker, made of rare Southland feathers.
This was a familiar face—Prince Zhao Song.
Sipping tea, Zhao Song leaned forward and spoke to the young boy beside him. "Zhong Yan, another prince could have such riches, but do you think his guard would be dressed in blue like ours?"
Zhao Zhong Yan, ever cautious, smiled. "The Lingxi border is so small, it's doubtful they'd have anything as grand. You must be joking, Your Highness."
"Haisha Qing (sea sand blue) is impressive," Zhao Song continued, laughing. "To dress a guard in such a rare color—now that's true wealth."
The prince's laughter echoed around them, his jest met with smiles. Zhao Song, along with a young noble at his side, continued to mock the extravagance of others.
Suddenly, Zhao Song caught sight of something behind one of the guards—a delicate figure standing quietly. His expression shifted, and he jumped up from his seat, running forward. "Hold your position!" he called out, excitement overtaking him.
Yan Xun, standing behind Chu Qiao, narrowed his eyes but nodded slightly. "Thirteenth Prince, Your Highness," he greeted coolly.
"Yan Shi Zi," Zhao Song smiled, "it's been a while. What have you been up to?"
Yan Xun nodded, his tone light. "Just wandering the Ying Ju school, nothing serious."
"Don't be so modest," Zhao Song teased, flashing his white teeth. "Mr. Fu showed us your poems the other day. I couldn't understand a word! I was punished for not getting it, had to write it out 200 times."
Yan Xun chuckled softly. "Is His Highness still in school?"
"For three more months," Zhao Song answered, before turning to Chu Qiao. "Then I'll be eighteen, old enough to start my own household. I might even marry a princess."
"Congratulations, Your Highness," Yan Xun replied.
Zhao Song grinned. "You'll have to prepare a gift then."
He turned to Chu Qiao, pulling at her sleeve. "Yan Shi Zi, mind if I borrow her for a while?"
Yan Xun glanced at Chu Qiao, who made no objection, and gave a slight nod.
"Thank you! A'Chu, come with me!" Zhao Song exclaimed, pulling her into the crowd. Yan Xun watched them disappear, his expression calm but distant, his black cloak billowing in the cold wind.
"A'Chu, look at this," Zhao Song said excitedly, handing her a small gold box. Inside was a strange piece of wood, dusted in red powder.
"Matches?" Chu Qiao frowned. "What's this for?"
"You're amazing!" Zhao Song exclaimed, giving her a thumbs up. "How did you know? This is a gift from the Western Sea to my father. Isn't it magical? You just strike it, and it creates fire."
Chu Qiao smiled, patting him on the head. "It's impressive. You've picked up something quite unique."
"A'Chu!" Zhao Song pouted, rubbing his head. "Don't mess with me!"
Chu Qiao shrugged. "Alright, no more head-patting."
"A'Chu," Zhao Song's tone shifted. "Why did you come hunting with Yan Xun today? Do you know Zhuge Yue is back? What if he sees you?"
Chu Qiao's heart warmed slightly. She patted Zhao Song's shoulder. "Don't worry. I can handle it."
Zhao Song sighed. "You always have a way. My heart is pure, you know."
Chu Qiao smiled. "I know, and I appreciate it."
"But still," Zhao Song said, leaning closer. "Why not stay here with me? Don't go back with Yan Xun."
"No," Chu Qiao replied, shaking her head. "I can't."
Zhao Song sighed once more, giving her a familiar look—a mixture of helplessness and affection.
They had known each other for six or seven years now. Ever since she followed Yan Xun after the palace days, no one had questioned her presence or her origins. Yan Xun's inner circle was gone, and no one from the Zhuge family had ever seen her during her time in the palace. Though she knew everything about Zhuge Yue, she never spoke of it. After an incident a month ago, Zhuge Yue had left, disappointed, and hadn't returned since.
Even though she had shared moments with these nobles during their first hunt, they rarely paid attention to her. Yet Zhao Song had recognized her immediately, showing kindness that others wouldn't dare.
Despite the tension between their families, Zhao Song had always been her friend, and in the midst of the looming storm, she knew Yan Xun wouldn't easily forgive or forget.
Afterthoughts:
This chapter paints a vivid picture of Chu Qiao's internal struggles as she navigates a world of political alliances and personal connections. The contrast between her past trauma and her current position shows her growth, but also the weight of responsibility she carries. The interaction with Zhao Song provides a brief respite from the tension, but also hints at the complexity of their relationship and the inevitability of conflict. This moment is one of reflection, where past, present, and future collide, setting the stage for the challenges Chu Qiao will face.