Unyielding Spring Mountains - Chapter 85: Betrothal Gifts

Chapter 85: Betrothal Gifts

Ji Yuan reached out his hand to Wei Zhen. Seeing that she did not move for a long while, he said, “The King has already been returned to the capital. If we hurry on our journey, perhaps you will make it back in time to see him once before the burial.”

He presented the jade pendant to Wei Zhen. “Your jade pendant changed hands a few days ago, and someone brought it to me. I sent people to Chouyou Kingdom to inquire, and so learned your whereabouts. Now, I return this pendant to you.”

Branched shadows fell irregularly from the trees. Gripping the reins tightly, her robes rippling in the wind, Wei Zhen glanced around—there was a great disparity between the numbers on each side. With her own people, it was absolutely impossible to break through the encirclement.

Ji Yuan looked at her and said, “I know that the princess is clever—if captured, you’re bound to try and escape. Before coming, I wondered if I could really take you away smoothly. To guard against surprises, it seems I have no choice but to use force.”

Wei Zhen was immediately on alert. Ji Yuan shifted aside, and a guard behind him stepped forward, gripping a cloth covered in white powder.

“Forgive me, princess.”

As the cloth was pressed to her mouth and nose, an unidentifiable medicinal scent rushed into Wei Zhen’s nostrils. Darkness fell before her eyes and she lost consciousness.

When she was about to slip from her saddle, Ji Yuan caught and supported her, lowering his head to gaze at the unconscious girl slumped in his arms. Her face was breathtakingly beautiful, but when she looked at people, it was as if her eyes were bristling with thorns.

The smile faded from Ji Yuan’s face as he sent her to the carriage.

Wei Zhen’s headache was excruciating. She heard the rumbling of the carriage wheels. Throughout the journey, she drifted in and out of consciousness, lucid only for brief periods during meals—then quickly drugged back into stupor.

She lay slumped on the wooden boards, unable to tell how many days the carriage rolled on. The wheels rumbled over stones, and when the carriage jolted, she too was bumped heavily against the planks.

In pain, she heard the raucous shouts of a bustling market outside. Opening her hazy eyes, she realized her hands and feet were tightly bound with coarse rope. Forcing herself up, she peeked through a slit in the bamboo blinds and recognized familiar city streets—she had returned to Jiangdu.

But this moment of clarity quickly faded, and with her head slumped against the carriage wall, she slipped back into unconsciousness.

When she woke again, she found herself in an unfamiliar palace hall.

Wei Zhen’s dulled senses surged back as if heated iron had been plunged into cold water. Struggling up from the bed, her limbs still weak and numb, she stumbled forward and a nearby palace maid hurried to support her. “Princess, be careful.”

“Where am I?” Wei Zhen braced herself on the table, scanning her surroundings.

“Princess, this is Luan Tower^1 on the outskirts of the capital.”

Wei Zhen walked to the window and pushed it open.

A giant bird call blasted toward her, vibrating her eardrums.

This was a high tower, several stories tall, built of stone. Below, tall trees crowded the grounds, filled with birds, and for several miles in every direction, the landscape was a lush green. From here, the distant, imposing Jin Palace could be glimpsed.

Wei Zhen turned back. “Where is Ji Yuan?”

“His Highness is at the main palace. Before leaving, he specifically instructed us to attend to the princess carefully.”

“Tell your lord I want to see him.”

The maid looked apologetic. “Forgive us, princess, but His Highness is busy with state affairs and cannot visit you at the moment. Until the wedding, you are to remain here. Also, His Highness instructed us not to engage in conversation with the princess—regardless of the topic.”

Wei Zhen paused and then smiled. “But tomorrow is the late king’s burial. As the princess of Wei, I accompanied the King of Jin for so long and should see him off.”

“Princess, I’m sorry, but you mustn’t make things difficult for us.”

Wei Zhen coaxed, “Your lord once promised that I could attend the funeral. All you have to do is send word to ask if he can come to fetch me tomorrow.”

Unable to resist the gentle gaze as Wei Zhen grasped her hand, the maid hesitated. “Then I shall send someone to ask his Highness.”

She left with both hands folded over her stomach, bowing respectfully.

Wei Zhen heard the door lock click outside and let her eyes fall, staring out the window.

Luan Tower was surrounded by trees on every side, with dozens of soldiers posted below. The only way down was a single staircase. There was, in short, no other means of escape, and sneaking out would be as hard as climbing to heaven.

Rather than a temporary residence, this was clearly a cage—a prison to hold her.

She gripped the edge of the window, facing the soft wind. In the face of difficulty, she always calmed herself quickly.

While drifting between sleep and wakefulness, she’d overheard servants saying that after the king’s burial, her wedding to Ji Yuan would be held.

With the king’s passing, the whole realm was in mourning. The period would be brief, counted in days rather than months, which meant their wedding could not be far off. She needed to think of a way out, and soon.

Even if she escaped the Luan Tower for a moment, there was a long road to Wei, and pursuers could always return her to even tighter guard.

Unless she could find a way to lower Ji Yuan’s guard—or, better yet, make him willingly send her back to Wei.

Wei Zhen drummed her fingers on the window casing, gazing outside as night fell. Rain threatened in the air. She closed the windows slowly.

A night of violent winds passed. Wei Zhen woke very early the next day and, on waking, heard battle songs echoing from the direction of the capital—a farewell to the late king.

Standing by the window, she gazed far into the distance for a long, long while.

The maid said, “Princess, his Highness sent word this morning that you still cannot leave Luan Tower.”

Wei Zhen’s face was pale, as if she had not heard, and she murmured, “Let me be alone for a while.”

The maid withdrew, closing the great doors behind her.

Once out, the maid let out a long breath and whispered to her companion, “Whenever I speak to the princess, I just get so nervous—afraid I’ll say something I shouldn’t and slip up.”

“Then remember his Highness’s orders. Don’t talk to her more than needed.”

The maid wiped sweat from her forehead and left with the other, down the stairs to the ground floor.

Not long after, a commotion arose: “Fire!”

People surged out of the Luan Tower—the forest was ablaze, and driven by strong winds, the flames leapt sky high, racing toward the structure.

The nearest body of water was nearly a hundred meters from Luan Tower. With so little water, the staff could do nothing against the massive fire.

As the blaze intensified, threatening both tower and surrounding grounds, the only choice was evacuation.

“The Princess of Wei is still inside, get her down quickly!”

Guards ran up and kicked open the doors. The girl by the window looked back.

“Princess, hurry with us!”

Surrounded by guards, Wei Zhen was hurried down the tower steps.

With the roaring north wind, Wei Zhen had earlier thrown a fire starter out and, after waiting but a moment, the flames had raced through the undergrowth.

Soldiers steadied her onto a horse and the ranking officer warned, “We cannot stay near Luan Tower. We’re escorting the princess to the main palace. Princess, do not try anything foolish—there are two squads of guards escorting you.”

Wei Zhen smiled faintly. Her aim was not to escape in the chaos, but to secure an audience with Ji Yuan.

They galloped out of the forest, but as they approached the gates, a light, sullen rain began to fall. They came upon the late king’s funeral procession.

The soldiers wanted her to take a side road, but Wei Zhen said, “Wait.”

Reining in and dismounting, people lining the roadway bowed. Wei Zhen’s own heart tumbled, and she too knelt in the mud with the crowd.

The people, loath to part with their king, sang old marching songs to see him off, following the cortege of their own accord.

The late king had ascended the throne young and under his rule, Jin became the head among all the principalities. The realm prospered, the people lived in peace, and he was posthumously named “Wu” (the martial). Such a life of achievement was summed up in a word.

Only after a long time did Wei Zhen rise from the muddy ground, hearing the crowd’s murmured discussions.

The rain poured relentlessly from the sky. Someone beside her urged, “Princess, let’s return to the palace.”

Wei Zhen drew a deep breath and mounted her horse.

They entered Jin Palace, and attendants led her to Ji Yuan’s palace. Soon, servants brought clean dresses: “Today, his Highness must travel to the royal mausoleum outside the capital, and will not return until evening. Princess, please change and wait.”

Wei Zhen spoke softly: “Bring me a prayer mat, please.”

The eunuch paused, and Wei Zhen explained, “Today is the king’s burial. I never stood vigil, so today I’ll kneel for a while more.”

Her face was pale as jade, her eyes filled with sorrow. The eunuch, seeing this, answered, “Yes,” and left quietly.

The sky grew heavy and the rain fell without ceasing. Facing south, toward the royal tombs, Wei Zhen knelt, letting her heart settle in the noise of falling rain.

At dusk, footsteps finally sounded outside, and Wei Zhen opened her eyes to see a palace maid folding away an umbrella. A tall figure strode into the hall.

The eunuch stepped forward and used a towel to wipe the water from him. Ji Yuan turned and lowered his gaze to the girl kneeling on the mat, speaking gently, “The Luan Tower caught fire—were you hurt, princess?”

Wei Zhen looked up and smiled. “You locked me in the Luan Tower, forbade me to take a step outside, and yet the moment I’m in danger, you show concern. Is it for me, or just for the Princess of Wei?”

Ji Yuan dried his chin, his gaze deep. “Is that important to you? Whether I care for you or for the Princess of Wei, at the end of the day, isn’t it just concern for you all the same?”

Wei Zhen’s gaze landed on the snake-shaped ring on his hand as she said softly, “All the same? But if you don’t pay attention to someone’s motives, if you meet a venomous snake, it might bite you from behind. What then?”

Ji Yuan chuckled softly and walked over to the brazier to warm his hands.

The hall was silent, broken only by the crackle of burning charcoal. After a long time, his gentle voice sounded: “Before I met you, I imagined many times what my betrothed would be like.”

Dressed in snowy white, Ji Yuan’s face reflected the firelight. “From a young age, I knew I had a betrothed, arranged from birth. The two kingdoms are so far apart; I could only get rumors of what you were like. I even considered sneaking into Wei to take a look—see if you were pretty, what your personality was.”

Wei Zhen was startled.

Ji Yuan continued, “Later, I heard the Princess of Wei was sickly, rarely appeared in court, required daily medicine. I began reading medical texts, trying to learn a little. I thought—no matter how you look or what your health was, once you came to Jin, you’d be my wife and I would find a way to cure you.”

“When the King of Wei delayed our marriage for years, I waited. I opened our betrothal contract countless times, but I never expected that my fiancée would already be in love with another.”

Rain trickled down Ji Yuan’s brow, but he did not move, only gazed into the fire. “That day on the border, I saw which way you were riding—to Wei. When the mourning period passes, after our marriage, I could accompany you to Wei…”

“In just a few days, you must manage state affairs, your wedding, and even deal with the southern Ninth Highness. Can you handle it?” Wei Zhen asked gently.

Ji Yuan smiled faintly. “But the situation in Wei is complicated. I fear even more for you, alone. The King of Wei has no sons, and is gravely ill. Factions are stirring in Wei. Today, you set fire to Luan Tower and flee to Wei, but in Wei’s royal family’s eyes, you’re just a stranger who’s been absent for years. If I pressure Wei, some will definitely persuade the king to send you back to marry me.”

Ji Yuan walked to the tea table and poured a hot cup. “It’s raining and cold. Warm yourself with some tea.”

Wei Zhen stared at the cup but did not reach for it.

Unperturbed, Ji Yuan set the cup aside and asked, “You went to the frontier for Qi Yan, followed him to Chouyou—did you and he…”

He looked at her, hesitated, then put it plainly: “How far has your relationship gone?”

Wei Zhen gently deflected, “How far do you think it’s gone?”

Ji Yuan smiled, sipping his tea. “You also had the king bestow your engagement to him. If something happened between you, it’s not unexpected.”

He said this as if it were nothing.

But Wei Zhen knew—how could a man truly in love be indifferent to another man’s claim on the woman he desired?

Wei Zhen smiled: “You want to marry me simply because of the power behind my status as Princess of Wei. You wish to intervene in Wei’s court—isn’t that it? But I haven’t even officially reunited with my father—I can’t be sure whether he’ll accept me. If I marry you and become a Jin consort, my father can never fully trust me.”

Ji Yuan regarded her lovely face, her eyes lifted to meet his—yet there was not a fraction of humility in her bearing.

“So, I cannot marry you just yet. But if you send me back to Wei, I can help you take power there.”

She explained: “Have your trusted men escort me to Wei, watch me handle the court, and they can insert their hands into Wei’s politics.”

Ji Yuan’s gaze fixed, then he smiled: “Does the princess really wish for me to meddle in Wei’s affairs so selflessly?”

Wei Zhen answered softly, “Of course, I have desires of my own.”

At this point, it was time for honest negotiation.

“I’ve been wandering for over a decade, only just learned my true identity, and of course I want to spend time with my father before marrying. And, you once asked me, ‘Faced with love, how much can you sacrifice?’”

Ji Yuan nodded. “I asked you that.”

Wei Zhen gazed into the relentless rain. “It’s just like blossoms flourishing, yet unable to withstand a battering downpour. Since I learned I am the Princess of Wei, I can’t always follow my own heart. Beyond love, I am the Wei king’s daughter, and must always act for Wei.”

“So, I propose an alliance: should you unite Jin, please treat Wei and my father well.”

Ji Yuan looked at her quietly. “And what about Qi Yan? I do not believe you would so easily give up your lover.”

“As I said, I am also Wei’s royal daughter, not just a woman in love,” Wei Zhen admitted, knowing how little truth there was in these words.

“But, actions not hearts—if you send men with me to Wei, they’ll monitor me and influence Wei, and persuade Wei to send troops for you. Isn’t that enough?”

She handed his own reasoning back to him.

“Do you really think that now my father is gravely ill, and I, just one unsupported woman in Wei, could stir much trouble?”

Ji Yuan said, “With humility, you seek to tempt others—that’s the way of a politician. But how can I be sure you mean what you say?”

Wei Zhen drew a deep breath. “I know you will not be content under another forever—you will become king of Jin. At that time, announce our pact throughout the realm. I, Wei Zhen, swear I will only marry the king of Jin in my life, never breaking my word. If I do, let all the world judge me.”

Her bright eyes gleamed as she raised her hand to the heavens in oath.

“But I also hope you’ll show sincerity and promise to treat both Jin and Wei well—by returning conquered cities to Wei.”

One of Ji Yuan’s advisors tried to interrupt, but Ji Yuan shook his head. Indeed, as Wei Zhen said, simply placing agents in Wei was already the most this marriage alliance could yield.

To force her to stay would just deepen her resistance and bring no benefit to him. And truly—would the king of Wei ever truly care for a daughter he’d never raised?

Wei’s position depended entirely on the greater balance of power.

Now that the king of Qi and the southern Jing Heng both supported Ji Yuan, and with his strength to suppress Qi Yan’s troops, Wei would naturally choose sides in his favor.

Whether Wei Zhen returned to Wei or not hardly mattered. If she tried to meddle, the ambitious nobles of Wei would devour her whole; she could not change the situation there.

Ji Yuan said, “If, once you return, Wei is willing to aid me, then when things are settled, Chou in the south will yield five cities, and Jin will also yield five—all to Wei.”

Wei Zhen replied, “Then I hope that, at that time, you offer me the realm of Jin itself as a dowry.”

“Perhaps, by then, not just Jin—the whole world as your betrothal gift,” Ji Yuan said.

Wei Zhen’s dark lashes framed bright red lips. “You mean you would betroth yourself with all under heaven?”

She smiled, “Let us set a term—in three years. No matter if civil strife is still ongoing, in three years, I will marry the king of Jin.”

Ji Yuan stood tall, shadows flickering on his figure, and nodded softly.

Wei Zhen glanced at a desk. “Our original betrothal contract is out of date—let’s rewrite our pact today.”

She took up the brush and ink, wrote two copies, and handed one to Ji Yuan. “Then today, I set out for Wei.”

Ji Yuan examined the agreement. “It’s almost dark, and still raining. You could leave tomorrow.”

Wei Zhen looked at the sky. “But I want to leave the city tonight.”

Ji Yuan looked up, sighed, and instructed an aide, “Go summon Commandant Zhao Lei, Marquis Chao, and Kang Yang. Tell them to pack up and escort the Princess of Wei out of the city immediately.”

As night fell, Wei Zhen finally left Jin Palace and set out for Wei.

Her horse’s hooves splashed mud with every step.

Whatever talk of the king of Jin or pledging the empire as dowry—these were nothing but excuses to fool Ji Yuan.

From start to finish, the only person she wished to marry was Qi Yan. The “king of Jin” in her agreement meant Qi Yan.

Even if she broke their newfound pact in the future, what would it matter?

History is written by the victors. She cared little what the world might say about her.

Hooves hammered the road behind her—Ji Yuan had sent his most trusted subordinates to watch her, men with great standing at his side.

If Ji Yuan wanted to spy on Wei Zhen, she would accept and, once in Wei, let them clash with its own nobles, watching from the sidelines and profiting from their strife.

The rain stopped. The moon peeked shyly from the clouds, casting starlight, illuminating the roadside grass, and lighting her western road.

After seven days of hard riding, Wei Zhen arrived in the capital of Wei—Anyì.

“Your Majesty! The princess has returned!” A eunuch reported.

On an ordinary afternoon, under warm sunlight and mingled flower scents, there was neither a formal reception nor a grand ceremony—everything was rushed and simple.

Wei Zhen rode into the palace.

The king of Wei, supported by illness, came out of the palace.

“Father!”

“Yangyang!”

Wei Zhen rushed into the king’s arms, tears streaming from her eyes.

Like a lonely wanderer returning, having weathered myriad hardships, she was finally reunited with her father at last.

Footnotes:

1. 1. Luan Tower (鸾臺): A prominent and symbolic palace tower or structure, here used to confine Wei Zhen. In classical Chinese architecture and storytelling, towers like this are often used as places of seclusion, detention, or guarded “guest quarters.”