The February wind brought frost and snow to the steppes. Ten thousand horsemen rode through the grass, and the ground shook in their wake.
Feng Zhiwei emerged from her tent, her eyes brightening as she turned to the waiting Helian Zheng.
A silver fox perched on top of his gemmed golden crown, the colors beautiful and radiant. He wore a well cut black mink coat embroidered with golden thread over long, golden silk robes, its buttons solid gold with black tassels. A masculine waistband embroidered with daring corals, jades, and agates was tight around his powerful waist, and he stood on dark, threatening boots. A readied sabre hung from his bronze waist scabbard, clinking quietly against his amber snuff-bottle.
His eyes shone like maroon wine in the sun, a pair of darkly glittering purple diamonds.
The familiar green-robed, mismatching-buttoned ruffian was unrecognizably dazzling and noble.
“This guy really does need to wear clothes...” Feng Zhiwei murmured.
Helian Zheng’s face darkened. He had been watching as her eyes brightened and surprise filled her face, but just as he was waiting for her compliment, she said... that.
What was that supposed to mean? She made it sound like he walked around without clothes!
He was perfectly willing to be nude around her, but was she willing?
Feng Zhiwei smiled, taking his arm and holding it gently to her side. Instantly, Helian Zheng forgot all his complaints and felt like his heart was relaxing in a hot spring, all his unhappiness fading away.
Mudan Hua was unwilling to be ignored and she reached out and yanked her son’s other arm only for him to kick him aside disdainfully: “Get off, crazy woman!”
“Ungrateful! Ji dog!” Liu Mudan cursed, reaching out to smack her son’s head.
The mother and son ran and chased after each other under the hill beside the tent, out of view of the King’s Army.
But as soon as they turned around the hip of the hill.
Helian Zheng immediately took his mother’s hand.
Liu Mudan swiftly retrieved the hand she had been using to hit Helian Zheng, elegantly running her finger through her hair.
And so the trio crossed the turn of the hill and stepped out into view of the army. The King’s soldiers watched as the young and dignified Shunyi King accompanied the elegantly smiling Queen Mother. Just as they had done so many times before, the mother and son solemnly approached their army.
And oh, one other person accompanied them.
Everyone snuck glances at the Central Plain’s woman leaning on their King’s arm.
Ah! Yellow faced! Ah! Thin and weak! Ah! Small butt! Ah! Thin waist! Ah! A pair of small breasts incomparable to the magnificent hills on the Queen Mother! Without enough milk, how could their next prince be strong enough to conquer the enemies of the steppe?
Disappointment filled the eyes of the steppe men.
Everything was disappointing!
The Eight Valiants laughed widely as they watched — they dared to react like this? They dared to show their faces? They dared to be disappointed? — what a herd of naive lambs, just wait!
The steppe men had no cultural habit of restraining their gaze, and Liu Mudan was generous to the point of fearing that people would not stare, so the whole army very naturally stared at Feng Zhiwei as if wolves and tigers staring at prey. They glared at the shy Central Plain’s waif, waiting for her to cry out in alarm — they had seen it many times before. The Central Plain’s Emperor had often gifted the old King women, and the Queen Mother had allowed the soldiers to glare and frighten the women into crying, fainting, or fleeing.
And so they stared, and stared, and stared, and stared...
And they were disappointed.
No matter how aggressively the glared, Feng Zhiwei was imperturbably. She looked down at the ferocious, fully armed and armored King’s Army as if they were a group of kittens playing in the courtyard of her residence — little kittens with nails sharpened for her to pet and play with.
After a while, the steppe men had to admit that although the woman before them had none of their expected physical characteristics, her calm and casual demeanor as she held herself beside their tough Queen Mother and young King seemed not at all unfit to their noble royal house.
She smiled at them, her hands clasped lightly before her, and she seemed a snow lotus blossoming on the sheer edge of a cliff.
Helian Zheng watched silently, smiling proudly as Feng Zhiwei faced off against his admittedly arrogant army and calmly suppressed the imposing spirits of ten thousand men.
Finally he lifted his chin and roared:
“Seen enough?!”
His deep, loud voice echoed with True Qi and thundered through the steppes. The ten thousand horsemen stirred from their burning stares, restraining their eyes and turning respectfully towards Helian Zheng.
Their Prince, and now their King. Before he had left to act hostage to the Dijing Court, he had been their brother, the Commander of the King’s Golden Lion Camp. He had hunted, eaten, drank, and slept alongside them; wrestling together during the Campfire Festivals and washing together in the summer heat. Together, they had mounted the dangerous Halin Snow Mountain in the depths of winter and shared freshly roasted bear paws.
They had never forgotten their Prince, bright and generous and roguish, shamelessly suffering when he lost bets and dares, but always refusing to give up money.
The Old King had been wise and dignified and unreachable, but the Prince had been close and companionable and lacking certain dignity.
Now in this time of unrest with half of the Golden Lion Camp dead in the war against Da Yue, the power of the Irgi Noble Family, direct descendants of the Ancient Hu Zhuo Clan, had fallen sharply. It seemed inevitable that the Irgi Family would lose the throne and control of the steppes, and though the horsemen warriors had stayed loyal, they were unhappy and uncertain about the future.
A thundering shout stirred them awake.
“Restrain your bold, foolish eyes!” Helian Zheng roared. He pointed to his men as he continued: “Look out at the steppe stretching a thousand li behind you. Look! Four thousand Golden Lion warriors have traveled north through the Dong É Pass to battle beyond the snow mountains, and now they lie dead and unburied in the wasteland. What do you see? Thirty years ago, Kuku Irgi led your fathers to victory over the Golden Roc Tribe and planted the Golden Lion Banner at every end of the steppe, and thirty years later he died your king, betrayed by those he spared. The traitor Hong Le has torn down and trampled the Golden Lion banner, murdered your King and trampled on your brother’s bones! He took your flag and used it to clean his boots! How do you still have the face to stand before me, holding these banners among yourselves? How have you not run home in shame, strangling yourselves with your women’s belts?”
Behind him, the Eight Valiants howled in lament, lonely wolves on snowy mountaintops crying vengeance to the moon.